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Samson couldn't definitively say when his career as a photographer had begun. His passion in taking photos, no matter the subject, went back to his early childhood when he got a toy polaroid camera. He grew attached to it like a leech, carrying the little gadget wherever he went and snapping a pic of whatever he fancied. He didn't start making a job out of it until he joined the school newspaper in middle school. It was fun seeing his work printed on paper for other people to see, but it wasn't the same taking pictures of things he was told to. He wanted to go out and capture the world in a way that let other people marvel at its beauty the same way he did. When he was a senior in high school he published his first book of photos. It was a simple collection of images he snapped around the city where he lived. It received some moderate success, and earned him his first real hard-earned dollars.

His passion carried him into college and beyond. He majored in photography, naturally, and opened his own little studio. It was supposed to be a stop-gap for his dream of being a wildlife photographer, but fate threw a wrench by granting him unsuspected success. The pictures of models he took were picked up by local magazines. His name started to spread. Actors and entrepreneurs came to him for their headshots. It wasn't long before he no longer had to hire people to step into his studio and pose. His name was on the lips of every major studio and models who had stood in front of his lens. His dream of going out into the wilderness for pictures of nature's majesty was set aside as a mere hobby. His career path was set in stone by his miniature fame and recognized talent, and he wasn't even out of college yet.

He may have been known for his skill in capturing other people's beauty, but those who met him would've argued that he belonged in front of a camera more than behind it. Samson was an eastern lowland gorilla, and a handsome one too. The fur and skin across his body was an ebony black, one that managed to pop out with its oblique darkness. The hair on his head was styled into a smooth fade, something he spent a great amount of money maintaining at the barber shop he frequented. The skin of his face was smooth, helping to further his genial behavior and visage. He had a soft-spoken voice and a habit of smiling broadly. His perfectly manicured straightened teeth seemed blindingly white against the backdrop of his onyx face. Those who stepped into his studio had any frayed nerves assuaged by his friendly way of bantering and making people laugh.

That was good, because Samson was an absolute beast of a man. Standing over seven feet tall, he had a body appropriate for a gorilla. Arms like howitzers hung from his broad shoulders. His chest was thick as a bunker wall, anchored by a pair of pecs the size of televisions. A shredded trunk came down into a wide pair of hips beset with glutes like boulders. He had thighs comparable to oaks, each one swelling with muscle that seemed ready to tear through his skin with each flex. Veins swam up the height of his limbs like cords. His hands and feet were like mitts, making the giant and expensive cameras he used look tiny in his grasp. He was a giant, but a delicate one too. He carried himself with an odd grace that was disproportionate to his size. He never knocked his gargantuan arms into things or tripped over objects he didn't see. Where Samson went, he meant to go.

Making his smooth way of moving was made all the more impressive by the jovian set of sex organs he kept hidden in his pants. “Hidden" might be the wrong word given that it bulged out to a size only a blind person could miss. A phallus the length of a bat and girth of a normal person's wrist sat swaddled in his underwear. How well he could have contained it was made pointless by the even more garish presence of his scrotum. Testes fit to be basketballs knocked between his thighs. Their weight was something like a small anvil, earning Samson a strength in his hips and legs he didn't need to workout to maintain. People who saw him for the first time thought it was some kind of crude prank. A few of them asked him what the hell he was carrying around, to which he would calmly and politely answer, “My penis." That put an end to their questioning, although certainly not their curiosity. Samson never wanted to acknowledge it, but the epic presence of his manhood was a key component in him getting clients. Everyone wanted their photo taken by the gorilla with the huge cock. He was happy to oblige, so long as they had the money.

He got an email one day from such a customer. They said they were a horse named Trevor looking to get into acting. He had heard about Samson's skills as a photographer and wanted to get some headshots. Samson wrote an email back, scheduling a time for them to have a shoot together. He invited him to come over on a Saturday afternoon. Trevor agreed, and the date was set. Samson's studio was in his apartment. He lived in one of the highest floors of a high rise building. It was in the very heart of the city, overlooking the neighboring district and bay. He decorated it with a heavily modern atmosphere, hanging up bizarro art pieces and some unique looking furniture that clashed with the brick walls surrounding them. This was where Samson held most of his shoots, going elsewhere only when the client requested it. Working from home made his life much easier, although going to some pretty hotspots in and out of the city always proved to be nice adventures. He had an entire corner of his apartment dedicated to acting as the studio. A massive white screen was set up as a backdrop. It was flanked by a system of poles and curtains. A whole stack of light furniture was sitting nearby to act as props, should they be needed.

