BODY GUARDS - Chapter 2 By: JOHN Wells and Klein threw themselves into their heavy workout as they continued pondered the implications of the recent events in which they and their handlers were now dangerously embroiled. Their massively muscled forms were drenched in the sweat of intense training combined by with the stifling humidity of a hot Buenos Aires night. Their handlers had paid cash in order for their two insanely muscled partners to be able to have uninterrupted access to the dirty neighborhood gym well after closing time. The second floor location at the rear of an old car garage was perfect even if the weights and equipment were worn and rusty at best. Their gargantuan muscles didn't seem to mind the state of the conditions, they were just happy to be able to be forced through a traditionally grueling workout. Wells and Klein had already discarded the over-soaked fabric of their stained tee shirts. Their torsos reflected the vastness of their upper body musculature as the sweat polished each perfectly carved piling of densely cut meat under the stark incandescent lighting. The gym they had picked also had the benefit of being located in the same general neighborhood where the body of Arturo, the beautiful and mysterious vigilante M4, had been found. The death ascribed to the two sweating bodybuilder soldiers of Ryan's two brothers had not only put their lives in serious jeopardy, but also threatened to destroy the entire "M-Class" Special Forces unit. All the M1, M2 and M3 men needed regular doses of Ryan's filtered cum proteins through their handlers. Before Major Weir had taken over the M Unit command, his predecessor, Major Davis, had maintained significant stockpiles of the Ryan family semen. One of the changes made by Major Weir after Davis' untimely death was to redirect most of the precious liquid product to the research division. They had never counted on these most recent events. While extraordinarily voluminous in their ejaculations, here was only so much cum that the three Ryan brothers could produce. Major Weir felt that the time was right to push the research in order to find out how to purify the deadly semen toward creating a safe transition for his men to the M4 level and, ultimately, to the mythical M6 possibility. The death of the two brothers on top of the kidnapping of the older Ryan left the M Unit with less than a year supply of the vital cum. After that, the men M-men would be faced with the dreaded withdrawal symptoms as their marvelously muscled bodies slid back to "normal". In the past, over 60% who had endured this fate never survived the stresses that accompanied their removal from the muscle-inducing cum stream. Wells pasted the soaked wetness of his discarded tee shirt over his heaving breast as the two semi-nude men unloaded the seven 45 pound plates from each side of the bar suspended above the flat bench they had just finished using for presses. The fortunate rag covered only a small portion of his glistening pec meat. The four sets had filled his immense chest muscles with hardening power. Lines of cabled meat ripped through the thick, tough muscle as he tossed each weight aside easily. As Wells leaned forward to remove the second of the plates, the wet cotton fabric fell from its meaty shelf and splattered onto the torn vinyl of the bench. His 70" chest seemed perfectly proportioned and deliciously distributed on his 420-pound frame. Several inches of richly carved breast meat bunched together forming a line of deeply shadowed cleavage between their undulating masses as his massive biceps applied their own pressures to the outer edges of the trapped man-tits. Klein picked up the dripping cloth and hurled it back at Wells. Wells looked up and smiled playfully just as Klein shot the 45-pound plate hard like a discus directly at his surprised friend. The cold steel saucer met its match as Wells crunched his pecs into solid mountains of muscle just an instant before they were impacted. "What the hell was that for?" The undamaged muscleman snarled at his training partner. "Gotta keep on our toes, my over-muscled friend." Klein charged back. "We've been here almost two weeks now. That's a long time to go without any formal training routine. Not to mention that I just wanted to see if we needed any cum-juice yet." "Well, at least you got that question answered!" Wells retorted pointedly as he swept his left arm and then his right one back and forth in front of his unmarked striated pecs as if to assure himself that there had been no harm done. Anyone else, even an M2 soldier would have suffered some sort of severe to mild damage from the attack that Klein had launched