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Maintain control with a firm hand. It will do more for him than you can ever know.

In Star Trek, there’s an iconic move called the Vulcan Death Grip, a signature of the Vulcan alien species. It renders enemies dead immediately, with what only appears to be a tight squeeze on the shoulder. Growing up, my dad would tease me endlessly about my incredibly strong grip and for a short while I was five I actually believed I could kill someone.. By the time I was a teenager and started using the gym in my high school, I still had to make sure not to hurt people when I said hello. 

As I got older and starting becoming exploring my lighting hot interest in boys, I quickly learned a new, interesting use of my Vulcan Grip – domination. I discovered myself to be a 100% top. Overpowering boys and the men, the more muscular the better, sent a thrill right through my veins and made my cock throb with the blood rushing down to it. I could pin just about anybody, or wrestle their hands away and put them where I wanted. Very few muscular jocks were strong enough to out maneuver me. It wasn’t that I didn’t liked being touched – I did – I just liked the control more. Most sensed my strength and submitted me to me, allowing me to position them and fuck them as I pleased.  

Then, I met Marcos. Marcos annoyed the shit out of me because he refused to be a good little bottom bitch. Marcos fought me every fucking step of the way to get his rocks off. I was still stronger than him, but when that little bastard kissed me in that deep, intense way he did, I got distracted and he could slip free. Taming him was exhausing, and the first time I had him, breeding his tight little brown ass was the sweetest victory I had enjoyed in a long time. By the time I was done, I had sweated buckets, was starving, and could barely move. 

I was astonished when Marcos came back to me at the bar, wanting a rematch. I nearly choked on my beer. “Not enough of a work out for you, Marcos?” 
“Oh I was sore as hell the next day,” Marcos admitted, “But the afterglow lasted three days… I need that again. I need to fight you.”
Well, it was not what I was expecting. It was interesting though, that was for damn sure. I peered at Marcos over my beer. “Alright. You got your wish. Wear your tightest underwear. It’ll be the most fun taking it off of you.”

Marcos showed up wearing long-johns, boxer briefs, and a jockstrap. 

Text is fictional.


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