Levi's Muscles — Chapter 2
by Sean Reid Scott
Approx. 10,700 words
F COURSE, I WAS A COMPETE WRECK all day. Even though I was on vacation, I still wanted to be at least semi-productive, you know? Get some reading done, cook up some nice stuff. Do some writing…. You know, produce something of value. As it turned out, the only thing I was capable of producing that day was semen.
And actually, I was quite productive at that. Every hour on the hour I was jerking off to the memory of meeting Levi. By mid-afternoon, I decided I should hold back. His impending visit at 5:30 would obviously give me more grist for that evening’s masturbation sessions, so I didn’t want to deplete my resources. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. Levi supplied me with so much fodder for future jerk-off sessions that I’d never have to wonder whom to jerk off to again.
I pondered Levi all day—and our scheduled meeting. Was he really coming just to check on plumbing repairs? My parents hadn’t mentioned anything about a problem; they usually gave me an update on things like that before I visited. What would he be wearing? Would he change before he came over?
Of course my thoughts went to dinner. It’d be royally stupid to make dinner for two—wouldn’t it? He was coming over to do a job; this wasn’t a social occasion. Of course, my hope was that the shower thing was merely a ruse, and that he was just making an excuse to see me again. Yeah, right. Maybe, as part of his “inspection,” he’d want to turn on the water to make sure everything is copacetic. And of course a thorough inspection of the shower would require that he take one.
That thought sent me back upstairs in a masturbatory tizzy, spraying the bathroom with my seed once again. As I was cleaning it up, the thought occurred: Maybe I should leave a not-so-subtle glob of it someplace, so he might see it. I could be discreet, while being somewhat obvious, couldn’t I? If he thought it distasteful (pun intended), he’d just ignore it, right? If he was encouraged by it, he might, you know, take that as a positive sign, no?
I was going nuts.
Thinking of the many scenarios that might take place was exhausting (not to mention the strenuous masturbation I’d been doing all day).
I decided on not making anything to eat. I’d plan on going out to catch something to eat later. (If he ended up going with me, well then all the better, right?)
I was able to plop my body by the common pool for a few hours. I’m a runner, not a bodybuilder, but I do lift weights to maintain some muscle. And I have nice abs, if I do say so myself. I guess you could say I get my fair share of glances when I’m at poolside. But of course today, all I could think about was how Levi would cause a riot if he were there. It was at the same time intriguing, and depressing. The guy had it all, I tell you.
After I came in from the pool—around 4:30—I came in and showered. (The shower did seem to be working fine; it was at that point I actually considered sabotaging the plumbing to make him stay longer, or even return at a later time. Snapping off the shower head entirely would probably be too obvious….)
I had about 50 minutes then, to decide what to wear. What. To. Wear. My “cabin” wardrobe was limited, although I did bring a few “nice” outfits for if I wanted to go into Bend and hit the bars. Whatever. But it took me almost the whole 50 minutes to decide. I didn’t want to look like I was going on a date, but I definitely didn’t want to look shabby and too casual. I made my decision with only minutes to spare: Lavender polo shirt (I absolutely love lavender. It’s like an aphrodisiac to me. It is. And maybe Levi would have the same reaction to it. Hope. Hope.); khaki cargo shorts; flip-flops. Nice, but not too nice.
A knock on the door brought me down the stairs way too fast. Nearly rolled down. I considered sliding down the bannister like a girl greeting her prom date, but even though Levi was still outside, I figured that’d be over the top.
When I opened the door, Levi was looking to the side, apparently evaluating his landscaping job or whatever. The combination of his side-face view, and his full-on, forward, lats-out-to-here torso view made me gasp. Out loud.
He turned his face to me quickly, surprised at my outburst. His eyes darted in question: “Is this the right time? Did I make a mistake?” he asked.
My jaw was wagging. The man… all day long I’d been imagining him in my mind, jerking off to… this… yet this was nothing like I’d remembered. How could my memory have been so… inadequate? So anemic? The man was muscle perfection. Exquisitely developed muscles all over the place. And lean? I swear this god had zero percent body fat. His pecs protruded toward my face (they were at about eye-level for me, and I’m a healthy six-feet). His shoulders: dayum. The traps on both sides of his bull neck were stupendous mounds. And his deltoids were big, round and stunningly defined and separate from his arms. And those arms: they were bigger than this morning, I swear it. Fucky, fucky fuck. His manta-ray lats (I know that comparison is cliché, but my brain was quite taxed at the moment) were staggering in how they stuck out, yet tapered to his waist.
He hadn’t changed his shirt, and I swear I could see all eight of his abdominal muscles through the shrink-wrapped fabric.
His legs were devastating. I think I might have had to blink, just to try to take the sight in.
“…hope I didn’t come at the wrong time,” he apologized.
I was in the habit of not hearing what he was saying. I needed to work on that. Concentrate, Callum, concentrate. “Oh, I’m sorry, no,” I gushed. “This is the right time. I’m sorry, I was just… I don’t know… a bit startled I guess. Please, come in.” I stepped back and motioned him in.
He did that thing where he tried to suppress a smile, ducked his head, turned his shoulders slightly sideways, and entered. Apparently he was used to maneuvering tight spaces. To him, probably everything was tight. Damn, that thought had me purring inside.
At my direction, he walked into the great room of the cabin; I followed. Damn, that ass was as taut, high and hard as you could imagine. Propelled by those thrilling legs, he gracefully moved into the room.
“You all have this place looking really nice,” he said, gazing up at the two-story living area, and the loft-bedroom above.
“Thanks. It’s my mom’s doing, actually.” I didn’t want to mention that I had a major part in the decor as well.
He turned around to face me, and once again the view of his pectoral muscles jutting out over his abdominals was breathtaking. I know I was just staring at them, and his arms… It was embarrassing how little self-control I had.