against Wells body. But, for an M3, this was a trifling inconvenience – as long as Wells had had time to ready himself and his muscle. "You can't hurt me that easily." Wells mocked back crushing his pecs into a dazzling most-muscular display. "But you're right, we need to start getting serious about what we need to do. I think we have waited long enough for someone to come find us. It's clear that we're stuck on our own with the double-murder rap so public." "I agree! What say that tomorrow we start nosing around the neighborhood." Klein concurred. "There has to be someone who had contact with that Arturo guy when he was alive who can lead us to someone inside." "You're on." Wells agreed. "Now, let's finish what we started. We're of no use to anyone if we don't keep our bodies in top form." They finished stripping the barbell and moved over to a rack of dumbbells lined up in front of a multiple-cracked dingy mirror. Klein went immediately for the 100 pounders while Wells had to settle for the 95's. Both men flew into a long series of alternating arm curls. With only this much weight available to them, their tremendously formed biceps had to settle for high-rep sets instead of heavy-weight sets. They ripped through 50 reps before pausing momentarily between sets. The floor creaked loudly as they switched positions and began their second, equally intense set. The fast movement forced their arms to swell up with that great, wonderful burn of a good workout. By the end of the fourth alternating sets, their biceps had become sharpened balls of chiseled meat roped together under a river system of pronounced veining. Klein was pleased to be able to feel the fully hardened muscle sensations deep into the very core of his more massive arm muscles. He raised the gloriously mountained spheres up into a multi-peaked double biceps pose. Clenching his fists tightly, he forced the upper rear bundle of biceps meat to explode almost up into contact with his quivering hands. The 29" of split bundling of muscle glowed like recently polished marble that had been hewn from the world's best quarry. The approving smile left his face instantly as a sharp pain coursed through his left side. Spinning a crouching simultaneously with the speed of a great cat, Klein's knees hit the ground with his entire body ready for any assault. The entire exposed surface of his 415- pound body slammed into a living sculpture of anatomically perfect muscle. "Now who wasn't ready?" Wells chided with his hands still held in the karate positioning that had delivered the sharp chop to Klein's side right above the kidney. "Damn you, Wells!" Klein snapped back resuming a standing position without releasing the phenomenally sheered muscles covering his body from their readied state. "We all know how great your arms are – they're the best in the business." Wells acknowledged. "But if you're too busy watching yourself, you may miss an attack from somebody else – probably someone with a lot worse intentions against you than me." "Touché!" Klein laughed. "We're done here. Let's get back to our place. It's not going to be easy finding our `needle in the haystack' tomorrow." Both men spun in unison and stiffened every amazing muscle to perfect readiness as the rear entry door creaked inward slightly. Then it stopped. After some time passed, the men figured that it must have just been the anxiety of the moment and the age of the building that had caused the partially ajar door to shift. A second creaking movement and the appearance of the leading end of a small slight hand brought their focus back into fully displayed form. Before the person on the other side of the door could have anticipated it, Klein was at the door and hurled it wide open. He reached through with astonishing speed and caught the slim figure around the waist hauling it into a tight, immovable bearhug. His stone-cast arms and chiseled pecs pinned the small body within a cast of impenetrable muscle. "Who are you and what do you want?" Klein growled. "I am your needle." The trim man answered slowly in good English with a slight Italian accent. "What the hell does that mean?" Klein breathed heavily at the man. " I am Diego." He responded. "And I was Arturo's last handler – so to speak. Let me go and I can help you find who you are looking for." Wells moved in behind the captured man and frisked him from the waist down. Nodding to his companion, Klein let go of his bearhug and Wells continued to frisk Diego until he was certain that the man didn't have any weapons on him – at least not any manufactured weapons. "Prove it." Klein barked. "If what you say is true, then you have to be an M4 level handler. Diego