Work Text:
Erwin Smith, thirty-eight years old, stood at one meter eighty-eight.
An objectively high value, above the average for 91% of men in his age group.
His light blond hair, genetically rare, was cut short, always impeccably smoothed. His eyes, a pale blue, belonged to a statistically minority category. His massive build, broad shoulders, and upright torso obeyed almost geometric proportions.
He worked as an engineer specializing in industrial risk modeling.
His office was nothing but a series of perfect alignments: files, computer, measuring instruments.
Here, the white lab coat was mandatory. Buttoned up to the collar.
At this hour — 6:42 p.m. — most of his colleagues had already left. He still had a few checks to carry out.
A chair scraping sound drew his attention to his right.
Mike Zacharias, forty-two years old.
Same white coat, but utterly incapable of concealing the mass of his body beneath the stretched fabric.
Erwin evaluated, without even thinking about it, his colleague’s size: around one meter ninety-five, probably one hundred kilograms.
He had sandy-colored hair, cropped short, and a straight, long nose that dominated his face. His shoulders were even broader than standard norms; his forearms looked built to carry heavy loads.
Erwin observed.
His eyes, rigorously methodical, moved down to Mike’s hand — large, solid, thick fingers, prominent knuckles.
The correlation between hand length and penis size was well-documented.
He had consulted several sources: Pearson coefficients, general averages, standard deviations. On average, the length of an erect penis represented about 78% of the hand's length — from the base of the wrist to the tip of the middle finger.
Mike’s hand must have been around 21 centimeters.
0.78 × 21 = 16.38 cm.
First result.
Erwin frowned slightly. That wasn’t enough. He reassessed using another method:
Finger length ratio: Mike’s index finger was short compared to his ring finger, typical of high testosterone levels.
Correlation studies: this type of ratio increased the probability of above-average size by 18%.
New calculation:
16.38 cm × 1.18 ≈ 19.3 cm.
Second result.
Then, taking into account the apparent volume of his testicles — visible even under the lab coat, from the bulging thickness at his crotch when he crossed his legs — Erwin estimated a testicular volume greater than 35 cm³ per testicle, well above the standard average of 20–25 cm³.
With each estimation, through each method… he kept landing on converging results:
Mike probably possessed an erection of about 19 to 20 centimeters.
A fact.
A raw figure.
And yet, despite all his mental discipline, Erwin felt his own cock react.
He drew in a deep breath, stabilizing his heart rate, which had just increased by 12 beats per minute.
Erwin adjusted his coat, tugging slightly at the fabric around his hips, ensuring that no bulge would betray his state.
Across from him, Mike stretched ungracefully, snorting loudly. The ripple of his muscles under the taut coat triggered an immediate physiological response.
Erwin felt his heart rate accelerate by 17%. His cheeks, he knew, had already taken on a rosy tint — a standard vascular reaction under conditions of excitement or embarrassment.
He nibbled on the inside of his lower lip.
He mentally assessed the presumed diameter of Mike’s cock: empirical averages linked penis girth to finger width.
In Mike’s case, the middle finger had an estimated width of 2.2 centimeters.
According to clinical studies, the diameter of an erect penis corresponded to approximately 1.2 times the width of the middle finger.
2.2 cm × 1.2 ≈ 2.64 cm in diameter.
Which gave an approximate circumference:
2.64 cm × π ≈ 8.29 cm.
A value significantly above average by 11.66%.
Erwin inhaled softly.
A cock 19 cm long, 8.3 cm in circumference: optimal dimensions for effective stimulation.
He moved on to the next step of his reasoning.
Prostate stimulation depended both on the pressure applied and the surface contact area.
Based on these dimensions, he estimated that Mike could apply sufficient pressure to reach a level of stimulation allowing for a prostate orgasm with a probability rate of 89%.
He knew that the penetration angle needed to be less than 25° relative to the horizontal axis to reach the prostate without needing any adjustment maneuvers. Mike, judging by his height and hip width, could easily provide this optimal angle.
His own past sexual experiences — roughly modeled — indicated that most of his most intense orgasms resulted from sufficient prostate stimulation combined with continuous pressure for at least 7 minutes.
With Mike, the body mass and ability to maintain sustained pressure over a prolonged period dramatically increased this stimulation window.
Erwin roughly calculated:
Average rhythm maintenance rate for a man of Mike’s mass: 87% over 10 minutes.
Associated thrust force: 130 N.
Probability of a prostate orgasm after 6 minutes and 12 seconds: 92%.
A sufficient diameter to apply the correct pressure on the prostate.
A length allowing continuous contact with the entire sensitive nerve area.
A rhythm, mass, and endurance perfectly compatible with his physiological needs.
The mere thought of being lined up, arched under that larger body, impaled by that mass, made him blink, a microsecond of lost control.
Erwin lowered his eyes to his sheet.
Lines of neat, orderly calculations, as usual.
But right next to them, he saw a series of absurd doodles, tangled with the numbers.
