I Was A Teenage Sex God Ch 08

Author's Note: Greetings! I am Rubirosa, the authorized biographer of celebrity porn star SAMSON. He is paying me a lot of money to chronicle his sexual exploits in a multi-volume memoir that will run more than a million words.

The first volume, "I Was A Teenage Sex God," focuses on our hero's youthful exploits as a lusty high school gigolo and championship bodybuilder when the ladies still knew him as LANCE LEO.

While excerpts from this book have appeared on this website previously, this new series will publish chapters from the Lance Leo saga in chronological order and with extensive revisions. For fans of my work, feel free to leave your comments. I would not do this if not for your kind words.

Finally, please note all characters that appear in this story are above the age of 18 and freely consent to the debauchery described herein. Enjoy...

ONE WEEK LATER

Lance headed into the locker room. He actually enjoyed today's practice. Until recently, the dissolute but gifted athlete considered his participation on the football team to be little more than a way to delay imminent expulsion. If he won games for his school, the principal would have to ignore his occasional bad behavior.

In that regard, his disciplinary record documented the following infractions in the past 30 days:

Section 4, Paragraph 5: "Tardiness" (38 counts)

Guilty as charged. Lance habitually showed up late to class.

Section 4, Paragraph 6: "Truancy" (17 counts)

If you're going to get busted for tardiness, why not go all of the way?

Section 4, Paragraph 7: "Leaving School Without Permission" (7 counts)

Lance did not have "permission" but he always had a reason. For instance, the stoner had to meet Harley to reup his weed supply. Or a hot babe summoned him for a noontime fuckdate.

Section 5, Paragraph 2: "Dress code violations" (12 counts)

Given his exhibitionistic nature, Lance favored skintight jeans that flaunted his bulge. He also wore silk shirts unbuttoned to his navel to show off his pecs and abs. While most teachers did not comment directly on his provocative attire, he still received vague complaints about "distracting" other students with his appearance.

Section 5, Paragraph 3: "Public Displays of Affection" (43 counts)

Fuckin' A! What could a randy young man do? Every chick at Peoria Tech was dying to knock boots with the ladykiller. And, 43 was an undercount of course. He only got caught 43 times.

Thankfully, the school never found out about the heavy stuff like banging hot 18-year old cheerleaders in the girls' locker room. Still, he would have gotten booted out ages ago had it not been for Coach Walker. The old man couldn't have been happier. Lance absolutely dominated practice today. The six-and-a-half-foot juggernaut broke through the defensive line-up on every play and cruised with the ball to the end zone like a speeding locomotive.

Though the teen preferred seducing females to settling scores with the jocks, Leo could deny the satisfaction of kicking their asses on the gridiron. These were the same jerks that pushed him around in junior high. But now the teenage muscle god got to push back. As they entered the locker room, the rest of the team kept their distance from him. Truth be told, Lance intimidated them.

Lance went to his locker and undressed. He waited for all his teammates to enter the shower area. He could hear their usual idiotic banter as they washed up. Lance couldn't hear the conversation but it was literally "locker room talk." They gabbed about Tucker Carlson, pro-wrestling, and keggers. After counting to 50, Lance grabbed his towel and headed into the shower with a smirk.

As soon as he walked in,

the other dudes began to walk out

. They did not say anything but everyone knew the reason. His big swinging dick weirded them out. The jocks could not bear the sight of the notorious organ that had been inside their girlfriends. In all fairness, Lance did not go out of his way to cuck his teammates. It just happened that he liked banging cheerleaders and cheerleaders tend to date football players.

After a long hot shower, Lance sauntered back into the locker room. He did not bother using a towel to cover himself up. The other players continued to look away from him. Just then, his iPhone dinged in a distinct high-frequency tone. Lance received hundreds of text messages a day but this sound was reserved only for fave babes like Morgan or Nicole.

"Be careful," Harley had texted him. "I think someone may be on to us."

Lance should have been scared. But Samson hungered for the sting of battle. He was ready to kick ass.

TEN MINUTES LATER

VROOOOOM!

Lance headed down I-74 at maximum speed. The teen stud was late for his fuckdate with Officer Sanchez. Even though everything seemed chill, he kept checking his rearview mirror. Someone might be following him. Scratch that.

Probably following him.

