You struggle for words "Joel... I-"
"Just say either ass, or cock. I don't want any bullshit from you". His authority gives you the courage you need, as if you're borrowing strength from his vast span of tan muscles.
"Ass" You proclaim, as if with pride. He grins.
"Stand up" he orders, and you obey, nervously clambering onto your feet. His palm is soft and it tilts slightly, giving you no sense of security, but as you look along his arm, up to his chest, you know that you could never possibly be hurt with this giant acting as guardian of you. His face looms over you and begins to descend. He licks his lips, slathering them in thick, gooey saliva. They part, and the fluorescent light of the cubical begins to wane as Joel's cavernous maw begins to descend around you. The lips pass your head and shoulders, not touching you, but fitting you squarely into the void subtended by his teeth and tongue. As he raises his palm vertically against his mouth, his tongue drops down infront of you like a rich, living tapestry of shadowed reds and luscious purple. The humidity builds, his hot, scented breath sticks to your naked skin like fog, but not once does any part of his dripping maw touch you. His lips reach his palm, sealing you in a muggy darkness, with only a faint red tinge coming through the cheeks. You're still standing upright, with nothing supporting you but the sweaty skin of Joel's palm. You inhale deeply, taking in the unique scent of the giant's maw. A single glob of spittle drops from the back of the throat, splashing onto your shoulder and then slowly flowing down your front like honey. You mix it between your fingers, the slickiness turning to a damp stickness as you rub it vigorously. You notice the stuff oozing down the tongue, the whole flat surface shimmers with it in the faint light. You reach out and press your hand into the slick, firm flesh, feeling the small bumps of tastebuds.
The lips suddenly close around your ankles with a squeltch. The tongue seems to lurch forward, pressing you between it and the roof of the mouth. A torrent of spit washes over you as you are pancaked in the maw. The tight lips begin to roll up your legs leaving them coated in slippery saliva. The tongue slides upwards across your body, rubbing against you, tasting you and getting you totally slick. Your entire body is slowly pushed through Joel's pursed lips. Your head slips between them with a slight schluck, and you're once again stading upright in the open air. Joel's face retreats, several strands of gooey spit still arcing from his mouth and chin to your body and his palm. You're dripping, the warm viscous fluid matting your hair and blurring your vision. The image of Joel's face grows more and more distant. "You're gonna' need that to get in my ass Tom." He bellows down. "I ain't shoved anything up there before, so it's gonna' be damn tight. You had better show me why this kinda' shit can be enjoyable." His hand begins to curve behind him, the bare expanse of his back rising above you like a cliff face, unblemished and toned. You see the waistline of his boxers, and then the taught white fabric stretched achingly across the two protruding mounds of perfectly round hard flesh and muscle. They cling to him, firstly from struggling to contain the ass that seems so desperately trying to escape, and secondly from the perspiration that has dampened them from the game. You can see ever so slightly that where the crack should be, there is only a faint line of moisture. You nearly slip on your slicked feet when he places you on the toilet seat. He crouches slightly so that his tightly-clad ass is at your level, and backs up a little so it is just infront of you.
He bends over, his back almost parallel with the floor. The boxers stretch impossibly over the spreading cheeks, puling the fabric up from his thighs and down from his waist, so that it can barely cover the gigantic mounds either side of you. A gentle pulse of heat and smell radiates over you from within the moist cleft. The raw scent, loaded with pheromones, causes your heart to quicken. You feel a finger nudge you from behind, as if you needed encouragement. You stumble against the soft, damp material, strung between his buttocks. It depresses slightly as your weight falls against it, the taut material preventing you falling against the intimate flesh of the jock's crack. You are assaulted by the rich, earthen smell of his butt, intensified by the hard work of physical activity. It lingers faintly in the boxers which you nuzzle into, dusted with Joel's musky sweat. You run your hand along the solid buttocks, feeling their immense power and warmth through the boxers. You pass your touch over the cleft between them, stepping back a little. There is nothing but heated air under it, the clammy gulch shielded by a wall of hard fabric. You push against it, but the little bump you made is quickly rebounded by the immense strain of the colossal cheeks.
