I was spoiled for life by the man who popped my cherry. I was 18 and painfully shy. I'd spent the first 17½ years of my life as a tall, skinny kid with acne and an inferiority complex. Then, during the last half of my senior year, I underwent a transformation. My skin cleared up, and my weight shot from 140 to 170 pounds, none of it fat. When I looked in the mirror now, it was like some stranger was staring back at me. I liked the stranger's squared pecs, washboard abs, and swollen biceps, but I couldn't really believe that it was my own reflection I was admiring. I scared myself.

Another thing that scared me was my reaction to females. During my skinny nerd phase they had ignored me completely, and I hadn't given them a second thought. Now they swarmed around me, smiling coyly and hinting that they were available. I knew I should have been taking advantage of the situation, but I found that I had absolutely no interest in spending time alone with any of them. My unresponsiveness failed to deter them, leaving me in a state of nervous apprehension.

Jonathan Bennet scared me most of all. He was my new boss. He was a tall, well built guy with chiseled features, close-cropped brown hair, and a thick mustache that drooped around the corners of his sensual mouth. He owned a downtown pharmacy, and he was so handsome that women would drive in from the suburbs just for the chance to ogle him while he filled their prescriptions. He charmed them all, but he fended off even their most blatant passes. Mr. Bennet was a confirmed bachelor and often joked to his customers that he was married to his profession.

We hit it off from the very first. I'd been looking for summer work to help with my college expenses and had answered his advert in the classifieds. When I went in for my interview, he sat down with me at the soda fountain that stretched across the back of the store and outlined the requirements of the job. I assured him that I could stock shelves and handle a mop, and just like that, he hired me. We sealed the deal with a handshake. When he walked me to the front door, he casually draped his arm across my shoulders. The weight and heat of his arm felt good. I walked out of the place feeling almost giddy.

The front door was open when I reported to work the next morning, although the lights weren't turned on. "Mr. Bennet? Good morning. It's Rick."

"Morning, Rick. Come on back." I walked around the counter and pushed open the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. Mr. Bennet was standing in the center of the room, putting his trousers on a hanger. His white pants and pharmacist's smock hung from a hook on the wall. "I get my uniforms delivered to work," he explained. "Beats driving around the city looking like I jockey an ice cream truck for a living."

I tried not to stare at him, but it was impossible. His physique was amazing. I knew he was my father's age, because they had been classmates in high school, but the resemblance ended there. My dad had run to fat; Mr. Bennet had not. His arms were pumped to the max, cabled with thick veins that twined from wrist to shoulder. His sculpted pecs jutted out like a shelf of solid rock above a washboard gut that tapered to narrow hips.

Mr. Bennet wore a jockstrap instead of underwear. The waistband sagged in the front, dragged down by the heavily packed mesh pouch. From the rear the white straps framed a muscular arse that looked as solid and tight as the rest of his hard body. The white socks he had pulled up to just below his knees were stretched tightly over the knotted swell of his calves. Short dark hairs feathered his forearms, chest, belly, and legs, softening the sculpted mass of tight, unyielding muscle.

"Your uniform is right here, Rick." He handed me a bundle wrapped in plastic. "One of the perks of your new position." I jumped guiltily when he spoke. I'd been staring at the man and having strange thoughts — the kind of thoughts I was only supposed to have when I was looking at women.

My face was hot as I unwrapped the clothes he'd given me — white pants and a white T shirt, fresh smelling and spotless. I took off my shoes and unbuckled my belt. I hung my pants in the closet beside Mr. Bennet's clothes, then fumbled with the buttons on my shirt. I was suddenly very conscious of my body, nervous about displaying it in front of him. I felt his eyes on me as the shirt slipped off my shoulders, and I looked up. He smiled at me, the fingers of his left hand spread out on his taut belly. Long strands of chestnut floss curled over his knuckles, gleaming in the overhead light. I looked away as I struggled into my uniform pants and tugged the T shirt on over my head.

"Uh... do you think this fits?" I held my arms out from my sides and looked at my new boss. The shirt clung to my torso like a second skin, emphasizing the bulk of my arms and shoulders. The narrow sleeves refused to pull down over my biceps, and the fabric was so tight across the chest that my nipples poked up through it like pencil erasers. The pants were snug as well, cupping my arse and cutting up into my bum crack.

"Looks great on you, Rick." He stepped over to me and began rolling up my sleeves. "No use having those bind your arms all day," he added, meticulously folding the fabric till my biceps were fully bared. His fingers pressed against my skin, knotting my belly and making me feel hot, cold, and shaky all at once. I took a deep breath, and my nostrils tickled with the musky scent of him — a blend of aftershave, soap, and another smell that reminded me of jacking off.

