30: Jack (23rd Street Gym)

Jack and the outline for this story were developed in collaboration with a member who prefers to remain anonymous. The story itself was then written by me. This installment is a testament to the vibrant, hot creativity of Louche Lothario readers. I invite you to celebrate this art by diving into the narrative. If you’re interested in collaborating on your own story, feel free to reach out through the Contact section of this website or via DM on Twitter/X (@Leo_Driskill) or Instagram (@Leo.Driskill). Your ideas could inspire Leo’s next steamy adventure.

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I've always been a bit of a night owl, and tonight is no exception. It's 2:45 a.m. and I'm wide awake, tossing and turning in my bed. I decide to try and tire myself out, maybe hit the gym. I remember Hunter, this hot meathead from work, mentioning a basement gym on 23rd Street that's open 24/7. It's a bit of an underground spot, literally and figuratively — it's not a registered business and there's no desk clerk between 11PM and 5AM, meaning you workout at your own risk… or have free reign to cruise if no one shows up to interrupt.

God, maybe one day I'll actually meet Hunter there and live the dream of destroying that beautiful man's gut.

…fuck, I'm horny.

I throw on some gym shorts and a tank top and head out into the New York night. I make my way uptown to 23rd Street and take the time to enjoy how quiet the streets are at this hour. 

I get to the gym and take a second to scan the room before I head in. It's pretty dead, as I expected, but there is one other guy here and gotdamn, he's a beast of a man. A massive, jacked bodybuilder towering over the weights with a pump so crazy, his muscles look like they're gonna burst out of his skin. His tank top is hanging on for its life with its barely-there straps and plunging armholes. It takes a confident man to rock that, and this guy clearly has it in spades. Even from here, I can tell he's been going hard for a while. His muscles are pumped and glistening with a sheen of sweat.

Target acquired? I dunno… I don't want to bother him. For now.

I make my way over to one of the bench presses and start loading up the bar. I can't help but sneak glances at the bodybuilder in between my sets, admiring the way his muscles ripple with each lift. The guy's a fuckin' animal. I digress, and return to my third bench press set, staring at the bar above me and the ceiling beyond that.

But, then… I'm pretty sure this mountain of a man just glanced at me. I go over the possibilities in my head: dickhead who doesn't share his toys, or respectful gym bro who's easy to approach. I hope he's the latter. 

"You mind if I work in? Just you here, and I'm hoping to really push the weight on this set."

"No problem," I tell him, not wanting to sound too eager, "I just wrapped up my last set." 

He gives me a quick nod and introduces himself as Jack. I give him a fist bump, realizing our hands are the same size, which is rare given my own large frame. For the briefest moment, I wonder what those hands would feel like on my body. 

…or curled into a fist, slamming into it. Fuck, I need to cum.

"You mind spotting me? I'm gonna go heavy here so I can take it to failure."

"Sure, man. Hop on." 

I stand over him as he lays back on the bench, and I can't help but lock into the way his muscles flex as he gets into position. I know I shouldn't be getting hard in a situation like this — I don't know this man at all — but damn, it's hard not to. I can feel the heat between us, and I know my own body must be giving off a pretty strong musk by now. I wonder if he can smell me as he lays there, his head almost directly under my crotch. 

"Alright, I'm ready. Just need you to help me rack it when I'm done so I don't drop this on my neck." 

I nod, grateful for the instruction that gives me something else to focus on other than the sight and scent of this beautiful man. 

I watch, transfixed, as he starts pumping out reps, his pecs and triceps bulging with each press, a feat of strength that has me even more worked up than I already was a moment ago. 

"Fuck, yeah. Look at that pump," I blurt out, caught up in the moment. 

He doesn't react. I know I'm getting a bit carried away, but I'm getting more turned on by the second. 

Focus, Leo. Jesus.

Jack grunts, his face twisted in concentration, as he pushes out the last few reps. His whole body tenses, his massive chest swells, and his arms tremble slightly as he finishes the set. I help him rack the weight, impressed by his strength — he had added a 45 and a 25 to each side of the bench, on top of what I'd already been pressing.

He thanks me, standing up and shaking out his arms, and I take the opportunity to step away from the bench press. I want to keep an eye on him, but I also don't want to come across as creepy. I make my way to the other side of the gym, where there's a heavy bag hanging, and start practicing my boxing moves. I throw a few punches, not going too hard, just enough to get a bit of a sweat going. I lift my shirt up to wipe the sweat from my brow, and just as the hem of my shirt falls back to my waistband, I sense someone approaching. 

