Sweat and Worship

Description

I stand tall, pumped and commanding, while he drops to his knees where he belongs. His eyes never leave my body as I flex slowly—pecs bouncing, arms hard, veins pulsing. I pull him closer, dragging his face under my shirt, forcing him to breathe in the heat of my body.
I flex my massive chest right against his face, squeezing my pecs around him until he’s smothered in sweat and muscle. He doesn’t resist—he worships. His hands roam my torso, trembling as he feels every hard line of my build.
I grip his head tight and push it into my bicep, making him kiss and lick my flexed arm, then shove him deep into my armpit, soaked with sweat, holding him there while I keep flexing. He takes it all, obeying, doing exactly what I want—devoted only to me.
Every drop of sweat, every squeeze of my chest, every flex of my arms—it all drips onto him. He exists for one purpose: to worship the body towering above him.

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