Hey this is a short story, I don’t know hwho is the author but It was sen to me by a reader of the blog with some others stories. Thanks  Topa.

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It seemed an almost ludicrous matchup.  On one side of the chamber, a small but lithe older man assumed a boxer’s crouch.  Facing him, or more truthfully rising to his full upright height and towering over him by a good head or two, was the most powerful being in the entire Universe. Even the old man’s shadow, cast onto the wall behind him by the glowering light of the overhead spotlight, seemed pale and wan compared to the bold silhouette of rounded muscle and heroic bulk that filled the opposite wall.

 Even without his iconic uniform, any fool could tell this was indeed the one and only Man of Steel.  In fact, totally nude his physical assets were even more pronounced.  He wasn’t just the perfect exemplar of manly beauty and strength.  He so far outdistanced any athlete or bodybuilder he seemed to be some advanced example of Homo Sapiens from the unimaginably far future; the very epitome and crowning glory of Evolution’s relentless march to genetic perfection.  The musculature was mind-boggling, and perfectly balanced and formed.  From his well-shaped feet and calves to his thickly muscled thighs tapering to a narrow waist (and between them the most beautiful pair of balls and long, thick dick worthy of a bull), then rising to an inhumanly deeply carved set of abdominal muscles of exactly ten sets of perfectly paired segments.  And higher still a massively thick pair of pectoral muscles like polished dinner plates, their dark chocolate colored nipples rising to peaks topped by pinkish crests.  All that swelling  into even wider shoulders and lats tied to a thickly muscled pillar of a neck crowned by the handsomest face ever known. The pale, slightly pinkish flesh was totally hairless except for his head and pubes.  The skin was flawless and glowed with health and strength, the huge muscles tensed and rippled like giant snakes wriggling beneath silken sheets. The beauty of his face was almost beyond words, a perfect balance of angelic beauty and rugged masculinity. The strong, cloven chin, the almost artistically formed nose perfectly balanced one to the other.  Lips as lusciously full, pouty and ruby red as any painted lady might attempt but fail to out-due with cosmetics and cosmetic surgery.  And those eyes, clear blue as an arctic mountain stream, innocent as a newborn, yet filled with steely resolve.

Next to him the grizzled old man seemed like some prehistoric throwback.  A mere monkey aping the beauty of a god.

  They locked eyes for a few moments.  Stern defiance glared from the big man.  The smaller man’s face only relaxed into the merest hint of a smile.  Then, inexplicably, as the old man took the smallest of steps forward to close the distance between them, the totally unexpected happened.

 The flicker of defiance died and was replaced by a look, not of caution, but almost cowering fear.  The mighty Superhero wavered and then backed up several paces until his back was nearly to the wall.  The slight smile on the older man’s face broke into a broad grin, and suddenly he launched forward from his crouch like a leopard attacking a frightened gazelle. Tucking his head down and turning his shoulder foremost  towards his foe he smashed into the very midst of that monolith of muscle.  There was an almost sickening grunt of pain as he smacked up against the rigid abdominal muscles that seemed as impenetrable as armor plating on a battleship.  But the grunt came not from the old man dislocating his shoulder against an immovable object, but from the muscular giant himself.  Under the harsh light of the un-shaded overhead bulb a veritable cloud of moist hot air exploded from his lungs as his stomach collapsed under the still driving impact.  Unbelievably the massive man was briefly lifted off his feet and driven back into the wall just behind him.  There was a second, even more sickening sound of choking and gagging, as he was crushed between driving shoulder and the unforgiving wall before he could even think to draw another breath and left gasping for air to fill his flattened lungs and midriff.  The old man smoothly reached around the taller man’s waist, hugging him tightly and locking his fingers firmly into the small of his back.  He pulled back to the full extent of his reach, then crouched once more and set his shoulder again.  He tensed his thick thigh muscles and sprang forward once more from a sprinter’s stance, closing the space of the gap he had made in a split second.  Again there was the strangled grunt as the last remaining pockets of air were driven from the massive body.  He seemed like a fish out of water, gasping for air but unable to take any in as his diaphragm muscles were mercilessly contracted and his belly button nearly squashed flush with his spine.  Only the emptiness of his flattened stomach prevented him from vomiting up bile and spittle.

  Like some automated pile-driver the old man relentlessly repeated his assault, methodically thrusting forward into the big man’s midsection and pummeling the tight stomach muscles until they slowly began to soften and sag beneath the unremitting attack.  The once precisely etched divisions between the sets of abdominal muscles began to fade and then disappear until, in those rare moments when the old man withdrew and gathered himself for another round and the superhero was able to suck the barest measure of oxygen back into his starved lungs, his stomach would balloon out slightly like a bellows.  Only to be instantly deflated once more to the tune of a coughing, gagging sickened wheeze like the death rattle of a dying man.