"You've got a really defined set of abs there," a deep voice says. 

I turn to see Jack, his eyes fixed on my torso. "I've been trying to focus more on my core lately, you know, for an upcoming show. What kind of workouts do you do for your abs?" 

I can't help but feel a little proud, seeing this man — of all guys — admiring my physique. 

"Planks and weighted leg raises, mostly. I used to just do crunches, but compound exercises and targeting my obliques more has really improved my abs."

As I talk, I can't help but place a hand on my shirt over my abs, flexing a bit as I do so I can feel my own muscles.

"And a Few times a week I go to Iron Fist Forge, if you've ever heard of it," I tell him. "It's not far from here. I work on my abdominal endurance with some boxing."

And sometimes I do some off-the-books sparring, too. Heh.

Jack listens to me intently, his eyes never leaving my body. I can feel his gaze lingering on my body.

"I've never tried boxing before, but I've always wanted to give it a shot," he says, cracking his knuckles.

I nod, wondering where he's going with this.

"So, hear me out. I've got this problem with my abs here," he says, running a hand over his ripped but noticeably distended stomach. "I get so pumped, but then my abs get all pooched out."

Yeah, bro. It's the steroids.

I get the sense he's building up to something, but I can't quite tell what.

"I need to improve my endurance. Like, when I'm in front of the judges, I gotta hold that flex for a long time so my abs stay tight and, you know, impressive. You know, really sell it."

"Yeah, that makes sense. You definitely need some serious core endurance for that."

"So, how 'bout we do some ab punching sets?"

I raise an eyebrow, not quite following — but definitely interested.

"We take turns punching each other's abs, and we see how long we can keep those abs hard and flexed. We do it like a workout, three sets till failure, it might help with my endurance, and you get a good workout out of it, too."

I think about it for a moment. Just imagining letting loose on Jack's meaty gut, then feeling the power of his huge body as he returns the favor, makes my dick twitch in my shorts. Wonder if he noticed.

"Yeah, alright, man," I say, trying to sound casual. "Let's give it a shot."

"You sure? I'm not pulling any punches. This is a workout."

"Don't worry about me. Lay it into me, and I'll do the same to you."

Jack gives me a look that says he's excited, too.

I'm already half hard and my pits are sweating like a bitch. I mean, hell yeah, I'm into it. I can't wait to feel those monster hands of his digging into my guts. But first, it's my turn to lay into him. I want to see how hard he can really take it.

Jack strips off his tank top, and I finally get a good look at that monster gut of his. Even flexed, it juts out a bit, but it's all fucking muscle. He's got abs for days and they're riddled with veins, popping up towards his pecs as he flexes for me. But he doesn't hold it long, and when he relaxes, his stomach puffs out even more, giving him that bodybuilder gut that I know is the result of heavy roiding.

Suddenly, he backs up against the concrete block wall.

"I want you to really go for it, alright? I want to feel all the power of your punches. They're gonna bounce right off, but I need to know that you're not holding back."

"Back against the wall, huh?" I'm impressed.

He nods, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. "Do it."

I crack my knuckles and step closer to him, feeling his heat. "Alright. Let's see how tough those abs are."

I start throwing hard, deliberate punches, aiming for the sweet spot just above his navel where the force will reverberate through his whole gut. His abs are like concrete, his whole body taut as my fists slam into him, again and again. He grunts with each impact, his eyes squeezed shut.

Fuuuuuuck, yeah. This is why I got out of bed.

I keep laying into him, feeling the sweat build up on my skin. We're both glistening now, just two sweaty beasts in the fluorescent-lit gym. I can't help but notice his cock starting to swell in his shorts, but I say nothing.

I keep punching, pushing myself to go harder on Jack. But his abs just keep taking it, a wall of granite protecting his soft insides. I can feel my own gut clenching with each punch, my body responding to the power of my own blows.

"Fuck, man. You're a machine," I pant, taking a brief pause to wipe the sweat from my eyes.

"Your turn to take it," he growls, his eyes blazing with challenge.

I nod, stepping back up to the wall, my back against the concrete. I whip off my shirt, ball it up, and toss it to the ground. "Give it to me."