He took it in stride. I mean, he was used to being ogled, of course. How could he not? And not only did he seem okay with my lusting worship of his muscles, he actually seemed to pause a moment so my brain could catch up with my penis. Yes, my penis had totally registered what I was seeing, and it was like a pipe in my cargo shorts. My brain, however, needed a few lag seconds to process. Even then, I couldn’t really process. Levi looked around the room, admiring everything—or at least pretending to admire—while I… uh… admired his muscles. Just staggering.
After he smiled at me for a moment (he had to know what he was doing to me, didn’t he?), he said, “How long are you here for?”
“Oh, me? Well, I’m here for all of August. So yeah, just starting my vacation. Will be here all month. It’s my parent’s place. They let me stay here all month. By myself. So it’s nice and private. I mean… not that I need a lot of privacy… it’s just that, I get to stay here alone. It’s not a big thing to be here alone… once you get used to it. Of course it’s always great to have visitors. I don’t get to have guys… people… I mean, guests over that often. I actually don’t know anyone from around here so… having you here… I mean, I realize you’re just here to inspect my plumbing… I mean, the cabin’s plumbing… and well, that’s okay. I don’t have a problem with that… that you’re here on business… of course it’s not a social occasion. Not in any way… I just am glad… holy fuck you have more muscles than I’ve ever seen!”
Well, that little monologue did not end well. The whole diatribe, actually… I’d been gushing all over the room like a little schoolgirl! Fucky, fucky fuck. What had I done?!
The corners of his mouth turned up. “Well, thank you,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just… I guess I’m a little nervous. I don’t know. I should probably just shut up. It’s embarrassing, I know.”
Now his smile grew. “Don’t worry about it, Callum. Seriously. I’m sorry. I really don’t want to intimidate you. I get that a lot, though.” His smiled grew. “I’m harmless, really. Can I take a look at your shower now?”
“Oh, yes. Of course. It’s upstairs. Here, I’ll show you.” Obviously he knew where it was.
This time, I led. Which was a good thing. I don’t think I could have handled following that ass and those legs again. “I suppose big guys like you do get people a little spooked sometimes. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Not a problem at all,” he said as he followed me up the stairs. “Like I said, I’m used to it. Doesn’t bother me at all. If it did, I’d stop working out, you know?”
We got to the top of the stairs and I turned to him; we looked down from the balcony to the great room. “Oh, yeah, I suppose that’s right. I mean, you obviously look so powerful and… just fucking amazing… because, on purpose… I mean, because you work hard at that.” I stared at his upper body.
“Well, yeah,” he said. “I enjoy working out.”
“Well that’s good, because apparently you’re pretty good at it.”
He laughed. His Adam’s apple bobbed and his neck got thicker.
I thought I was going to wet myself.
“Shower?” he asked.
“Oh, no thanks. I just took one, but do you need…?” I slapped my hand over my mouth. “Fuck,” I said behind my palm.
Now his laugh was full-body. Damn, his teeth and dimples.
“I mean, yeah. You’re here to examine the shower. Fuck.”
“Yeah,” he settled, “I think for now, I’ll just take a look at it, if that’s okay.”
“Yes. Yeah. It’s in the bathroom.”
Now, he led.
The shower was a bit oversized, certainly not as small as an older standard shower that’s for sure. When we got to the bathroom, he opened the glass door on the shower and stepped inside.
“Shit, you barely fit!” I blurted.
He studied the shower head. “True that,” he said while he looked at it. “I have to have a bigger one at my place.”
He looked down at the drain. There was no way in hell he could crouch down to take a closer look. He looked up at me and said, “Excuse me,” kind of motioning for me to step back.
“Oh, of course,” I said, obliging.
With his knees outside the shower, he crouched down and took a look at the drain. His ass and back side were staring up at me. I’d never seen such wide lats; and they formed an insane “V” that was thick and broad at the top of his back, decreasing in breadth until his back poured into his mini-waist. It literally took my breath away.
“Well,” he said, still bent over, “I think it all checks out.” He slowly stood up and turned to face me, stepping out of the shower entirely. “But of course, the proof is in the pudding. You said you showered just awhile ago?”
“Yes,” I swallowed. He was standing so close now. His chest threatened to smother my face. Fuck, what a way to go. To be swallowed in that valley. To lose my life while being snuffed out by… that.
“Did you have any leaks? While you showered?”
“Leaks? What kind of leaks?”
“Well, mostly water leaks, I guess,” he smiled. “I suppose there are other kinds, but yeah, I was specifically wondering if the shower showed any signs of leaking.”
“Oh.” I was transfixed on his chest. “Yeah.”
“You did? There were some leaks?”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Fuck, those pecs were so hot. And enormous. And even under the shirt, you could see the deep cleavage between them. And the shirt dove under the projecting chest shelf, hugging it as it transitioned from vertical to horizontal, to vertical again at the abdominals.
He chuckled, and I was brought out of my trance. “So, no leaks. Of water anyway… right?”
“Right,” I said trying to hide me blushing. Obviously without success.
“It’s okay, Callum,” he said.
“It’s perfectly okay for you to like looking. Like I said before, I get that a lot. It’s not a problem.”
“So, we have the shower situation under control then, right?” he asked, indicating that maybe we should step out of the bathroom.
“Right.” I stepped out and he followed.
“Great. I’m glad everything’s in order then.”
He turned to face me and said, “Can I ask you a question?”
I always want to answer that with a snide, “You just did,” but I didn’t want to be a smart ass. “Shoot.”
“Would you want to grab something to eat? Have you had dinner yet?”
What? Oh, fucky, fucky, fuck! He wants to spend more time with me?
“Oh, I’m sorry. I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Yeah, that’s good then, right? Do you want to catch something together? There’s a really good hamburger place at the resort mall—if you’re interested.”
“Well, I was just going to grab a hamburger or something, actually. So…” my brain was fried. I have no idea what I was thinking, or saying.