Samson was lounging on the couch browsing his phone when he heard the buzz of the intercom. He got up and walked over to it, jostling his fat scrotum in his skinny jeans. Above it was a white tank top that stood in great contrast to the black fur that surrounded it. He hit the button on the intercom using an enormous finger that almost pressed the other buttons around it. “Hello?" he asked.

“Hello!" responded a chipper voice. “This is Trevor. I'm here for a photoshoot."

“Come on up!" Samson hit the unlock button and waited for Trevor's arrival. A minute later there was a knock on the door. Samson undid the latch and opened it. He was greeted by the sight of a very handsome horse, one he hadn't seen in person or in pictures until now. Trevor was tall and slender, reaching a height that fell short of Samson's by only a few inches. He was an arabian with a coat of fur so white that it seemed to glow in the dim hallway light. Standing out against it was the mane he had dyed red. It was long and straight, swept over one eye and falling down to his shoulder. Brilliant blue eyes accentuated what was a sleek and gaunt face. His rosy pink lips were full and pouty. He wore a fashionably tattered t-shirt and a sagging pair of pants held up by a black belt studded with stainless steel spikes.

Samson thought he was cute, but what wasn't cute was his fat cock bulge, one on par with Samson's. Samson wasn't able to look him in the eye for very long before his gaze was inevitably sucked downwards into his loins. It had been a very long time since he had seen a gentleman packing something that could even be compared to his. While he might have fallen short, it was still impressive. His jeans were loose, but they still could not withhold the size of his package. His penis was currently in its sheath, a small mercy given that it would've torn the denim to shreds had it turned erect. His balls were equally barbaric, looking like a pair of human heads that had been stuffed into a sleeping bag. Like the many people who had first met Samson, he thought it was a gag. He had to remind himself that he too wielded a monster, one that actually began to stir in his drawers now that it was presented with a potential rival.

Samson quickly realized that he was staring and snapped his eyes back up. He was happy to see Trevor doing the same before he made eye contact with the towering gorilla. “Hi!" chirped the horse after what had probably been an entire second of dick ogling. “Samson?"

Samson inhaled through his mouth, correcting his rather rude introduction. “Yeah! Trevor?"

Trevor bowed his head. “That's me."

Samson stepped aside and opened the door further. “Please, come on in." Trevor thanked him and walked inside. Both men took time to steal a look at the other's package as it passed them. Trevor's balls swayed side back and forth with the gentlemanly pump of his legs, confirming their authenticity. Through the skin-tight fabric of Samson's pants Trevor thought he could see the fat veins webbing through his length. At the same time they wondered what they would look like naked, with one of them already formulating a plan to achieve that. Their gazes left their groins and met each other's once again. Trevor flashed him a tiny smirk, one that Samson returned in kind. Once Trevor was past him, he looked at his ass. Broad and bloated, just like Samson liked it. A long horsetail dangled from a hole beneath his belt line. It was dyed the same red color as his mane.

While Trevor stopped to admire the place Samson closed the door. A chant rolled through his mind. Be professional. [i]Be professional. Be professional[/i]. Trevor snapped him out of his mantra by speaking up. “Wow, this is a really nice place you got here. How long have you lived here?"

“Oh, just over a year now. Rented it a few years out of college."

“Really? You must be loaded."

Samson shrugged. “My career blowing up kinda helped. I honestly never suspected living in a place like this, not off a regular photographer's salary."

“Well, as much as I've heard about you, I didn't think you'd have a regular photographer's pay. Quite a few people knew about you and recommended you. They said we'd get along, whatever that meant." That cheeky grin was back alongside another glance at Samson's cock.

It didn't go unnoticed. Samson returned the favor with a big smile and a not-so-subtle stare into Trevor's crotch pillow. “I wonder why."

“Mmm, a mystery."

Samson would've loved to find out if this flirtatious attitude of his was genuine or just a trait of his, but for now they had a job to do. “So! You said you were an actor, trying to get some headshots for a portfolio?"

That snapped Trevor out of his horny gazing. “Yeah! I'm not an actor yet, but I know a few people who are helping me get into the business. They're the ones who recommended I come to you. I've seen your work. You do a pretty good job. I wanted to see for myself how good you were." The intent behind that latter statement was as well hidden as the Eiffel Tower.