Jack steps forward, his eyes narrowing as he sizes up my body. "You ready for this?"

"Hit me, big guy."

Please.

He doesn't need to be told twice. His huge fist winds up, and THUD. His knuckles slam into my abs, the impact reverberating through my entire torso. But my abs hold strong, a solid wall protecting my bowels, the soft prize at the center of my body.

Another punch lands, and another, each blow like a hammer against my stomach. My muscles hold tight in protest, but I refuse to give in, keeping my abs marble-hard as his fists pummel me.

"Fuck, man," I gasp with a smirk, my voice ragged.

He doesn't respond, just keeps pounding my abs with those meaty fists at the end of his bulging muscular arms. The pressure of each impact against my stomach is intense, but it only fuels me to keep up with this beast. I can feel my own cock straining against my shorts, and much like I'd ignored his cock getting hard, he doesn't mention mine.

"Alright, your turn," I pant, stepping from the wall to let him go at it again.

We switch places and he backs up against the wall, a cocky grin on his face. "Come on, then."

I crack my neck, rolling my shoulders back as I take a step toward him. "Hope you're ready."

I begin throwing slow, calculated and devastating punches. I can tell already that his guard's down, and he's not as braced as he was for my last set of punches. Every impact shakes his whole body, but Jack stays in position, a rugged determination on his face that tells me I'm getting him close to the edge. He's not used to taking punches like this. Or, punches at all, probably.

But those abs… they're starting to give.

I notice a slight softening of his midsection, a slight puffing out of his gut. It looks like his massive body is beginning to tire. It takes a lot of energy for a man that huge to expend the effort he just did punching my guts.

I lean in closer as I hammer his abs.

THUD

THUD

THUD

THUD — "Umph!"

I keep my punches tight and close to his body. I lean in, which he allows without complaint, and can now feel his hot breath on my chest as he begins to let out a growl with each punch, and the proximity is turning me on even more.

"You tiring out already, big guy?" I smirk, my voice rumbling in his ear as I continue to lay into his softening gut.

The moment the words leave my mouth, I feel his abs clench again, powering up in response to my taunt. He's not giving in that easy.

We stay like that for a few seconds, his body tense under my relentless blows. But then, I feel his muscles start to weaken again. He's trying to keep them hard, but his endurance is failing him.

That's when I really start to lay into him.

My punches drive deeper into his unprotected gut, his abs powerless to defend against my merciless assault — but he doesn't ask to switch positions, either. Jack struggles to maintain his posture, but with every punch, his body folds a little more.

And then, suddenly, my fist sinks deep into his soft belly.

THUD — "Huuuhgh!"

Fuck, yes.

There's a sharp intake of breath from Jack as my knuckles curl into his unprotected insides, and for a moment, the air is still between us as I keep my fist firmly anchored well within his bowels. I can feel his hot, heaving breath on my chest, his sweat dripping onto my skin and running down my abs. I can feel his heart racing through my knuckles, which pick up his heartbeat from something beating deep within his gut, which he doesn’t try to flex.

And I feel the swell of his cock through our gym shorts, against my own hard cock. Neither of us moves.

I keep my gaze locked on his, my fist still buried in his gut. Our eyes are locked together, and in that moment, I sense he's feeling the same overwhelming need that I am.

He swallows hard, two beads of sweat trickling down his temple. "Your turn."

I step away from him, and we switch places once again, my back against the wall, my muscles tense as he prepares to hammer into me. After how deep I just went into him, I know he's gonna want to fuck me up.

I steel myself, clenching my fists as I ready my body to absorb the onslaught. Here we go.

"You felt that?" Jack taunts.

"Felt what?" I shoot back, raising an eyebrow.

"Those punches. My fucking guts were quivering," he acknowledges. "But I bet you can't take what you just gave, pretty boy."

"You couldn't hold your flex, big guy," I smirk, cheekily needling the man. "My abs are still tighter than yours."

He scowls at the reminder, tightening his fists with a smirk.

I see his eyes narrow. "You asked for it."

His fist comes barreling towards me, and I tense, readying myself for the force of his blow. And THUD — it slams into my stomach, my whole body folding around the impact — but still tight. Goddamn, that's a punch.

I feel his knuckles grind into my muscles, his fist driving hard against my abs, but my muscles hold strong, a wall of steel protecting my bowels.

Keep going, hardbody. I can take it.

THUD

"Huuuh," I growl, challenging him with my gaze.

