by Sean Reid Scott
Posted: in the before time :: Approx. 6,700 words
HE BOOKSTORE WAS QUIET THAT DAY. Not unusual for a sunny Saturday afternoon.
In the back of the bookstore, a small coffee shop served a few customers. The lone barista, Victor, struggled with finding something to do. Everything had been restocked, the sitting room had been cleaned and mopped-- twice. There were only two customers, a pair of women, who chatted quietly in one corner while they sipped coffee.
Victor had a pretty good view of the bookstore at the front, and it didn’t look any busier than the coffee shop. He pulled out his iPhone and started to thumb through pictures of musclemen.
Ah, musclemen. Victor was a hopeless muscle worshipper. Some of the pix he perused were of bodybuilders in contest, or working out in the gym; some were of nudes-- muscle-masturbators, cum shots, sex scenes; it didn’t matter to Victor, as long as the subject was built to the hilt-- and hopelessly good looking.
He stared at a picture of a bodybuilder jerking off. Just as his 20 year-old cock began to thicken, Victor noticed someone walk through the front door of the store.
Victor stopped-- he froze. Then he slowly clicked off his iPhone. He wouldn’t be needing it for a few minutes. The guy who just walked in immediately finished the job on Victor’s cock that the porno pic had started.
He was a walking wet dream. Well over six feet tall-- maybe 6’ 5”; muscles everywhere; lean; powerful; gorgeous face.
The guy wore cargo shorts that were filled with thick, muscular quads. Calves weren’t anything that turned Victor on very much, but they were a tell-tale indication of what the rest of the body held-- and these calves were huge and thick; and shaved. But it was the guy’s upper body that set off all of Victor’s alarms. Flowing north out of those khaki cargo shorts was a tiny waist. It held a set of twin columns of ab muscle that were wrapped tightly in the guy’s T-shirt. You could actually see the abs through the fabric as the guy walked. Above that tremendous display of core muscle, the guy’s lats flared out into two wings that rivaled the Concorde. The guy’s yellow T-shirt was thin cotton-- fabric that lightly clung to a set of pecs-to-die-for. Then there were those shoulders. Godallmighty-- those shoulders! Broad and thick! Hanging from those mighty delts, a pair of cannons stood at attention where a normal man’s arms would be. A thick cephalic rope-- I mean thick and freakishly defined-- ran down each ripped biceps. Triceps on the back of those cannons bulged in a battle with the sleeve fabric that demanded Victor’s attention-- and the attention of anyone else who might be fortunate enough to see this muscle stud.
A pair of thick, bulging traps topped off the guy’s musclebody, and they supported a thick neck. Higher, the guy’s hair was cropped short on the sides, but the brown/blond curls on the top were sexy. Two adorable ears stuck out-- something that made Victor think of a young private, or marine recruit.
He looked to be about Victor’s age.
The guy casually strolled through the store; his destination was the health and fitness section-- obvious choice. Victor knew the aisle well. He’d looked over the offerings-- the pictures-- in that section many times. The guy stopped and perused the muscle books, nutrition volumes and bodybuilding/weightlifting tomes. Fortunately for Victor, the aisle was situated so that the guy stood in profile as he held the various books; as his bent arms held the books, his gigantic biceps bulged to the point that Victor wanted to swoon.
“Refill please?” one of the women said, waking Victor out of his stupor.
“Huh? Oh-- sure. Sorry.” He took her mug and forced himself to turn away from the muscle show in order to refill it. He gave it back to her, while re-fixing his gaze upon the musclegod. “Is there a charge?” “Oh, yeah. Uh-- fifty-cents,” Victor said without looking at her.
She gave him two quarters. Victor’s mouth was half open. He took the coins and held them.
The woman looked at Victor, then over to see what Victor was staring at. Then she looked back at Victor, a puzzled look on her face. She finally got it, and returned to her girlfriend.
Victor, absentmindedly, put the two quarters in his pocket instead of the register. It wasn’t intentional by any means. He was just not totally there. After a few minutes, the guy kept two books in his hands and continued to stroll around. He looked at the layout of the store, assessing what was available.