Deviant curves.
Strings of numbers that made no sense.
He clenched the pen in his hand.
Error.
Lack of concentration.
He had to pull himself together. He had to.
But Mike stood up.
The breadth of his movement immediately filled Erwin’s field of vision.
He inhaled slowly, but it was already too late.
His brain had launched into an uncontrollable simulation.
First, the basic position.
Dorsal position:
— Erwin lying face down, Mike above, direct penetration, 23° angle, constant stimulation of the prostate, regular thrusts.
Orgasm probability: 89%.
Then on all fours.
— Arched back, raised buttocks, maximum opening of the iliac angle.
— Direct pressure on the prostate gland.
— Orgasm probability: 96%.
Next, lying on their sides.
— Bodies aligned, Mike behind him.
— Allowing deeper access, slower but more powerful movements.
— Orgasm probability: 91%.
Erwin felt his cock throb, painfully, under the stretched fabric of his lab coat.
He continued.
Sitting on Mike, in a reversed position.
— Optimization of friction against the male G-spot.
— Maximum pressure at the peak of penetration.
— Orgasm probability: 93%.
— Maximum visual exposure risk: 87%.
Then flat on his back, legs raised onto Mike’s shoulders.
— Complete extension of the anal canal.
— Deep and rapid infiltration.
— Estimated sensory overflow: 93%.
Finally, more extreme positions, rarely considered outside pornographic contexts:
On a desk, legs spread.
Against a wall, held up by Mike's strength.
Precariously balanced on the office bathroom sink.
Erwin mentally counted.
One thrust every 2.3 seconds, standard pace.
Over an average session of 7 to 12 minutes, that equaled approximately... 182 to 313 net penetrations.
He evaluated the effect:
— Constant friction, progressive elongation of the anal canal.
— Probability of reaching orgasm within 5 minutes: 67%.
— Probability of ejaculating simultaneously without direct penile stimulation: 83%.
He inhaled slowly.
His finger slid unconsciously to his lower lip, brushing the damp flesh.
Could he even suck a cock like that?
His eyes locked onto Mike’s crotch, that massive bulge he had calculated and recalculated over and over.
The spit he would have to swallow trying to take that down his throat...
The volume he would have to take in his mouth...
Could he even handle it?
Statistically, 84% chance he would choke before swallowing it completely.
He now estimated Mike’s ejaculation.
Average volume of a male ejaculation: 2.5 to 5 ml.
But Mike, with such a massive body and full testicles, had to produce much more.
— Estimated volume: between 4,5 and 6 ml per ejaculation.
— Consistency: thick, likely... viscous.
— Propulsion speed: 4.8 meters per second during explosive ejaculation.
He evaluated the visual impact.
On his face.
Face covered up to 74% of its surface if positioned correctly.
High possibility of it dripping down to his neck.
If he got fucked standing, bent over the desk...
If Mike came deep inside him without pulling out...
Then the excess would flow by gravity.
First between his buttocks.
Then down his thighs.
To his calves, then his ankles.
Probability of feeling cum drip down to the floor: 91%.
Probability of soaking his socks: 53%.
The image of his colleague above him, relentlessly fucking him, filling him to overflowing, was now burned into his visual cortex.
Mike was packing up his things.
With methodical gestures, unhurried, he closed his laptop, removed his white coat, and slipped his pen into an inner pocket.
He was ready to leave.
Chance he would approach to wish a good evening: 93%.
Chance of a simple nod instead of verbal « goodbye »: 41%.
Chance of a brief smile as a bonus: 28%.
Erwin didn’t lift his eyes right away.
He stared at the scribbled sheet.
When Mike approached, his soles softly squeaked on the floor.
A stable, confident gait.
No slipping or hesitation: optimal balance.
— Muscle balance ratio: above average.
— Low center of gravity: solid hips, mobile pelvis.
— Thrusting power: high.
Conclusion: Mike must be an excellent fuck.
But what kind exactly?
Erwin mentally brushed through the possibilities.
Probability of rough sex: 39%.
Sharp, fast, relentless thrusts.
The kind to pin him against a hard surface, hammering him until exhaustion.
Probability of light BDSM play: 12%.
A hand wrapped around his throat, just tight enough to make him whimper without cutting off his air.
Grave orders murmured into his ear:
"Spread wider."
"Don’t move."
Probability of soft, attentive sex: 20%.
Mike could also be the type to lay him down carefully.
Unbearable languor.
Long minutes of slow penetration, making him tremble with need.
Probability of multiposition sex: 29%.
Changing rhythm, depth, dominance.
Standing against the desk, on all fours on the bed, ridden in reversed cowgirl.
Pulled back by the hips, legs shaking from the strength of the thrusts.
Erwin tensed his thighs under the table.
He felt a drop of precum bead at the tip of his cock.
Mike spoke little at work, but when he did, it was brief, precise, authoritative.
— Probability he would give dirty orders during sex: 76%.