THUD

Another punch.

His blows are as relentless as mine were, but I keep my abs rock solid, bracing against the power of his punches. I doubt I'm actually stronger than Jack, but I'm definitely more conditioned for this exact kind of roughhousing.

Maybe it was unfair of me to have done this to him… but to be fair, it was his suggestion.

"Feeling tired yet?" I taunt between punches, meeting his gaze.

His expression darkens, and he hammers into me even harder, his knuckles blurring as they crush into my gut over and over again.

"Come on, you piece of shit!" he growls, the veins in his neck bulging.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I can feel my abs starting to give, softening just slightly with each punch as I struggle to hold on to my flex. I can usually take a hell of a lot more than this. There's something about those intense eyes boring into me, his fist trying to bore into me, and his thick neck covered in sweat that's throwing me off my game.

My cock is clearly hard now — 

Oh, shit, so is his.

— and I can feel the sweat dripping down my back. My pits are starting to give off a strong musk, and I know he can smell it, too, because his nostrils flare as he leans in closer and takes it in.

"Fuck, bro," he says, shaking out his muscular arms, ending the round.

Jack switches with me, placing his back against the wall, his eyes still locked in with competition, and swipes the back of his sweaty hand across his brow, not accomplishing much in an effort to wipe off the sweat about to drip into his eyes.

"Okay, third round." he says, offering me a cocky grin.

I step towards him as I bounce on my toes, my thick pecs bouncing on my chest. I roll my shoulders back. I stare him in the eyes, not blinking as he does the same.

I pause.

"You wanna go beyond failure?" I ask, keeping my voice low and gravelly. "Really see what your guts can handle?"

It's a risky move, asking to test a man's limits without knowing how he'll respond. But his cock tells me he's enjoying this, as it's still hard. It doesn't take long for Jack to crack a crooked smile, his eyes gleaming with an excitement that matches my own.

"Fuck it. Yeah. I do, bro."

Jack's confidence is palpable as he places his back flush against the wall. Here we go, final round.

I wind up and THUD — my knuckles slam into his abs once more, his muscles clenching tight with the force of my blow.

THUD — another punch, straight into the pit of his gut.

THUD — I keep laying into him, wondering when the granite-hard stomach under my fists is gonna give

But then, something changes.

His muscles begin to soften again, like the second round, but way more quickly. His rock-hard abs finally give in to the relentless force of my punches.

And then, I see it. The moment his abs give way, his monster gut puffing out into a massive, meaty pillow. Before me is truly a prize: Jack's bodybuilder gut, the result of his apparent heavy roiding.

And it's all mine.

Fuck, yes.

I don't hesitate, driving my fist even deeper into his now-soft belly.

WHUMP

The impact shudders through his body, his eyes squeezing shut and mouth splitting open as he takes the full force and his breath is forced out. His huge belly is like a sponge as I hammer into his big gut a second and third time. I take his distended lax abs into my crosshairs, and fire an uppercut into his bulging lower roid gut. With those impossibly thick slabs of muscle relaxed now, his unprepared intestines take the full brutality of the impact.

"UGH! Fuck," he gasps, eyes still closed, his voice thick with surprise.

THUD — my knuckles grind into his guts, his muscles quivering under the force of my blows. Jack's head hangs as he submits to the feeling.

There's something so hot about seeing this huge, muscular guy reduced to a quivering mess. His massive body, so powerful and intimidating, is now at my mercy, his soft tortoise-shell gut absorbing every impact. I can see the definition in his six-pack, the individual muscles standing out in sharp relief, and yet, his belly is like a thick cushion that I can slam my fist into up to my forearm.

THUD — "Oof!"

Another punch, and I feel his intestines shift under my knuckles. Jack's gut is like punching a mattress; his softened, thick ab muscles absorbing the force of my blows, a tactile feedback that fuels me to keep going, and going.

"Fuck, yes," I growl, my voice rough with arousal. "Take it, big guy."

I don't let up, continuing to hammer his belly with relentless force.

THUD — "Uhh!"

He's loving this. He's a fucking masochist.

The thought fuels me to drive an even harder punch into his bowels. Taking aim with a cross punch into his navel. 

WHUMP — "Ugh!"

