Olympic cocks
by Valis



Little Kali provided us with new sources of thrill. Her ever growing arms
broke her own upperbody strength records almost daily. If you held your stare
at her youthful toned guns you could tell the enlargement process carrying on
inside the fibre packs. Every Saturday she woke me up with a shoulder shaking,
the measuring tape pinned before her sparkling grim. She made a fist,
trembling as a leaf, bit her lips and watched through the rim of her avid eyes
to check my readings, suspiciously. I kept a notebook with the figures and she
took her time to plot out steep graphs. 'Say your prays, infidel musclewoman,
she said with the faked language she heard in the movies from the video
rental, my prodigious genetics is going to run over you and crush your
starving limbs as a fly smashed on a windscreen. Before turning 16 I'll take
you over, she forecasted, and at 17 I'll tear off your gun if you ever dare a
test.' She shut the notebook and tossed it over her shoulder, pointing at me
five challenging fingers. We practise punishing grips till I find the one that
make tears roll down her shivering jaw, which is increasingly harder. I have
registered us into the free- armwrestling tag team championship, an open
unscheduled competition with no weight classes, which allows us occasional
world travelling and long periods of recess. Therefore, we were by then plenty
of spare time we invested mostly in a new sinful divertimento Kali baptized as
Olympic cocks. Kali and myself each selected a champion and pit them in all
sorts of tests of toughness, power and endurance. To make the duel outcome
undisputable we agreed a fixed series of events, but in order to keep room for
imagination, we also saved two free events to be chosen by each one of us
according to the special capabilities of our champs. I must say that Kali had
kind of sixth sense to identify an Olympic cock as soon as she rolled down
somebody's pants. We were soon well known among the main sex for hire agencies
and the guys in charge got involved in the search for our megacocks. Size
wasn't all that mattered. Large cocks often prematurely coughed, softened and
hunched over as soon as one of us used any of the rude techniques which we
agreed to allow. Small steel hard cocks were often best deal, hard to make
spit and even harder to bend. They were good for the endurance events but
frequently failed in the power events, such as weight lifting and glass
filling. To beat Kali's champ cock, which by that time was a big black bird
stiff and curved like a harpoon, I resorted to Paul. I phoned and dated him
without letting him know further. He arrived just showered and releasing a
heavy musk. When he saw the black guy he frowned. To motivate him I told him
we wanted to know whether he kept as fit as usual in bed and had hired that
black hunk for comparison. When she saw Kali charge against her trousers he
didn't complain. I made the same with the black bird. Paul didn't deceive me.
He put up with the vibrato, the two-finger head smothering, the thighs geyser
and even Kali's special shake. The black bird was not that cool and spit on my
eye when I applied it the inverted wet rubbing. Second event was the stick
cracking. I explained Paul the proceedings and he was delighted to show us how
stiff his cock could reach. But the black bird wasn't real jelly so the
competition got tough. When I saw Kali breaking the broom stick with her champ
cock I thought Paul was going to chick away. He didn't. We agreed a draw in
order to prevent further destruction of the furniture. Then came the
weight-lifting event. We had made up special harnesses from leather straps to
fasten to the cocks at one end and clasp to the dumbbells at the other one.
Stiffness was valuable in that event, but leg strength was the key, and Paul
proved he kept all his limbs in form not just the fifth, from his strength
training background. When he saw the glasses he relaxed. A rest to enjoy good
French wine at least. Kali let him know the real thing. They two knelt face to
face and we placed behind each champ, grabbing the cocks with the rights (no
lefties here) and handling the glass with the left. It was all important not
to waste a single drop of the precious liquid. Just with the first run the
black bird filled almost half the glass. Paul's eyes opened so wide I though
the eyeballs were going to drop into the glass. We made our best but the black
bird looked like a fireman hose. Paul held my wrist and they took the point.
