When their plane landed in Tampa, Bjorn and Phil gathered up their carry-ons and headed for a cab, anxious to hit the gym and get started. Only a few hours remained before the event he had worked so hard for. Phil had done his share of work, as well - taking constant care of Bjorn's king-size cock.

Arriving at the college campus where the event was to be held, they were greeted at the gate by a stout guard asking to see their passes. Reminds me of home, Bjorn said to himself. Phil flipped the guy some papers, and they were on their way.

The gym was huge. As they wondered through, Bjorn stopped to watch a young man lifting two concrete blocks with his feet. His legs strained with the weight. Sweat running down his chest, He grunted a strained hello when they passed.

The sight of Bjorn and Phil walking through made everyone stop and gape rudely, fascinated by Phil's tiny size.

"I'm used to this," he said with a grin. "After we get you settled, I may go out there and show them a few tricks, the lifts they think a little guy can't do. I can still knock 'em dead, y'know!"

After changing in the locker area, checking in and getting assigned, they took off for the weight room when Bjorn busied himself with small weights while Phil chose one of the bench presses. As Phil lay under the bar, a big man stepped up to his side.

"Can I help you, little man?," he said with a smirk.

"No thanks, big guy!" Phil shot back. "I'm just playing around while my boy limbers up."

At that, Phil started pulling the bar above to his chest. Weighted with 250 pounds, it was no match for Phil, who pumped it up and down like a twig. The hulking smirker stood back with his mouth open wide until a glimmer of recognition sparkled in his eyes.

"You are Philipo! What have I done! Please forgive me, little one. I didn't recognize you at first What an honor to meet the great Philipo face to face!"

"Just Phil these days," the little man laughed, continuing to raise and lower the heavy bar.

Mot until the big man bowed respectfully and turned to walk away did Phil notice his hot, broad ass that stretched the workout shorts to the limit. He gave an appreciative sigh.

The first day of try-outs went surprisingly well. Bjorn's clean-and-jerk was the judges' delight, with one swearing it was the best he had ever seen. Bjorn and Phil arrived for clean up in the locker room just as Phil's erstwhile smirker strode in and started stripping down. They saw now that his massive frame was covered with a carpet of jet-black hair. When he dropped his trunks, out popped a huge, uncut cock that stopped Bjorn dead in his tracks. Despite the fact that the locker room was full of big burly men of all sizes and shapes. He began to drool a little.

His prick was about to rise when Phil nudged him sharply and whispered, "Hey! Not here! Save that thing for me!"

Bjorn understood. Desperately, he busied his mind with anything to distract himself from the naked reality of being surrounded by all the hot beefcake filling that room.

Waiting outside for the limo to take them back to the hotel, Phil noticed the hunky smirker standing alone. "You need a ride?" he asked, unable to hide the lust in his voice. "We got a limo coming. It's big enough for all of us." He agreed and joined them in the huge back seat. As the limousine wheeled through the city, he told them his name was Carl, down from Alaska. This meet was his first national competition.

While he talked, Bjorn couldn't stop staring at the guy's crotch, knowing now the treasures hidden there. Once, he got caught, but Carl didn't seem to mind, actually pushing down on his tight shorts, thus making the bulge even larger. It was almost more than Bjorn could bear.

Sensing the awkward situation, Phil spoke up in an effort to ward off a potentially embarrassing moment. "You got plans for dinner?"

"No," said Carl, "I figure on going back to my room and ordering something room service. My sponsor gave me carte blanche and said to be sure and eat well!"

"Hey, why not join Bjorn and me? There's a terrific Cuban restaurant near our hotel. The best black beans and rice this side of Havana! You won't regret it. Will you come?"

Carl said sure, remarking later that Phil was right. It was one fine place. After dinner, they chatted around the table, and Carl told them he had been a lumber jack in Nome, until one day the boos looked at him and commented to his fellow loggers on the wasted strength of a man who could move the big logs by hand instead of with a crane. He should be in competition! That was the day Carl put down his axe and picked up a barbell for the very first time. Fired up with his new discovery, he devoted himself to exhaustive training in Juno for the next two years in preparation for this event. He intended to break the 500-pound record for his weight class. He believed with all his heart it could be done. He was a dedicated man.