He takes it, his massive roided-out gut enveloping my fist and wrist as I push further in and grind my knuckles around his soft, meaty gut. With Jack punch drunk, I use my knuckles and muscular arms to grind into his intestines, taking full advantage of his large, distended roid gut, crushing and compressing his soft entrails deep into the full real estate of his belly. 

I pull my fist back and switch from cross punches to uppercuts, square my knuckles up with his navel.

THUD — "Ugh!"

THUD — "Ugh!"

THUD — "Fuck!"

I'm relentless, owning his guts, conquering his oversized, pumped-up body with my fists, taking what he's giving and exactly what I want.

I drive a fourth uppercut into his navel, cramming his intestines together again, causing the beast to finally collapse into me, doubling over.

I drive him over to the bench press and lay him down on it. Jack's strength is spent.

"Oh, fuck. Keep going, pretty boy," he growls, though his voice is unsteady.

I don't respond, just step closer, and with a swift movement, I straddle his lap.

His huge roid gut is spread out before me. It's not just his gut, though — the rest of his body is just as impressive. His chest is thick and meaty, his pecs so swollen they look like they're about to burst. As I hover over him, taking him in, I can feel his hard cock straining against mine, his sweat-slick skin sliding against mine.

I start punching his pecs, pounding my fists into his thick chest as he stares up at me, his breath coming in short gasps.

THUD — "Ugh!"

THUD — "Fuck, yeah!"

With each punch, his body shakes, his pecs rippling like waves beneath my fists. I can sense his desperation. He wants more. He's addicted to the feeling, just like me.

"You like that, big guy?"

"Fuck yes," he gasps, his voice growing more ragged. "Don't stop."

Smiling, I pull back and start throwing punches again, but this time, I go for his gut, winding up and unleashing a fury of blows.

WHUMP — "Ugh!"

WHUMP — "Oh, fuck!"

I keep pounding his gut, relishing the feel of my knuckles sinking into his soft belly. With every wet punch against his sweaty gut, I can feel his intestines compress beneath my fists.

I punch harder, deeper, savoring the way he reacts to each deeper punch, sloshing his bowels.

"You're loving this, aren't you?" I grunt, my voice rough with desire.

"Fuck yes," he whimpers as his huge paws reach up and clutch my thighs as if to steady himself. "Keep going."

I pause, my knuckles buried in his belly. I slowly grind my knuckles against the feeling of his heartbeat in the deepest pit of his gut.

"Ugghhh — ooohhh… fuuuuck —"

I pull my fist out of his belly and raise it again, driving it deep into his guts once more.

WHUMP — "UH!"

His body buckles, his head falling back as a guttural groan escapes his lips.

"That's it, big guy," I growl, my voice dripping with arousal. "You can take it."

He can barely respond, just a series of incoherent grunts as he takes punch after punch. His hands fall away from my thighs, hanging limply from either side of the weight bench, his knuckles dragging the floor, as his head lolls back. He's breathless, spent.

I stop punching and sit up straight, my fists hovering over his gut. "That enough?" I ask, my muscular chest heaving.

"No," he begs, his eyes wild. "No, it's not. It's incredible. Oh, fuck. You have no idea how good this feels." 

Don't I?

His voice cracks. "I don't want you to stop yet. I can take more."

"You sure?" I grin. "I can go harder."

"Fuck, yes." He nods, his eyes glistening with lust and sweat. "Thank you. Thank you for introducing me to this."

I smirk.

"Take it further," he urges. "Really slam into me. Pound through my muscle. I want to feel your strength, bro. I want to feel your knuckles digging into me as deep as you can."

Hearing him so turned on, I flex my abs harder and lean in closer to him still straddling his lap. I force my knuckles deeper into his distended tortoise-shelled gut harder, deeper, and grind a slow circle into his bellybutton. Jack groans harder and his head lolls back.

"Yeah," I say, leaning down and applying all my weight to my fist, pressing his navel into his backbone. 

"I can feel your fist right in my bowels." His eyes widen, desperate. "It's so fucking hot."

I grin, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "You really want it deep?"

His eyes shine with a feverish intensity, and he nods, sweat dripping down his face.

"Absolutely, bro." He swallows hard, his thick throat working. "Go for it."

Hearing the eagerness in his voice, I step off him.

"No," he says, his voice hoarse. "Please keep going."

I look back at him and smirk.

Jack remains lying on the weight bench, holding his beaten gut.

Without a word, I walk towards the weights and grab a 20-pound kettlebell. Jack is a giant. He'll be able to take it.