"I’m glad to have you working for me, Rick." His fingers grazed the nub of my left tit as he brushed away a speck of lint on the front of my shirt. My heart slammed against my ribs as if it were trying to kick its way out.

My job was an easy one, requiring only lots of muscle and a little common sense. Mr. Bennet was a really cool boss. Every day he'd make a point of praising me for something, usually while he stood beside me with an arm across my shoulders or his hand on my arm. Sometimes he would even touch me on the arse cheeks with his open palm. It was funny — it was just a brief caress, but it was enough to make my butt tingle for a long time afterward.

I made it a point to come in early every morning for the ritual of getting dressed together. I told myself at first that I just wanted to make a good impression, but I finally had to admit that I got a big thrill out of seeing Mr. Bennet's near naked body — especially that fascinating bulge that packed his jocks. I started having dreams about him at night — strange, sexy dreams that would get me so horny, I'd have to jerk off first thing when I woke up in the morning. Every locker room taunt I’d ever heard reminded me that what I was doing wasn't normal, but it all felt so good. Besides, I couldn't control my dreams.

Mr. Bennet and I often worked in close quarters. The aisles of the drugstore were narrow, especially behind the prescription counter. I looked for any excuse to go back there when he was filling a prescription. I tried to resist the temptation, but I couldn't seem to help myself. He never got impatient with me, not even when he had to get past me, his crotch rubbing against my arse, his thick chest brushing my back. He'd just excuse himself and brace his big hands on my shoulders or clamp them around my waist as he sidled by. I'd invariably pop a hardon, and my palms would get all sweaty.

After times like that I'd take my break and sneak into the storeroom in the back to beat off. Mr. Bennet never left the floor while I was gone, and I could hear him moving around out front, talking to customers. If I left the door of the storeroom open a crack, I could watch him while I pulled my cock out of my fly and stroked it. I could see the muscles of his back shifting and knotting beneath the thin fabric of his white smock as he worked. I'd rub my arms and shoulders, touching myself where he had touched me, wishing that his big hands were on me while I jerked myself off.

When I got horny my tits swelled to thick points that were wired directly to my balls. I couldn't help wondering if his nipples were as sensitive as mine. They were big and dark, the fleshy points poking through the dark hair on his chest. Just the thought of pressing my lips against one of those meaty little nubs and sucking on it made me weak in the knees.

I also spent a lot of time thinking about his dick. My trips to the communal showers in the high school locker room had taught me that all males weren't equal when it came to what hung between their legs. Based on what I'd seen and read, I judged myself to be about average, so Mr. Bennet's packed jock had to be hiding something huge — a thought that got me incredibly turned on. I imagined it to be a dusky brown color, long and thick, with lots of veins snaking along the shaft. I figured he'd have balls to match, fat and furry, hanging low between his tightly muscled thighs. Just thinking about it made hot, sticky lube squirt out of me and drizzle down over my knuckles.

I jerked off frantically, longing for that gut churning rush that came along just before the jism started to spew. Head thrown back, muscles knotted, I'd close my eyes and see Mr. Bennet standing in front of me, holding his enormous hard on in both hands as I pumped my load onto his furry belly, smiling at me as the white streaks of my jism dripped down onto the dark curls that clustered around the base of his prick.

I licked the funky mess off my palm as I leaned back against the shelves, waiting for my cock to deflate so I could cram it back into my pants. When I could manage that, I washed my face and went back out onto the floor. Almost invariably Mr. Bennet would brush by me soon afterward, and I'd begin feeling horny all over again.

By the end of the third week, I was a total mess, sneaking off to pound my prick two or three times a day just so my boner wouldn't poke down the leg of my pants and give me away. If Mr. Bennet was suspicious of me, he never showed it. As a matter of fact, as time passed he got even more considerate, if that was possible.

One evening, after I’d spent the entire day hauling crates of merchandise in off the loading dock at the back of the store, I had stripped out of my sweat-soaked work clothes and was slumped on the bench in my underwear. Mr. Bennet was in the process of changing, naked except for that sexy jockstrap, but he still took the time to offer to massage my back. I knew I had to get over my crazy fantasies, so I straddled the little bench in front of the closet where we hung our street clothes, and he settled in behind me.

When he first laid his hands on me, all my muscles knotted. Then he began rubbing my back and neck, and I started to relax. I was really getting into the massage when he shifted on the bench and the insides of his furry thighs pressed against the outsides of mine. The hairs on his belly tickled my spine, and I felt something hot throbbing against my arse. I hardly dared to breathe, afraid that he would pull away from me and break the contact.

He didn't move, and his hands slipped from my lower back around to my belly. He started stroking, his fingers brushing the waistband of my shorts, then sliding up to my chest. His palms grazed my nipples, and I couldn't help groaning. Mr. Bennet didn't say a word, not even objecting when I leaned my head back against his shoulder.

