I was a Teenage Sex God Ch. 04

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 adventures when the ladies still knew him as LANCE LEO.

Like many of his peers, Lance spent much of high school as a shiftless stoner and hopeless virgin. On the night of his 18th birthday, however, a mysterious hiccup in the space-time continuum transformed him into a barbarian sex god from a galaxy far, far away.

Endowed with Herculean strength and godlike charisma, Lance did not use his superpowers to fight crime or save the world. The teen used them to get laid.

This story chronicles the chaos that ensued...

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

Chapter Four: Lance Scores A Touchdown

12pm

Lance rolled into Peoria Tech around lunchtime. He walked down the hall with a slow commanding stride. His arrival did not go unnoticed. You could see him from the other end of the hallway. The six-and-a-half foot bodybuilder stood a head taller than even the varsity athletes.

Senior girls pointed him out and giggled. Angela had taken a photo of his dick and shared it with half the school over the weekend. It had taken less than a week for word to spread about his endowment.

The bell rang for fourth period but Lance did not rush to class. Tina wasn't going to give him a detention for being late. Instead, the teen wanted to get stoned first. He headed towards a vacant wing of the building. Part of the school had undergone renovations and would not reopen until next semester.

After wending his way through a jungle of caution tape and sawhorses, Lance tiptoed down a deserted corridor. The teen could not shake a strange feeling that he was being followed. A quick glance over his shoulder proved otherwise so he hung a left into the boys' room.

The teen tiptoed into a bathroom stall and pulled a joint out of his sock. Before his transformation, Leo would never dare to smoke weed on school grounds. But the risk excited him now. Lance no sooner lit up than footsteps sounded outside the boys' room. "Fuck!" the stoner muttered to himself. He dropped the spliff into a toilet and flushed it.

Lance came out of the stall just as the jocks came into the washroom. He recognized Steve Knight but not his three buddies. But they all looked mean and menacing. For high school students.

In normal circumstances, that being the previous 18 years of his life, the imminent confrontation would have scared the shit out of him. At the moment, however, he did not experience fear so much as irritation, like a fly buzzing in your face.

"So what's this about?" Lance asked Steve. "Are you mad I fucked your ex-girlfriend?"

Steve promptly lost his cool and charged at him. That was the point of Lance's remark. He wanted the jock to come out swinging like a fool. To his credit, Steve landed a direct blow to Lance's gut. Before his transformation, Leo would have doubled over in pain with the wind knocked out of him. But the gut punch felt more like a love tap. Lance's eight-pack abs armored his midsection like a brick wall. They rendered the strongman impervious to pain.

Adrenaline pumping, the football captain needed a moment to process what happened. He downed most guys with one shot and Lance Leo should have been a knockover. The jock vaguely knew of him. Lance was a pussy burnout that sat at the loser table in the cafeteria. Steve remembered him as tall and gangly with an aquiline nose. Lance still had that distinctive nose - this was definitely the same guy - but everything else about him had changed.

Steve and his buddies only began to size him up after the first blow. The stoner had grown even taller than they recalled and he definitely shed the gangliness. In fact, the dude had grown into a fucking beast! Before Steve could step back, Lance grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him right off the ground. His legs dangled helplessly in the air.

Suddenly, Lance's vision went all blurry and trippy. A rapid-fire montage of images flashed before his eyes. They unfolded like an acid flashback.

- Brandishing a six-foot poleax, he rode a stallion across a barren plain into the thick of a battle.

- In the arena of a grand coliseum, a bull charged towards him. Grabbing the beast by the horns, he flung him onto his back.

- He boldly marched into the cave of a fire-breathing dragon and slayed the monster with a single swing of his broadsword.

- Facing down a pack of bloodthirsty barbarians, he lifted a ten-ton boulder off the ground and prepared to hurl it at them.

Coming back to his senses, Lance realized he was still holding up Steve by the collar. The football champion bore an expression of absolute fear and awe. After shooting him an ominous glare, the teen muscle god flung him across the room towards his buddies. Steve toppled them over like a bowling ball smashing into a set of pins.

"DON'T FUCK WITH SAMSON!!!" exploded a stentorian roar from the depths of his musclebound chest. To emphasize his point, he stamped his left foot upon the floor, leaving a dented formation of his bootprint upon the now-cracked tiles. The jocks froze with sheer terror. However, Lance took their inaction as a sign of resistance so he decided to put an even greater scare into them.

