It was an intense schedule and I had to keep up quick. On any given day, Eric spent hours bodybuilding, boxing, flying planes, teaching, writing, holding meetings, presiding over architecture sites and socializing. Alphas sleep less than mere mortals and have access to a higher percentage of their brain and body’s power. They don’t really stop.
As for the socializing, it was at a level I couldn’t comprehend: endless food, drinks, drugs and debauchery. The alphas fuck each other and their servants and their friends and their entertainment. They have no boundaries and no insecurities. They can go all night and into the next morning, never exhausted.
Indeed, Eric’s sex drive exceeded even the greatest legends about him. I’d only been his personal slave for a few days now, but on average he'd cum about 15 times a day, in torrential splatters. When he needs it, I’m expected to be there. He gets horny during meetings, before, during and after workouts, before bed, while sleeping, and upon waking. Alphas unload constantly, and have no shame doing it publicly. In fact, it’s something of a spectacle, a sight the rest of us are considered lucky to see.
And I’ve been lucky. When I hear Eric snap his fingers, I run to him. Yesterday, he hosted a meeting with other elite alphas, in the penthouse, discussing plans for the city and country’s future, and midway through, he pulled out his goliath cock and came on my face. I licked it up, and he zipped himself up, continuing what he was saying. The other alphas had me serve as their repository for cum for the rest of the meeting, none of them batting an eye at the ongoing orgasms around them.
I’m not allowed access to the alphas’ gym, where they’re said to go at it like animals, but before he leaves and after he returns, he needs to fuck me mercilessly. He has a fully stocked gym in the penthouse, and often while taking calls he’ll bench press thousands of pounds. In his spandex shorts, his 10 inch dick presses and stretches the fabric, growing and adding inches with every pump. When it’s time to set the bar on the shelf, he’s ready to fuck my face.
Eric can be rather romantic, too. After dinner, the two of us spend time together in the hot tub. He sits me on his lap and kisses me passionately, as I sit myself on his massive cock, my hands squeezing his watermelon-thick traps. He is very affectionate, kissing me all over constantly, squeezing my ass, and when he puts a load inside me, I feel his entire body shaking, each one as intense as the last.
He lets me handle him in the shower, working my hands over every inch of his body, scrubbing soap in the deep valleys of his chest and abs, under his devastating shoulders, deep into his superhuman ass, and certainly stroking the biggest cock I’ve ever touched. I take to my knees and beg him to shove a load down my throat.
I get to dress him, too. His closet is twice the size of my old apartment, filled with items I never dreamed of. All of his clothes are bespoke, obviously; even his neck would bust one of my shirts apart. It’s all stretch fabric, even the suits, and the shoes are gargantuan as well, for his massive feet. I’ve never seen anything like him, all in proportion, yet massive, that chest, those protruding abs, that wide back. To fit a shirt around him, and then button it up, feels like I have to run around in circles. His thighs are massive, terrifying, that they fit into any fabric is a wonder. I love dressing him, and I love my reward: a slap on the face.
I know for him it’s gentle, but for me, it leaves a ringing in my ear. But it feels incredible, the deepest act of love. He gives me one whenever he can see I’ve been good, and I want it.
And the loads are massive. When he gets behind me and mounts me, fucking me hard, when he collapses as he cums, it feels like what for a virile man would be weeks of buildup, an endless surge pumping into my ass. But it’s like that for him every hour. He doesn’t let me waste a drop - if he cums inside me, I have to take it all. If he pumps my face, he makes sure that I swallow all of it, his enhanced semen. I love when he cums on my face. He douses me in his gooey cum, paints it over my lips and eyebrows, leaving me sticky and matted, with it dripping down my neck and into my clavicles.
Because he eats four times more than the normal man, even putting standard human bodybuilders to shame, there’s a full kitchen staff, but it’s me who serves him, and while he eats, he’s usually working, and I’m on my knees, feeding on his hard cock. He knows how to handle me, to put a hand on my neck and shove me into it.
Eric has been developing a theory: what effect does alpha semen have, when ingested, on normal humans? Everyone’s heard the rumors that drinking it makes you stronger, hornier, more like an alpha. But who could tell for sure?
I drink a lot of Eric’s cum, not only when he comes in my mouth, but as part of Eric’s study. He fills me a cup of it every morning, and I greedily gulp it down: lapping up its thick gooey viscosity.
And I have to admit…something has changed. Before I met Eric, if you’d told me that I’d be getting fucked this much, every day, I wouldn’t have believed it physically possible. And yet…it feels like my gag reflex has softened and my hole has become like rubber. And more than that, I’m horny all the time, eager for it.
Eric’s been teaching me how to really lift weights, and in just half a year, I’ve put on twenty pounds of muscle. I can’t get enough. It’s like, drinking his cum every day, his natural vitality is surging through me. I just want more and more, and whenever he has his friends over to take turns fucking me, I feel more game every time.