When he began stroking the insides of my thighs, I started to panic. What if he leaned forward and saw my hard-on jutting up, making a tent out of my shorts? Then he'd know for sure that I was a perv. His hands rose higher and higher, and his knuckles rubbed against the bulge in my shorts. I tensed, ready to jump and run, but he didn't jerk his hands away. Instead, he started to grope me. I felt my prick against his wrist and got an incredible body rush as his fingers curved around the tight knot of my balls.

Then Mr. Bennet gripped my wrist and pulled my hand behind my back. My fingers bounced over the ridges of his abs, then touched the waistband of his jockstrap. I moaned softly when my fingers slipped under the elastic and curled around the base of his dick. It was hot and so thick that my fingers didn't meet, even when I squeezed. He raised up slowly off the bench, and my hand slipped down and down, stroking along a cylinder of flesh that didn't seem to have an end. By the time my palm was cupping the sticky snout and Mr. Bennet was standing behind me.

I turned around to look at what I was touching. The man had what the locker room crowd called a horse cock. It hung more than halfway to his knees, thick as my wrist, with a foreskin that almost completely hid the gleaming crimson head. His balls were enormous, sagging heavily in a hairy pouch, the left riding slightly higher than the right. I looked up at my boss, and he smiled his killer smile, thrusting his hips forward, smacking his prong against my chin. He glanced down at his dick, then back at me, his tongue flickering over his upper lip.

"I’ve never... " I stammered, my voice strained.

"You're a smart guy, Rick," Mr. Bennet chuckled. "I’ve been watching you. You're a fast learner — especially when you're interested in the subject. You are interested, aren't you?" He looked at his meat again, tensing his belly and making his cock knob swell and twitch. I sat there and stared, fascinated by what I saw.

His cock was incredibly sexy — so long and thick and powerful-looking. A vein the size of my little finger ran straight down the middle of the broad back, branching out in his velvety foreskin like tiny fingers. I wrapped both hands around the shaft. It twitched against my palms, hot to the touch, heavy and flexible like a rubber hose. I squeezed it tightly. The rim of his crown flared, popping out of its hood and throbbing mightily. I stuck out my tongue and licked him. The taste I came away with was salty and faintly nutty. When I pressed my thumb against the fat tube that ran along the underside of his piece, thick, clear goo drooled out of his gaping come hole.

I raised his cock to my mouth and began licking it. His fingers tangled in my hair as his cock knob slipped into my mouth. I sucked greedily, pumping him for more of the intoxicating brew that kept on leaking out of him. No matter how hard I sucked, there was always more of that sweet, hot drizzle to slake my burning thirst.

I was so turned on that I didn't realize how far I'd gone down on him till his bristly pubic hair scratched against my lips. I'd taken all of his big dick without gagging. I jerked away from him, shocked by what I'd just done. "I — I'm sorry," I stammered, afraid that he'd think I was some kind of a freak.

"For what, Rick? It's a rare man who can do justice to a cock the size of mine." He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, letting his fingertips trail down my spine to the crack of my ass. "I think we're going to be a good match — all the way around."

He straightened up and rubbed his sticky cock knob against my lips. I opened wide, and he thrust forward until his fat balls slapped against my Adam's apple. I braced my hands against his thighs as he started hunching his hips, pulling out a little, then pounding back deep into my throat. Having his fat cock probing my throat felt like the most natural thing in the world. I'd never considered it before, but once it was happening I knew one thing for a fact — I loved sucking cock!

I crouched below him, my head thrown back, rubbing his hairy thighs and calves as he gradually went hard in my throat. His prick kept getting thicker and longer, cutting off my air supply, bringing tears to my eyes. When he finally drew it out into the open, it rose high in the air, gleaming with spit.

He ran his fingers up over my belly to the swollen points capping my pecs. I looked down and watched as his thumbs and forefingers closed over the sensitive nubs. He gripped my tits firmly and pulled, slowly bringing me to my feet. I felt his hard-on all hot against my belly. He humped me, and more hot lube erupted from him, spattering my pecs and running down my heaving torso.

He slipped his hands under my arms and began picking me up, raising me slowly, effortlessly, till his mouth was near my crotch. He gobbled me down, balls and all — his tongue lashing over every sensitive surface — making me wriggle in his strong grasp. I bent my legs, dragging my feet up along his thighs to his crotch. I pressed his big stiffer between the soles of my feet and squeezed. Mr. Bennet sucked my balls hard.

"Hook your legs over my shoulders," he barked gruffly a few seconds later. I obeyed, and he shifted his grip, raising me even higher. His tongue slithered across my balls, then he began licking my arsehole. I groaned as he pulled me down till I was sitting on his handsome face, his tongue flailing in my chute, his mustache tickling my balls.

"Stop!" I cried, my toes curling, my breath coming in labored gasps. "Don't... don't make me come yet. I... I want... want..."