“Well, I won't disappoint. Let's get you in front of that camera and see what we can make."

“Yeah, let's see."

Samson guided him over to the screen where a prop fancy chair was waiting for him. “You can sit right there for now. We'll take a few headshots for now and go from there. You bought the whole package, so we'll experiment around with whatever you want to do."

“Sounds good." Trevor waltzed to the chair and plopped himself down with a gay flourish of the tail. His manhood sat in his lap like a pair of bowling balls and a pin. Despite its elephantine presence, Trevor assumed an air of refined comfort. He sat back and smiled patiently at Samson. “Tell me what to do."

Samson caught himself admiring the adorable horse in front of him once again. “Let me just get my camera." It was waiting for him on a small table nearby. It was a large black Sony with a long, extendable lens. Samson had the strength to crush it into a million pieces with his bare fist, but picked it up with a pronounced delicacy. He cradled it and got on one knee. A frown of concentration came over his face. He scanned Trevor's face and upper body, formulating dozens of potential angles and positions for him to get in. It sounds easy taking someone's headshot. Just zoom in on their face and snap, right? You could, but that wouldn't get you anything good. Everyone had angles and proportions to their face that required proper positioning and direction. A shot from one point could make a person look gorgeous while scooting only an inch to the right or left would be far less flattering. Before he could take even the first shot, Samson had to plan an entire sequence of poses and looks in his head in order to get the best possible collection of photos.

“Lean back in the chair a little, like you're trying to get comfortable," Samson commanded. “Look up here for me." He lifted his hand and pointed towards the ceiling. Trevor followed his directions, assuming a minor pose Samson liked. “There we go. Stop right there." He pulled the camera to his face and peered into the viewfinder. He saw a menagerie of black lines and frames meant to gauge the distance to his target. His finger fell on the shutter. The camera buzzed, and the lens jutted forward to focus on the subject. For a second Trevor's image went blurry, became clearer, went blurry again, then became perfectly crisp. Samson pushed the shutter all of the way.

[i]Chi-chick![/i]

A flash of light blew out from the flash stand behind Samson. The first of many images was captured. Samson didn't bother to check it. He went right ahead with the next one, and the next one, and the next one. [i]Chi-chick! Chi-chick! Chi-chick![/i] He saw Trevor form a tiny smile as he sat there. “There we go. I like that smile. Having fun?" he asked as he snapped more photos.

“I am, yeah. I've never done this before." He looked not into the camera lens but the squinted eye of the man behind it. “Not professionally, I mean. It's kind of new and exciting."

“It is, isn't it?" Samson lowered the camera. He chewed his lip, thinking of new poses to put him in. “Here, try turning your head away from me. Yeah, like that." [i]Chi-chick! Chi-chick![/i] “There we go." [i]Chi-chick![/i] “Try looking away from me. Let me get a profile." Trevor turned his head to the side, showing the elongated shape of his horse nose. Samson noticed how broad and flat his cheek muscle was. He shuffled on his knees to get an angle that made it look more pronounced. “Yeah, yeah, that's nice. Look at me with your eyes. Show me those pretty blue rings." Trevor's eyes rolled over to him, cutting a very saucy look. “Oooooh, feisty, I like it."

Trevor chuckled. “You talk to everyone like this?"

“I do, helps people get confident in how they look, although I can tell you don't need any more confidence. You're glowing."

That got a smile out of him. “Thanks. You're not too shabby yourself."

“You're too sweet." [i]Chi-chick! Chi-chick![/i]

Samson shot a few more times before zooming out to show Trevor sitting in the chair. Just out of frame was that ungodly sack of his, something Samson had just started to forget about. He captured Trevor in several different poses, ones that included his fingers resting on his chin as if in thought. Trevor made eye contact with the camera most of the time, piercing it with that sleek gaze. Samson normally included black and white edits in people's portfolios, but getting rid of his innocent blue irises felt like a crime. He took photos that he thought better captured Trevor's many contrasts in color. He got a shot of his scarlet mane and plush lips. He asked him to make a small part in the curtain of red hair coming over the side of his face so that he could just see his eye beneath it. He'd seen a lot of imaginative looking people, but Trevor had some indescribable presence to him that drove Samson to attack the camera shutter with reckless abandon. While he wouldn't admit it, that mound of reproductive flesh helped tremendously.