knew exactly what was meant by Klein's demand and slowly began to disconnect the bindings that held his ragged pants around his small tender waist. As the worn denim fell to the floor, the long soft cock pinned against Diego's upper leg detached itself and began to grow and rise. Wells remained behind and close enough to recapture and subdue Diego if need be. Klein watched with the usual sense of wonder as a cock that could only belong to a handler grew to full erection. "No, just what you would call an M3." Diego spoke softly as the 18" long pole flowed upward past the horizontal and fattened to a powerful 2 ½" diameter. "Like I said, I was Arturo's last official handler, but I was not the one who fed his muscle hunger on that lethal last fateful night." "How can we believe you?" Wells questioned moving from behind. "Just look." Diego responded pointing to his frightfully hard cock. "This is only on the average side for and M3. A normal M4 handlers cock would be more like two feet long and almost 3" thick on average. Anyway, Arturo was a bit wild, but he was always kind to me when I was assigned to handle him. Someone wanted him dead but it certainly wasn't me." "What about Gobel and Ben?" Klein pursued. "Yes, your muscle-agent Gobel was killed by Arturo." Diego nodded. "That was his job. That is the job of all members of the Coven. But, I believe, Arturo was assigned to that task on purpose to eliminate him. Why else would he have been filled with a lethal M5 dosage of handler-cum shortly before his encounter with your agent? And, if I am only what you would call an M3 Handler, how could I possibly deliver that level of cum?" This all made sense to the two sweating musclemen. "So what do you want from us?" Wells asked. "I think it is more of what our group hopes for from you!" Diego responded. "We are well aware of your actions up in the States and, the word is, you two are looking to be more than your Government program can offer. If that proves to be true, then there may be mutual opportunities with the Coven." "What kind of opportunities? You mean the opportunity for them to get their hands on a couple of M3 Agents and do what they did to Gobel?" Klein questioned. "Or is this a real chance for us to get what we want, which is to prove that we are the best and can be even bigger and better." "I guess now and again we must decide what risks to take for ourselves." Diego retorted handing Klein a folded piece of paper. "If you choose to move forward with us, then be here at 10:00pm tomorrow night. You may bring your handlers if you know you can trust them, otherwise I would recommend that you come alone." Diego pulled his pants up around his waist with his huge hard cock still projecting brazenly in front of his slight figure. In spite of his aroused condition, he turned and left. As the two sweating bodybuilders turned back to collect their bags and garments they could here the muffled sounds of a man in the throws of personal passion below. They smiled to each other at the mutual thought of Diego working his 18" organ to fulfilling release so that he could exit back out into the darkness of the street. Just before ten the next night the four renegade American soldiers arrived at the door of a small single family home in a lower class neighborhood on the edge of "la Boca". There were many people still outside using the slight movement of the outdoor breeze as their only form of relief from the hot heavy air hanging over Buenos Aires. The site of two enormous men walking with the two small figures raised many curious eyes but the obvious sheer size of sweat -cloths covered figures of Wells and Klein kept the people at bay. Before they could knock, the door swung open and Diego bid them to enter. He closed and locked the door behind them. He smiled a nod at the site of the two handlers and then, without a word he motioned for the foursome to follow him. They went directly back to the rear of the small hobble, out the back door, quickly across the tiny alley and into the rear door of a similar rowhouse. Again they kept moving, this time Diego directed them to duck through a space behind an old wooden hutch that was almost too small for Wells and Klein. This led them into a third unit. Diego pulled the hutch back into place and pushed another unit against the wall in this third house to cover the hole. This house was slightly bigger and had an old wine cellar. They descended the rickety stair, crossed the small damp room and moved through a rough opening into a second storage room. The smell of sewage became stronger as Diego lead them to a deserted wine rack that he swung out of place. They entered the vast