— Probability of crude words during fucking: 89%.
Such as "Take all this cock,"
or "You're so fucking tight,"
or "I'm going to fill you up to your throat."
He clenched his teeth just as Mike stopped in front of his desk.
"Good evening, Smith," said Mike, his voice slightly rough from a too-long day.
Erwin looked up.
He needed to answer, to say something.
But his lips refused to move, and his mind was plagued by a single obsession: checking his calculations.
He needed it.
It was imperative.
Not out of desire, no — he tried to convince himself —, but out of scientific rigor.
Ensuring the accuracy of his reasoning.
Confirming the hypothesis.
Eliminating any statistical uncertainty.
Mike, unhurriedly, had taken out his earbuds, ready to slip them into his ears.
His sweater hugged the impressive width of his shoulders, and the fabric of his pants, stretched tight over his muscular thighs, clearly revealed a bulge between his legs.
Probability that his calculations were correct: 98.7%.
But he had to be sure.
"Mike ?"
Mike, already pushing in one earbud, paused and raised an eyebrow.
Erwin swallowed, his gaze briefly and helplessly sliding to his colleague's crotch.
"Tell me..." He cleared his throat, lifting his head slightly to compose himself. "How... how big is your penis?"
Silence.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Already too long.
Mike remained still, his earbud hanging loosely from his fingers.
"... Excuse me?"
Erwin felt his hands tremble.
He tried to straighten up, but his knees lightly bumped against the desk.
"It's not... it's not what you think. It's just a calculation. A—a theory I wanted to validate. Based on your height, the length of your metacarpals, the body proportion index and..." He swallowed again. "Strictly scientific. Of course."
"You want... the size of my dick... for a scientific calculation?" he repeated slowly, as if making sure he hadn't misheard.
"Yes!" Erwin exclaimed, a bit too loudly. "I... I can even show you the mathematical model," he added, nervously holding out a scribbled sheet filled with absurd-looking equations. "The coefficient of muscular elasticity necessarily implies a correlation between certain body dimensions and... and..."
He trailed off.
Lost the thread.
His cock felt like it was going to explode, straining unbearably against his pants.
Mike said nothing.
He kept staring at him.
Then, slowly, he tucked his earbuds back into his pocket, a wide smile spreading across his face.
"Have you lost your mind?"
Erwin felt like the air was thinning around him.
He hadn't anticipated this variable.
He had no plan B.
"It's not... personal curiosity," he stammered, "it's purely... functional."
Mike raised an eyebrow, still standing there, arms crossed over his massive chest.
"Functional," he repeated incredulously.
"Yes," Erwin insisted, "since... if we consider the estimated length of your member," he took a sharp breath, "and its estimated diameter, along with the shape of your palm — particularly the width of your thumb and index finger —, then, by extension, prostate stimulation would be..."
He searched for his words, blushing furiously.
"... optimal."
Mike remained silent.
Erwin pressed on, carried away by his momentum:
"Given your body build," he stammered, "the pressure exerted during thrusting, and the angle of entry, I can estimate... with a margin of error of 3%, that your penis would reach a sufficient contact point to induce a complete anal orgasm."
He swallowed hard, his eyes darting away, unable to meet Mike's gaze.
His fingers trembled against the desk.
"If we consider an average oscillation speed of..." he threw a panicked glance at his scribbled sheet, "around 1.5 to 2.1 thrusts per second, and a constant penetration depth of 13 to 15 centimeters..." His voice slipped into a hoarse breath. "... the stimulation would be repetitive, constant, and... extremely effective."
Erwin didn’t stop.
He couldn’t anymore.
He was too far gone.
"Furthermore," he continued in a strangled voice, "given the estimated volume of your ejaculation — based on your height, muscle mass, and probable testosterone levels —, it is highly likely that..."
He bit his lower lip, his own erection painfully throbbing in his pants.
"... your semen would be enough to... completely cover my face and potentially... fill my rectum beyond normal capacity, causing overflow down to my thighs."
Mike kept staring at him, mouth slightly open, torn between amusement and utter disbelief.
Erwin lowered his gaze, unable to withstand the confrontation.
"Strictly..." he mumbled, almost inaudibly, "scientific."
Mike burst out laughing.
Erwin, red to his ears, felt his anus clench violently under the rush of adrenaline, as if begging to be filled.
He tried to pull himself together, to coldly analyze the situation — but his cock, straining against the zipper of his pants, was pounding in time with his frantic heartbeat.
At this time of day, in this state of arousal, and under this level of tension, the probability that he would need immediate penetration was approximately 93.4%.
Otherwise... he would once again end up tonight straddling his 17.3 cm dildo, alone in his empty apartment, moaning like an animal in heat against his pillow.
His lower belly tightened painfully at the thought.
But there was a parameter he hadn’t anticipated.
Mike.
His sexual orientation.
Erwin feverishly calculated.