The teenage juggernaut grabbed the curbed lip of a sink and ripped it clean out of the wall. Water sprayed everywhere. Just like the boulder in his vision, he hoisted the washbasin overhead and prepared to hurl it at the jocks. With just a moment to spare, they leapt to their feet and bounded out of the washroom. Just for kicks, Lance cast it against the wall. CRACK! The porcelain shattered into a hundred pieces.

Lighting up another joint, Lance caught his reflection in the mirror. He barely recognized the man that stared back at him. His dark tousled hair now fell past his shoulders and those shoulders had become incredibly broad. He looked just like the lurid cover illustration of Samson from that lost e-book.

"Fuckin' A!" he chuckled to himself while flexing his guns. The teen loved hulking out and smashing things up. He was unstoppable. Literally.

20 MINUTES LATER

Lance ditched math class for the weight room. He never dared enter this sweaty hall of machismo before. All the football players hung out there. And now the alpha stud wanted to make his presence known.

As expected, the place stank. A few jocks huffed and puffed on the weight benches and cable machines. Lance grabbed a pair of the heaviest dumbbells off the rack and absently lifted them up and down. That got boring after the first 50 reps. They weighed nothing to him. In fact, he had not done much lifting with his weight set at home as of late. It no longer proved a challenge.

Next, he grabbed a couple 50-pound weight plates and racked them on a barbell. He racked a few more. And a few more. He did not keep track of how many but knew it would be enough for him to break a sweat. The teen lay down on the bench and got to work.

UNGH! UNGH! UNGH! UNGH! UNGH!

Lance cranked out one rep after another. With each lift, the room seemed to grow quieter. He got the distinct impression that people were checking him out.

Because Lance worked out at home, he had no idea of what a normal weight training regimen looked like. The teen definitely did not know that a typical jock would struggle to lift hundreds of pounds just once, let alone a dozen times.

"What in the fucking hell?" a paunchy boomer in sweats called out from the other side of the room.

Lance had set the barbell back in its rack by the time Coach Walker had run over to him. He vaguely knew the old man coached the Peoria Panthers but never spoke to him before. However, the teen had a sense the next few minutes might change his life.

"Son," he drawled in a distinct Southern Illinois accent. "Do you know how much iron you racked onto this here barbell?"

Lance tried to add up the weights but struggled to come up with a number. This struck him as odd. The teen got a 'D' in algebra but had no problem with basic math. His limited intellectual faculties seemed to be shrinking even further. Perhaps, Samson sucked at math.

"Uhhhh," he began. "I dunno. How much?"

"350 pounds!" exclaimed Walker. "I never saw anything like it."

"Is that good?"

"Why is the goddamn Pope Polish?

"Actually, I believe he is Argentinian."

"That's a figure of speech, son. Yes, 350 is good. That brings me to my next question. Why the hell have you not tried out for the Panthers?"

Lance declined to explain that he recently transformed into a teenage Hercules.

"Does your team have a cheerleading squad?" he finally inquired..

The coach nodded enthusiastically.

11PM

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!" Morgan cried out as she came, her pussy squirting like a water cannon, dousing his face in girly cum.

Lance loved eating out the head cheerleaders' pussy, shaved but for a cute lil' tuft of blonde fuzz above her slit. He lapped it in a frenzy, sucking on her clit and cunt lips, savoring the thick and rubbery flesh as it slid between his lips.

While eating out Morgan, the teen cocksman simultaneously groped for his discarded wallet on the mattress, removed a Magnum XL from the coin pocket, and tore the wrapper open.

"Multitasking?" she noted wryly.

"Babe," he smiled. "I know you want it as bad as I do."

Morgan did not answer. He wasn't wrong.

Lance positioned himself between her legs and, using only muscle memory, he gently pushed his hips forward to wedge his knob into the warm clutch of her labia. That way, the ladykiller never had to break eye contact with his partner. Instead, he got to savor the priceless look of bliss on her face.

"Fuck!" she cried. "Hold on. Just for a second."

Lance noted he only entered about five inches so far. Morgan took a deep breath and nodded. The horny teen advanced slowly.

"So guess what?" he told her.

"What?"