“Well it’s settled then,” he smiled. “I can drive.”
The guy should have been hesitating, by me weird words, but instead he was the picture of Alpha confidence. His conclusion was almost an order rather than an invitation.
We were going to get dinner together.
When we got down to the main floor again, I grabbed my phone; I looked up at him; he was gazing at me with a peaceful, almost appreciative expression on his face. He was… pleased.
I stopped and just stared at him. Abject lust filled me. This big, tall, muscle man was phenomenal. And I’d get to spend the next hour or so talking to him, and looking at him.
My heart was in my throat. My cock was almost out of my pants. Damn, it hurt it was so hard. And I think he looked at my crotch for a second.
Fucky, fucky, fuck.
We were riding in his rig. He turned to me and asked, “You mind if we stop at my place first? I’d kinda like to change out of my employee shirt. People tend to stare at me when they realize I work here.”
Yeah, right. The man is totally playing with me. Don’t be all coy and humble with me, mister. We both know that people stare at you all the time, and it definitely does not have anything to do with the uniform—other than how it fits. And yet, it was his playful ignorance (feigned as it obviously was) that made me want to attack him.
“Oh, no problem,” I said. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, having people look at you all evening.” Damn, I was finding some humor!
He chuckled. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
His place wasn’t huge, but it was beautiful. I love the “craftsman” look, and his house was exactly that. Complete with river rock foundations to the porch posts. And since he was a grounds-keeper kind of guy, the area surrounding his place was immaculate. Just the right mix of landscape and natural flora.
“I’ll only be a minute,” he said. “But you’re welcome to come inside if you want.”
Ya think? “Oh, that’d be cool. Sure.”
We both got out and he led me inside. As I paused in his entry, he said, “I’ll just be a sec.” He took off toward what was obviously his bedroom somewhere in the house.
You sure you don’t need me to help? Damn, the man knew exactly what I wanted: To see him shirtless. But he wasn’t going to give it up. The fucker. He was teasing me—taunting me with this invitation to come inside while he changed.
I took the opportunity to adjust myself. I hadn’t really been out of his presence since he’d arrived on my porch. And in his rig it was definitely not possible for me to reposition my aching cock. So I did so now. Not that it helped.
“Okay, all ready,” he said as he came back.
Oh. My. Fucking God.
He’d put on… and I am not shitting you here… he’d put on a mesh tank-top. And the mesh was so fine and delicate that it was easy to see right through it! The mesh was white, and the low neck and big sleeves were treated with white piping. It was mind-boggling. Now, his entire arms and his boulder-like shoulders were totally exposed. And if that weren’t enough, the see-through fabric totally let you see his massive, hairy pecs, and even his nipples! OhMyFuckingGod. I was dumbfounded. I couldn’t speak.
The openings for his arms were huge; the bottom of the arm-openings came down to the middle section of his lats. And the whole skimpy tank left pretty-much nothing to the imagination. I mean, you could literally see everything through the silky fabric. His chest was so hot! Thick mattes of hair covered the pectoral globes, and… well, I was beside myself. He’d changed into cutoff jeans with raggedy hems at his immense upper legs, and the veiny masses of quadriceps were astounding. I stared at his giant, tight, rippling, veiny legs for a second and found myself almost audibly wishing I was denim—tattered, unravelling denim.
I’m sure my mouth was open. I looked back up at his obscenely and deliciously exposed upper body. I finally found the words: “Will they let you in? Like that? I mean, wearing that?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, they do all the time.”
His freakin’ arms hung relaxed at his sides. Those things had to be at least… I have no idea how big, but trust me, they were huge. How the hell was I going to actually eat anything tonight? His rippling chest and massive shoulders were mind-blowing. He’d tucked the shirt into the jeans shorts he’d donned. Fucking magnificent.
The guy was so damn big and tall—and so fucking good-looking that I wanted to cry.
“So,” he smiled, “ready to go?”
“Oh, yeah… sure. And you really look amaz… I mean… your place looks amazing. Really nice.” That chest hair. On those planet-sized pecs. I was going to absolutely lose it. I know he realized how transfixed I was with his muscles. But I simply could. not. help. it.
“Thanks,” he said, ignoring my fawning over his stupendous physique. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” He moved toward me, indicating we should go through the door behind me.
As we rode in his rig to the restaurant, he said, “This place has the best burgers in Central Oregon. You’re gonna love it. Killer fries, too.”
I was definitely going to love it. I don’t care who you are.
Then, as he drove, he took his right hand and placed it on my knee. He patted my leg. “It’s funny,” he said, “Just last week I was having Chinese food with a friend and you wanna know what my fortune cookie said?” Without waiting for an answer he said, “It said, ‘Soon you will meet a new friend who will bring new joy to you.’ Honest-to-god.” He suddenly jerked his head and said, “Hey, open my glove box. I’m pretty sure I saved it.”
I obeyed. Sure enough, right on top of his stuff there, there was a small strip of paper from a fortune cookie. He was right. I turned my face to him with a surprised smile. “Wow. That’s really weird.”
“I know, right?” he grinned. “Maybe you’re the new friend.”
I fought back a frown. “Really? Well… you never know….” The thought immediately occurred that he might have gotten that fortune a long time ago and just kept it for whenever he wanted to use it on someone. I didn’t press the issue. Besides, more important than when he found it in a cookie, was the fact that he was trying to tie it to me—and us—right then. Regardless of the veracity of his claim, it was dizzying to think that Levi thought… something, anything… about me.
He pulled his four-wheel-drive rig into the restaurant’s lot and parked. It was packed. Friday night full.
“Do they need reservations?” I asked.
“Normally,” he said as he opened his door. “But I know the manager.”
I bet you do. I bet you just smile and roll those pecs and you get whatever you want. From anybody. And I realized that I would have to include myself in that lot.
Inside, the waiting area was packed. And loud.
