Camo Hat • Chapter Three
by Sean Reid Scott
Posted: in the before time :: Approx. 3,300 words
UNDAY MORNING CAME SOON ENOUGH; I hadn’t slept well because of the heat, and immediately upon rising I planned out an early bedtime for that night. If only I could find some place cool.
I made my coffee and my usual bowl of cereal with a banana sliced on top, and sat down at my computer. I had retired from my job as a beer delivery driver about a year earlier and had started up a web design business. It seemed to fit me well, considering how much time I spent on the ‘net “enjoying” myself as I would watch musclemen. And I seemed to have an aptitude for HTML; my only regret was that I hadn’t retired earlier. The money I was making now was a lot better than I had done driving a beer truck. But still, the retirement check from my pension was real nice too, and if I hadn’t stuck it out ‘til the end, I wouldn’t have that. But where was I; isn’t this supposed to be a hot muscleman story? Sorry.
I checked my emails, my favorite muscle sites to see if they had been updated, and then my news page to see if anything important had happened overnight.
I spent about an hour doing maintenance work on some sites for clients, and then ran back upstairs and jumped in the shower.
Cam and I had decided to meet at Starbucks at 11:00. In keeping with my voyeuristic nature, I decided to get there at 10:45, and watch the crowd to see the reaction Cam generated upon his arrival. I brought my laptop and surfed the web (positioning myself in a corner so the screen couldn’t be seen by any curious onlookers), also taking some time to continue writing my latest muscleman story (it’s about a construction worker who is also a bodybuilder, who is watched by a guy in the apartment building next to the construction site... but more about that later).
Anyway, when Cam’s Toyota rig pulled into the parking lot, and he got out, I was not disappointed in the reaction of the latte sipping crowd in the store. As he walked in, wearing shorts and a white tank top (a wife-beater. I think they’re called), and that camouflage baseball cap of his, you could almost hear the gasps from admirers. Indeed, he was unbelievable. In fact, I was unable to continue my evaluation of the crowd as they took in his massively powerful physique because I was just overwhelmed by it myself. There were two people in front of him, in the line, so he waited patiently. The people in front of him were so intimidated by him that they almost just deferred to him and let him go ahead, but they somehow kept their wits about them and placed their order. Cam looked around the store, casually acknowledging the gawking stares and pleased astonishment of a few of the people. He smiled back, politely, then turned his attention to the case containing the cookies and muffins, etc. He honestly didn’t seem like he wanted to make a scene, but one has to ask how he would ever expect to not, given the way he was built, and dressed.
Finally, he ordered a Frappacino® and moved to wait for his order. It was at this point that he spotted me and his face lit up, his adorable dimples melting me as if it were the first time I had ever seen them.
He walked over to me. “Dude, why didn’t you say something to me?” he grinned.
“Just wanted to play it cool, man,” I replied. “Do you have any idea the kind of reaction you get when you walk into a place like this, looking like that?” I asked.
He sluffed off the question, waving his hand as if it were an irrelevant topic.
The female barista announced his order and he retrieved his drink and sat down at my table. “What you got there?” he said, looking at my computer. “You bring your work with you today?”
Smiling, I said, “Naw, I just decided to get here a little early and do some web surfing and a little writing.”
“Cool,” he said, taking his first drink of his concoction. “You must come here often?”
“Yeah, they know me by name here,” I smiled.
I closed the lid on my laptop and we both took more sips on our straws. His dimples indented when he did that, too.
“So dude,” he said. “Whatcha wanna do today?”
“I don’t know... we could do a movie. I’ve wanted to see that John Cusak movie, ‘1408,’” I said.
“Me too,” Cam said. “But what do you think about heading out to the Eight Flags? I could get into some roller coaster intensity today.”
Now it was my face’s turn to light up. “Yeah,” I smiled. “I’ve never been, since they opened up that Superman roller coaster.”
“Dude, you have to go on that thing! It’s settled, then. I’ll take you out there and make sure you get the hell scared out of you.”
“Deal,” I said.
We left my car in the Starbucks lot, and forty-five minutes later we were standing in line for Superman, and I couldn’t help but realize that Cam looked so much better than the life-size cutout of Superman that stood next to the entrance. Someone behind us agreed, because I overheard a guy’s voice say, “Fuck, that guy in the tank top looks like he could take down Superman.” I know Cam heard it too, but he didn’t react. In fact, he turned his attention to the ride and pointed up at the first drop-off, saying something about how horrible it was, and that he hoped I brought a change of underwear.
We got into a car, about five places back from the front. The cars sat two people, and since Superman was a wood roller coaster (but new), we weren’t wrapped with shoulder restraints, but instead had just a lap bar across our waists. I looked at Cam as we started to pull out, and just couldn’t get over the fact that I was sitting next to the hugest, best-built guy I had ever laid eyes on.