Nonetheless, he hung a left at the "road closed" sign and sped down the dirt path to his trysting spot. About a quarter-mile into the forest, he caught sight of another bike in his rearview. Then two bikes. Then three. Lance sped up. So did the other bikes. In any case, what difference did it make? He was racing toward a dead end.

Lance skidded to a stop in the clearing. Sanchez wasn't there. Too bad. A cop might have scared them off.

Sooner than later, the bikers arrived. The biggest one must have been Riff-Raff:

6'4", tats, sunglasses. His two flunkies hopped off their hogs. They were fat but looked equally tough.

"So, ummmm," Lance began. "Did I do something wrong?"

He tried to stay cool but his heart was jacked. And that's before Riff-Raff pulled a switchblade out of his leather jacket.

Lance did not have a clear memory of the next 90 seconds. It happened super fast. He seemed to remember kicking the knife out of Riff-Raff's hands. Samson probably did that first because that dude posed the greatest threat. He then landed a solid blow against his jaw. That left Riff-Raff on the ground.

Next, one of the fat-ass flunkies charged at Samson. With a fist clad in brass knuckles, the biker delivered a respectable gut-punch. However, that didn't so much hurt the barbarian as piss him off. With a ferocious yell, he delivered a devastating blow into his ribcage. Lance actually remembered the feeling of the dude's ribs snapping as his fist smashed into them.

Finally, Samson faced off with the second flunkie. For all of 15 seconds. The barbarian nailed him so hard in the solar plexus that the dude flew off his feet and onto his back. Still riled up, Samson grabbed the handlebars of Riff-Raff's bike in either hand and hoisted the entire vehicle off the ground. Even though a Harley weighed 450 pounds, it felt light in his hands. On a whim, he flung it across the clearing. The motorcycle slammed into a tree and shattered into a dozen pieces.

As Lance's bloodlust dissipated, he saw Officer Sanchez' squad car slowly rolling into the clearing. He ran in front of the vehicle to block its approach. Before she saw the carnage, the teenage delinquent had to come up with an explanation. Fast.

The policewoman rolled down her window. "Is everything OK?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure," he lied. "In fact, I think I might have some information about that biker gang."

"The Dragons?"

"I know where you can find that guy Riff-Raff."

"You do?"

"Yeah, he's lying on the ground over there."

Regina got out of the squad car. Lance led her over to where he rumbled with the bikers. All three of his assailants still lay in the dirt, moaning in pain with numerous contusions and fractures. They barely registered the presence of law enforcement on the scene.

"I don't know what you can run these guys in for," he told her. "But they probably are carrying meth or something."

Before Sanchez could ask questions, Lance gave her a quick goodbye smooch, hopped on his bike, and zoomed off.

AN HOUR LATER

Lance went home to process the recent insanity. He knew sooner or later something like this would happen. Like it or not, the teen could not hold back Samson anymore.

Trying to distract himself, Lance began a workout sesh in his home gym. He grabbed a pair of 100-pound dumbbells and began to hoist them up and down restlessly.

"What's gotten into you?" asked Nicole. Startled by her voice, Lance dropped the dumbbells and spun around. For a split second, the teen went into combat mode. Then he noticed the buxom cougar standing in front of him.

"Sorry, babe," he smiled. "I had a weird day."

"How so?" she asked, patting a spot on the padded workout bench where they could both sit. Lance sat down and draped his big arm over her shoulder. He had a complex relationship with Nicole. She wasn't so much an authority figure as a big sister he got to fuck. In any case, the teen felt like he could confide in her.

"Babe," he began. "Things are happening to me. You know, I'm not exactly like other guys at school."

"You'll be fine," Nicole reassured him, palm caressing his boulder of a bicep. "Listen, I read your medical report. The doctor determined you have a genetic mutation that causes excessive muscle growth."

"But maybe that's the problem. I'm too fucking strong. If someone threatened me, I could hurt him real bad."

"Why would someone threaten you?"

He did not answer.

"Did someone threaten you?" she pressed him.

Lance finally shook his head. He did not want to tell Nicole what happened. His stepmother would freak out.

"If someone threatens you," she told him. "Just call the police. Let them handle it."

TWO HOURS LATER

Officer Sanchez moaned with pleasure as Lance thrust into her, their bodies slick with sweat and the sheets crumpling beneath them.