I stride back over to him, straddle his lap once more, and present the weight to him.

His eyes widen at the sight, and a devilish grin spreads across his face. "You serious?"

I raise an eyebrow. "You want it, or not?"

He swallows hard again, his gaze fixed on the kettlebell. "How much does that weigh?"

"Twenty pounds." I say, unfazed.

His smile widens, and his eyes glint with a mixture of challenge and pleading. "Drop it on my guts."

Fuck. My cock jerks at his words, and I shift, feeling his dick strain against his shorts beneath my straddling groin.

"You sure?" I ask, even though we both know the answer.

"Do it," he says, his voice thick with desire. "I can take it."

I imagine the weight crashing into his soft, defenseless belly.

"You won't regret it," he adds, his voice low and rough.

I hover the weight over his belly, before setting it down, relishing in the way his plump roid gut conforms under the pressure of the kettlebell.

Jack grunts, "That's it, bro... put some weight on me..."

The kettlebell sinks a little further, floating on his guts, the metal globe beneath the handle pressing into his bloated six pack, settling into his belly. I watch, captivated, as his gut conforms like a sponge, accepting and absorbing the pressure of the weight.

"Fuck," I whisper, my voice hoarse with arousal. "That's so hot."

I sit up straighter, my hard cock pressing against his, and lift the weight again, this time only about an inch, before carefully and gently — drop — I let it back down, right on his navel. It's not a hard drop, but his breath still whooshes from his mouth at the impact, his eyes squeezing shut as his whole body reacts to the weight. His belly, surprisingly enough, doesn't seem to move much under the relatively gentle force — his muscles are that relaxed, that soft, that there is no telltale bounce of the weight against an anxious set of abs. His stomach simply accepts the weight applied into it.

I clench my fist around the handle and lift the weight, higher this time. Jack's eyes lock onto the kettlebell, his nostrils flaring. I feel his hard cock strain under my groin as he holds his breath, anticipating the impact.

I hold the weight about a foot above his gut.

"Yeah?" I ask, my voice low.

"Please," he whispers, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, I assume so he can't anticipate the impact. "Do it."

I let the weight go, dropping it straight onto his soft, vulnerable gut, right into his navel. 

WHUMP

The sound of the impact is sick, fleshy thud like taking a baton to a side of beef. The weight plows into his bloated gut, driving deep into him; his warm, soft intestines cushioning the blow.

Jack's eyes squeeze shut and a guttural grunt is forced from his body as he takes the full force of the weight. For a second, the rounded bottom of the kettlebell practically disappears into his belly, a perfect indentation of his soft, pliant abs.

Holy shit.

The weight settles into his bowels and I instinctively grab my cock to give it a little massage through my shorts at the sight. Jack's belly slowly reforms, his muscles rippling as he struggles to breathe, his abs struggling to push the weight back up.

"You like that?" I ask, raising the weight again. "Want me to do it again?"

"Please. Don't stop now."

This huge bodybuilder, this beast of a man, is completely at my mercy, and he's begging for more.

I lift the weight. "Let's see how deep we can go."

WHUMP

The weight plows back into his soft gut, driving even deeper this time as his muscles completely give way and his bowels cushion the blow once more.

"Oh, fuck," he gasps, his voice laced with pleasure. "That's it. Right there."

Jack's eyes remain closed, his head falling to the side as his mouth parts in a silent groan. The kettlebell sinks even further into his belly, the globe pressing deep into his navel, perfectly settling into his warm, wet nest of eagerly beaten entrails.

Fuck, that's hot.

Jack's gut is like quicksand, his muscles sucking the weight in, only to slowly let it back out as his abs struggle to reform. It's incredible how his body has taken on a completely different quality; his formerly chiseled abs are now a soft, meaty cushion, his intestines compressed beneath the weight, only to slowly reform as I pull the weight away.

"You want more?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

Jack nods eagerly, his eyes glittering with raw desire. "Keep going," he begs. "Don't hold back."

I lift the weight a third time, my eyes fixed on his face, wanting to capture every expression, every flicker of pleasure and pain.

"Crush me again," he urges, daring me to go further.

Slowly, I raise the kettlebell high, higher than before — close to two feet above his perfectly shaped navel. Jack's eyes widen, following the weight.

I let it drop.