Kali's choice for the free event was fabric piercing. She wore a cotton pant
and pressed the hunk between her legs pulling by his hips. The sharp cock tore
the fabric without effort. We matched it. Then Kali fitted light shorts. They
struggled longer but eventually the shorts got a new whole, perhaps a trend
for modern fashion. Paul found that hard to match. His cock head was sore and
its shaft bent as I pulled at the meaty buttocks, but his proud made him
succeed. Then Kali fitted jeans. Stone washed. That was a bit too far for Paul
who refused. The black hunk yelled as though he were pushing his thing against
a steel brush. Suddenly we heard the threads ripping off and his big bird
disappearing all at once down to the balls. Kali should celebrate it but her
face wasn't exactly that mood. When we explained her the test was over she was
reluctant to let it go out. Tied at two events each, I had the last card with
the final choice. I saw Paul had really got into it and he wiped his big willy
keeping it rock hard. The black bird sported its metallic shine as headed up
as usual, in fact I had never seen it relaxed, if ever was. I went for a
direct cock confrontation. I commanded them to lie upwards, lift up thighs and
touch their buttocks, and I fit a cork on each navel. Then I grabbed the
fighting cocks pressing their heads one against the other and wrapped the
heads tight together with my armwrestling hand straps. Keeping the big pipes
perfectly up, for what I had to use my both hands I explained they must pull
their cocks as close to their bellies as possible and the one touching the
cork on his navel win. After the initial thrust Paul's cock, slightly longer
and definitely thicker, seemed to prevail. Making her bulky abs bulge the
black hunk rallied. Both cocks trembled while their owners grimaced in full
exertion. The black bird dominated further, pulling Paul's pipe down. Its
thick blood vessels pumped under the brilliant coal skin. Interlacing his
fingers behind the neck Paul launched a tremendous thrust. His cock had grew
so thick its shaft completely hide the black bird and its head looked
strangled by the wrapping. The smothered head was close to the cork, but the
belly muscles were already fully flexed. While he kept his pressure Kali and I
discussed whether the cork was to short to be ever touched. After a brief
argument Kali admitted that it was so and that the black bird had been
completely overpowered. I unwrapped the cock and rubbed the new champion. It
supplied the champagne foam.

But the owner of my champ was a busy man, and he didn't stay to defend his
title. We lost interest in cock Olympics till Kali's good nose unburied a new
freak. It was in a tourne across midwest, where we went for a tag-team
armwrestling tournament held in Vegas. For those not familiar with pair
armwrestling there are two one-on-one pulls and if both couples win one each,
then the losers untie. Since I'm in a class by myself my bouts are taken for
granted, and all we need is Kali beating the worse in the opponent couple.
Sometimes the young teen does some times she doesn't, but we enjoy it anyway.
We reached the final after an incredible third pull were Kali beat the less
strong of a bodybuilders marriage- the male by the way- in an endless pull
with quickly alternating edges that made me aware how much the young strong
girl had gained not just in bare strength but in maturity and fighting spirit
as well. When the girl eventually broke her foe's fighting spirit she kept the
beaten macho pressed against the cushion while her stare demolished his pride.