Oh please, oh please oh pleaseohpleaseohplease… Victor thought to himself. You want some coffee… Coffee! You’re DYING for a coffee! He practically called out to the guy. Then, to Victor’s joy and horror, the guy spotted the coffee shop in the back. He paused, then started toward the counter.
Victor’s heartbeat went off the scale. The guy was looking right at him as he approached. The closer the guy got, the more Victor got a sense of the perfect proportion of this man. He was huge, yes, but his muscles weren’t so overblown that he wasn’t beautiful too. You don’t often see guys this tall who are so perfectly developed and proportioned. Absolutely beautiful.
The perfect mix of Hercules and Adonis. Strength and manly beauty. How is it that men like this actually exist?
His skin-- flawless. His lips, eyes, teeth-- perfect. A single dimple adorned his chin. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. His warmth preceded him. As he got to the counter, Victor could actually feel the warmth that all those muscles were giving off. “Hi” he smiled.
Oh my fucking god. Victor felt near death. The guy actually said “Hi”! Victor squeaked out his best “Hi,” in response. He knew he should say something else, like What can I get for you? but he couldn’t remember the words.
The guy looked up behind Victor, at the menu. He studied it for a second, while Victor undressed him with his eyes. God, those muscles were just perfect! There was nothing about this guy that was off, or misplaced, or wrong. Nothing!
“I’ll have a medium Frappalatte. Carmel,” the guy said.
“Sure. Good choice,” Victor said nervously. He didn’t know what the hell he was saying.
The guy smiled at him and reached into his pocket for his wallet.
Stop the world. I need to get off now and catch my breath. The guy’s triceps bulged as he reached into his front pocket for his wallet. Victor’s hardened cock felt ready to explode right then and there.
“How much?” the guy finally said. His strong, long fingers thumbed through his wallet, but he was smiling as he looked right at Victor’s frozen face. He was probably used to this.
“Huh?” “How much? For the medium Frappalatte?” “Oh. Sorry,” Victor answered. “Three-fifty.” The guy gave him a five.
Victor rang it up and actually was able to calculate the correct change. He handed it to the guy. Now for the most excellent part. “And your name?” Victor asked.
“My name?” “To call out when your drink is ready.” Usual procedure when there were a few people in line; but it wasn’t like Victor would be needing to use the PA system to announce the order when it was done. The guy was the only person in line.
“Alex,” he smiled. “Alex North.” People usually didn’t give their last names.
Victor smiled. “Thanks.” Alex kept smiling back at Victor. Just too cute for words. And all that muscle just confidently standing right in front of him.
Victor finally turned and started on Alex’s drink. He knew exactly what he’d be doing as soon as the uber-stud left the establishment. He’d be Googling, Facebooking, Twittering and Wikipedia-ing every Alex North he could find on the planet. God, 21st century technology was grand.
“Pretty quiet day, huh?” Victor was facing away from Alex, working the drink. Did the stud just say something? Was he trying to make small talk? Victor wanted to freeze in his tracks, but the few years of thespian work he had done in high school came in handy. He decided to act like a guy who wasn’t totally infatuated with the customer. He kept moving, working on the drink. “Uh-- yeah,” he said. “Nice weather days can be really slow in here.” He congratulated himself on his ability to put a complete sentence together under these circumstances.
“Yeah, I was thinking of heading down to the beach myself this afternoon,” Alex said.
God-- that’ll probably cause a riot. Victor made a mental note to watch the news that night for said public disturbance. He continued to work on the drink, unable to think of what next to say.
“You like working here?” the guy then asked.
God in Heaven! Why in hell was this guy trying to strike up a conversation? Victor wasn’t even close to this guy’s league, social caste or status. There was obviously nothing physically he held in common with the dude. Victor was a geek. This guy was a jock-- a bona fide musclestud. He could have any friend he wanted. He could ignore anyone he wanted. Why was he being so friendly?
“Yeah, it’s nice,” Victor said, turning to glance back at his new idol. He got an eye-full. The guy looked just as astounding as before, but Victor’s memory hadn’t been able to process and store all of Alex’s gorgeousness and astounding dimensions. It’s nice? IT’S NICE? What kind of a lame thing is THAT to say? Victor struggled to come up with something more intelligent to say, but couldn’t.