WHUMP

The weight crashes into his navel, driving so deep it almost touches his backbone. A guttural cry is torn from Jack's throat, his legs instinctively try to curl up, but I'm straddling him.

His arms, which had remained hanging limp off the sides of the weight bench, whip up. One hand grabs my wrist, his thick fingers digging into my skin as if to steady himself, while the other grips the handle of the kettlebell, trying to stop it from sinking further. It's a futile attempt — the weight is already resting on his spine, his abs enveloping it and an unlucky loop of intestine crushed in between.

"Oh, fuck," he gasps, his voice hoarse, his eyes still closed as he savors the sensation.

I watch, mesmerized, as his soft, muscular belly slowly expands, his six-pack disappearing under the pressure, the hard planes of his stomach giving in to the force, his warm, wet bowels molding around the metal. He's a fucking sponge.

I tug my wrist free, and Jack's hand falls away, his body trembling as he surrenders to the feeling. His kettlebelled guts slowly rise back up, like a wave, as his powerful abs slowly force the weight back up.

But something else catches my eye. I spot a dark stain spreading across the front of his shorts. He came.

I smirk. "You came."

Jack doesn't respond, his eyes still closed, his chest heaving as he rides out the intense sensations coursing through his body.

"It's okay," I whisper. "Let it all out. I want to see it."

His breath catches and his eyes flutter open, a glimmer of uncertainty shining through.

I lean in closer, lowering my voice to a murmur. "Let me see it, Jack."

His gaze flickers to my face, and, slowly, he smirks and nods.

He reaches down and tugs at the waistband of his shorts. His abs flex as he does so, his belly tightening, and the kettlebell shifts, riding the wave of his muscles.

And then, I see it. A large, wet stain on the fabric, the unmistakable aroma filling my nostrils as he reveals his cum-soaked shorts and sweaty, muscular gut.

"That's it," I encourage, my voice thick with arousal. "Show me."

Jack tugs the waistband lower, revealing his full cock and I spot a little more cum trickling down his bare belly.

His expression is surprised, as though he knew he was loving it but hadn't expected to suddenly cum. He just stares at his hard, leaking cock. I stand up from his body and as I grab the kettlebell, I give it a little push before removing it from his belly, giving his bowels one last burst of pressure. Jack grunts at the unexpected movement, and I distinctly see a final, small pulse of cum seep from the tip of his dick. He lets his head fall back as he catches his breath, his belly rising and falling.

Jack rubs his still-distended gut.

"Man, that was something else," he murmurs. "I think it's your turn again for some gutpunching."

My turn? Again? Well, if you insist.

"Sure." I nodded, eager to please, and eager to be beaten some more. “I guess I never got my third round.”

The beast stands slowly, straightens and gains his footing. He rubs his gut, which, in typical steroid bodybuilding fashion, has only slightly deflated but remains mostly distended after our workout. When I see his arm reach for me, I know what's coming next.

In an instant, I feel his massive calloused hand close around my bicep and my back hits the wall. This man is overwhelming. Before I have time to react or even think, his meaty body is pressed against mine, our crotches touching, his face just inches from mine. The raw scent of his pits, his crutch musk, and his cum fills my nostrils.

"You ready for this?" he asks, that same devilish grin spreading across his face. "Because I sure as hell am."

I realize that my abs are still rock hard, bracing for what's to come.

"You know what?" I say, my voice low, my pulse quickening. "I think I'll just let my abs relax this time. Give you a direct shot into my guts. No protection."

His eyebrows shoot up, and he licks his lips. "You serious?"

I smirk, my heart pounding. "Only fair I return the favor."

"Fuck, yeah. That's badass, bro. Really fucking badass."

I can't help but smile at the praise.

He shuffles closer, lining up his hips with mine, sandwiching our cocks between us as he grinds his body against mine. His gut presses against mine, and I feel his soft, warm muscles against my own, our stomachs nestling into each other. I realize that my cock is getting harder and I'm pressing back against him involuntarily.

And then he starts.

His arm arches back, and he unleashes a cross punch right into the pit of my unprotected gut. The shock to my whole intestinal tract is unmistakable — every fucking part of my loose gut felt it, regardless of where the punch actually landed. 

A series of deep, controlled uppercuts then slam into my navel. My intestines slosh and flatten beneath his fists, compressing, shifting, and roiling with each blow as his huge fists cram all my intestines upward, compressing the meat of my unflexed abs in with them.