They piled into the limo then and headed for Carl's hotel. As he stretched out his legs in the back seat, his shorts rode down beneath his belly to reveal a cockstand up to his navel. Bjorn had glanced out the window at that moment and missed the show, but Phil saw it all before Carl self-consciously tucked it back in.

Sensing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Phil reached over and patted it through Carl's shorts. "Looks like that monster needs tending to," he said in a tone which left no doubt of his intent. Blushing, Carl adjusted himself again as they pulled up to his hotel.

"Of course, you guys are coming up for a night cap, right?" he said with a mischievous grin.

"We don't drink," Phil responded, but I'm sure we can find something to do." No sooner had they stepped into Carl's room than the big Alaskan picked up Phil like a baby and lay him gently on the bed. He took the midget's hand and placed it in his crotch. "Eat my cock, Philipo the Great," he moaned as Phil clawed open his fly and pounced with his lips on the swelling dick in a frenzy of lust.

The three men's clothes flew all over the room as they stripped each other's garments away. Kneeling on the bed facing Carl, Phil jammed that huge tool down his hungry throat while Bjorn stroked Carl's furry buns from behind. His finger was reaming the hole when Carl choked out, "Fuck me now!" Grasping Carl by the shoulders, Bjorn stood back and dribbled a long stream of lubricating spit on his pulsating cock.

"I gotta have it NOW!" Carl gasped, his voice constricted with flaming desire. "Stick that hot dick up my ass! Oh, God, do it NOW!".

In it went without ceremony, just a sharp lunge forward and a massive thrust. Carl threw his head back in an agony of pleasure, grabbing Phil by the ears and thrusting forward himself. Phil gagged, but kept right on sucking, churning his jaws around Carl's dick, coming up for air only once, with the words: "Makin' butter! Makin' butter! Gimme the butter, man!"

Phil reached down behind him and took Bjorn's swinging balls in hand. He gently pulled and massaged them in time to Bjorn's rhythmic fucking of his broad, furry ass. Rivers of sweat rolled off the men, pouring down them in torrents as all three came together: Bjorn deep in the cavern of Carl's hot ass, Carl deeper in Phil's throat than any man had gone before, and Phil sprayed the bedspread without ever touching himself at all.

In a tangled heap, they fell across the bed and into sleep as one man, with nary a movement from any one of them till past dawn

That evening, after doing well at the meet, Bjorn asked himself how it was that he had done so well in competition that day after the night he had experienced with Carl and Phil. He had beaten all but two power lifters, a Belgian and Carl. He wondered vaguely if the furious fucking he had given Carl, and the pursuant collapse from sheer exhaustion, had led him into a better, more relaxing night of rest than he had ever had before. Maybe that's what he needed all the time.

He lay stretched out naked on the bed waiting for Phil to finish his shower. His dick, as usual, was hard. Phil came out of the bathroom after a shower. His gaze pounced on Bjorn's stiff cock.

"You getting ideas?" Bjorn suggested with a grin.

"I might be," came the reply as Phil dropped his towel and climbed on the bed, "Why don't you rub my back for awhile, and we'll talk about it."

He started to rub the little man's body with his rough hands. Grabbing a bottle of aloe from the nightstand, he squirted it over Phil's back and buns. Running his hands up and down the hard, compact body, his thumb suddenly slipped into Phil's hungry little asshole.

Phil rotated his butt and let out a deep moan. "I want something bigger then that. Fuck me like a dog!"

He swung himself around with his ass hanging over the edge of the bed, his knees folded under him to lift his ass high. Bjorn came up from behind. Phil reached around and guided him to the hole, then whispered hoarsely, "Ram it in HARD!"

Bjorn did, nearly pounding Phil through the mattress when he came. Afterward, when Bjorn stood panting from the tremendous exertion, Phil suddenly stood up on the bed, turned around and rubbed his hard-on alongside Bjorn's nose.

"Suck me off!" he commanded. With that, he straddled Bjorn's shoulders and fucked his face. Bjorn's nose was buried deep in Phil's furry navel, and his fingers were again up Phil's ass as he sucked his mentor off.

After Phil's orgasm, they showered together, gently washing each other. As they were drying off, a room service waiter arrived with lunch. They ate and chatted about the main event that would decide their fates for the coming months.

Without a win, Bjorn would have to return to Warsaw. Win, and maybe he could stay forever.

(CONTINUED)