“Bet you meet a lot of people here,” Alex continued.
He’s trying to kill me. He’s trying to kill me isn’t he, Victor thought. He knows that as soon as he leaves, I’m going to commit suicide. He knows that, and he loves it. He wants to torture me.
Alex finished with the Frappalatte and turned to Alex. “Whip cream?” he asked.
“Sure,” Alex smiled.
Fuck. All that insanely lean muscle, and the guy can still have whip cream. Most body-conscious narcissists would be ultra careful with the empty calories they consume. He’s got so much muscle-- this stuff will be metabolized before he gets out the door, Victor thought. He shook the can, turned it upside-down and swirled it on top of the drink. When he was done, he handed it to Alex, who took it in his hand-- but not without allowing Victor to see the thickest, biggest, most boner-inducing forearm he’d ever imagined. Rippling networks of veins crisscrossed a slab of man-beef that moved as Alex’s fingers curled around the cup.
Victor actually let out a “pip” kind of a moan/squeek in response. He hoped to god that it hadn’t been perceived by Alex. As Alex took the cup, Victor’s eyes moved upward, to one upper arm-- then both of them. Alex stood there, his arm bent, kissing up the first bit of whipped cream. It was an exercise in muscle sensuality that heretofore had never been experienced in this galaxy. Watching Alex’s arm bulge-- shit, it had to be somewhere in the low 20-inches area of girth-- while his lips puckered forward to inhale that tiny bit of whiteness-- it was nearly enough to send Victor into an involuntary orgasm right then and there. Literally.
Victor had never cum without stimulation before, but he thought to himself there was a first time for everything. Indeed, as he stood there, he felt his cock fill with sensitivity-- hot, tingling sensitivity-- the feeling you get right when you are sauntering up to the cliff of orgasm; right before you jump off. He actually pressed his stiff organ against the counter. Alex seemed oblivious as he took another whiff of the milky cream. “Hmmmm, I love whipped cream,” he said.
Then-- and this is what nearly consigned Victor to an insane asylum-- Alex stuck out his tongue and began to lick the edge of the cup, where the whipped cream slightly dribbled over. And this was no normal lick. It was his tongue having sex with plastic and a milk byproduct. It curled around, stuck into the whipped cream, over and inside the edge of the cup. It was a long and thick tongue-- one that moved with such erotic sensuality that Victor couldn’t peel his eyes off it. Alex kept his eyes on the cup; the corners of his mouth turned up-- he was obviously enjoying himself. “Mmmm, I think this is going to be great,” he said as he retracted his tongue into his mouth. He smiled again and looked back at Victor. “You do good work, buddy.” Buddy? Oh god. Buddy. I make the guy a drink, and now we’re buddies!
“Thanks,” Victor said, his eyes glazed over with lust.
Now, instead of finding a seat in the coffee shop, or perhaps leaving for the front of the store whence he came, the muscleman stayed at the counter! He just stayed there! He made more chit-chat with Victor as he enjoyed every drop of his cold drink, smiling, occasionally laughing, and even winking at him! On one occasion, Victor actually had to place his hands on the counter and look down-- his eyes filling with stars from the overwhelming encounter he was experiencing.
As Alex tossed the empty cup in the trash, he turned to Victor and said, “So, do you make everyone’s drink this delicious? Or… was this a special one, just for me?” Victor’s eyes squinted. What was this dude saying? He didn’t know how to respond, and for a few seconds said nothing as he racked his brain for something to say. “Well… I like to think I take care of all my customers, but I do have to say, I made yours with extra care, man.” Alex laughed, and his cheeks dimpled. “Really? How’s that?” Victor found his humor. “Well, I put about a pound of butter in it. I hope that doesn’t ruin you for your next contest,” he smiled.
Alex laughed louder now. “What kind of contest would that be?” he asked innocently.
Victor made a special point to obviously look at all of Alex’s muscles. “Duh--” he said.
Alex smiled more.