underground storm sewer complex and traveled along the narrow ledge of one circular tunnel for several hundred feet before coming to an opening in the sewer to the outside. The men found themselves at the base of an empty storm channel with a dark van and driver waiting for them. All five climbed in without words yet to have been spoken by their guide. He nodded to the driver and they were on their way. The windows around them had been painted solid so they really had no idea where they were. About fifteen silent minutes later the vehicle came to a stop inside a dimly lighted abandoned factory building. Diego smiled his thanks to the driver and pointed the foursome toward a stair in the back corner. They descended two full flights before encountering a heavy steel door. Diego led them in and then closed and bolted the door behind them. "Welcome, gentlemen." The warm Italian-accented voice of a surprisingly handsome face in its mid-thirties greeted them. "I am Vesuvius and it is my task to understand your intentions with the Coven." Casting approving eyes up and down the covered figures of Wells and Klein, Vesuvius added. "And, based on what I see, I hope they prove to be good intentions." The wonderful solid facial features were not the only outstanding characteristic Vesuvius possessed. The foursome was virtually speechless as they found themselves standing face-to-face, and bodies- to-body with a true M4 caliber being. "I see you like what you see as much as I do." Vesuvius smiled. "The question I have to have answered before permitting you through the portal to the Coven is whether what I see is worth buying. So, if you gentlemen would indulge me, I need to ask all four of you to remove your clothing. May we start with your handlers?" Oscar and Roger were led closer to the smiling Italian muscle behemoth by Diego and began to undress. Their shirts same off easily and the pleasant sight of their small trim torsos seemed insignificant adjacent to the huge fabric covering shrouding their inspector. Their pants were more of an issue since the sight of their greeter had already pushed their trapped cocks to a state of wanting readiness. The strength of their hardening meat pushed against the legging fabric of their jeans. Both men had to lean forward at the waist in order to give their hungry cocks a fighting chance. Both Vesuvius and Diego chuckled as the head of Roger's stupendously long member slapped him in his own face just below one eye upon its excited release. Diego, in particular, seemed fond of the 21" beauty. Roger rose up bringing his spectacular maleness to its staunchly masted position extending out almost in line with the vast, draped over-carriage projection of Vesuvius' insane pecs. A large Italian hand gently covered and tested the heated strength of Roger's beating organ pushing down lightly. He smiled at the level of hardened resistance his own immeasurable power encountered. Then Vesuvius caught sight of Oscar's cobra-cock. The 18" straight stiff shaft with its discernible flair along the furthermost third of the wonderfully thick handler cock and its glaring head triggered his viewing mind as to how a thing like that might feel feeding his insides. Oscar knew he had the man's attention and, in response began to constrict his taut stomach muscles forcing his painfully hard dick to wave wildly at the viewer under his own special form of muscle control. Satisfied with what he had seen, Vesuvius nodded his directions to Wells and Klein. It took only a few quick minutes before both men stood gloriously displayed for the questioner to explore. "Very nice. Very nice, indeed!" He smiled as his hands studied the thickly bundled surfaces of Wells globed deltoids and 70" chest meat. His strong fingers began to push their way into the central cleavage dividing the two wondrous pectorals. At his instruction, Wells constricted them into rocklike fibrous masses of man-tits. Vesuvius stiffened his own strong M4 fingers in response and continued his drive into the deepened canyon of granite-like muscle. The sensations derived from the feel of the significantly stronger man's hand pressing apart his severely cramped muscle-meat as it invaded the sensitive depths was nothing short of erotic. By the time the groping fingers reached the bottom of the chasm of meat, Wells cock had reached the height of arousal with all 13" in pointed, pronounced readiness. Responding like a jealous suitor, Klein began to flex his extended arms at his side. The attention-intending action did its job as Vesuvius pulled his embedded hand from between Wells still-clenched pec meat and stepped over to Klein's throbbing arms. As the