"You want what?" His tongue snaked out of me, and he looked up from between my legs. I saw his eyes sparkling on either side of the shaft of my hard-on. He lapped at my balls while he waited for me to answer.

"I want your cock — I want it inside of me."

"You're sure you really want it, Rick?" I looked down over my shoulder at the huge shaft jutting out from between his legs. I had to be crazy to think I could take it up my arse. The thought frightened me — and made my dick so hard, it hurt.

"Yes. Please." He set me down on the bench in front of the closet. I lay on my back, legs splayed out on either side. Mr. Bennet sat down facing me and draped my legs over his thighs. His cock rested heavily against my lower belly, dwarfing my own throbbing hard-on. I ran my fingers along the broad back, pressing against it, feeling the steel beneath the slippery hot skin.

Mr. Bennet grabbed a bottle out of his locker, popped the cap, and pressed the tip against my arsehole. Cool mineral oil squirted up into my arse channel, making me snort with lust. He kept squeezing the bottle till I felt like I was sloshing, then set it down. His cock slipped off my belly and disappeared between my legs.

"Just relax," he whispered, pressing his hard spongy knob against my oil-sloppy arsehole. I nodded, and he clamped his hands on my hips, gripping hard enough to knot his big biceps. His eyes fluttered shut, and his lips pulled back from his teeth. I heard him moan as his prick slowly penetrated my virgin chute.

I was beyond moaning, afraid I'd come if I even moved. I could feel this intense pressure as he slid into me, but I was too horny to feel any pain. I still couldn't believe that the man I'd been drooling over for a month was shoving his hard-on up into me, getting ready to fuck me and fill me with his hot, virile jism. I ran my fingers slowly up my belly, tracking the progress of his throbbing knob as he probed deep into my bowels.

Mr. Bennet pulled me up against him. I reached down between my legs and touched myself. His balls were pressed up tightly against my throbbing arsehole. He growled sexily and kissed me, pushing his hot tongue into my mouth the same way he'd pushed his hot cock up my hole. I locked my arms around his neck and ground my torso against him, savoring the feel of his hard body. The hairs on his chest tickled me, setting my nerves on fire. I humped my cock against his belly and felt his meat flex inside of me.

I bounced in his lap, savoring the sensations his huge dick unleashed in me. Every nerve was tuned for sex. Mr. Bennet reached between us and pinched my tits. I yelped, and my arsehole shuddered, gripping his giant prong even tighter. He grunted with pleasure, and I flexed my sphincter again, delighted by the effect it had on him. I rose slowly out of his lap, then sank back down, stunned by how good his dick felt as it pumped up my channel.

"Ready?" he asked, smacking the cheeks of my arse with open palms. I nodded, figuring that as long as he kept his glorious hard cock buried in me, I was ready for anything. He rolled me back onto my shoulders, pushed my legs apart, and began to fuck me. I reached over my head and gripped the bench, my eyes glued to the meaty sword that was sliding in and out of me, moving faster and faster as he really got into the rhythm of fucking me.

It was incredible. His prick gleamed with oil, the veins on the shaft bulging as he pistoned in and out of my arsehole. He kept hitting something with his knob, something tucked way up in my body that made me convulse with pleasure. He was gasping, his chest heaving, sweat streaming off of him and splashing down onto me.

The air in the room was hot and steamy, scented with the funk of our rutting. Mr. Bennet kept pounding me harder and harder, cramming his cock in to the hilt and stirring it around in me. I felt the urge to come growing in me, radiating out from my belly, making my skin tingle. My cock was pointing between my eyes, swollen and crimson red. My balls had drawn up tightly between my legs, twitching every time his sweat soaked pubes brushed against them. Mr. Bennet's nostrils were flaring as he continued to plow into me, making me whimper and squirm.

The first glob of my own jizz splattered against my cheek as his rhythm broke down into a series of stabbing thrusts. He threw his head back and howled. I could feel his cock flexing, then a flood of heat gushed deep into me, searing my guts as he shot his wad up my butt. His head dropped forward, and he planted his hands on my chest as he savored the aftershocks of his orgasm. My legs locked around his waist, desperate to keep his cock up in me, unwilling to let the connection between us break.

He stayed hard for a long time. We held on to each other until my arsehole quivered and his dick slid out of my aching channel. Mr. Bennet helped me to my feet and held me close for a long time, rubbing my back and arse while he taught me that kissing can be even sexier after coming than before. We finally got dressed, and he gave me a ride back to my house.

The next morning my arsehole was still a little sore, but by the time I arrived at work, I was more than willing to accommodate the oiled hard-on that was waiting to greet me. Mr. Bennet spent the rest of the summer teaching me everything that a man can do with a big dick. He has totally spoiled me for anything else — spoiled me for life.