I’d like to think it was Cam’s intention that we go on this ride for the “get-to-know-you” force it dealt us, but I just don’t know. Regardless, when we went around the corners, there was no way we couldn’t keep from almost ending up on top of each other. Cam didn’t move nearly as much as I did, but I just didn’t have the strength to keep myself stable. About half way through the ride, I found Cam’s hand on the inside of my thigh, trying, ostensibly, to keep me from being thrown all over the car. When the ride was done, his arm was up behind me on the back of the seat, holding me close, squeezing me next to him as he exclaimed, “Well, dude, you ready to get in line to go again?”
I love roller coasters. I really do. And so, hmmm... should I go again, and get thrown around the car, having Cam hold me tightly as we bank back and forth on the track? Hmmmm. Such a hard decision.
We ended up going on Superman four times that day.
“You know,” Cam said as we headed back to his FJ Cruiser, “Someday I’d like to take a summer off, and just travel around the country and go to every major amusement park to ride all of the biggest roller coasters.”
I turned to him and said, “I can’t believe you just said that. Ever since I retired a few years ago, I have been wanting to do that! I just kept wishing for someone to do it with.”
“Score, dude!” Cam yelled. “Let’s do it!”
“Okay, how about next year?” I smiled.
“Shit, man. You’re on! We can do it to celebrate my graduation!” He wrapped his arm around me again, and squeezed me tight. It was like he was my big brother, or dad, or something. Even though I was almost (but not quite) old enough to be his father. We walked toward his rig, and my heart raced as I realized that Cam had left his arm around my shoulder. It must have been five or more seconds before he let go. Fuck, that felt so hot. You can’t even imagine what physical contact with this guy is like.
Of course, Cam’s body needs to be fed every few hours, so we stopped on the way home for some food. You know, even after he eats a huge meal, though, his waistline doesn’t seem to grow a bit. Totally amazing.
Cam pulled his rig into the Starbucks lot and let me out to get my car. We had already decided he would follow me to my place, where we would check out the movie listings.
1408 turned out to live up to most of what was advertised. We both liked it, and I have to tell you, Curious Reader, that I wasn’t able to pay attention to much of the second half of the movie, because Cam took it upon himself to actually put his arm behind me. And there it stayed, for the entire second half of the movie! We weren’t hugging, by any means, and most people comfortable with their sexuality wouldn’t give it a second thought (sure, a lot of guys who are afraid of expressing anything more than dumb jock-kind of things would have raised their eyebrows, but a lot of people wouldn’t have given it a second thought). I didn’t think Cam thought it was anything but platonic, but you know me (okay, maybe you don’t, but humor me here,) I couldn’t help but get a major boner.
We came back to my place and, of course, ate. I’m no chef, but I do know how to cook up some mean stir-fry. Throw in some major portions of chicken, and your musclebound Cameron is one happy camper. “Dude, your cooking rocks!” he said as he wolfed down my creation.
I just smiled.
“You know you’re running the risk of having me over here again to consume mass quantities of your cooking, man,” he said through another mouth nearly full of food.
“Cam,” I said, (I always think that when you use someone’s name, it communicates a certain seriousness) let me tell you something. I don’t know why you and I hit it off like we did, but you are always welcome here, man.”
He looked up at me, stopped chewing, and smiled. “Man, thanks. But I’m going to hold you to that.”
“I hope you do, dude.”
I so wanted to say more, but one thing I’ve learned by interacting with jocks is that when it comes to words, less is more. Me, with my gay tendencies, wants to spew out paragraphs full of words, saying how much I appreciate his friendship, etc. But I just smiled and turned to wash some of the dishes, because I knew that if I said more, my cover would be blows. Who knows, maybe I’d even tear up. That would be a deal-breaker.
As I put some of the cooking utensils into the dishwasher, I said, “So the cooking is acceptable, heh?”
He swallowed the last of his meal and said, “Hell, yeah, man.” Then he pushed away from the island counter in my kitchen and said, “but I gotta say that the air conditioning in this place needs some work.”
I did notice that his perfect, blemish-free skin was glistening just a bit.
“That’s probably because there is none,” I said. “But I’m getting it installed next week.”
“Good. I like my food hot, not my forehead,” he smiled. “You mind if I take off some of this?” he said as he acknowledged his tank top. “It’s pretty hot in here.”
And it was about to get a whole lot hotter.
Without really waiting for an answer, Cameron stood up (did he need to stand up? or was this just a move to accentuate the drama of the moment...) lifted his wife-beater over his head, and draped it over the back of a chair.
Oh-- Ho. Lee. Mother. Of. Jesus.
I know I let out an audible gasp. I couldn’t help it. In all of my voyages through the ‘net, videos and magazines, I had never, in my life, seen such a beautiful display of virile, masculine muscularity. I really don’t know what I expected to see, but whatever that expectation was, it was woefully inadequate in comparison to the reality standing before me. This guy must have had under 3 per cent body fat! Veins, appropriately place in just the right places-- especially on his forearms, ran all the hell over the place. Muscles bulged on his abs and the ridges between the muscles formed deep canyons of separation. His nipples were like twin silver dollars. His skin was blemish free-- totally perfect in hue, texture and smoothness. His deltoids, traps and arms just drove me crazy- powerfully shaped and formed like mountain ranges. A single thick vein ran down the length of his biceps muscles-- muscles which fought against their accompanying triceps to form the most powerful looking set of guns I had ever seen.