warmed hand took hold of the outer edge of one great bicep, Klein pulled up his forearm as if engaged in a standing dumbbell curl bringing the massive muscle into fully shaped display. "Excellent! Excellent!" Vesuvius admired lifting Klein's meaty appendage upward and encouraging him to an upraised biceps flex. The 29" mountain of quaking meat met with gripping approval as Vesuvius moved one hot hand to cover the split globes of the upper bicep peaks. His thumb reached back down along the side to enjoy the playful tripping of the major rope of vertical veining extending up above the surface to service the snowcap high balled peak. Then the strong fingering began to constrict around a small portion of the chiseled muscle. Klein grimaced under the surprising pressure his granite hard bicep sensed. As the pressure grew, Klein pushed all his energy into the core of the flexed meat marvel, reinforcing its solidified hardness. For each strengthening action by Klein, there was an equally determined reaction by the grasping Italian hand. Sweat began to run down Klein's forehead as he began to feel his previously impenetrable meat succumb to the great power of the groping Italian. Klein's cock hardened, just as Well's had, under the erotic sensations of power over his own formidable muscle. Just when he seemed he was doomed to absolute failure, the Italian assessor removed his hand and stepped away. He did one brief visual overview of his guests as if collating the data he had collected in his head and then, without a word began to remove his own attire. The body that became revealed to the aroused foursome was every bit as astonishing as Arturo's had been in the video but this one was even more spectacular in clear, adjacent focus. All 480 pounds of the 6' tall frame was draped in mind- boggling muscle. The consistency and thickness of the muscle was so perfectly intense that every slightest shift and movement rewarded the viewers with rolling undulations of insane perfection. They onlookers stood in speechless awe by the time Vesuvius stood upright before them in naked magnificence. Head-thick pecs showed like great rounded continents rising high above the vast sea of his chiseled abdominal cavity. Each individually plated ab was surrounded with a trenched moat of sweat-streaked definition. The fingering lines of his wondrous oblique and serratus rolled angularly from the invading line of the bottom of his truck-tire lats to the intensely small girdling of his 32" waist. Vesuvius lifted both hands up high over the top of his head and attempted to bring his curled fingers together above him only to have the enormity of his unflexed biceps crashing against his ears prevent their meeting. In this position, Vesuvius was able to permit the endless mass of his foot-thick lats to blossom out to its maximum extension. At the same time, he vacuumed his impossibly small lower torso creating a fourfold differential in width between his crisp waist and explosive upper. Even his cock carried a look of untold strength. As Vesuvius continued to pound his muscles into images of frightening hardness, his organ had grown into a vein encrusted 14" cannon. The 3" diameter erupted from the flatness of his strongly girdled groin pointing slightly up from the horizontal and held its powerful girth clear to the backside of his 4" wide cock head collar. Balls the size of two ripe oranges laid wedged between the bottom of the steely cock shaft and the unyielding muscle of his gargantuan inner thighs. Then, with amazing speed and ungodly power, he drove his bent arms down into the same double biceps position still held by Klein. The visual difference was indescribable, as a pair of 33" diameter arms as hard as diamonds and equally cut into an array of brilliant muscle- facets loomed upward like the peaks of the Andes Mountains. Vesuvius extended and re-flexed his forearms several times pushing the peaks of his biceps to stratospheric, precum-inducing proportions. "They are as strong as they look." The Italian laughed as his drooling onlookers dared to move a step or two closer as if drawn in by the gravitational forces of his muscular body. "Let me show you." Unlocking himself from his stupendous pose, Vesuvius walked slowly toward Diego. With deliberate speed he captured the slight torso in the crook of one arm and pulled the surprised handler from the floor tucking his trapped waist in the triangle of space between his forearm, lats and bicep. With a broad, glowing smile, Vesuvius' incredible muscles surrounding Diego turned to chiseled stone. There was no sound from the small man other than that of the bones of his hips and lower spine being