From overheard bits of conversation at the coffee machine — thick rumors full of lewd innuendos —, Mike had mentioned, on several occasions, various sexual experiences.
Mostly with women.
But also some shady stories with « a buddy in high school » or « party bullshit ».
Final assessment:
71% chance that he was bisexual with a preference for women,
23% chance that he was strictly heterosexual but curious under the influence of alcohol,
6% chance that he was 100% gay and deeply closeted.
Erwin briefly closed his eyes, his thighs pressed tightly together.
There was more than a 75% chance that Mike might consider fucking his ass.
And if it was possible...
Then he had to try.
Statistically, emotionally, physically — he had never had a better alignment of parameters.
Erwin took a deep breath.
"I propose... an immediate experiment."
Mike raised an amused eyebrow, shaking his head as if speaking to a child spouting nonsense.
"Erwin, you're exhausted, man. You're in no shape."
"Yes, probably," he admitted calmly. "However, based on my personal observations, the desire to be penetrated remains statistically unchanged regardless of my level of fatigue. On average, out of fifty-eight episodes of anal desire recorded over the past two years, the act was canceled only three times due to extreme exhaustion. That is... a rate of 5.17%. In other words, even when exhausted, it is highly probable that I would experience as much, if not more, pleasure, considering the relaxation induced by fatigue."
He paused, his gaze involuntarily sliding toward Mike’s crotch.
Mike blinked slowly, his smile fading.
Under his jeans, an obvious bulge distorted the zipper.
Instinctively, Erwin lowered his gaze.
His pupils dilated.
Mike ran a slown hand over his tense crotch, deliberately pressing against the massive shape beneath the fabric.
The metallic clink echoed through the office.
Erwin immediately calculated the sound propagation: approximately 343 meters per second through the air.
One second would suffice for anyone within 100 meters to hear it.
He swallowed awkwardly, bringing his trembling fingers toward the open panels of his lab coat.
By reflex, he was about to take it off, but Mike stopped him:
"No. Keep the lab coat."
Erwin froze.
This parameter... had not been considered.
Mike wanted him to stay dressed? The probability that this was a simple whim was minimal. No. There was an underlying fantasy.
But which one?
A quick mental sampling launched several hypotheses:
Authority figure/father figure fantasy? — estimated probability: 22%
Mentor/submissive student fantasy? — estimated probability: 37%
Simple desire to defile an intellectual in his work attire? — estimated probability: 41%
He had no time to refine his models.
Because Mike lowered his boxer briefs.
And what sprang out before him shattered all his approximations.
Mike’s cock, hard and upright, burst violently from its pouch.
Erwin felt his brain implode.
He had carefully estimated a length between 19 and 20 centimeters.
Yet what he observed there, stretching taut between Mike’s solid thighs, easily exceeded 30 centimeters.
He was not exaggerating.
It was the equivalent of an adult forearm.
Estimated length: 32.7 cm — margin of error ±1.2 cm
Base circumference: 16.4 cm
Circumference beneath the glans: 13.8 cm
Shape of the glans: rounded, broad, slightly dimpled at the apex, carmine red in color.
Presence of foreskin: none.
Mike was circumcised, providing a perfect view of the tip.
Balls: heavy, asymmetrical as per physiological norms — left one hanging slightly lower than the right —, short, dense hair, tending towards light chestnut.
He also noted the presence of a thin blue vein running along the right side of the shaft, pulsing at regular intervals — 76 beats per minute, a slightly elevated resting heart rate, typical of strong sexual arousal.
He observed an additional detail: Mike’s cock was not perfectly straight.
At first approximation, the curvature could be represented by a quadratic function of the form:
y = ax² + bx + c,
where a described the concavity, b the initial inclination, and c the elevation from the base.
By eye:
Curvature coefficient "a": ~0.038 cm⁻¹ — moderate curvature, ideal for superior prostate stimulation through friction.
Inclination "b": ~0.7 — accentuated upward orientation in the final phase.
Y-intercept "c": 0, since the base was firmly anchored against his pubis.
Standard ventral position: penetration angle ~15° relative to horizontal, upward curvature underutilized, loss of friction on the prostate. — Rejected.
Dorsal position, pelvis elevated: angle ~30° to ~45°, better exposure of the prostate area, but risk of strain on the external sphincter. — Acceptable but risky.
Doggy-style position, pelvis tilted forward: perfect alignment with Mike’s natural upward curve, allowing maximal and repeated contact with the prostate gland with each thrust.
The best sexual position... was therefore on all fours.
He felt his own cock harden violently, soaking his lab coat with a wet spot.
The entire universe was reduced to this gigantic cock pointed at him.
And now he understood:
Some phenomena remained beyond any mathematical modeling.
Erwin collapsed to his knees.
He wanted — no, he needed — to study this gigantic cock through more than sight alone. But just as he placed his trembling hands on Mike’s massive thighs, a brutal slap landed squarely on his cheek.
Erwin felt his skin burn instantly.
Mike... was the violent type.