“But I bet your metabolism is off the charts with that build,” Victor ventured, feeling more confident about Alex’s responses. The stud certainly didn’t seem bashful about his body, that’s for sure. “You could probably eat a ton of lard and not have it show.” Alex smiled. “I’ve been know to. I love lard-- it’s my weakness.” Now it was time for Victor to laugh loudly. “Yeah, right.” “Well, thanks for the compliment, buddy, and for the drink.” “Shit, man, you’re incredibly built. I bet you get those kind of remarks all the time.” Victor hoped to hell he hadn’t gone too far. “Been known to. But, I don’t know,” Alex said, “it’s nice when someone really appreciates…” He paused. “You know.” “Umm… not quite sure what you mean,” Victor said nervously.
For the first time, Alex seemed a teeny tiny bashful. “You know,” he repeated, “…when a guy admires your work-- what you’ve worked hard for. It’s nice.” It wasn’t a very definitive statement; kinda vague, really. But somewhere deep inside himself, Victor felt a surge of confidence, so he decided to prod a little further. “Yeah, I’m sure it is, but then there’s probably those people who want to appreciate… too much… you know…” “Oh… yeah, well, to tell you the truth, just between you and me, I don’t really mind. I mean, if it’s someone I’m not interested in, I just change the subject; but if I like the person’s advances, well I let ‘em keep coming at me. You never know how things might work out.” Now Victor was even more puzzled. Alex seemed to make a point of not getting gender-specific. “Well, I bet you’re going to cause quite a stir down at the beach this afternoon,” Victor said. Alex smiled. “Why don’t you come on down? You have to work all day?” “Yeah, till four anyway.” “Well, how ‘bout I check back here then, and we can catch something to eat together,” Alex said.
Okay, now this is getting unbelievable, Victor thought. “Really?” he asked.
“Yeah, you up for that?” “Uh-- sure! I mean, that’d be cool.” “Awesome,” Alex smiled. “Like I said, you never know how things will work out.” The afternoon lasted forever, and Victor was going insane waiting for 4:00 to come around. Even his replacement, who got to work at about 3:50, could tell Victor was distracted. But finally, Victor punched out, and stepped outside, just as Alex drove up in his Tacoma.
“Hop in,” Alex said. He had his hands on the steering wheel, and his big arms seemed to take up the whole universe. He was wearing a tank top now, and Victor couldn’t help but latch on to Alex’s amazingly huge deltoids, with his eyes. As he buckled his seatbelt, Alex said, “How about Mexican?” “Sure,” Victor said. Inside, his heart was pounding; he was nervous-- really nervous. He was firmly in the closet-- had never been with another guy, not even to jerk off. Hadn’t ever told anyone about his feelings toward men. And in addition to his nerves about all of that, he wondered what Alex was really like. Was he just playing Victor? Maybe he was some kind of Jeffry Dahlmer-- going to go out to dinner and then have Victor over to his place afterward-- for dessert. Or, maybe he had no idea how Victor felt, and everything he said about being appreciated really applied just to women, and he had inadvertently left out the gender during his comments-- maybe he was just being friendly. Or, as Victor secretly hoped, maybe Alex really did know what Victor was feeling-- maybe he could see the look of lust in Victor’s eyes, how Victor went weak in the knees when he looked Alex up and down. And maybe he really wanted Victor to “appreciate” him after dinner.
“You okay?” Alex asked as they drove.
“Huh? Oh, sure.” “Cuz you seem kinda quiet, buddy.” Buddy again. Maybe Alex called all guys Buddy, but Victor liked it-- a lot. “Oh, yeah. Sorry,” Victor apologized.
“Nothin’ to worry about, man,” Alex assured. “It’s all cool. Just two guys going to have some Mexican food. We can go over to my place afterward if you want. If you don’t-- no problem.” “Cool,” Victor said, nervously. He still didn’t like the vagueness with which Alex talked. So many things he said sounded like he knew exactly what was going on with Victor-- and yet so many things sounded like they could be taken both ways. “You hang around gyms very much?” Alex asked, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove.
“Me? Do I look like I work out?” Victor laughed nervously.
“Well, I don’t know,” Alex said. Then he looked over at Victor and said, “But you do seem to appreciate the bodybuilder kind of guy.” Okay, now he was saying something definite. “What do you mean?” Victor asked.