Well, it was loud until Levi walked in. Then it got a lot quieter. He obviously had a way of hushing a crowd. Just by… being.
I followed him as he parted the sea of packed people; and yeah, no one who looked at him did anything less than a double-take.
When we arrived at the hostess’ desk a petite lady smiled up at him. “Hi Levi,” she practically batted her eyes at him. “You’re favorite table is ready for you.”
“Thanks, Cherry,” he said.
She grabbed two menus and Levi followed her; I followed him. The reaction of the patrons at the tables was not dissimilar from those in the lobby. People stopped mid-bite and gawked. Some pointed. This was a family restaurant, so there were a bunch of vacationing families there tonight; I saw one boy nudge his brother: “Jason, look at that guy!” he said loud enough for most of the now-silent patrons to hear.
Levi actually lifted his hand and made a gun shooting motion with his finger and said to the boy, “how you doing’ bud?”
The kid smiled broadly and elbowed his brother: “Jason, he’s huge!”
I couldn’t keep my smile down. No worries though. Absolutely no one was looking at me. That was for sure.
Cherry brought us to our table at the far end of the place; we sat. The restaurant was nice—kind of a mix between a hamburger joint and some kind of Texas steak house. Dark timbers, nice lighting, honky-tonk music that wasn’t too loud…. But I knew that that was about all I was going to accomplish regarding assessing the decor. I simply could not take my eyes off the man who sat across from me. That body. His face. Those blue eyes. Deep, yet at the same time bright, blue eyes….
“Their one-pound burger is my favorite,” Levi smiled. “Comes with endless fries too.”
I nodded. I truly didn’t want to pull my eyes off him and have to look at a mere piece of paper—the menu. “Um… do they have a half-pound version?” I asked.
“Yeah. I don’t think many people order the one-pounder,” he smiled. “They wanted to name it after me, actually: The Levi Burger. ‘More meat than most people can handle.’” He full-on grinned now. “But I declined. Sounded a bit over the top.” He chuckled.
“You’re shitting me, right?” I asked.
“Not at all. Hand to god,” he said, raising one hand making an oath. “Ask our server when he comes.”
“Okay… I will,” I said with mocking suspicion in my voice.
He grinned back at me.
Are you purposely trying to kill me? With that gorgeous smile…on top of that body? You’re actually wanting to murder me, aren’t you. And by the way, why are we actually here? Why am I sitting in the presence of a man-god? A man that I could not have possibly, ever, have dreamed up?
“…is good too. Have whatever you want, man. It’s on me Callum. They give me a discount.”
Again with my mind drifting off into the ionosphere.
“Here’s some waters, gents,” a guy placed glasses on the table. “Name’s Jerry. I’ll be serving you tonight.” He said it to me, because it was immediately obvious he already knew Levi. “How you doing Levi?”
“Great, Jerr. You?”
“Fantastic. What do you guys want for starters?”
Levi looked right at me, and I could see by his expression he wanted me to ask the question he’d assigned me.
“Well, before we get to that,” I said, “can you tell me anything about the ‘Levi Burger’?”
Jerry laughed loudly, glancing at Levi. “Well, it’s not anything that’s actually on the menu, but the basic idea is that it’s ‘more meat than most people can handle.’” He chuckled and added, “Levi asked us not to use the name, or the motto. I guess he was right. The tag line could be construed to have a meaning that isn’t exactly family-friendly.”
I almost choked on my water. Of course I’d thought that when I’d first heard it, but I’d chalked it up to my… you know… particular proclivities.
Levi laughed at my loss of control. “You okay Callum?”
I nodded and grabbed my napkin.
While I tried to regain my composure, Levi ordered some starters for us, and Jerry left.
Now, in case I haven’t made the situation clear, let’s recap: Sitting across the table from me was a six-and-a-half-foot man who clearly weight the high side of 300 pounds, who had, like, single-digit body fat, huge—scratch that—monumental muscles, and was jaw-dropping gorgeous, not to mention cute, nice, and all that. What I’m trying to say is this: Levi was not some fucker who had a bodybuilder’s body, who lived in the gym, who knew that he was all that, and who was like so many other bodybuilders in the world. He didn’t have some bodybuilder’s body. He had a body that set him apart from every other bodybuilder you have ever known of. Okay? He was vast. Cosmic in not only his proportions and definition, but in his friendly, not-stuck-on-himself personality too. Okay? Just so you don’t confuse this muscle story with anything else you’ve ever read, okay? Levi was his own category, okay?
“…because, well, I was just wondering.”
Fucky, fucky, fuck. I’d done it again. My brain had gone off half-cocked (think what you will) on some other-worldly vacation while mild-mannered, polite and sincere Levi himself was trying to make polite conversation. And I’d heard only the last part of what he’d said. And it was obviously something that was said because I was being stupidly silent.
“I’m sorry… I kinda spaced out there. I’m sorry. What were you saying?” I fumbled.
He smiled slightly. “Oh, no problem. I was just wondering if you’re in school? Or in business? Just, you know, wanted to know what you do….”
“Oh, yeah. Of course. Yes.”
He chuckled and took a drink of water. “Yes.”
I rolled my eyes at myself. Fuck. “I mean, yes, what I do.” I cleared my throat, not knowing why in the world we would talk about me…. “I’m in medical school. Harvard. Second year.”
“Nice,” he smiled. “Any specialty?”
I wanted to tell him I was studying sports medicine, but that would have been a lie. Damn, now I wish I had looked into that specialty. Would that I could use Levi as an object—or whatever they call them—to examine and such. You know. Study. His anatomy. But I told the truth: “Well, I’m actually interested in oncology.”
“Yeah. I know, it sounds morbid I suppose….”
“No, not at all,” he insisted, looking genuinely interested. “Wow, I have to admire that.”
“Well, it’s not as depressing as it sounds. There are great strides being made in cancer. I just want to be a part of that.”
“So, you want to be a researcher?”