Samson snapped the last shot of Trevor's upper body, then finally lowered the camera. He noticed that his heart was pounding. He had gone silent half way through the session, far too focused on Trevor's good looks to say anything. Has any other client ever had this kind of effect on him? He wasn't about to dote on it too long. He stood up, making his fat purse wobble in his pants. “Alright, that was great! I think we got a lot of good shots of your face. Is there anything you want me to do before we move on?"

Trevor had some ideas, but they would have to wait. “Not that I can think of. We're gonna take full body shots now, right?"

Samson nodded. “Yup."

“Awesome. How do you want me?"

[i]Naked would be great.[/i] That sentiment was shoved away in favor of deciding how to pose him next. “Tell you what, let's use that chair while we still got it out here."

“Sounds good. What are your orders, captain?"

“Just stay like that. Get comfortable and keep lookin' beautiful."

“Aye aye~" Trevor slouched back in his seat, kicking his feet out so that the toes of his shoes pointed up. He laid his arms across the arms of the chair, grabbing onto them and tapping his fingers. His bloated package wobbled restlessly, as if demanding to have an even more prominent place in the photo shoot. There was no escaping it now; Samson was going to have to take pictures of it.

Samson licked his lips and took aim. [i]Chi-chick![/i] It was always satisfying seeing the black blur of the shutter chomping down on the frame in front of him, but capturing Trevor's majestic mound was downright cathartic. He unconsciously focused on it, making sure that it stood center stage within every picture. He was that close to asking Trevor to take his pants off so that he could see it. Judging by the sultry look in his eye, Trevor was raring to do the same thing. The tension hung between them like a steel wire pulled taut. The pressure would increase with every curt snap of the camera. There would be a dozen or so staccato clicks, then Samson would ask him to change his pose. Eventually he had burned out all possibilities on that chair. He lowered the camera. “Let's get you on something else. I think that chair's had enough."

Trevor rubbed the chair's upholstery. “Aww, too bad. I was just starting to get comfy in it." He rose to his feet, swinging his scrotum out to the point that Samson thought it would topple him over. “What should I sit in next?"

Samson looked over at the clot of prop furniture he had waiting for them. Trevor would've looked good in any one of them. The most prominent one was a white wicker patio couch with gold cushions. “The sofa, let's put you in the sofa." Trevor went to move the chair out of the way before Samson stopped him with a wave of the hand. He dragged it away with a startling [i]skrrrrt[/i] and placed it among the other furniture. He grabbed the couch by its backrest with one hand, hoisted it up, then carried it over to the studio where he sat it behind Trevor. “There you go, have a seat."

Trevor's horsetail had cocked upwards with excitement. “Wow, you're awfully strong."

Samson laughed. “Yeah, I take care of myself."

“I can tell." Trevor took the chance to lie down on his back with his head on the armrest. “How's this?"

Samson thought he could count the wrinkles in Trevor's sheathe, it was so tightly pressed into the fabric of his pants. He wasn't being much more subtle either. He felt his cock stiffening against his will, egged on by mental images of this client's nudity. “Yeah, like that. Maybe bend your elbow above you and drape your fingers down on the side of your face."

Trevor obeyed. He pointed his elbow at the ceiling and rested it on the backrest of the sofa. He brushed the back of his knuckles against his temple. He let his other hand hang off the side of the couch where he drifted his fingers against the floor like a kayaker dipping into a lake. “How's this?"

Samson spoke his mind. “Hot." He went to work snapping more photos.

“You look like you're getting into this," Trevor said with a cheeky flick of his tail which dangled from the edge of the couch like a tassel.

Samson chuckled. “Can't help it. You're stunning."

“You think so?"

“Honey, I'm snapping away like a machine gun. The camera can't get enough of you." He lowered the camera from his face for just a moment, eyes clearly locked on Trevor's obstreperous junk.

“Easy there, partner. Eyes on your own paper."

Samson corrected himself by looking Trevor in the eye. He did not panic. “Can't help it. You've got a treasure down there." That was very unprofessional of him to say. However you complemented a client, you [i]never[/i] said anything sexual beyond calling them “sexy". Any reference to the act itself or their organs was off limits.

Much to Samson's relief, Trevor laughed. “You've got a treasure yourself, ya know. It's kind of hard to miss."

“Yeah?" Samson snapped a few more photos, this time without any hint of ignoring his alpine crotch. “Most people would've asked me if I was faking it."