Unfortunately the marathon pull had heavily taxed Kali and we immediately
faced the final match against an all women couple from Cuba who squeezed
metallic grips to keep the enormous guns pumped. A pair of statuesque female
colossus with sheer vigour shamelessly oozing off her chocolate furs. The
crowd took our side. The Caribbean pair was received with ravaging booing by
the herd of red necks, while they shook fists and tap our shoulders as Kali
paraded in front of me sporting the sweetest shy grim the most candid
schoolgirl couldn't match. The cunning child wrapped up in cheers gave
immediately to the first mulatto giantess and saved her last gasp to the
second one, whose oak-like arm she somehow managed to drive down one inch from
the pad. But the ebony trunk rippling with snake-thick twitching veins was
just too big and the girl lacked leverage to crush it into the cushion. The
kid had her ass off the sit and pulled with every gram of body weight but the
match was painfully uneven. I watched my girl, pretty and hard as a polished
marble, struggling to dominate that fabulous piece of woman, trading raw
strength with the tremendous tropical typhoon. The candid grime was gone and
there I had a battling angel yelling as a rat and striking as a poisonous
snake. Her fine long fingers curved into the brown fist, leaning forth to
conquer the top stance or simply to prevail in the clash of wills. I know she
tries to avoid the sight of the immense Cuban muscles and hurt her nemesis
pride with an insulting "take-me-if-you-can-dud" stare. I pull the strip of my
briefs and stir on my first row sit. The Cuban colossa expands her almighty
chest and hardens even further. She's a single pack of exerting fibre, a
bronze goddess of strength. I can't figure out how come the slender arm of my
little girl stands on top and it doesn't crack like a matchstick. Half hundred
flamed stinky peasants share my amazement, rocking and pulling with her,
muffling the sharp, crystal Spanish words of advice the one with longest nails
cleverly dosed in the moments of doubt, when my brave girl seems to touch the
miracle and the dark knuckles tremble close to the cushion, a tiny gasp apart.
But physics are obstinate. The mulatto face strained and an eye hurting blast
of white light grew up; the most robust fangs I had ever admired. The puffing
wrestlers stalemated, with nasty refereeing from a Mexican moustached mother
hounding poor Kali for not keeping her little shoulders perfectly square to
the monster brown muscle- mountain, who lost a gallon of liquid before pulling
back and pin exhausted Kali down. I stand to shake with the winners and carry
Kali away. Her body is hard and chilli as steel. Anyway, the colossus pair
self-introduced as Sonia and Martha are impressed and we share motel room.
After learning the Cuban names for fist fucking, dildo and some other gadgets,
we run short of petrol in the middle of nowhere, a solitary farm owned by a
young widow and his horse groom, a fat ugly man in his forties. They were
extraordinary friendly; they offered us dinner, gave us some orientations for
the rest of the trip and persuaded us to stay overnight. We are taught she,
who was a extraordinary beautiful elegant lady, had married a year ago with a
local guy, but the husband started to lose weight since the very first
honeymoon night, felt into a weakened state and eventually extinguished like a
candle. Now she had recovered the joy of life with the older groom but being a
small village, she didn't dare to remarry that soon with a lower class man.
After the feast Kali and I were offered the guest room. We couldn't fall
sleep, so loud the displays of affection coming from the nextdoor main room.
At the beginning we joked but after two hours of endless din, the feeling had
switched to astonishment. I swear when we had breakfast I had the impression
they had just stopped. Kali and I looked each other over the scramble eggs I
decided to stay and investigate. We said we'd visit the main village and came
back at evening. They didn't matter. We brought the jolly widow with us. Once
the ice had been broken I slipped into the conversation the subject of the
night noise, and soon we were opening discussing about manhood and love
making. I mentioned her little Kali was the toughest lover I had ever had and
she acknowledges the groom was the first man able to tire her enough to get
sleep. I probed her proud and she swallowed. Kali and the groom made love all
night to find out who can endure the longest. If she outlasts him we would
bring him with us for a few weeks, otherwise we would do the house keeping for
a month letting the couple free to just enjoy each other. When the lady
explained it to the grown man he dropped the horse ironware, wiped the sweat
out his thick lips with his hairy forearm and devoured Kali with his little
rat eyes. We decided to run the contest in the main bedroom, only drink
allowed during the clash and looser acknowledging defeat by submission or
physical disability to go on making love, which had to be agreed by both the
widow and myself. When Kali rolled of his pants the widow smiled. His cock,
uglier than himself, felt down close to his knees. To see all that meet
spreading up was a unique show. It was lemon yellowish with tiny green veins
everywhere and greasy thick hairs along the first third of its shaft.
