Untitled

The stage lights burn hot against my oiled skin as I saunter out, the bass thumping through my chest like a second heartbeat. I’ve grown myself from years of iron and discipline. Every ridge of my arms, every swollen curve of my glutes sculpted to perfection...yet here, in this place, I’m nothing but prime beef on display. I can feel the crowd’s eyes rake over me, starving wolves circling a fresh carcass, and knowing that they want to tear into me, to feast on every inch, sends a shiver racing down my spine. My black thong strains painfully against the thick length throbbing beneath it, already leaking, already begging for their attention before I’ve even started.

I dance and flex to the music, showing off the quality of my huge, meaty body. The stage lights show off the way my sweat makes my bulging muscles glisten. My musk wafts off of me, causing the audience to salivate at my presence. I smirk. That poor guy is literally drooling.

I turn my back to them, planting my feet wide, and slowly peel my tiny shorts down just enough to bare the beefy swell of my ass. The cool air kisses the cleft, but it’s their collective murmurs and cheers that set me ablaze. I arch, presenting those twin globes like a butcher proudly showing off the choicest cut; round, dense, marbled with strength. Their hungry mumblings roll over me in waves. I can almost feel teeth grazing the flesh, tongues lapping at the sweat-slick valleys.

I flex hard, every fiber popping under the spotlight, traps rising like mountains, hamstrings knotting into steel cables. The tips rain onto the stage. Crumpled bills sticking to my calves and my thighs, each one a bid to taste me, and I grind back against the invisible mouths. I’m panting now, tongue lolling like a beast in heat, every exhale a low, animal sound that only makes them hungrier.

They want to sink their teeth in, sweat like sauce as they mindlessly moan over my flavor. The thought alone makes me shiver. I reach back, gripping one cheek and spreading it wide, offering the shadowed center like the tenderest morsel on the plate. My cock jumps visibly against the pouch, smearing pre-cum in dark patches, and I growl low enough for the front row to hear. Let them look. Let them starve a little longer. I’m the feast they’ll never stop craving.