“Tell me about it." Trevor's hand drifting around the floor lifted to his waist so that he could tuck his thumb into his belt. “You know, I didn't tell you everything I was going to do with these pictures."

“Oh?" He snapped a few more photos. Trevor's face wasn't even in frame. He was making sure to capture the outline of his cylindrical sheath. “What are you gonna do?"

“Well, when I said I was an actor, I wasn't lying about that, but it wasn't the whole truth." Samson lowered the camera and stopped shooting. He wanted to hear this. “I'm a pornstar, or at least I'm trying to be." His thumb snuck deeper into his pants. “Already got some vids online."

Samson was quiet for a moment. He was imagining Trevor's OnlyFans page, one rife with thumbnails blazing with his Herculean cock. “Interesting," was all he had to say about that.

“Yeah," Trevor said flatly. He looked down at his waistband and saw how far down his thumb had pulled it. They could both see the inner bulges of his pelvis and the upper frizz of his pubes. He didn't move to hide either. “Mind if we take more appropriate photos for that kind of work?"

Samson damn sure wanted to scream 'yes', but was naturally hesitant. Was this even allowed? Of course it was, but it somehow didn't feel like it. As many alluring photos he had taken of men and women alike, not one of them had been lewd enough to be relegated to nothing else but a porn site or magazine. He was picturing the front page of his website, one that featured many of his finest shots. He could see Trevor's nude form in the middle of it, breaking the relative monotony with the glory of his genitals. He knew he didn't have to do that, but being the one to photograph it was something like an honor he couldn't pass up, and that was from somebody wielding a cock that was even bigger.

Samson licked his lips. “Yeah, go ahead."

Trevor remained calm, although inside he was blooming with fireworks. “OK. What should I take off first?"

The obvious answer was his pants, but Samson thought it better to work their way there first. “Your shirt," he said.

Trevor sat up and peeled his shirt up and over his head. His trunk was a lurid display of tightly wound muscles, each one sitting in great definition to the next. His gray nipples stood out amidst the flat white plain of his pecs. Blue veins branched their way through and around his forearm. He laid back down, resuming his vulnerable position. “How's this?" His nipples grew stiff in the apartment's AC.

“Yeah… Yeah, that's nice." Samson went to work. [i]Chi-chick! Chi-chick! Chi-chick![/i] “That's real nice."

Trevor resumed his snide smile. “Thank you. I think I'd like to see you on this couch wearing just as much."

Samson didn't stop his shooting. “I'd like that too, but right now I got a sexy horse keeping me busy."

Trevor's chest bounced with his laughter. “Then shoot away, big boy. Tell me what you want to see."

[i]Oh God, where to start?[/i] Samson took a moment to think. “Sit up for me. Put your feet on the floor and sit with your back to the back of the couch. Spread your legs and let me see that bulge."

Trevor purred his approval and assumed the position, lying his arms out across the width of the backrest. He savored the feel of his pants fabric growing taut across his testes while his knees grew distant from one another. “I like how you think. Tell me when you want these pants to go. I think we should get rid of them now."

Samson's cock was on its way to a raging erection, one ready to tear his pants at the seam. A single vein throbbed on the flank of his shaft, winding like a river. Trevor could see its outline through the denim. “I do too, but first let's see that beautiful body of yours. Upper body, I mean."

Trevor purred. “Good idea. Makes the final product more satisfying when you wait for it."

Samson felt a spike in his arousal. [i]God, I fucking hate how sexy he is. I wanna fuck his brains out.[/i] He snapped away. He made him assume a few more positions, even having him stand up and face away so that he could see his chunky glutes. Meanwhile Samson's member was at the greatest density it could achieve given the restraint of his pants. It fell right down his thigh, reaching past his knee and burning against his skin. A dark spot bloomed in the fabric, right where the head was. Precum was beginning to flow freely. The smell of it made his gaping nostrils flare. It was too much to ignore. “Fuck… Take off those pants," he commanded at last.

“Thought you'd never ask~" With his back facing him, Trevor unbuckled his belt and undid his fly, letting his pants fall to his ankles. After kicking his shoes off, he turned to face Samson, showing off that grandiloquent pouch of masculine prowess currently withheld by only his sorely overworked underwear. He was wearing bright red compression shorts, ones that oddly matched with his hair. There was nothing left to the imagination anymore regarding the contours of his scrotum. All that was left to wonder about was the color and length of his cock, currently still hiding in his primed and loaded sheath. Trevor cupped one of his nuts like a cannonball and then let it fall. The mere whisper of his palm scraping the fabric of his underwear was enough to further Samson's desire. “Like what you see?"