Contorting her shapely body Kali lodged it in till she felt its head thumping
her uterus. They started pumping. Kali's nether throat grew incredible wide
for a person of her size, still unable to fully lodge the giant cock in. In
fact, he hammered her innards like a pile driver, grabbing her delicate body
by the ankles and driving it back and forth like a handcart. Kali constricted
the metal bars of the bed's head frame and made her hips whirl like an eddy,
swinging his huge thing and rubbing its head in a spiral fashion. He came off.
The injected sperm burst out the invaded nether throat, splashing us. They
went on. The man released Kali's ankles and dug his thumbs inside Kali sliding
on his huge cock, to pin her clit. I noticed her eyes blanked. She was coming
off as well. As they two climaxed time after time, he handled her light body
not letting it slip out of the impaling rod, twisting her like a roasting
lamb. I realised, though, that Kali was wrestling with her crotch muscles,
contracting them in squeezing waves that suckled all his juices out. After two
hours the big body was soaked in sweat while Kali's looked slightly fresher,
shining with thin perspiration. I see you didn't lye, said the widow, still my
man is just starting up. You're young fellow can't put up with him. It was
quite true. By hour four his cock didn't show any weakness, while Kali
stretched out her chin and clenched her fists, close to the limit of her
endurance. Encouraged by the signs of fatigue from his bed mate, the fat man
increased the pace of his hard pumping, driving Kali's hips back and forth
with his huge hands as a plastic puppet. He came again. It was at least the
tenth time yet his climax lasted more than one minute, splashing milky thing
all around the room. When he had finished he released Kali's body, which felt
aside and rolled on the bed. Is that the end, asked the widow. No way, I said
standing up and approaching Kali. How are you doing, sis, are you ok? I don't
feel my body from the belly down. That's good. You can go on so. The thing is
I do feel something tore inside me. And so much blood lost... I faint. Give
him another shot, his cock is getting soft, I lied. That stinky can't put you
down. I'm afraid he's close to do it, she said. But she got up on all fours,
crawled on him, grabbed his member and, gritting her tiny even teeth, stuck it
inside her narrow pussy. Remarkable fighter your young friend is, pity it was
useless, said the widow, yet a bit concerned with the impressive endurance of
my girl. They pumped for another hour. None of them came off. Perhaps they had
released all the liquids inside their bodies already. I think is a draw, said
the widow. I don't, I replied, I see your man is about to burst. She bite her
lower lip. Kali bear hugged the now slow moving big man and rolled to put him
on top. Then she pressed his hips, lifted him on the air and pulled his lower
body back and forth at an increasing pace. The man's beer belly slapped Kali's
hard flat belly like a drum roll. Kali increased the pace till the big man
writhe in pain. He was sort of coming but nothing remained to be released
apart from a dark drop of some thick fluid. He moaned. Kali tried to go on but
his member had softened and didn't dig in anymore. He dropped the body that
smashed her, bear hugged it and squeezed furiously. Gimme more, bastard, I
want more. The widow rushed to the bed and tried to release Kali's hold. All
right, all right, you win, don't kill him, she said whipping. Kali pushed the
beaten man out on his lover arms and fainted.

That's how she conquered her champ cock. Needles to say, I couldn't find any
other bird able to match it. Coming about endurance, the fat layer which
covered it and probably buried its nervous terminals prevented my fingers from
easily make it spit. Regarding power, that was its speciality, if inspired the
huge balls could provide enough sperm to fill the glass in a single climax.
Real spitting gun machine it was. It wasn't that good in weight lifting, but
again anything could be broken on it and, if that wasn't enough, Kali prompted
a free event consisting of fastening tight a tape around its soft shaft and
blow on his head to put it hard till it made the tape burst. Good fun for all
our friends also. For me it was a challenge to make it submit, I could never
go below three hours no matter how hard I screwed it. However I never really
sexually enjoyed with its owner, being one of the ugliest men I've ever came
across travelling all over the world. When we got fed up of the big groom we
let him go back to his jolly widow. I heard the celebration was one week long.
It's great to make people happy.

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