  Superman helplessly endured the assault for what seemed a full hour, until he slowly began to crumble beneath the unrelenting beating.  He could no longer hold his torso erect, and he began to fold at the waist, slowly draping his huge upper body over the shoulders of his opponent.  Trapped under the limp weight of all that muscle the old man was forced to abandon his hold and withdraw.  He stood back and cocked his head, as if admiring his work.  Superman was slumped, bent over at the waist and his long arms swinging limply at his sides, the knuckles grazing the floor.  The old man reached down, cupping the strong, cleft chin in the palm of his hand and tilting it up so that he could look into his foe’s eyes.  There he saw the all too familiar look of weary defeat.

  “Come on, Big Man.  I know you can do better than that.  Where is that fire I saw a moment ago?  Have I beaten it out of you so quickly?  Are you ready to bend over and show me what you are willing to do to make me stop pounding you into the next world?  Or maybe that sweet mouth of yours, now that I shut it from answering me back, has something almost as good to offer?

  As if in answer, the big man fell wearily to his knees.  His handsome face was now nearly level with the fleshy monstrosity that was the old man’s manhood.  It had swelled during their struggle, and seemed to twitch in anticipation of those beautiful lips wrapping themselves around the flaring tip, that handsome face engulfing as much of the length as possible and working it into full flower.

  “Come, come, we all know I can do you at both ends, and multiple times too.  I’m just giving you the sporting chance of resting your poor gut until it gets the same beating on the inside I just gave you from without.  So make it as long and slow as you want, I have all day for this and intend to use every second enjoying your abject capitulation.” He said with a cruel sneer of superiority.

  The crushed look of defeat and surrender seemed to harden once more into the familiar  hint of defiance in the steely blue eyes.  The insults had given the beaten superhero the strength for one last desperate attempt to delay the inevitable.

  Then, inexplicably, the look faded once more to ready acquiescence.  He reached up slowly and gingerly touched the swelling organ in a practiced grip.  He gently began stroking it until it stiffened at half-mast.  He licked his ruby-red lips and parted them seductively.  The old man’s eyes glinted with delight and almost seemed to howl like a wolf pack in anticipation of a kill.  A tiny tip of pinkish tongue snaked between the folds of the beautiful lips and flicked teasingly at the narrow slit on the glans.  The old man stiffened and threw his head back, as a small dewdrop of pre-cum leaked out and rolled down the crevice at the center of the tongue and disappeared into the slightly parted lips.  Superman closed his eyes and rolled his tongue around between his cheeks, as those savoring the salty flavor.

  The old man grabbed a handful of the thick, raven-haired curls and yanked his face upwards so that he could look down into the handsome face while being serviced.  “Open those baby blues along with your lips.  I want to see the sheer ecstasy in them when I skull-fuck you until you’re cross-eyed.” He curtly commanded.  He seemed comfortably in charge, as though this scene had been practiced and performed countless times before.

  Then, in another surprising turnaround in what had been a series of unexpected developments, Superman opened his bedroom eyes and the old man saw not lust but white-hot anger.

The titan leaped up headfirst from bended knee, driving the old man’s fist grasping the hair by which sought to control him rocketing up beneath his own chin.  Bone seemed to clank against bone, sending the old man reeling backwards.  Superman was not unscathed, either, and tottered on wobbly legs as he struggled to get his feet under himself and shake off the effects of smashing his skull into the other man’s chin.

  The old man righted himself, the look of shocked surprise slowly narrowing into steely revenge.  He saw the desperate move had rung the big man’s bell as much as his had been, if not more so.  He grimly advanced on the wobbly giant.  His fingers were still tightly gripping his hair, and he extended that arm, holding Superman’s head stationary while he measured him.  He drew back his right hand and uncorked a stiff uppercut that straightened the taller man up to his full height.  Then, he released his handhold and let him totter forward on unsteady legs.  As the massive body fell forward the old man threw a rapid combination of perfectly precise straight punches, each bouncing off the sturdy chin but causing the head to jerk one way then the next.  As the powerful neck muscles swung the head back into position the old man reached far back and swung a haymaker straight to the pint of the chin.  Superman’s head snapped back violently, and when it fell limply forward onto his chest the old man saw the Man of Steel’s eyes were literally rolling back into his head.

  The old man stepped quickly aside, and watched with glee as the giant fell in sections forward, collapsing face first onto the floor in a heap.  He almost tittered like a schoolgirl as he watched those firm buns jiggle in tandem for several seconds from the impact and then grow still.  There was no question as he lay sprawled senseless at his feet, that he had knocked the superhero out cold.

The end.