Up to this moment in their encounter, the pair exchanged only a few words. Both dropped any pretense of why they met. This was all about Lance Leo's cock and Morgan Howard's pussy. Each time they got together, their initial greetings and pleasantries became more abbreviated until vanishing altogether. However, they sometimes gabbed during intercourse. Morgan was a shameless gossip and Lance wanted to collect intelligence on the female segment of the student body.

"Well?" Morgan asked impatiently. Lance already lost his train of thought. He had a textbook case of ADHD.

"Oh, right!" he suddenly remembered. "I'm joining the football team."

"You're doing what?"

"Coach Walker wants me to try out. But I'm sure I've got it in the bag."

Even on the verge of an orgasm, Morgan had enough presence of mind to know Lance's foray into football would lead to no good. Her ex-boyfriend was team captain.

"And why would you want to do that?"

"Because I plan on fucking every member of the cheerleading squad."

Morgan couldn't tell if he was joking. She should have resented his crude remark but, pinned beneath him, the strongman engulfed her both physically and emotionally. The infatuated blonde hungered for his prowess with an all-consuming lust. As a young woman, she excelled at bending males to her will through their desires. But this charmer turned the tables. His musk, his muscles, his sexual charisma... It was overpowering.

Lance wasn't sure what possessed him to say that. A dude was supposed to tell a chick he loved her and bullshit like that. But his mouth had gone rogue. Just like with Steve in the washroom today, the teen said and did things without reflecting upon their consequences. He only lived in the moment now.

Morgan threw an irritated glance at him. But Lance knew how to fix that. He plunged himself inside her to the root.

"Come on my cock, babe," he growled.

Whatever indignation she mustered against him dissolved in an instant. Her face lit up with rapture.

A second passed. Lance lay still, neither advancing or withdrawing. Finally, he contracted his PC muscle so his dick twitched in that way she loved so much.

"Come for me," Lance almost demanded, his gaze fixed on her. "Do it!"

He then leaned down and pressed his lips hard against Morgan's and the combination of his illicit kiss, twitching cock, and utter self-assurance immediately set her off like a stick of orgasmic dynamite. Her back arched. Her toes curled. Her long legs locked behind him.

The megastud proceeded to rock her world. Morgan convulsed beneath him as wave after mind-shattering wave of electrifying bliss tore through her body. Her vaginal walls clamped down on his prick like a steel trap. The blonde shrieked into his mouth as her legs cinched his waist in a death grip. Her arms flew around the broad muscled plain of his back, manicured nails digging into his flesh almost painfully.

Moaning and groaning madly and loudly, Morgan's eyes shot wide open. She had not expected such an intense climax. Lance pulled his lips away from hers with a smug grin. The lovemaking virtuoso absolutely expected this and had this babe exactly where he wanted her, quivering helplessly from the hardest cum of her life.

After a few breathless minutes, Morgan slowly floated back to earth. Her limbs weakly fell from around his body. Lying exhausted on the mattress, still rigidly impaled upon his rockhard wrist-thick erection, she decided Lance wasn't joking. That this insatiable Chad fucking the entire cheerleading squad would be a matter of when, not if.

TUESDAY MORNING

Officer Regina Sanchez took photos and collected evidence inside the high school washroom. According to the report she took from Principal Bennett, some kids trashed a bathroom in the new wing of the school. That was an understatement. Someone actually ripped a sink right out of the wall.

Sanchez had investigated a lot of vandalism over the years but this incident seemed unusual. She usually found graffiti, cigarette butts, or a couple empty beer bottles at the crime scene. But the perpetrators left without a trace on this one.

One mysterious clue stood out. She snapped a picture of a very large bootprint of crushed tile. It looked like a size 22. Weird. Was Sasquatch the culprit?

Regina pulled out her phone. She knew just who to call for the inside dope.

Noon

Lance lay on his back on the cheap motel mattress and enjoyed the Regina Sanchez Show.

The cop babe began by rocking her hips slowly, keeping her eyes locked with Lance's as he stared up at this goddess with heart-pounding lust. Naked and glorious for him to fully ogle, she sat astride his hips proudly, impaled on his nine-and-a-half inch fuck club. Her 38DD titties gently bounced up and down as pleasure washed over her.