Alex smiled. “No worries, man. Like I said before, I would have changed the subject if I was bothered by it.” He paused and looked at Victor. “You’re nervous, I can tell. Let me put your mind at ease. I know what you like. But I can tell you’ve probably never felt at ease to express it. Don’t worry man. I just want to be your friend. Promise. I’m just interested in catching some dinner with you. We’ll take it at your speed, if you want to even go there at all afterward.” Victor didn’t respond.
“Sound fair?” Alex asked.
“Sure,” Victor forced a smile. He was so nervous, he felt like “Sure” was the last word he’d ever speak. He was done. This was so much more than he could handle-- so much more than any of his wildest fantasies. Was this really happening? Or was he truly misinterpreting what Alex was saying? God, he was still nervous, despite Alex’s reassurances. This was such totally foreign territory for him. And Alex was so overwhelmingly-- muscle and good looks. It was like something Victor had read so many times in an online muscle fantasy story. Only this was real. They pulled up to the El Pollo Chipotle and Alex parked his pickup. As they walked in, Victor followed Alex; he couldn’t decide which he enjoyed more: watching Alex’s superb physique as his lats, bazookas and shoulders cut a path-- and by the way, where in hell had that ASS come from?! Victor hadn’t had the chance to assess Alex’s butt before, and GodAlmighty, it was taut, tight and tempting! Fuck… The second thing Victor struggled with watching was how the people reacted when they saw Alex for the first time. It was awesome to walk behind him and look at the faces of the people. Some would just stare, some would whisper and nudge the person next to them.
The two men were escorted to a booth. Dinner and beers were fantastic, and Alex had a way of making Victor feel more and more comfortable as the evening went on. He genuinely seemed to take an interest in Victor, asking about his job, his school, his family, etc. When Victor admitted to being a Thespian, he expected Alex to be at the least, uninterested, and at the most, maybe even make fun of it. But no-- “Aw, I’d never have the balls to get up on stage like that.” The reference to his own balls notwithstanding, the comment surprised Victor. “Haven’t you ever been on stage in a bodybuilding contest?” “Well, yeah, but that’s different. You don’t have to act then. You just be yourself.” “You have to pose! AND, you’re standing up there with only a bikini on!” Victor laughed. “Talk about something I’d never be able to do!” Alex laughed too. “I guess you’ve got a point,” he said as he sipped his beer. Victor looked at Alex’s shoulders and arms again. “But I guess, if I looked like you, I’d have absolutely nothing to worry about, standing up on stage and showing my body to everyone.” Alex laughed, smiled, and then said, “Thanks.” He took another drink of his Corona and added, “Like I said, it’s always nice to be appreciated.” “Well, to be honest, I appreciate that-- what you’ve got-- a lot-- I mean a lot,” Victor said. Maybe the beer was loosening him up. He never figured he’d be able to tell a guy that. Part of it, Victor was sure, was Alex’s disarming personality. “I am having a hard time believing I’m here, with you.” Alex tried to stifle a laugh, then said, “A hard time?” He raised his eyebrows. “I thought so.” He grinned.
Victor smiled nervously, then broke into a full-face grin himself. “So, what now?” Alex asked as they drove out of the restaurant parking lot. “It’s still early. You want to go down to the boardwalk?” “Sure,” Victor said. At this point, he was falling so hopelessly in love with Alex that he didn’t even care if the muscleman was another Dahmer. Alex had cast his spell, and Victor felt lost in lust, and love.
The sun was still hours from setting when they started walking down the boardwalk, next to the sandy beach. Again, Victor reveled in the stares, pointings and whispers of the passers-by as he and Alex walked together.
When they finally walked in to Alex’s apartment, the sun was low in the sky. Victor’s nervousness had returned, but he fought it back valiantly. “So, this is my digs,” Alex said spreading his big arms wide.
“Nice,” Victor said. A few bodybuilding trophies sat on a bookcase in the living room and Victor walked over to them. “An award-winning body, huh?” he said, admiring the awards.
