Kris Evans





Camo Hat   •   Chapter Two

by Sean Reid Scott  This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.




Posted: in the before time ::  Approx. 2,400 words





IIKE I SAID BEFORE, I'VE BEEN to many powerlifting and many bodybuilding competitions. But just standing next to Cam during that bench competition was the hottest thing I had ever experienced. Except, what happened next.

“You staying for the bodybuilding?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

With that, it was just kind of decided that we would go in and find seats together. His buddy who was competing didn’t do too well, and to tell the truth, the show was kind of boring. For one thing, most of it was taken up with women-- the fitness and the figure competition went on forever! Cam didn’t seem to mind it, though.

Evan had found a girl to sit with-- whether it was the first, second, third or a subsequent prospect he had attempted, I don’t know. But he had found someone.

And so had I.

“Shit, man,” Cam said when it was over. “I’m starving. Wanna catch a bite?”

Oh yeah. This was getting unreal. Sure, I guess I presented a pretty macho demeanor, but I never really expected someone of Cameron’s caliber to accept me as such.

We found our cars and I followed his FJ Cruiser to a Subway® nearby. He walked in before me, and I found myself doing something I often found myself doing whenever I encounter a gorgeous muscleman in public: I watched the other people to see how they reacted to his presence.

And I was treated to more second-glances (at Cam, not me, of course), whispers of astonishment and downright stares than I had ever seen.

Cam turned around to me, as if he was totally oblivious to what effect he was having on the room of people eating their meals. “You know what you want?” It was such a turn-on to be with a guy like this in public! It was as if my self-worth had just jumped off the scale because I was standing next to, and talking to Cam. We were friends. We were together.

“Yeah,” I said. “I usually get the turkey club.”

We stood patiently, and I was overwhelmed again with his build. His enormous chest! Man, his pecs hung out over his rib cage like the eaves of a roof stick out from a house! They were thick, muscular mounds of meat, perfectly shaped and hugged tightly by his T-shirt.

There was only one guy in front of us, and as soon as he was done, Cam let me go first and I ordered. Then he stepped forward and told the awestruck kid behind the counter that he wanted two foot-long sandwiches, both with extra meat. I kept enjoying the attention Cam was getting; the audience was very appreciative. We found a booth and settled in to eat our meal.

Before we had finished, not one but two guys came up to Cam (at different times) and asked him if he competed. He was very friendly and polite, even going out of his way to extend the conversation with them.

“Do you get that often?” I asked after the second guy had left.

“Every day,” he smiled as he swallowed a bit of his sandwich.


We ate some more and then I said, “You ever get tired of it?”

“Of what.”

“Having people come up to you and asking about your development...” I said.

He smiled. “Naw. An appreciative public never hurt anyone.”

“Wow. That must be awesome,” I said admiringly.

“It is kind of cool. But I bet most bodybuilders will tell you that, secretly, they enjoy any attention they get for their efforts,” he said.

Chewing my bite down, I said, “I bet you get more than most bodybuilders do.”

He smiled those two dimples at me and I swear I could have swooned.

“So, what do you do for a living?” I finally asked.

“I’m going to school right now-- well, during the school year,” he said.

I tried to draw out more information. “Studying...”

“Veterinary medicine,” he said.

“You’re going to be a vet?” I smiled.


For some reason that just sat well with me. I could imagine him taming even the most difficult animal. Shit. Not only does he have the body, he’s got brains! “How much school do you have left?”

“One more year and I’ll have my DVM.”

“Really? Wow. I guess I thought you looked a little younger than that.” Cam’s development obviously had to be the result of years and years of hard training, but his face and skin belied that, and it did seem a difficult contradiction to reconcile: How could someone so freakishly huge and developed (and ripped) look so young?

“I’m 22,” he said, matter-of-factly, as he took the first bite out of his second sandwich.

“So... how can you already be getting your veterinary doctor’s degree?”

He smiled as he chewed his food. “I graduated from high school a little early. I guess you could say I’ve always been on the accelerated track.”

“It’s people like you who make the rest of us want to kill ourselves,” I said stoically.

I had done it again. Cam laughed with his whole body; it wasn’t loud-- no, as a matter of fact he was pretty quiet. But his whole body tightened and rocked as he genuinely found my comment (and delivery, if I do say so myself) very funny. He put his fist to his mouth to control himself, even making like he was working at not choking on his food. “Sorry man,” he grinned as he brought himself to composure, “but I can’t be responsible for the problems of others.” He took another bite and swallowed it, then said, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful,” -- a cliche that fit him to a tee.

“Or because you’re hyper-intelligent.”

“Don’t forget rich,” he smiled.

“Oh brother,” I moaned, then smiled.

He grinned again.

“Shit, man. I hope you graduate with a huge debt from your tuition costs. It’s just not fair otherwise.”