“At least partially. I’ve got this philosophy that research shouldn’t be that separate from actual medical practice. I think there’s a lot of benefit to be had in trying to combine the two more.”
“That’s awesome,” he actually looked impressed. “I really respect that.”
“Thanks,” I said, my face warming. Receiving a compliment—any kind of compliment, for anything, from this god… well, it was intoxicating.
And speaking of intoxicating, at that point Jerry arrived with our first drinks. I didn’t remember ordering anything, but it was a White Russian, which is what I always order, so I must have actually told him that. Right? Levi had a Scotch, neat.
And as soon as I took my first sip, my mind went into some kind of loop… how was it that I was actually sitting here, with the muscle hunk to end all muscle hunks—friendly and gorgeous as all hell—being friendly and let’s-get-to-know-each-other and such. As if somehow I deserved to be here with him? I needed to take another sip. A big sip.
“So, how about you?” I asked as I sat my drink down, nearly losing myself in lust over him as I spoke. Shivers. Literal shivers moved over my skin as the warmth of the alcohol overtook me and the warmth of his being overwhelmed me (once again).
“Well, I’m originally from Spokane; moved to Troutdale when I was in sixth grade; graduated from Reynolds in ’17, like I mentioned, took a year of general studies at MHCC, and moved to Bend after that. I wanted to study horticulture here at Central Oregon CC, but when I got the grounds job here a few years ago, I decided to pause that and save up some money.”
“Oh? Well, if you don’t mind my mentioning, your place looked pretty nice. The rent must be kinda high…” Oh fudge. I didn’t mean to come across as nosy.
He smiled. “Actually, it’s my uncle’s place; he rents it out to me on the cheap.”
“Really? That’s cool… and generous of him.”
“I know, right? He’s a really awesome guy.”
The thought struck me as I gazed at this stud… What would it be like to have a nephew like Levi? Can you imagine? I mean, my nephews were just kids, but… Was Levi’s uncle some dirty old man who couldn’t keep from fantasizing about—and being overly-friendly with—his muscle-hunk nephew, Levi? Was there some kind of agreement between the two of them? Nah. Of course not. Levi didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would… quid pro quo? You pose for me, and I’ll give you reduced rent? No. My mind was racing.
I came back… “He must be… really awesome…”
Levi nodded. And I think I saw something subversive in the way his eye twinkled. But… naw.
“So anyway,” he continued, “my goal is to go back to college next year and start back on the horticulture stuff.”
I nodded. “You like plants. Yet, you are obviously not a vegetarian, right?”
He laughed. “Never been accused of that, that’s for sure.”
His chest hair. That dark brown, thick, wavy carpet of masculinity that was clearly visible at the low neck of his mesh tank-top. Not to mention nearly as clearly visible beneath that thin coating of see-through nylon mesh. Fuck. My eyes glued to it. My hands had never ached so much to touch something. My cock had never ached so much to be enveloped in something. I mean, damn true! I wanted bury my shaft in the canyon between those mountain-pecs more than I had ever wanted to bury it up some wannabe’s ass. Every other man was Levi’s wannabe.
“…have a lot of protein, you know? It’s part of the regimen.”
Not again. Regimen? There’s a regimen? Of course there’s a regimen. You don’t think the dude just wakes up in the morning looking like THAT, do you? I coughed, bringing myself back into the present. “Of course,” I smiled what I knew was a very faint and pained smile. “I mean, you don’t just wake up in the morning looking like that…” I acknowledged his bulging muscles, “…without some kind of regimen.”
He smiled and took a drink.
And what the fuck was with how his biceps bulged when he did that!! (again with the redundant exclamation point. Don’t hate me for violating the rules. The man sitting across the table from me was violating every rule of muscle-decency that had ever been legislated. Yes, I have no idea what I’m saying. I cannot be held accountable for my thought processes while in Levi’s presence.) Regardless (I almost said the non-word, irregardless, but I refuse to stoop to that level of ignorance, even if I’m drunk in lust), his upper arm seemed to grow into a Jupiter-sized planet, bulging into two distinct muscle heads, with that cephalic vein lying on top of the rippling muscle, taunting me in a way I’d never been taunted before.
Jerry brought our apps, and later, our meals. And more drinks. And a few more. I could feel myself getting a buzz on—it almost matched the level of hard-on I had, but not quite. Levi, however, seemed totally unaffected by the alcohol. Obviously, he had a very extensive bloodstream. Extensive. I wondered what else he had that was extensive. Muscles? Check. More meat than most people could handle? Well, we might just have to do some research there.
As if I’d ever be able to see it. See that. Right. The way he flirted with Cherry while she led us to his “favorite table…” yeah, the dude was obviously as straight as the current state of my shaft. And why not? He was the consummate man.
No, I’m not dissing on myself. I’m just as much of a man as the next guy. And the next straight guy. It’s just that I’ve had a few drinks right nowYaKnow… Nor, by the way… am I dissing on gay guys in general. We’re all men. Or however we identify. That’s not the point.
What was the point?
What is the point of going on if I can’t touch that chest? If I can’t worship? If I can’t sit on the edge of a bed and watch Levi flex?
This was getting embarrassing. “I’m sorry?”
“You ready to go? I took care of the check,” he said, nodding at the piece of paper on the leather folio between us.
Holy fuck. Had I passed out or something? Where did my dinner go? I was so full I was going to burst, so I know I must have eaten. Did I order the Levi Burger? Or had I had, instead, the Levi Bratwurst? Oh, if the muscle gods of heaven could be so generous….
Levi was looking at me like nothing was amiss, so I must not have passed out. Undoubtedly it was just my zoning out over his presence… as was the obvious pattern I had established.
“Sure,” I said. “And thank you. It was a great dinner.” Actually, I didn’t feel that drunk anymore. I truly think I just zoned out over looking at Levi’s muscles for such an extended period of time. What mere mortal could be expected to maintain any kind of normal train of thought?