The raging manbeast clenched his jaw, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest as he fought to hold back the rising tide of pleasure within his loins. With Regina lying beneath him, he had assumed a classic push-up position, his ramrod straight arms propping up his massive torso as his lower body flew up and down, plunging his gigantic member in and out of her steamy depths. Again and again, he drove himself forward, abs rippling each time their crotches smacked against one another, causing his lover to writhe and moan in animalistic bliss.

The whole bed shook from the brute force of Lance's slamming hips, the sturdy wooden slats of the frame creaking rebelliously. One of them started to crack under his weight before snapping in two. The mattress began to sink toward the floor but the raging manbeast barely noticed. His rational mind had left the building.

Regina squirmed helplessly beneath Lance's rampaging thrusts, her eyes squeezed shut as her senses overloaded, her mind drowning in lust. Meeting him after what happened today had been a terrible idea. It also was an inevitable outcome. She was a helpless moth drawn to the world's tallest flame. He could do things to her that no other man could ever do. She loved his passion, his strength, and, most of all, that iron-hard prickshaft pounding like a piston into her womanhood. Unstoppable. Untiring. Unrelenting.

"Oh yes, oh yes, yes, yes, YES!" Regina moaned wildly, her head whipping to and fro as the teenage megastud pounded her. "Oh, my God! So GOOD! It's so fucking GOOD!" she cried out, even louder, nails digging into his broad shoulders. "You're so big, Lance! The biggest and the best. I...I...I just can't fucking handle it!" Her moans became deeper and faster, slurring her words together into a jumble of profanities as he sped up his thrusts and went into beast mode.

Regina's wavering wail of passion was suddenly cut off by Lance's mouth, silencing her with a hot, desperate, passionate kiss. His tongue drove between her lips as his titanic shaft slammed hilt deep and stayed there, throbbing and jerking violently in her pussy's silken embrace. Her vaginal muscles clamped down HARD, tighter than a boa constrictor. He loved that about Sanchez. In his experience, every pussy felt different. A brand new lover always promised a thrilling novelty between her legs. But then there were his faves. Nothing beat this Latina's cooch. She fit him like the ultimate luv glove.

Lance's massive organ lurched inside Regina as their tongues danced with each other, the supermale unable to hold back even a second longer. His gonads began to rumble and pulled themselves tight against the base of his shaft as he ground it against her crotch, Regina's eyes shot open wide when she realized what was happening, only to roll back in their sockets an instant later as that discovery set off an explosion of white-hot bliss deep inside her core. Raw pleasure coursed through her every nerve like electricity, a high-voltage climax that consumed every other sensation, every other thought, leaving her trembling helplessly beneath him.

Lance's muscle-bound frame clenched and shuddered. Suddenly, a mighty roar exploded from his mouth and a massive burst of molten lust fired out of his cockhole. Just the first blast completely filled up his Magnum XL. The second caused spunk to backflow out of the rim. And the teenage superstud was only getting started. His high-volume ejaculations defied laws of nature, producing more sperm in a single load than a dozen males could muster in a week.

The outpour of seed quickly soaked the sheets. It spilled all over the place. Lance could not stop and did not want to stop. Never had he known such primal joy as in the heat of climax. It was the ultimate expression of Samson's triumphant masculinity.

Finally, Regina collapsed beneath him and Lance's strokes began to slow and then stop. This had been a particularly cathartic and emotional session for them. Neither had yet talked about what happened earlier that day. But Lance knew they would need to discuss it.

"So tell me, Officer Sexy," he inquired. "How did things go this afternoon?"

Whatever concerns Lance harbored about Samson's violent outburst had withered away. The impulse-driven teen lived in the moment and his run-in with Riff-Raff seemed like ancient history.

"I think you're the one who owes an explanation," countered Sanchez. "Three banged-up bikers and a totaled Harley. No perpetrator and no motive."

"Didn't they tell you what went down?" asked Lance.

"You think an outlaw biker gang is going to talk to the cops?"

"So I guess that means my name didn't come up."

"No, it did not," Sanchez told him. "But we found a half-pound of meth on Riff-Raff. Given his rap sheet, I imagine he'll do time."

"Sounds like a win-win," chuckled Lance.