Samson's face was on fire. “Yes," he huffed. His voice cracked with a little more horniness than he was comfortable with emitting, not like his cock wasn't already putting the message forward with the subtlety of a nuclear meltdown.

“So do I, now get snappin',"

Samson fired away, not even bothering with the focus on Trevor's face, or anything that wasn't his package, for that matter. Trevor played around on the couch, lying back, bending over it, kicking one foot on it, spreading his legs across it, and forming whatever other sexy form he could think of. Samson wasn't even giving him orders. He had assumed such repose with the camera that he was one with it. He knew what it and the gorilla behind it wanted. It was given in full. He grabbed the waistband of his underwear. Without another word he began pulling it down his legs eeeeeeeeever so slowly. Samson felt his heart pound away like a drum. He captured the gradual plunge of his underwear like it was some historical event. He first saw Trevor's pubes, then the top quadrant of his sheath, then his flared pink cocktip jutting out of it, then finally his gargantuan sack. It was black in color, a few shades short of pitch. It shined in the studio light, free of any hairs or blemishes. The skin was smooth, letting through a very small hint of the many blood vessels that lay beneath. His balls hung like the heads of executed thieves displayed as warning. The head of his cock was already out, standing out among the dark flesh with its glistening pink. It had the breadth of a table coaster. The slit was the size of a dime. He grabbed his glans and squeezed it, enticing its arrival into the outside world.

Slooooooooowly his shaft began to slither its way out of his sheath, letting Samson grasp the full immensity of it. He captured every inch of the journey with a rapid fire series of clicks. Nigh half a minute passed until Trevor achieved full staff, letting that monstrous staff of a girlish rose color present itself for Samson's awe. Two and a half feet in length, it was the biggest thing Samson had ever seen that wasn't a part of himself. Samson had enormous hands, but not even they could cup his scrotum on their own. “Fuck…" muttered Samson. “Fuck."

“Why so excited?" teased Trevor. He stroked his shaft from hilt to head, showing off its flank to the camera. It outshone Trevor's own arms in both length and girth. “You've got one bigger than mine. I'd think you'd be used to seeing cocks like this."

“The hell I am," said Samson, currently hemorrhaging precum in his pants. “Never on other people. I thought I was alone."

“Glad to introduce you to the party. Go ahead, big boy. Snap away~"

Samson did, immortalizing his new favorite customer with a shower of clicks and flashes that damn near blinded the horse. They continued their series of sexy poses, now without any regard for innocence or chastity. Trevor flouted that monster of his as garishly as he could, unable to get enough of Samson's attention and worship. At this rate, he would be returning the favor and then some. They got rid of the sofa so that Trevor could get on his knees and let his cock tower before his trunk. The shaft rose high enough to cover his face from the camera. They weren't about to let the rest of him go unnoticed. He got on all fours and displayed that sensual profile of his, back arched, ass in the air, tail cocked, cocktip on the floor beneath his face. Most crude was the close up on his ass. In frame was nothing but his ass cheeks, run down the middle by a deep cavern containing his puckered donut. Of course, pictures were taken of the backsack, looking like a ripe coco de mer between his alabaster thighs.

Samson's fly was undone by this point. The pressure on his organ was too much. Trevor was granted a glimpse at his pubes as well as a whiff of his musk, something that was so pungent that it generated some precum of his own. He was on his back, propping himself up with his elbow. His cock was draped over his hip. It dripped to the curtain draped over the floor beneath him, staining it. He cringed. “Ah, sorry. I-"

“No no no, you're fine." Samson took aim and snapped a photo of the growing mess. “I like it."

Trevor relaxed. “I like what you've got going on too."

Samson took time to notice how bad he had gotten. The unzipping of his fly had hardly eased the burden on his pants, now at the very limit of their cargo space. The seams looked ready to unravel. His cock had reached its way down to his mid-shin. Precum was oozing its way down into his socks. It was painfully awkward forcing his cock into such a position. He couldn't let it sit there any longer. “God… I… I gotta…"

“Go ahead, sweety," cooed Trevor. “Get comfy~"