We were in the parking lot, heading to his rig. I was pretty sober, actually. I checked the area for muscle worshippers, and found a few. Most everyone was transformed into a lurking, lusting muscle voyeur when in Levi’s presence. When we buckled in, before he started the engine, Levi turned his face to me. “Before I take you home, do you want to come over to my place? Maybe take a dip in my hot-tub?”
I… I… I… “Oh, well, I don’t want to impose…” I mean, hot-tub. Swimming trunks. Exposed muscles all over hell. Levi. Nearly naked…
“If it were an imposition, I wouldn’t be asking you,” he smiled, sincerely.
“Oh, well… yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude… I just…” I searched his eyes. The god actually seemed to want me to stop over. “Well, sure. That’d be nice.”
“Sweet.” He started up his Jeep.
“Oh, but I don’t have any trunks with me,” I said.
He glanced at me. “Won’t need ‘em.”
What? Well, that was intriguing. Won’t need ‘em because we both probably have the same waist size and so I could easily wear one of your spares? …or won’t need ‘em because…
I SAT BACK INTO MY RECLINING lounger on my deck, looking out onto the beautiful, grassy common area of the resort where I was staying. The morning coolness was almost epic in how it relaxed me. It was so serene, peaceful and just damn beautiful.
The forecast was, as usual for August here, for the upper 80s, and wall-to-wall sunshine.
Yet in mere minutes, I’d be so distracted that I wouldn’t even notice how gorgeous the place was.
Still, it was times like this that made me grateful for having filthy-rich parents—parents who could afford a summer cottage like this. Parents who were supportive of me enough to let me stay here for a whole month every summer. Alone.
Mom and Dad had “rewarded” me this monthly extravagance every year in support of my continuing achievements, academically. I’d put myself through pre-med, and even though they didn’t contribute to that (I’d insisted I wanted to do it on my own), they felt compelled to “gift” me this time every year since I started college. Now that I’d started medical school, they continued the tradition.
And I didn’t argue.
My parents are pretty cool. Maybe not as progressive as I’d like, but they’re cool in their own way. Not sure how they’d react to my coming out, but that’s a whole (n)other topic.
And here I was, at the very beginning of an entire August of solace, relaxation and fun.
At my side table, I had my coffee, a mimosa I’d just made, my reading glasses, and my Kindle. The sun had just risen, and I’d already finished my cardio for the day, so now it was time to “center” myself by exercising the “little gray cells,” as Hercule Poirot would say. Not that I was going to lose myself in anything strenuous. Most likely, I’d find some erotica to read. Can’t think of a better way to start the day.
The automatic sprinklers for the huge common area that the cabins surrounded had shut off about 15 minutes earlier. At this time in the morning it wasn’t uncommon to see a few maintenance people checking on things and trimming plants—and of course one day a week someone hauled out a big riding mower and cut the lawn.
That was common. What wasn’t common was what I suddenly saw walking around the corner of my deck. He’d walked between my place and the neighbor’s cabin. (I say “cabin,” but these were big, luxurious homes, actually.) He came into view just as I picked up my coffee and prepared to take a sip. The guy wore a T-shirt that the resort’s maintenance employees wore. It was a kind of military/army green, with the resort logo in off-white over one pec. He also had on the standard khaki shorts that they all wore. But this man was decidedly unique from the other resort employees: He was muscle to the nth degree.
I mean, I actually could not believe what I was seeing. Here? In Central Oregon? Just walking around as a resort employee? All this? All this muscle?
My point of view was from his side—his profile—as he walked, so what I first noticed was his mammoth chest. I mean, holy HELL! The enormity of chest muscle cantilevered out over his skinny waist like it was some kind of marvel of engineering! I could see his closest nipple under the extremely tight shirt; it pointed downward because of the excessive bulk of pectoral muscle. Pectoral muscle the likes of which I’d never actually seen. This chest was matched for size by his traps and delts. It was mind-boggling.
But even though his pecs and shoulders were obviously more prominent than should be legal, as he traversed from one side of my view to the other, it was his fucking gigantic, bulging, lean-as-fuck arm that grabbed my attention. The size was incredible. And more than mere size: the definition! His triceps and biceps, even hanging apparently relaxed, rippled with defined mass! The size of his arms forced the sleeve of his T to bunch up into the deep crevasse that separated his triceps from his boulder deltoids. And it was a deep crevasse. I’d never seen anything so powerful-looking—and so fucking gorgeous—in all my life. And I’ve been to more than my fair share of bodybuilding shows. And I’ve seen more than my fair share of muscle videos and pix on the web. And I’ve jerked off to more than my fair share of said images. Trust me. I know lean, ripped, huge muscles when I see them.
And I was definitely seeing them.
I dropped my mug of coffee. It made a loud clank as it hit my side table.
The dude stopped suddenly and turned his head right toward me.
Shit, he had a gorgeous face too. His hair was brown, but the streaks of blond made it look almost dishwater blond. Might have been the summer sun that lightened it. It came halfway down his ears, and despite not being coiffed, it lent a look of beauty and subdued grace—which was weird considering how extremely buff he was. In a word, he was beautiful.
And okay… this was totally unfair: The guy’s chin had the most gorgeous cleft. Just not fair. FOUL! How was I supposed to recover from not only all this muscle, but a face that had the most adorable dimpled chin on the planet?
Fortunately, none of the coffee spilled on me. Nonetheless, I was embarrassed to hell.
“Are you okay, sir?” he asked with genuine concern.
I’d like to say I answered immediately, but I didn’t. I was dumbfounded. Awestruck. Not to mention embarrassed to hell. Oh yeah, I did mention that.
The man started walking toward me. “Can I help you with that?” He seemed honestly troubled by my situation. He got closer.
Holy shit, he was absolutely huge! Tall: I’d say six-and-a-half feet, easily. Young. Probably my age, if not younger.