Alex came up behind Victor and placed his hands on the smaller man’s shoulders. He chuckled. “I never heard it put quite like that. I like it.” He squeezed Victor’s traps gently.
Victor was startled by the physical contact, but he quickly relaxed as Alex gently massaged. “You want another beer?” Alex asked. “I got a fridge full of ‘em.” “I’m okay, for now,” Victor answered.
Alex kept rubbing Victor’s shoulders. Victor had read all the ribbons, and the inscriptions on the trophies-- twice, so it was certainly time to move away from the bookcase, yet he didn’t want to break Alex’s rub. So he stood there. “That feels really good. You a masseur?” “Nah. But I know what feels good to me, so I figure other guys like it.” Other guys. “Well, when you’re done, I’ll have to return the favor,” Victor volunteered.
“Cool,” Alex said, matter-of-fact. When he was done, Alex took Victor’s shoulders and turned him around so they were facing each other. He kept his hands on Victor’s shoulders. They were very close. They looked into each others’ eyes for a few seconds. The nerves immediately returned to Victor. Alex sensed that; he stepped back and dropped his hands. “So, my turn now?” he smiled. Without waiting for an answer, he turned around facing away.
Victor’s trembling fingers made their way up onto Alex’s amazing traps. He couldn’t believe what he was doing. He pressed his hands onto Alex’s traps, firmly so they wouldn’t shake, and began squeezing slowly, methodically. God, Alex’s muscles were hard. “That feels good, man,” Alex said. “You got good hands.” Encouraged, Alex continued; momentarily, he even spread his hands outward a bit, toward those bulging bowling balls of deltoids. “Whoa-- that feels really good, buddy. You must have experience doing this.” “You’re the first,” Victor said. “Well, shit. You’re a fast read, man.” “Thanks.” More massaging, and rubbing; each time Victor’s hands moved outward toward Alex’s broad deltoids, Alex seemed to encourage him with a slight moan. So, Victor took the hint and finally spread his hands full-on to Alex’s cannonballs.
“Shit, you’ve got the broadest shoulders I’ve ever seen,” Victor allowed himself to say.
“Thanks.” The skin was warm, tight, and just perfectly blemish-free. Alex obviously spent his summer days in the sun; his tan was rich and golden. “You really have good hands, Victor.” “Well, I guess I just have a good medium here to express my craft,” Victor said.
After another minute, Alex said, “You mind getting the lower part of my traps? Down the center of my back? I did traps yesterday, and they’re still a little tight.” Victor didn’t answer; he just obeyed, moving his squeezing hands onto the fabric of Alex’s tank top, to the bulging muscles of the lower trapezius. God, they were thick. Alex breathed out a sigh of appreciation.
After a minute, without warning, Alex crossed his arms in front, grabbing the opposite edges of his tank top, and lifted it up, over his head. Victor had to pull his hands off in order to let the fabric go.
Alex tossed the shirt on the couch. Now, before Victor’s eyes, Alex’s whole back bulged and rippled with unreal mounds of muscle. The guy looked competition-ready. Just unbelievable definition. How can a guy be so huge-- and so ripped? “Shit-- you must be under 3 percent body fat,” Victor exclaimed.
Alex said, “Something like that,” and then stepped backward, closer to Victor, inviting him, without words, to resume-- which Victor did without argument.
Victor’s cock began to overcome the nerves that had up-until-now kept it flaccid. As his hands, for the first time ever, moved over, around, under and between the amazing musculature of a musclegod’s back, his penis began to harden. Within a minute, it was vigorously protesting the confines of Victor’s tighty-whities and cargo shorts. Alex moved his arms and shoulders, causing his back to ripple with insanity. “ChristAlmighty” Victor whispered. Alex smiled, although it wasn’t visible to Victor. He flexed his back again, and again, the worshipper behind him swore under his breath as his hands trembled over and over the rippling ridges. At this point, what was going on was less a massage than a hand’s-on anatomy lesson/worship session for the masseur. Victor’s hands only squeezed when they moved over an especially bulging muscle-- less to massage it, than to feel it. Victor’s hands moved lower, down to the “Christmas Tree.” Alex put his hands on his hips and spread his wings.