In his mental mapping, Erwin had estimated:
Sexual type "Violent": 39%
Sexual type "Light BDSM": 12%
Mike had just established his position: a perfect median between instinctive violence and soft domination.
The model was confirmed in real-time.
Mike grabbed his monumental cock with his right hand and pressed it against Erwin’s parted lips.
"Come on. Open up."
Erwin obeyed.
He parted his mouth, still buzzing from the shock of the slap, and felt the thick glans press against his tongue.
The taste was strong, musky. High salinity.
Diameter of the glans: approximately 5.2 cm
Maximum human mouth opening capacity: 4.8 to 5.1 cm
Impossible to engulf it entirely.
He still tried, straining his jaw, stretching his lips as wide as possible, but the pressure against the corners of his mouth was unbearable.
The glans slid heavily against his tongue.
Erwin tried to push it into his throat. He choked violently, his throat spasming uncontrollably.
Tears welled up from the shock. He retreated a centimeter, coughing up a thick string of saliva.
But Mike had no intention of letting him retreat.
He grabbed a handful of Erwin’s neatly groomed hair at the base of his skull and yanked hard, forcing his head back forward.
Erwin whimpered involuntarily.
Scalp pain: 7/10
Sexual arousal induced by submission: 9/10
Mike slowly guided his cock against his lips, insisting to force his way in.
Erwin adapted, instinctively corrected his tilt angle, and opened his throat wider.
He had to model a new hypothesis:
Even without being able to take it all, he could work in sections, synchronizing his breathing with the slow and ruthless rhythm Mike imposed on him.
Mike pulled harder on his hair and rammed his dick brutally into his mouth.
Erwin choked.
He tried—a desperate reflex—to recalculate the optimal throat opening angle, the absorption capacity.
But everything was jerky, chaotic.
Length inserted: 17 cm
Estimated maximum throat depth: 12-14 cm without specific training.
Variables: gag reflex, muscle tension, forced swallowing.
But Mike didn’t give a fuck.
His cock pounded, slapped against his palate, brutally rammed the back of his throat.
Thickened saliva splattered his lips, dripped down his chin, and soiled the collar of his still-buttoned lab coat.
Erwin’s vision blurred.
His eyes overflowed with uncontrollable tears.
Saliva saturation threshold exceeded
Breathing rate: critical
Survival reflex: none
He felt his glottis contract with every thrust, muffling miserable whimpers.
Visually, his mouth was a carnage:
Red lips, split open from the effort.
Jaw trembling under the violence.
Throat stretched open, gleaming with drool and foam.
Vein throbbing at his temple, signaling forced hyperoxygenation.
Blows per minute: ~24
Survival time without conscious breathing: 37 to 40 seconds.
Erwin whimpered around Mike’s cock, his throat warped by the monstrous mass impaling him.
Mike resumed his brutal pace, pounding his open mouth with obscene wet sounds of forced suction.
And suddenly, Erwin felt a change.
A different taste.
A slicker, thicker, sweet-salty liquid.
Instant analysis:
Fructose content: high, slightly sweet taste.
Viscosity: pre-ejaculate fluid rich in proteins.
Freshness index: very high. Mike had gotten excited recently, not an « old fuck residue » buildup.
Among all the semen he had tasted in his life — quick calculation, about fifteen distinct samples — this one promised a powerful, thick ejaculation, probably sweet and delicious.
Additional deduction: diet rich in fruits, good hydration, possible intake of zinc and amino acids.
His mouth flooded with this delicious prelude.
But another risk assessment:
Probability that an immediate oral ejaculation would compromise Mike’s availability for a second round of fucking: high.
Factors: powerful ejaculation, therefore complete drainage and potentially long refractory phase.
Erwin groaned, torn between the craving to have his throat flooded and the desire to get his ass pounded as he had dreamed for hours.
While his mouth was still being raked, Mike moaned above him.
"Fuck..." he growled, yanking his hair back even harder, "I never thought you were such a slut for big dicks, Erwin."
The huge cock rammed all the way to the back of his throat, drawing a spasm from Erwin.
"Since when do you crave it, huh? Say it... say you’re just a little whore dreaming of getting his throat stuffed..."
Mike suddenly pulled out of his drooling mouth.
Erwin, gasping for air, felt the pressure leave his throat just a second before hearing his colleague’s voice:
"Let’s see if there’s enough to cover that pretty face of yours."
Still on his knees, Erwin looked up just in time to see Mike jerking himself off above him.
The first spurt splashed across his cheek with the force of a slap.
Thick, burning hot, the semen splattered his face, spreading in milky streaks.
Mike moaned, fist tight around his cock, showering him with the following spurts.
Erwin felt each impact, each stream:
On his forehead, a wide, hot splatter.
On his eyelid, sticking his lashes together.
On his parted lips, which he instinctively offered up to catch whatever he could.
On his tongue, the sweet taste melting instantly on his palate.