At first I couldn’t move. I was actually frozen. I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s true. I was astounded by this guy. Despite probably weighing well into the 300s (I’m not lying!) the guy had a waistline that was easily as small as my own 32 inches. No fuck! And now that he was facing me, full-on, as he approached me the symmetry and size of his muscles just bombarded my senses. That tight T-shirt left very little to the imagination. It hugged everything.
“Are you okay, sir?” he asked as he arrived at the deck. My deck was about three or four steps up from the grass.
“I—I’m fine. Really. I…” I fumbled for my coffee mug; it had landed on the deck. Coffee drenched my side table. I quickly grabbed my Kindle, wiping it off as best I could. “No harm, no foul,” I said, not really knowing why.
He’d stopped at the edge of the deck, watching me flop around like a chicken-with-my-head-cut-off, just patiently standing there. I got the impression he wanted to come up onto the deck to help out, but maybe they had some rule about the “help” not entering the private areas.
I took in a deep, deep breath, abandoned my attempt to retrieve my mug, and sighed deeply.
He was trying to tamp down a smile. I could tell it. The fucker was finding it amusing that I’d practically scalded myself, and he had to know why I’d done it. Had to.
“Are you sure, sir?”
Something in my gut liked that he called me “sir”, even though we were probably the same age—and even though his physical stature definitely placed him at a point on the Western caste scale where he didn’t have to call anyone “sir” if he didn’t want to. Damn, the guy—in spite of being some combination of Superman, Hercules, Samson, Mr. Olympia and Tarzan—was actually turning out to be gut-wrenchingly cute!
And now that I was recuperating from my mortifying display of out-of-control abject shock over his body, something a tad lower than the aforementioned “gut” was liking all of this. Liking it a bit too much, I might add.
The guy, just standing there all polite and reserved, was driving me to the edge of insanity. That was the brain part. The penis part was jumping, thickening and tightening into what I knew would soon be an embarrassing reflection of my sexual orientation. Not that I am ashamed of my sexuality (even though I don’t advertise it, and certainly haven’t told Mom & Dad), but getting a hard-on under my bathrobe in front of the hyper-muscular resort employee isn’t my preferred way to introduce myself.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
He nodded, then looked at the mess I’d made. “I can help you clean that up, if you like.”
Maybe they don’t have the “keep off the private spots” rule after all. My instinctive reaction was to refuse his help. I mean, yes, it was all his muscles that caused it, so maybe I should let him help. Yet of course, that logic was pretty lame. He probably caused traffic accidents just by walking down the sidewalk. And of course, despite my desperate state of confusion and mortification, inviting him up onto the deck would certainly give me the opportunity to get to know him better. And look at his muscles more.
Fucky, fucky, fuck. The man was my absolute fantasy.
I started to say something along the lines of, “well, if you insist,” when my better judgement prevailed. “Oh, that’s very kind of you. But really, I can handle this.”
He smiled politely. “Well, if you need anything, really….”
Anything? Oh… pleaseOhpleaseOhplease… “Thank you. You’re very kind.” And then I found something, brain-wise, for which I would forever thank the muscle-gods above. I said, “You all really keep this place looking so beautiful.” I made some kind of motion with either my eyes or my hands, or maybe a nod, that indicated the grounds.
“Oh, thank you, sir,” he smiled. He turned partially to acknowledge my comment, and the surrounding area.
Sir, again. Fucky, fucky, fuck. Did the guy want me to attack him right then and there? You’d better stop with the “sir” thing or we’re gonna have some major problems with my behavior. Socially unacceptable behavior problems, okay?
“Everything looks so nice.” (I wanted to add, from where I’m sitting… but I thought better of it.
“Well, we pride ourselves on keeping the highest standards.” Did he put a slight emphasis of the word pride?
“Well, it definitely shows.”
He nodded and gave a slight smile. AND WHERE THE HELL DID THOSE DIMPLES COME FROM?!
This was decidedly not fair. I knew at that moment my entire month of respite at my parent’s cabin was going to be a disaster. Perhaps, my whole life from that moment on was ruined. I mean, how in hell was I supposed to just go on… pretending that I was just vacationing like everyone else around me, when I knew with all certainty that I would be hopelessly unable to think of anything but this ultimate, huge muscleman?! I knew myself well enough to know that I’d be looking for this guy every waking moment: behind bushes, at the pool (do they let employees use the facilities?), on the bike paths, on the river, at the horse stables… I’d be looking for him, hoping to see him again. And of course, every sleeping moment I’d be dreaming (wet-dreaming) of what this demigod would look like with his shirt off.
“…I hope it’s okay.”
I visibly shook my head to get the cobwebs out. “Pardon?”
“Your Kindle there,” he smiled, “I was just saying that I hope it didn’t get too wet.”
I glanced down at it. It was drenched. Took the brunt of my muscle-shock convulsion. “Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said, picking it up. A dribble of brown fluid poured out of it. It had to be DOA. I held it up with thumb and forefinger, holding out my pinky. I looked at him sheepishly.
The guy started laughing. Dimples again. Snow-white, bright, perfect teeth. And a laugh that was a sexy combination of resonant, deep, and boyish. His entire aura of masculinity was transformed into a confident, musclebound presentation of rippling sinew and childlike innocence.
And I nearly came in my bathrobe.
The man was perfection. For some reason—well for obvious sexual-desire reasons—I didn’t at all mind his laughter.
“I’m… I’m sorry sir,” he said between laughs and giggles. “It’s just the way you held it up. Your expression…”
“Oh sure,” I chided. “Go ahead and laugh.” I chuckled while I set the device back down. “I really ought to send a bill to the resort for this,” I added.
He got serious. Yet, still chuckling, he asked with that childlike innocence, “Oh? Do you think the resort caused that?”