“Fuuuuuuck,” Victor said. He moved his hands onto the enormous lats. His penis continued to protest its confines-- it hurt in this position, but Victor’s hands were quite busy right now, thankyouverymuch. The cock would have to wait. Victor slid his palms out onto the edge of the lats. Alex held still while Victor rubbed them up and down, smoothly feeling the rock-hard gigantic lat muscles. This back exploration and appreciation went on for many minutes before Alex finally turned around to face Victor. Victor’s hands dropped to his sides.
For the first time, he was able to see Alex’s front side, shirtless. It was like a dream. Alex was like a dream. Victor nearly wet his shorts. Pecs-- perfect, broad, high, thick and pouty, with flawless skin and silver-dollar areola and peanut-sized nipples that pointed toward the ground-- stood at eye-level with Victor. Under the overhang of Alex’s chest, his abdominal columns stood like sentinels protecting his core. It was just amazing. Each mound of muscle had a shrink-wrapped skin that was so thin it almost looked transparent. You could see the muscle fibers. The abs poured like a pitcher of milk emptying into Alex’s cargo shorts. Shit, he had a narrow waistline. Easily narrower than Victor’s, even though Alex easily weighed 75 pounds more than Victor-- probably a lot more. “Why’d you stop?” Alex asked innocently, inquiring as to the reason that Victor’s hands weren’t still on his body.
“Well… I mean… you turned around,” Victor said.
“So?” Alex smiled. He took an almost imperceptible step toward Victor, again inviting him to get to back to work. Victor hesitated. He finally decided to put his hands on Alex’s shoulders again. That seemed like the least forward place to start. As he did, Alex closed his eyes. Victor was glad. It was hard to do this while looking Alex in the eyes. Alex seemed to be enjoying it more this way, too.
After a minute, Victor’s hands moved out and down, onto the gigantic, bulging upper arms. It was like nothing he had ever imagined. Here he was, a deeply closeted (or so he had thought) muscle worshipper, and he was feeling out a guy who was built far better than the guys he had ever fantasied about!
Alex, for his part, stood perfectly still, allowing Victor all the time he needed. Victor fingered the cephalic vein. God help me, he thought. It was like a cable-- a most sensual and powerful feature of a man’s muscle-arm-- and Alex’s was crazy-defined and thick, lying on arms that would make most bodybuilders whimper with envy. Finally, all the playing around could proceed no further. It was time for Victor to breach that most sacred of body parts-- from whence there would be no doubt as to the goal of all this hands-on pleasuring. Victor’s hands moved up Alex’s arms, slowly, over the shoulders, and then-- slowly-- down onto the armor plates of Alex’s smooth, powerful chest. Alex’s eyes remained closed, although he did mumble a very soft moan as Victor’s hands spread out and took in the magnificence.
These pecs were to die for. Victor was amazed at how thick and round they were. You could set an object on that shelf and it’d stay! Victor cupped the outer bulges of the pecs, allowing his thumbs to move over Alex’s nipples-- very gently.
Alex jumped slightly, working hard not to startle Victor. He obviously liked what was happening. “God, you DO have a good touch,” he whispered.
Encouraged, Victor continued to feel out Alex, moving his hands back and forth slowly, up and down-- slowly. His fingertips ventured into the deep cleavage. The striations between Alex’s pecs were obvious, and Victor played in there, moving his fingers over the defined cuts. Then, he took one of Alex’s nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He twisted it very, very gently. Alex groaned, allowing his head to tip back a bit. He obviously was enjoying this.
Victor twisted the other nipple now as well, holding the total poundage of Alex’s massive body hostage with just his fingertips. Feeling very confident in how things were going, Victor moved his left hand out and downward, onto Alex’s upper arm again, while he continued to play with Alex’s other nipple. As he did so, he leaned forward and placed Alex’s free nipple between his lips.
“Ohhh godddd,” Alex sighed. “Holy fuuuuck.” Victor pursed his lips. As he began to suckle, he spread his right hand out over the total expanse of Alex’s other pec. He cupped it, and began rubbing it slowly with his whole hand while he sucked on the other pec. He kissed it. He flicked it with his tongue.