Erwin estimated by sensation that Mike had just emptied the equivalent of several normal men’s loads.
Not five spurts.
Not ten.
But a continuous series.
Volume of the first spurt: 5.0 mL.
Amplification factor between each spurt: 1.08, moderate geometric progression.
Predicted number of spurts: 8.
Volume of the n-th spurt = 5.0 × (1.08)^(n-1).
At the sixth spurt, Erwin blinked, blinded by the cream smearing his eyelids.
At the eighth spurt, his mouth overflowed slightly.
Estimated total volume by Erwin:
5.0 × (1 - 1.08^8) ÷ (1 - 1.08) ≈ 47.8 mL.
His entire face was buried under nearly 48 milliliters of ejaculate.
His forehead smeared. His nose dripping. His cheeks flooded. His mouth overflowing.
He opened his mouth wider, swallowing what he could, savoring the rich taste.
Every drop running down his chin, every trickle tracing his throat, every splash sliding into his clavicle — he adored them.
He briefly closed his eyes, breathing through the scent of fresh semen. Without even thinking, he could estimate that the temperature of the ejaculation indicated extreme arousal, close to the breaking point.
The quantity, spread across his dripping face, suggested a load accumulated over several days.
He could feel the semen seeping into the folds of his still-buttoned lab coat.
It was everywhere.
Everywhere.
And he wanted even more.
Erwin opened his eyes, his face painted like the devoted little bitch he had become.
Mike, his hand still slick with his own seed, crouched down to Erwin's level. He brushed his fingertips across Erwin's face, smearing more semen along his cheek.
"According to my calculations..." Mike growled, whispering against his temple, "this isn’t the first time you’ve taken a facial."
He slid his finger under Erwin's chin, gathering a thick strand that he displayed between his fingers.
"Look at that... The density, the temperature, the adhesion... Perfect. Your face is literally plastered just right."
Erwin didn’t know where to put himself.
His eyes fluttered, avoiding Mike's gaze.
But his attention snapped back when he felt Mike’s hips shift against his thigh.
And then...
Then he understood.
Mike’s cock, thick and hard like an iron bar, was still pulsing.
Still monstrously engorged.
In one last burst of rationality, Erwin tried to estimate.
He mentally retraced all his stats:
Abundant ejaculation.
Average recovery time.
Ability to re-harden after orgasm.
Everything indicated that an immediate erection was unlikely.
He calculated.
Error.
Error.
Error.
He didn’t have time to process the information.
Already, he was seized by the hips.
In one second, Mike slammed him face-first against his desk.
The cold, smooth wood against his semen-smeared cheek.
His lab coat was yanked upward, exposing the small of his back. His nicely rounded ass, trapped in his fitted trousers, laid defenseless before his colleague's eyes.
Erwin felt a firm hand squeezing the curve of his ass, shamelessly spreading it.
He heard Mike grunt behind him.
"Fuck... look at this ass..." Mike murmured.
Erwin tried to gather his thoughts, to recalculate, to predict what was coming.
But there was no more room for theory.
There was his arched, exposed ass.
There was Mike’s monstrous cock rubbing against the seam of his stretched trousers.
And there was the relentless reality:
Erwin was about to get wrecked.
Mike abruptly yanked Erwin's pants down.
The fabric slid down his thighs, exposing his pale, firm buttocks under the harsh office light.
Erwin felt the cold air brush his bare skin.
And instinctively, he did what he did best: he analyzed.
He knew his own anus better than anyone.
The small, rosy ring, tight, slightly crinkled with heat and moisture. The fine blond hairs framing the delicate edge of his entrance. A soft color, tending toward pale pink, marbled with faint veins.
He had studied, tested, and measured his expansion capacity.
With his fingers at first: two, then three, then four to estimate elasticity.
With his dildo, measuring 9 centimeters in circumference.
With the rounded bedpost, wide and smooth — perfect for bracing solidly with his heels without risking it tipping over, unlike the movable dildo.
The probability that his anus could stretch enough to accommodate Mike's monstrous cock: low.
Very low.
His anal muscle, although loosened, risked tearing.
Erwin gritted his teeth.
But he continued reasoning.
The probability that the brutal burn of penetration would stimulate his nerve endings so violently that he would cum uncontrollably?
High.
Very high.
...Almost certain.
His stomach tightened at the thought.
He knew, oh he knew, that when he felt that massive cock splitting his hole, it would no longer be a matter of statistics.
It would be a matter of survival.
Mike’s hand slapped brutally against Erwin’s ass.
"The probability that I’m gonna ram my cock in you raw..." Mike breathed as he lowered his hips.
He pretended to think.
"...is one hundred percent."
Erwin had no time to protest.
Mike rammed his cock in one brutal thrust.
A strangled cry burst from Erwin’s throat as his ass was torn open by the thick, burning shaft.
The pain shot up into his kidneys.
He felt his flesh part, stretching beyond anything he had ever endured, the titanic pressure against his inner walls.