"So, are you going to tell me what really happened?" queried Sanchez with an arched eyebrow.

"Ask me no questions," he grinned mysteriously. "And I'll tell you no lies."

ONE WEEK LATER

On days without football practice, Lance used the weight room after school. The facility had much nicer equipment than his home gym. Though he saved most of his energy for practice days, the star athlete always pushed himself hard. After two sets of twenty pull-ups in a row, he favored a 300-lb bench press. Accordingly, the miraculous mesomorph continued to gain muscle at an exceptional rate. Even though football season was months away, college recruiters already were planning to visit the school as soon as they had a game scheduled.

Lance did not entertain any ambitions for a career in football. The sport bored him. However, touchdowns would allow him to score in a more hedonistic field of endeavor. The alpha stud wanted to fuck every member of the varsity cheerleading squad. He had seduced five out of twelve cheerleaders so far and several holdouts had come to watch him lift that day.

As tales of his sexual prowess began to spread through the hot babe grapevine, the charismatic playboy started to amass a dedicated female following. Girls swapped photos of him on the gridiron, especially on those warm days he played topless, flaunting his overamped physique. The teen stud also attracted an audience of horny seniors to cheer on his weightlifting sessions. His afternoon workout had become a well-known ritual at Peoria Tech. After he finished lifting, Lance picked out one of the babes and took his star-struck fan back home to fuck the living shit out of her.

The girls already were milling about the weight bench when he came out of the locker room. As his admirers greeted him with suggestive smiles and hungry looks, the 18-year old hunk peeled off his skintight tank top so they could take in his muscle-bound torso.

Lance flashed a confident grin and struck a few bodybuilder poses. He had been thinking of entering Mr. Teen Olympia and wanted to practice a few moves in front of an audience. A couple chicks took out their phones. Lance photographed amazingly well. With his chiseled visage and flowing black mane of hair that reached the middle of his back, the athlete possessed the aura of a heavy metal heartthrob. And, below the belt, Lance looked every inch the porn stud he one day would become. Speaking of which, he enjoyed quite a few more inches than his peers as revealed by the salami-shaped bulge in his cargo shorts. Lance held his smile as the cameras flashed.

Yes, some guys did have all the luck. Though he never cared about social status, his popularity had been on the ascent as of late. Lance got away with things that others would not dare to attempt. On prom night, he brought not one but two very developed 18-year old seniors as dates. He slow-danced and necked with both of them at the same time. And, in a major upset, the one-time high school outcast was also elected Prom King to the astonishment of the senior class. However, he never picked up his crown. Lance already had left with his dates already to find a hotel.

After the flurry of wolf-whistles died down, he lay down on the weight bench and got down to business. The young Olympian loaded a huge number of plates onto the barbell. With 400 pounds on the bar, Lance was about to break the existing record for the one-rep bench press at his high school. But he was feeling cocky today and planned to perform ten reps at that weight. He lifted the weight off its backrest holders and slowly lowered the bar to his chest. With a loud grunt, the teenage strongman hoisted the weight into the air and then brought it down once more. Smoothly and effortlessly, Lance cranked out rep after rep.

"Nine! Eight! Seven!" called out the crowd like a countdown to New Year's.

Lance felt a familiar and not unpleasant burn in his muscles as adrenaline surged through his blood. The lifts actually became lighter as he continued. Lance actually could feel himself growing bigger and stronger. While other 18-year olds had reached their physical and sexual peak, the teen stud's hormones had just shifted into overdrive. In a coule months, he gained more muscle mass than many bodybuilders acquired in a lifetime.

"Six! Five! Four!"

His admirers gathered around the bench in a huddle. He could feel the heat of their nubile bodies. The pleasing aroma of wet pussy filled his nostrils. Lance had to restrain himself from sprouting an erection. The teenage hunk loved the adulation of his female following. Lance quietly mused which cheerleader he would fuck that afternoon. Marla looked ripe for the plucking. The buxom brunette had just broken up with her boyfriend. On the other hand, Ann had slipped him her phone number after practice that week. The tall blonde showed a lot of leg below her short skirts. He wondered what it would feel like to have them wrapped around his back.

"Three! Two! One!"

Lance replaced the bar on its holders with a loud iron clank. As he caught his breath, the door to the weight room swung open.