"That was just a teaser, now for the real thing" He shouts down, stepping slightly from the seat. He hooks his thumb under his tight waistline, and slowly begins to reveal the smooth, golden flesh. The slabs of meat are pressed against each other, a faint line between them signaling where the crack should be. As his boxers pass his knees he starts bending over again, slowly. The thin black line between the two curved mounds begins to widen. The curvature of the cheeks starts to flatten as the faintest glimpse of the gulf starts to appear. Unlike the rest of the tanned giant, it is a healthy white, stretching from the small of his back down towards the lower curve of his buttocks. Placed right in the middle is a small, pinkish brown mark, the entire area around it completely hairless and smooth as the day he was born. With his boxers off, he begins to back up. The small hole begins to grow as it approaches. You notice how it seems to suck the flesh around it deep inside the pinkness of his body. The pulses of warmth and smell are overpowering now the boxers are removed. Whilst it's clear Joel keeps himself clean, the unmistakable stench of crap emanates from the curved pucker. The scent of ball sweat climbs up from the slick valley below you, and you catch a faint glimpse of the bottom of his drooping scrotum. His ass now entirely fills your view, the perfect buttocks slowly expanding around you. As he comes closer, you notice that the pale crack is lined with tiny, fine hairs where he shaved himself recently. The crack is lining up with your body and it approaches. The ass cheeks press faintly on your shoulders as your view is now filled entirely with the sweaty cleft of musky flesh. Now within the space the boxers had prevented you reaching you can truly appreciate the vile stench that pours from the dark abyss at your chest. You realise dimly that you have little room to move. The smooth curve of each buttock is pressing lightly at your sides whilst taking one step forward would have you plastered against the clammy stink of the crack. You raise your hand against the pale skin. It is greeted by a film of dampness. You retract your hand and give it a faint sniff. The scent of Joel is overwhelming, a dirty, raw, manly odor of football games and locker rooms, but fresh from the living source. Everything has the buzzing smell of vitality, pressed so close to the centre of athletic prowess.
"Climb in Tom. Make sure you really enjoy the gross stink in there. Get nice and warm as you lay in the traces of my shit. Enter my body, feel me. Be me". You look at the browny-pink of the hole, admiring its size and the power of the guy that it serves. Yes, you want to crawl in, you want to have him surround you with his total masculinity. You presses a hand against the moist surface, rubbing it along the immediate inside of the winking orifice where light still reach before being quickly engulfed. You slide into your elbow; your hand is met by a soggy resistance at first, but is soon tugged lightly by a smooth, slick contraction. You push to your shoulder, pressing the side of your face flush against the top rim of the musky hole. The thick, tangible cloud of musk and stench reaches your tongue, taking a taste of your master for the first time. Your left hand is being gently kneaded inside the incredible heat of the anal cavity, while Joel give his buttocks a quick squeeze around you as if to hurry you up. You obey, and start to slide your right hand into the smooth, reeking depths of the guy who wants you inside him. While it is tight inside, the silky folds feel as if they could stretch to easily contain you. With both arms swallowed to your shoulders, your face is pressing against the open pucker. You cant see your hands beyond the closed, pulsing flesh which glows with gooey residue. You press forward lightly, your vision of the ass crack fading to a tunnel of slippery stained muscle.
"Go on, breath it in, taste my ass" You hear his voice coo down. Taking a slight glance to your side, you press you head into the tight fold, submerging yourself into a world of sensory assault. You hearing is muffled by the faint but continual contractions of the anal walls, your sight has been replaced with a murky blackness, and your throat and mouth is filled with the sticky essence of Joel's digestive tract. You noticed you can breath, though every breath is loaded with stench and moisture. You press in with your feet, your shoulder squeezing in, aided by their ample saliva coating. You hear Joel moan as you pry him open, burrowing into his shitter slowly but with enjoyment. The slick ring passes down your nipples and you navel, resting at the base your stiff cock. You wriggle in the heat, bathing in the vile slickness that coats every surface in the jocks bowels. You cock and upper thighs slip in, now being enveloped into the giant by his own volition, your grip on the toilet seat gone and your feet dangling from the sweaty crack. Deeper you go, the smell and heat growing strong. You are rubbed and kneaded on all directions by the smelly, damp innards, working you deep inside. Only your ankles remain in the now tensing crack of the giant. Joel brushes as finger against them, preparing to lock you in for good. With a slow, drawn out push, you vanish from the outside world, the anus closing over your ankles and sealing you in the steaming ass of the giant jock
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