shattered into countless fragments Some of the sharp shards of bone punctured the demolished central torso as blood forced its way out and flowed down the vastness of Vesuvius' brutally carved leg. None of the splintered bone proved to be strong enough to injure the still- smiling muscled giant. Vesuvius un-crooked his arm and let the lifeless body slide down to the floor over the streaking of its own blood. Never once during this had Vesuvius' eyes left his observation of the four Americans. He picked up part of Wells discarded clothing and wiped the blood from his leg and side. Lifting the arm that had been used, the fantastically formed bicep and triceps were next to be toweled clean. The balled muscles stood prominently displayed and so hard that not even his own stroking hand was able to dent the solid meaty surface. "Small or normal men are nothing." The Italian behemoth announced calmly when done. "It's big muscle against big muscle that makes my job most interesting." As if cued, a door off to the side swung open and two naked and, clearly, confused men stumbled into the dim room then the door slammed shut once again. Wells and his companions recognized them instantly as M3/2 Sims and his handler, Hong Tu. "Welcome." Vesuvius greeted. "I have been expecting you for some time." "Fuck you!" Sims glared in return then, catching site of the other four. "And fuck you traitors, too. Where'd you dig those scum up?" "Is that any way to treat a meeting up with partner muscle-soldiers?" Vesuvius scolded mockingly. "Partners, my ass!" Sims charged with all his customary subtlety. Those assholes are traitors! Traitors to everything we stand for and everything our team worked for." "Thank you, Mr. Sims." Vesuvius assured as he stepped near the glistening 360-pound M3 muscleman. "I appreciate your candor. Now, I am sure you can understand, I need to kill you. Would you prefer a quick and painless death or shall we make it a good challenging fight." Vesuvius reached out unafraid and laid his strong hand over the wonderful muscle molded on Sims left breast. The naked M3 recoiled under the touch. Undaunted, Vesuvius stepped directly up to Sims again. This time he grabbed the pointy protruding nipple of the same pec hard between his thumb and forefinger. Sims found himself unable to step away again without causing potential damage to his sensitive captured area. His pecs, instead, rolled and froze into readied mountains of cabled muscle. Then his stiffly muscled nearer arm swung swiftly up knocking the tweaking hand from his aroused nipple. The large Italian muscle monster was obviously enjoying the muscle foreplay and stepped in once again. This time his hand closed in around the base of Sims semi-rigid cock. Vesuvius pulled Sims spectacularly muscled form closer toward him. Wells and Klein knew better than to make any move in spite of how angry they were. Sims had done his job by not blowing their cover and it was their responsibility, if only out of respect, to make sure they were fully accepted by this desperate and brutal ring. "Perhaps you would enjoy a taste of truly superior muscle." Vesuvius teased as his free hand reached behind Sims head and guided his face into the central line of his head-thick cleavage. Vesuvius relaxed his massive man-tits permitting Sims head to be absorbed to his ears in between the monstrous meaty projections. The M3's own marvelously sculpted pecs slide underneath the huge flexing Italian beef. In spite of the imminent danger, the sight of almost 900 pounds of insanely beautiful muscle interlocked together was erotically stunning. The shifting and gyrated movements coursing through Sims surging muscles as he struggled against Vesuvius' vastly stronger muscle only added to the sexual tension. Somehow Vesuvius had managed to force his tremendous cock between the clenched meat of Sims inner thighs. The bulbous cock head stood boldly out beneath and behind Sims strikingly flexed ass muscles. As Sims continued his suffocating struggle, his legs massaged the shaft of Vesuvius' cock pushing a flow of lubricating precum from the opening at the end of his crimson-hard cock head. Vesuvius applied greater force to the back of Sims head pushing the sharp features of the soldiers face deeper and deeper into the great pec-pillows of fantastic muscle. As less and less air made its way through to Sims, his body began to spasm in convulsions of anatomy defining muscle. His 28" arms coiled into perfectly carved sculptures of marbled balls of meat and he began to beat his fists against the enormity of Vesuvius' outer pecs - but to no avail. The undulating actions of Sims quivering body continued to