THUD — “Ugh!”

THUD — “Huhh!”

THUD — “Oof!

I can feel my body responding the way I know it does to prolonged uppercuts to my navel. My cock aches for release, but I’m hoping he can punch it out.

Jack starts talking trash. "You like that? You wanted to feel it all, right?"

"Fuck yes," I grunt, my voice raw. "Keep going."

"You sure? 'Cause I can keep this up all—

THUD — “Oof!”

“—day—”

THUD — “Ugh!”

“—dude." 

THUD — “Huhh!”

He punctuates his sentence by continuing a series of uppercuts to my navel, his huge fist fully disappearing in my loose sick pack with each impact.

I can barely catch my breath between punches, and my mind swims. The only constant is the feeling of his knuckles driving into my bowels, his free hand grasping my shoulders for leverage as he hammers into me.

"Keep those abs loose, bro," he taunts, his face just inches from mine, his eyes focused on my soft gut. "I want to use you to feel what it's like to just punch a guy’s intestines, no recourse. Just straight in, bro. You don’t get to do this out on the streets.”

My gut fucking aches at this. Yes, roided-up muscle bro, please use me to see what it feels like to repeatedly punch a man in his fully relaxed gut. 

I nod, unable to speak, and go limp, surrendering to his need to have unrestricted, no recourse access to my fully unprotected bowels. My body relaxes, and my soft, warm guts present themselves to his fists again, my stomach soft as a ripe fruit.

Taking my surrender as permission to go harder, he does. His eyes narrow in focus, and his punches come harder and deeper. The entire weight of his body is behind each blow as he leans into each uppercut. I feel his meaty knuckles bury themselves in my intestines, my insides sloshing and shifting upward each time.

This man could knock me out with a single blow if he aimed it for my head.

And yet, I trust him implicitly with my guts.

His fists plow into me, making my whole body fold now. I feel a dull ache in my spine as my guts are driven back by his switch to cross punches to my navel, my beaten bowels compressing and contorting. He's rearranging my organs, his knuckles carving a path through my intestines.

"Yeah, take it," he grunts. "Take all of it."

His trash talk only serves to turn me on more. My legs begin shaking, my body trembling with the force of his punches, but my eyes remain locked on his, never breaking contact.

And then, it happens.

A particularly brutal uppercut slams into my gut, and my body shudders. It's like I've been electrocuted, every nerve in my body lighting up as my cock unleashes a stream of cum into my shorts, like my body has no other choice.

"Oh, fuck," I gasp, my voice hoarse. "I'm... I'm cumming."

Jack's eyes widen, and his mouth drops open, but he doesn't stop punching. "You're fucking cumming? From my punches? Oh, fuck yeah!"

He slams another uppercut into my navel even harder, his knuckles driving deeper, and I feel another wave wash over me. My legs give out, and I sag against the wall, held up only by Jack's fist holding my intestines against my diaphragm.

"Yeeesss!" he roars triumphantly, wrapping his arms around me, his breath hot on the back of my neck as I collapse into him.

Even as my body goes limp, my mind is still buzzing, electrified by the intense experience. Jack's arms remain wrapped around me, holding me up as my legs shake uncontrollably. I feel so weak, so dominated, and yet, my body is thrumming with the pleasure of afterglow.

I can feel his warm chest against mine, his breath on my neck, and his soft, full gut pressing against my own. Even now, every little shift of his body sends a jolt through me, reminding me of his raw power.

We stand there, locked together, for what feels like an eternity, my body slowly calming down, my heartbeat returning to normal. Jack's arms tighten around me, and I feel his chin rest on my shoulder. At that moment, I realize that this moment of post-orgasmic bliss is something I could easily get addicted to.

"That was..." Jack starts, then pauses as if searching for the right words. There's a note of wonder in his voice.

I chuckle, still breathing heavily.

I take a deep breath and slowly push myself upright, feeling my body regain a little strength. My cum-soaked shorts stick to my lower belly and groin as I move. Our eyes lock, and we share a brief embrace, our bodies still pressed together, sweat-soaked skin against sweat-soaked skin.

"You really know how to push a guy's limits," I murmur. "Thanks for that."

He chuckles, his warm breath fanning my face. "Yeah. I think we've both earned a shower."

I nod, my eyes drifting down to his cum-stained shorts. "Yeah, I think it's time to clean up."