As for Cam’s demeanor. He seemed completely oblivious to my obvious (to me) inability to maintain any semblance of composure. He was comfortable with himself, and seemingly not aware of anything unusual going on. He casually draped his tank top over the back of the chair and looked up at me.
I was aghast.
Cam ignored it.
“Yeah,” he said. “That feels better. You need help with the dishes?”
I literally had to steady myself with my hand on the counter. “Uh, no, I’m fine,” I said. “Not really much to clean up. Relax, man.” I tried to concentrate on the dishes, but it was hopeless. Cam moved over to the living room area and just stood there, looking at my CD collection. I loaded a few glasses into the dishwasher, but I knew that in just a few seconds I would lose it all.
Fuck. His waistline came into focus; shit, it was so narrow, and his abs were so unbelievably defined! He was totally hairless, like maybe he shaved his whole body every day. I knew many bodybuilders did this, because it was just easier to keep their bodies shaved year-round, rather than let the hair grow in the “off season” and then have to shave it all off before a contest. Besides, many bodybuilders just liked to stay shaved. The competition stage wasn’t the only place where they displayed their physiques... as this moment demonstrated.
My eyes were glued to his shirtless torso. “Oh god,” I heard myself say. “Oh, fucking god.”
Cam looked over at me and smiled. “You want me to put the shirt back on?”
His chest. His chest! Oh fuck.
“Uh, no man. Uh... no. Sorry. You are just so huge and so totally ripped. Sorry.”
Cam smiled. He just stood there and looked back to the CDs. His huge arm filled my eyes as he pulled out a CD from my collection and examined it. It was incredible. Ripples everywhere. Totally buff, totally huge, totally moving with all kinds of lumps of muscle.
In the end, I was unable to contain myself. His muscles were just too much to handle. As I stood there, lusting after the most gorgeous display of muscle in the world, my cock began to fill my pants with hot, steamy, white milk. It squirted out of control, and my body visibly jerked with tight, hard volleys of cum as they ejected from my cock and wet my underwear and pants. I held the edge of the counter tightly and closed my eyes to try and stave off the involuntary orgasm.
But it was to no avail.
Before I knew it, Cam was standing next to me. He reached around me and pulled me close, saying nothing... just holding me, in silence.
Closer. He pulled me closer. His virility overwhelmed me even more, and my orgasm renewed with increased vigor and enthusiasm. The next thing I remember was finding my hand on his chest, as my cock continued to fill my pants. I felt his pecs. My hand moved over them, and my palm caressed his nipples. His face twitched. He seemed to grow weak. Just a bit.
And yet, his strength immediately returned as he pulled me even closer. “It’s okay, dude. Just let it go. Let it out, man. Let it out.”
And I did.
With his permission, I allowed my penis full reign, and it took control. As I turned into Cam’s body, holding him, my cock let loose with renewed vigor-- an expression of lust that I never knew I was capable of. I nuzzled his upper torso, and Cam held me close. My face pressed against his huge chest, as my body convulsed with an orgasm that was so powerful it hurt.
I almost choked.
“Uh... ugh... oh... gmmngh...” I groaned.
Cam’s gigantic arms encircled me, wrapping me in their incredible strength. “It’s okay,” he reassured me once again. “Let it go, dude.”
Even Cam’s inhuman muscles weren’t able to hold my body tight enough to keep me from jerking as I finished filling my pants with his worship offering.
I gasped as I finished my orgasm, totally filled with embarrassment and humiliated at my inability to control myself. Humiliated that I had outed myself, due to my uncontrollable lust over Cam’s body.
Yet, he seemed unconcerned with my self-consciousness. He just held me. Close. In the same instant that I felt humiliated, I also felt total acceptance and-- love. His strong arms squeezed me with reassurance that everything was okay.
As my face buried itself in the deep cleavage between his pecs, my knees weakened and I felt myself sink deeper into Cam’s embrace.
After an interminable amount of time, my aching penis finally finished its relentless jerking, squirting its final blast of milk into my pants. My body relaxed, and Cam sensed this, holding me up.
I was overwhelmed with humiliation. I pulled away.
Cam released me.
“Uh, I’m okay, man,” I said. “Uh, maybe you should go.”
He just stood there, and I realized he was totally comfortable with himself, and that he wasn’t about to leave.
I steadied myself on the counter. I looked down at my pants. I could feel the wetness inside, but the semen hadn’t visibly stained the outside-- yet. “Whoa,” I said. “Shit, I don’t know what happened.”
Cam smiled. “It’s okay, dude,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
I pulled my pant waist out and saw the huge globs of cum. “Shit,” I said.
“You want to go clean up?”
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