With each new action, Alex moaned his approval.
Eventually, Alex brought his head forward and looked down at his worshipper. As Victor continued to nurse, Alex took one hand and gently placed it on Victor’s crotch. He could feel the hardness of Victor’s penis under the khaki fabric.
Victor held still. No man had ever touched him like that.
Alex summoned his other hand and together his strong, long fingers unbuttoned Victor’s shorts and began to work on his zipper. Victor stopped nursing and stepped back to give Alex room to work; as he did, Victor moved his other hand to take up where his lips had left off. As Alex unzipped Victor, Victor continued feeling out the broad, warm, hard expanse of Alex’s pecs, with both hands.
The zipper down, Alex reached inside with one hand, on the outside of Victor’s briefs. As his masculine fingers prodded around, and readjusted Victor’s throbbing boner, it popped out of the elastic waistband-- maybe an inch or two was showing. Pre-cum oozed out of the slit freely; indeed, it had been oozing out for a few minutes-- much of the front of Victor’s briefs was already wet.
Alex pulled his hand up just far enough to be able to re-insert it, this time inside the briefs. His warm, strong fingers slowly ventured downward; his palm surrounding Victor’s dick.
The two men’s eyes locked as Alex’s hand moved farther south. Victor couldn’t believe this was happening.
As the tips of Alex’s hyper-masculine fingers reached Victor’s hairy balls, the fingertips curled around them gently; then the musclegod squeezed the whole cock-- just barely. It was almost imperceptible. Alex could feel Victor’s heartbeat in the organ. It was throbbing with a strong, fast pace. Alex squeezed it again, just a tad harder.
That was all it took.
Victor’s hips bucked involuntarily, pushing his penis back onto Alex’s hand as his plump, purple cock head exploded with a long rope of cream. It shot up, and Victor squeaked and then moaned. His face tightened as he volunteered his second offering of adoration. Like the first, this was a long rope of ejaculate, and it arched up, seemed to hover in mid-air, and then fell downward slowly, splashing between Alex’s abs, upturned forearm and Victor’s pubes.
Alex held his hand still, yet firm, as Victor grabbed the muscleman’s hips. A third volley of steaming jizz squirted up-- and then a fourth. Victor was amazed at how prolific his cock was. He couldn’t remember ever coming with such a volume of jizz. His hands squeezed Alex’s waist as he climaxed even higher. When he was done, Victor had wetted much of Alex’s thick, veined forearm, and had deposited his semen in quite a few splotches on Alex’s abs and pecs. His own pubes were drenched. His penis expelled the last squirts onto itself, and the semen dribbled down it in rivulets of white cream. “Wow-- it doesn’t take much for you…” Alex smiled. His strong fingers were still extended around Victor’s hard dick.
Victor breathed hard. “Actually, it does take much for me. But you’re quite a bit much,” Victor smiled.
Alex smiled back, enthusiastically. He looked down at the mess Victor had made. “Thanks, for the compliment,” he said. “I don’t remember having a guy make so much jizz for me.” “You’ve done this before, I take it,” Victor said, “…to another guy.” Alex smiled into Victor’s eyes. He didn’t say anything. Slowly, he moved his face close to Victor’s; then he began kissing him. Victor moaned a few times as they began a tender kiss. Alex squeezed Victor’s cock and pushed on it; he used his thumb to squeeze the urethra, massaging the last drops up and out of Victor’s piss slit.
All Victor could do was moan. Alex’s tongue invaded Victor’s mouth. It was warm. It ran around Victor’s teeth, slowly. Alex’s other hand came up and held Victor’s head still as his tongue raped the smaller man’s mouth-- gently and tenderly.
“God you’re cute,” Alex said as he withdrew his tongue and their lips parted. “You’re making me hornier than I’ve ever been.” Victor had been called a few things by jocks before-- especially in high school-- and none of them included the word “cute.” Alex took both hands now, and started to use his fingers to gather up as much of Victor’s cum as he could. He slurped it up, then went looking for more. It took a minute, but when they were both cleaned enough, Alex took Victor by the hand and led him back to his bedroom.
To be continued…
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