Jake Gyllenhaal Bulge Novels & Stories

Witches and wolves don’t get along, but what does it mean when Arla is both? Jake was very tall, and very good looking. He was nineteen years old and had close-cropped black hair and striking sea-blue eyes. He spent a lot of time training outdoors, and his skin was permanently sun-kissed as a result. And oh, the muscles. He had muscles upon muscles.

Though he usually excelled at masking his emotions, presenting a stoic facade, Jake possessed an uncanny ability to perceive others' true feelings, and he saw right through him. Jake was also aware of his tense exchange with Lila the previous day. His actions were a gesture of support, and despite his reservations about Jake pushing their shared companion too quickly, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the screen as Jake displayed her before the camera, ensuring every detail was visible. He groaned, a sensation of fullness building within him, almost painful. The scene before him felt surreal, like a dream unfolding, because he had fantasized about doing those very things to

“This is my roommate and one of my best friends that you’re talking about. I don’t need to know about his package.” “Trust me. You would if you saw it.” I sit back, folding my arms with a huff, but my curiosity wins. “What did you say his abs were like?” “Gerard Butler. 300.” “You know those weren’t real.” “I know. But Scott’s are very real.” “No way.” “Well I’m maybe being a touch dramatic and over exaggerating. But I’m telling you, his body is hot!!” “He does play quite a bit of sport,” I say as I begin to wonder.

How dramatic. Jake stood at the edge of the water, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. My heart hammered in my chest. He looked… good. He always did, but right now, with his shirt slightly damp from sweat, his dark hair messily pushed back, and his piercing gaze locked onto me, he looked— Focus, Ayla. I swallowed. “It’s hot.” His lips twitched slightly, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, eyes trailing over me in the water.

Jake was the kind of guy who turned heads everywhere, six-foot-four with broad shoulders, a cocky grin, and a reputation for leaving women wrecked and begging for more. Mark nodded once, his hand already rubbing the growing bulge in his pants. "Do it," he whispered, voice thick. "Show me how much you want this." I stripped slow at first, peeling off my tight red dress to reveal the black lace bra and thong underneath. My tits spilled over the cups, nipples hard as rocks. Jake licked his lips, stepping closer, his jeans straining against what I knew was a massive cock. I had seen the outline plenty of times at barbecues, but feeling it was going to be something else.

“Got him in the men’s room of the hotel where he was attending a charity gala. Wheeled him out in a laundry bin. And you know the nice part about fancy hotels? They don’t have cameras in those hallways because their clientele are always up to no good and they take their clients’ privacy very seriously. They’ll never find him, unless you dump his body to be found.” “He won’t be found,” Jake said. “Right. I have a hot wife at home. Send me some video footage I can piss Hudson off with,” Gage said with a grin before disappearing into the dark shadows again. Weasel shuddered as they drove away from the look-out spot and headed back to the freeway. “That man scares the shit out of me and I don’t

“–Gerald?” ________________________________________ Jake bit down on the cloth, his teeth sinking into the fabric as Gina emptied another cup of vodka on his gaping wound. He groaned from the pain, his vision flashing white as the room spun around him. "Just hold still,” Gina's voice came as a hand dropped down on his shoulder, pinning him to the chair. "This will hurt more than the alcohol.” Jake turned to see her flick a lighter, the flame licking the tip of a blade she held in her other hand. After it had heated up to her liking, she held his shoulder down and leaned forward.

Rhett moved in close, his hand resting on her shoulder as his body touched hers. "It's perfect. Though... why is this part..." Confusion gave way to insight as he gestured to a prominent bulge directly beneath the painted abs. The man, who was around thirty-three years old, burned red, the hue rising to his ears. Haley’s face flushed with heat as she jolted out of her creative reverie. She had hardly noticed what the bulge indicated since she had been so preoccupied with capturing the line of his body. Rhett joked, "It looks good, but... the proportions are a little smaller than reality."

Her team all nod in agreement. “DDG?” I ask under my breath and Jake turns to look at me with his hands on his hips. He may be gay, but I know the guy could probably knock men bigger and scarier than me on their ass. Jake is an ex MMA fighter, but his passion is hair and flair, apparently from what Mouse found in his file. “Drop dead gorgeous. Come on, big boy, learn the lingo.” He says and we all chuckle. “Still, I don’t see why she would be jealous.” Melody says, her voice small and vulnerable.

I said, my mind spinning with excitement, but I didn't want to be disappointed, so I tried to listen some more. When Rome opened the door, I could sense the shift in the atmosphere. Jake Sullivan stood there—a striking figure, taller than Rome, with dark hair cut close with a five o'clock shadow adding a rugged charm. His golden eyes sparkled with an eerie confidence, and his Italian suit clung to him in all the right places. He exuded a magnetic aura, a presence that immediately commanded attention. “I’m looking for Hailey Thompson,” he said, and I felt my heart drop—a lump developed in my throat, trying to hold back my excitement.