There was only one thing that could make things better. Lance reached over to the nightstand for his marijuana pipe and lighter. Sanchez grabbed his wrist flirtatiously before he could light up.

"You know I could run you in for possession AND paraphernalia," she joked.

"I'd like to see the arrest report on that one," he countered.

"Well, I might be able to come up with a deal. If you cooperate."

"How so?" Lance inquired after taking a big hit off his pipe.

"Who trashed the washroom at your high school?"

Lance wondered why Sanchez wanted to hook up with him in the A.M. She seemed more like a P.M. chick. Now he knew.

"I don't know," he answered a bit too hastily.

"My cop instincts tell me otherwise."

"OK, I confess." he smiled. "I did it. I ripped that sink right out of the wall."

"Who helped you?"

"I did it alone."

"How?"

"With my bare hands."

"You'd have to be really strong to do that," she noted with amusement. Lance was clearly fucking with her.

"I am blessed with godlike strength, babe," he boasted. "Think of me as the Incredible Hulk but with a ten-inch dick."

"That would suck."

"Why?"

"You'd be on the run from the government like Bruce Banner. Could you imagine what the CIA would do with you?"

Lance had not considered that. His transformation had been relatively gradual and only crossed the line into superhuman territory pretty recently. And, bragging aside, Leo was strong but not that strong. Sure, he could bench 500 pounds but not 5000 pounds. He wasn't Superman for Chrissakes! Nonetheless, even the dumbass teen realized Samson would need to be reigned in. If the barbarian wildman ran amok at his school, Lance could end up in major trouble pretty quickly.

For the moment, however, he had nothing to worry about. Regina quickly shifted her focus back from interrogation to intercourse. She never rode Lance cowgirl before and the feel of his cock inside her this way somehow felt deeper and thicker with all her weight pushing down on his forearm of a cock.

Planting her palms on his pecs for balance, she began to rock her hips faster and harder. That made her big tits jiggle seductively, her saucer-sized areola swelling and nipples spiking with arousal. His head nodded in rhythm with her bouncing jugs.

"Are you staring at my boobs?" she joked.

Lance just smiled. Regina appreciated his honesty. The teen wasn't sophisticated enough to bullshit her.

The Latina's hips sped up, slamming down on his cock hard and fast, thighs trembling with quivers of bliss. Her head spun with a lustful rush as his wrist-thick shaft slid against her most sensitive vaginal nerves and reached places where no man had gone before.

Regina leaned her head down for a beat and closed her eyes to savor how fucking good he felt. The sensation of Lance's prick filling and refilling her already felt intense. But that did not compare to being in complete control, rocking her hips back and forth, rotating them to hit her sweet spot, that erogenous bullseye he had found so easily and hit so expertly.

After a few seconds, the buxom Latina threw her head back, tossing her hair over her slender back, and stared up at the ceiling. She gripped his pecs and began to ride the teen stallion for all she was worth.

"Ride my big dick, woman," he urged in a low growl, slapping her tight ass and squeezing it firmly as she bounced on him like a paddle ball on a rubber string. Up and down, up and down, the cop babe humped herself silly, her long dark hair fanning out wildly in all directions, framing a look of eye-fluttering bliss on her face.

"Unnngh, fuck!" he moaned, his large hands encircling her waist. Much as Lance dug her cowgirl thing, the teen gave into a sudden impulse, an impulse that Samson likely planted in his mind. The barbarian stud would show her how strong he was.

Reaching behind the small of her back, Lance locked his big strong hands together. With the glamazon solidly impaled on his cock, he knelt up, lifting her entire body off the mattress.

"What are you doing?" she asked, surprised and even a bit awed by his immense strength. The six-foot plus woman was no featherweight.

"Just showing you how I pick up chicks," the alpha teen smirked with no small satisfaction at her astonishment.

Lance stood up from the bed. Regina hung there in the air, his arms around her waist and palms on her butt to keep her locked on his cock. She could not have escaped his iron grip even if she wanted to. And she didn't. This man was a MAN. No guy had ever turned her on this much.

Slowly but surely, he began to hoist Regina up and down on his giant pole. She reached out and grabbed his arms. She could feel the flex of his biceps beneath her palms. The muscles grew as big and as hard as boulders. Her legs dangled helplessly over the sides of his hips, limply flailing in the air, and all she could do was hold on for the ride of a lifetime.