His open mouth released incoherent moans, spasming and sobbing from pleasure.
"M-M-Mike..." he gasped, voice trembling. "The pressure... it's... enormous... My... anal wall... compressed... Nnngh... longitudinal... friction... aaah... high intensity... So good!"
His voice broke with every thrust.
Desperately, he tried to analyze what he was feeling:
Lateral pressure.
Extreme internal sphincter stretching.
Crushing sensation against his prostate.
Reflex muscular vibrations.
Heat.
Mike chuckled softly, his hand gripping Erwin’s hips to hold him still.
"Your anal elasticity rate," he continued mockingly, "just expanded by thirty-two percent above baseline. Your pain threshold? Exceeded."
He gave another brutal thrust, making Erwin’s ass slap against his pelvis.
"And your pleasure rate, judging by how you're soaking the desk with every stroke," he breathed against Erwin's reddened ear, "is hitting record highs."
Erwin, unable to think, nodded frantically, his legs trembling under the assault.
Every millimeter Mike moved inside his stretched anus sent uncontrollable tremors deep into his belly and swollen prostate.
He felt everything.
Everything.
The shape of the head.
The thick vein scraping his walls.
Every living throb of that cock occupying his guts.
Mike kept pounding him mercilessly.
Erwin could no longer speak; only hoarse, broken moans escaped his parted lips:
"Hnngh... aah... nnhh..."
In his mind, however, the calculations were running wild:
— Friction rate: critical... Penetration speed: 240% above normal...
— Prostatic stimulation: continuous... Internal pressure intensity: 9.8/10...
— Probability of involuntary ejaculation within 30 seconds: 97%...
— Probability of simultaneous orgasm with the next thrust series: 86%...
His body was drenched in sweat, his anus twitching around Mike’s thick cock.
"Fuck, do you know how tight your ass is?!"
Erwin felt Mike’s cock throb violently.
Just a few more seconds...
A few more thrusts...
Erwin, mouth agape, panted against the desk surface.
His prostate, relentlessly abused, was emitting pleasure signals so powerful his mind started fragmenting.
— Current pleasure level: 92%...
— Comparison: 145% higher than achieved with his 17.3 cm dildo...
— Comparison: 210% higher than solo sessions with the hairbrush handle...
— Comparison: 380% higher than with former human partners...
Mike’s cock was plunging into depths that even Erwin’s best toys had never reached.
Each thrust seemed to redraw his internal anatomy.
He still tried to establish margins of error, limits...
— Rectal extension rate: critical but stable.
— Risk of tissue rupture: 12%.
— Probability of orgasm without penile stimulation: 89% and increasing...
Mike was growling, his thrusts growing heavier, harder, pinning Erwin against the desk.
— Friction sensation: abrasive and continuous over 96% of rectal walls...
— Anal dilation rate: personal record broken...
His body twisted with uncontrollable pleasure, his cock leaking pre-ejaculate onto the wood.
He clenched his teeth, desperately trying to stay focused.
— Estimated time before spontaneous orgasm: between 45 and 60 seconds...
— Possible margin of error: 7%...
— Sensory overload: maximal.
And Mike went even faster, his massive hands gripping Erwin’s hips to fuck him with the violence of an overloaded industrial machine.
Erwin was literally being split apart.
The frantic pace was comparable to that of a hydraulic piston under pressure, promising delicious aftereffects for several days.
"Erotic load... stimulation rate... seven hundred percent above the threshold of... I... I’m going to..."
"Gonna drain you dry like the little bitch you are," Mike growled, slamming his hips even harder against him.
— Prostate stimulations per minute: 67...
— Anal wall friction: 98% continuous contact...
Erwin felt his anus clench uncontrollably around Mike’s cock.
The internal pressure was building.
— Pelvic tension: maximal...
— Risk of losing consciousness during orgasm: 8%
— Mike’s seminal load post-first ejaculation: estimated at 65% of maximum potential...
Mike hadn’t softened.
Mike hadn’t even lost any girth.
The next load... Erwin shuddered...
It would be thick, heavy, pumped deep into his already battered guts.
His own orgasm was rising, shivers radiating from his prostate to his cock.
Each of Mike’s thrusts pushed him higher.
Each droplet of pre-cum leaking from his cock was proof his body was ready to give in.
And still Mike didn’t stop, pounding him with unbearable regularity.
Erwin panted, feeling his belly contract.
Just a bit more...
Mike, with no gentleness, flipped him over with a brutal motion.
Erwin ended up on his back, lower body still pinned to the desk, thighs spread and dangling in the air.
His lab coat, now unbuttoned by the violent friction, slid from his shoulders.
His cheeks were flushed, blotched with heat.
His blond hair, disheveled, fell across his forehead.
His lips, parted, desperately sought air between sobs of pleasure.
Mike gave him no respite.
Already he grabbed his hips again and, with a hard thrust, sank his cock back inside, filling him to the brim once more.