Well, this kind of smack talk went on for awhile, and I found myself thinking that Cam and I had quickly formed a close friendship. He must have thought so too, because before we parted ways, we had made arrangements to get together the next day.

Cam had a wedding to go to that night, and so wasn’t going to be able to go to the evening show of the bodybuilding competition. A high school buddy of his had asked him to be his best man. Visions of Cam in a tux made my head spin.

I had planned on going to the evening show, but suddenly I had lost the urge. Besides, as I mentioned earlier, the morning show was pretty boring and I didn’t expect the evening show to be any different. It’s hard to get excited over looking at a normal bodybuilder when you’ve just spent the morning with Atlas himself.

I drove home to my hot townhouse and cursed myself for not drawing the shades before I had left. I closed them, but the damage had already been done. It was going to be a hot afternoon, both inside and out.

• • • • •

The digital clock on the wall clicked from 8:59 to 9:00. Beads of perspiration on my forehead formed into droplets and coursed down over my temples. I got up from the couch and turned down the TV. I opened the blinds and windows, hoping for some kind of evening breeze to come wafting through my place.

There was a slight breeze, but the relief wasn’t nearly as much as I needed. The air conditioning was scheduled to be installed in a week-- they had a backlog from all the demand-- and I was counting the hours.

My cell phone began to ring. The caller ID said CAM, whose name and number I had entered when we exchanged information at the Subway shop. Immediately my heart quickened. Why would he be calling me?

I answered, and was greeted by Cam, “Hey, is this His Mattliness?”

The moniker caught me off guard, but I quickly understood. “Uh, yeah. That’s His Royal Mattliness to you.”

Cam laughed. “Just blew out of the wedding, dude. What are you up to?”

“Oh, probably about 150 pounds less than you,” I smiled.

He laughed again. “I bet you’re just wasting away the evening on the couch with the remote in your hand.”

“Almost correct,” I said. “But I decline to tell you exactly what’s in my hand. I’d have to kill ya.”

“Whoa!” he laughed. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything!”

“Nothing that I can’t resume later,” I said. It was good to be able to broach this kind of subject. Made it good for later, I thought. Maybe we could... you know... talk about those things more freely. Who knows.

“Cool, dude. You want to grab something to eat? I’m starved!”

Oh man. I think I was falling in love with this guy. He wanted to be with me! “You just came from a wedding man! Didn’t they feed you?”

“Hell yeah, they did,” he said, “but the reception dinner was two hours ago. I’m famished! You in?”

“Sure, man. What are you thinking about getting?”

Within fifteen minutes his FJ Cruiser was in front of my townhouse and I was out the door, climbing in the passenger side of his rig.

Cam was still in his tux. Holy fuck, he looked unbelievable.

“Shit, you clean up good!” I said.

“Thanks,” he said as he pulled away from the curb.

“I feel a little under dressed,” I said. “But you did say we were going to get Teriyaki, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. You think they’ll mind the tux? I feel a little self conscious,” he said.

Now it was my turn to laugh a barrel. “Yeah, right. Dude, there’s no way in hell you could ever go into a public place without generating stares. I saw what happened at Subway when we walked in.”

Cam turned to me and smiled broadly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Shit, it’s hard being so huge.”

“And brainy.”

“And rich.”

“And good looking.”

We both laughed at our ability to banter back and forth so easily.

Without his baseball cap, I could see his hair better. He had it cut in a short, almost military cut. The shape of his head was-- what else-- perfect. His ears stuck out just right, and I was overcome with his masculine virility.

The food was really good. Apparently Cam knew all of the good places to get chicken. And, like the scene at Subway earlier that day, Cam’s presence was a show-stopper. When he had finished his two entrees, we piled back into his rig.

“Hey man, I’m beat,” Cam said as he pointed his Cruiser in the direction of my place. “And I just gotta get out of this tux. Thanks for grabbing some food with me. It’s better than eating alone, dude.”

“Shit, thanks for calling, man,” I said. “Anytime you need an eating buddy....”

• • • • •

I lied on my bed, staring at the ceiling; the lone sheet covering me was quickly discarded, and my sweaty (yet well-built) naked body glistened as the moonlight bathed it in a blue-white glow. An imaginary Cam stood at the foot of my bed, wearing his tan T-shirt and jeans from the morning. I tickled my steel-hard rod as he slowly started lifting his shirt.

But before my fantasy man even had his shirt all the way off, without even pressing down on my penis, I started erupting a rush of white, creamy ejaculate, squirting it up onto my chest. My whole body bucked with each throb of my cock, and between my ecstatic groans I could hear the jizz hit my torso. Fuck. I had never cum without pressing.

Cam smiled, and his dimples looked so cute. Too innocently, with a coy, almost shy, expression, he said, “Did I make you do that?”







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