stimulate Vesuvius' throbbing cock. Buried deep in the solidified cave of the two men's thigh muscles, Vesuvius' balls churned in excited readiness. His arm slipped from between their two grinding torsos and wrapped its immense girth around Sims trimly muscled lower back. His freed hand stroked the top of Sims tensile steel ass muscles enjoying the power of the handsomely corded glutes. One last forceful push buried Sims head almost ¾ of the way into the forcefully softened pec meat. Sims immense muscles flashed into one overall display of insanely brilliant striated splendor just as the first great river of cum erupted from Vesuvius' over-stimulated cock. The brutally muscled body of the smothering Italian reacted instantly to the joys of his orgasmic release by freezing into a statue of uncontrollably hard constriction. The fibrous lining of his heavily corded pecs slashed into view. The softened space between their massiveness disappeared and, with it, Sims embedded skull was shattered. Vesuvius continued to shoot stream after hot stream of voluminous cum between the legs of the lifeless body. When he knew that most of his cream had been spilled, Vesuvius pushed the lifeless form away and let it fall to the floor. Fortunately for those who had been forced to watch, Sims body spun facedown onto the hard concrete slab. The redness of Sims blood polished Vesuvius' pecs displaying every crushing cable of lined meat flowing across their planeted masses. Vesuvius claimed another piece of remaining M3's clothing and cleaned his undulating pecs as best as he could. Once done, he quickly caught Hung Tu by one wrist. His still-hard cock dribbled the last surges of cum as he walked back toward the waiting foursome dragging the handler with him. "Now that I know that there are no welcoming arms to greet your return to your American corps, all I need to know is if you will perform as needed for the Coven." "Let me start with this wonderful cock." He added reaching out once again to cover the still solid crown of Roger's cock. "Cum for me!" "I can't cum just like that!" Roger chirped. "Please help your friend." Vesuvius said turning to Oscar. "Fuck him!" Both men shrugged and then Roger turned and, with marvelous dexterity, reached down to grab each ankle with his hands. Oscar defiantly walked up to the still dribbling Italian cock and scooped off a palmful of cum. He used the hot white juice to lubricate the head of his own excited tool. Stepping up to Roger's anal offering he inserted the entire 18" length of his extraordinary dick into the soft intestinal core. As a handler, this was not an unusual feat for Roger but it always secured groans of painful wonder from non-handler viewers Once impaled, Roger stood upright so that his throbbing 21" member could be more easily seen. Oscar began to force his cobra-shaped cock along the grasping lining of Roger's intestines. Roger flexed his small tight ass in order to maximize the sensations he was enjoying from Oscar's prodigious insertion. Pleased with the progress, Vesuvius stepped up to Roger's waving cock and began to run his strong hands back and forth along the last quarter of the handler's endless shaft length. Roger began to fondle his own balls as the double stimulation began to evoke the appropriate mental sexual responses. His cock filled itself harder with the blood of heated excitement as both assisting men increased the rhythm of their arousing movements. Vesuvius smiled his pleasure as Roger's amazing cock pumped harder and harder in supreme readiness. The first bold river of Roger's cum flew up against the underside of Vesuvius' handsomely chiseled chin and ran thickly down onto the top of his shelved, heaving pecs. Vesuvius was fortunate enough to catch much of the second release of cum with his opened and waiting mouth. The vast quantity of cum filled him completely so he let the third, equally voluminous ejaculation splatter a wide band across his flexing upper pec meat. The fourth and fifth volley were no less rewarding in their quantities of hot, fresh cum. It took several more jolts from Roger's marvelous manhood before he depleted his immediate supply of cum. Vesuvius patted the slowly softening organ one last time as he stepped away and up toward the pair of heavily muscled men nearby. "That will, indeed, be a memorable experience for me!" He smiled at Klein. "Now I need to know your commitment to enter the Coven." Klein smiled back briefly curious to know what else was expected of them in this test. The answer came almost immediately as Vesuvius directed his next comment directly at Klein. "Kindly kill your partner's handler." Vesuvius insisted coldly.