Erwin screamed, his throat raw, unable to contain the brutal surge of pleasure.
He felt his muscles tense, his anus gripping Mike’s thick cock, sucking it in, craving it.
Inclination angle: 26.7 degrees.
Pressure on prostate: optimal.
Probability of orgasm within 15 seconds: 99%.
His eyes blurred with tears.
He couldn’t look away from Mike above him, sweating, muscles rolling under his soaked sweater, his features twisted in raw desire.
Confirmation: Mike favors sexual position diversity during a single intercourse session.
Behavioral assessment: intense sexual appetite, adaptability, pronounced dominance.
Erwin gasped when Mike suddenly clamped his large hands around his neck.
Not to strangle him... not yet.
Just enough to make breathing difficult.
His legs spasmed involuntarily, his back arched, he panted, sucking in the rare oxygen.
Estimated time before ejaculation: 12 seconds.
His hands clawed at the air.
His toes curled inside his shoes.
Mike tightened his grip on his throat, his hips slamming against him beastially.
"I’m gonna cum. Considering intracavitary pressure... and the force of your rectal contractions... I’m gonna fill you till you overflow."
Erwin, drowning in pleasure, nodded with jerky movements.
Prostate stimulation: constant and oversaturated.
Pelvic congestion status: critical.
Probability of reflex prostate orgasm without seminal emission: over 90%.
He knew what was coming.
His painfully hard cock throbbed uncontrollably.
And, as expected, the first shockwave hit.
A jet of clear liquid burst violently from his cock — neither milky nor viscous, but translucent, watery.
It wasn’t semen.
It was prostatic fluid, almost chemically identical to urine, released under the intense stimulation of his prostate.
A male « squirt », characteristic of a pure prostate orgasm, without involvement of the ejaculatory ducts.
He let out a strangled cry, unable to contain the spasms.
Each contraction of his perineum sprayed more of the hot, clear fluid onto his lab coat and even his own face.
Estimated volume per spurt: 10 to 15ml.
Number of spurts: increasing.
Probability of complete external sphincter loss of control: 65%.
His body arched violently, his hips jolting with the waves of pleasure.
"Your hole’s clenching so fucking hard... I’m gonna drown you, bitch. Ready to be flooded?"
Erwin, drunk on pleasure, didn’t even have time to answer.
Mike roared — and the flood of semen erupted inside him.
Erwin felt the delicious burn of the first deep spurt, followed by a second, even more powerful, and then a third, overflowing from his stretched anus, running in thick streams down his thighs.
He desperately tried to assess:
Total ejaculate volume: over 25ml, standard deviation unknown.
Semen temperature: around 38°C.
Rectal overflow rate: complete.
But it was too much.
Too much.
His guts quivered, his anal walls struggling to contain the flood.
Erwin’s body collapsed onto the desk. His torn lab coat clung to his shoulders. A firm pressure remained on his trachea, maintaining controlled hypoxia.
Erwin felt his orgasm prolong — uncontrollable spasms still rippling through his body — and without warning, another clear jet burst from his cock.
Residual prostatic emission: detected.
Squirt frequency: decreasing but persisting.
Comparative evaluation of the two tested positions:
Position 1 — belly on the desk, taken from behind — : deep stimulation, maximal pressure angle on anterior lobe of the prostate.
Position 2 — back on the desk, legs spread — : more diffuse pressure but visual contact, increased emotional factor.
Result:
Position 1 = pure efficiency, maximal stimulation.
Position 2 = sensory overload, visual + physical combination.
Overall satisfaction: 98%.
His throat vibrated with a muffled whimper as Mike tightened his grip slightly, cutting off more air.
Factors amplifying the orgasm:
Internal warmth from Mike’s semen.
Continuous rectal pressure.
Light choking.
Multiple prostate squirts.
Immediate post-coital assessment:
Rectal dilation: maximal, probable sphincter damage.
Internal sensation: massive presence of foreign bodily fluid.
Probable anal leakage within the next hours: 99%.
Estimated time to regain acceptable sphincter closure:
Minimum 12 hours with full rest.
Average 24 hours under normal activity conditions.
Risk of temporary incontinence: high >75%.
He inhaled with difficulty, as Mike finally eased the pressure on his neck.
His own cock, drained dry, still twitched.
Probability of walking normally within the next 2 hours: less than 10%.
Probability of limping significantly: 89%.
Probability of worsening distension with premature movement: 72%.
Mike’s cum, still trapped deep inside him, seemed to weigh a ton.
Time for natural resorption of internal seminal load: about 4 to 6 hours via passive leakage.
And above all:
Risk of secondary prostate stimulation from simple pelvic movement: present at 65%, potentially triggering further involuntary squirts.
Current anal dilation: 140% of standard capacity.
Recovery time to regain full physical abilities: between 24 and 48 hours.
Immediate psychological impact: severe euphoria.
Risk of dependency on this type of stimulation: 100%.
Conclusion: Mike Zacharias is an excellent fuck.