It must have been his humorous demeanor, but it was easy for me to continue with the friendly banter. “Why, I do. I mean, it was you—and all that…” I cocked my head and very obviously noted with my eyes his enormous, professional-caliber physique, “…that… that made me spill my coffee in the first place.” Oh shit. I’d just outed my lust over his body. Fuck.
“Me? I was just walking… out here… to inspect the sprinkler system, sir.” His expression turned somewhat serious, but there was still a glimmer in his eye.
Okay. Now I needed to decide where I was going with this. Did I dare continue to intimate how well-built he was? I remember once talking with a really good bodybuilder friend who said he, as a matter of course, had people mention his physique on a daily basis. True fact. So this guy had to be used to it, right? I decided to take my chances. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Besides, if I overtly admired his body, and he didn’t like that, he was an employee of the place, right? He couldn’t actually make an issue of it could he? He’d just say “good-day” and that’d be that, right?
So… “I understand that… um, I didn’t get your name…”
“Levi. Levi Broadacre, sir. Grounds Manager.”
“Nice to meet you Mr. Broadacre,” I said. “But I was trying to say, I understand that you have specific duties to perform there in the common area, but…” I raked my eyes over his big, taut body once again, “But… is it really necessary for you to wear clothes that… I mean… such tight-fitting… it’s just that…”
He was trying to stifle down a smile.
“Well, I’m just trying to say… you… I was, well… startled, that’s all.”
“I’m very sorry, sir,” he said. He looked down at the ground, all shucks and golly, and scuffed the grass.
“It’s Callum,” I said, “Callum Wannamaker. If you call me sir, I’m liable to treat you like I treat my little nephews. They call me “sir,” and I tend to spank their little asses when they misbehave.”
Levi’s eyes practically bugged out of his head.
Now it was my turn to laugh. Where the hell I found that burst of humor, I’ll never know. But again, we must give thanks to the muscle-gods that be.
“Pardon?” he gasped.
I practically guffawed. “That’s a joke, man. I don’t spank my nephews. Ever. I have been known to tickle them quite a bit though.”
He smiled and relaxed.
For the love of god I wanted him to ask me about tickling him. That was on the one hand. On the other hand, for the love of god I wanted him to just turn and get back to work so I could begin digging my own grave and just hide forever. I was once again mortified at my own actions and/or words. What the fuck was I thinking flirting with this stud-to-best-all-studs?
“Anyway, sir,” he blanched, catching himself, “I mean, Mr. Wannamaker…”
Fucky, fucky, fuck, the guy—muscles out to here, bigger than life itself, more lean and ripped than a skinless chicken—did not want to call me by my first name! And that was so I-kid-you-not-HOT!
“C—Callum. Yes, sir.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He smiled. And did I mention what his smile did to me? Yeah. Kill me. Please. Just do it. Get it over with.
“Callum, well… I don’t remember what I was saying. I’m sorry.”
What? The dude actually looked flustered! At a loss for words? It couldn’t be he was…
I interjected: “Something about… I think I mentioned your uniform… or something.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you,” he said, recovering from his nervousness. And again, I just gotta reiterate, seeing a muscle hunk—no, the muscle hunk of my dreams—get all rattled and nervous… it was the most profound moment of my life—up until then anyway. “I was just going to say… I mean, apologize… I mean, this is all they could find for me,” he said, looking down at his shirt. “It’s XXXL, and yet, as you can see…”
Yes, I can see…
“…it doesn’t… it doesn’t…”
“…leave much to the imagination?” I interjected.
“I was going to say… it doesn’t really fit very well,” he said with honest humility.
Ya think? You’re playin’ me, aren’t you. You’re standing there, all six-foot-seven-or-whatever—all 300+ pounds of pure, Grade-A beef muscle, with a face that any runway model would kill to have… playin’ all coy and demure and cute, just because you can, right?
The fucker totally had me. I nearly melted into a pool of butter. Or whatever. I dunno. Don’t confuse me right now.
I wanted to jump off the deck and rape the sonofabitch. I wanted him to jump up onto the deck and rape me!! (And the reader needs to know that I never, ever use more than one exclamation point, okay?!)
“…truly just want to make sure you’re alright.”
“I was just saying, sir—I mean, Mr. Wa…” he actually inhaled deeply, then sighed, as if it was really difficult for him: “Callum,” he said with stress at the effort. “I want to make sure you’re okay, and I sincerely want to apologize for the mess I caused… I caused you.”
I sighed too. Then smiled. “Dude, I want you to forget all about this, okay? I was just making chitchat. I don’t hold you liable for my reaction to your… I mean… I don’t know what I mean, but truly… it’s all okay, okay?”
He smiled. “Okay. Thanks.”
And now… were we done? Was I releasing him? Was he free to go?
Noooooo! Think of something to say! Something to keep him here!
“Are you from Portland?” he asked from out of the blue.
FUCK YES! I mean… he wanted to continue the conversation! Oh, yes! Those gods were indeed looking down on me. “Oh, well, yeah. Gresham, actually,” I said, once again thanking said gods for words that worked.
“Really? I went to Reynolds,” he said.
“High School? Really?” I started kicking myself for not following high school sports more carefully. The guy must have been the entire offensive—or maybe defensive—line for the Raiders’ football team while he was there. “What year were you?”
“Class of ’17.”
He was three years younger than me? And he looked like that?
Dude, wherever you’re getting your roids from, they should be using you as their poster boy. Yet he really looked so… nice… not roided out. So well-proportioned. So… well, natural, if that were possible.
“Wow,” I said. “I mean… I don’t remember hearing… I mean, you had to have played football, right?” And why, actually, had we started discussing our personal pasts?
He shrugged. And don’t get me started about those traps and deltoids. And his thick neck. Fuck. “Naw, I didn’t.”
“Oh. I mean… you didn’t? I mean… I guess I understand. But…” Somewhere there must be a football coach who went insane because he wasn’t able to recruit this man.
“Oh, I just liked individual sports more. Started out in track. Then, well, I started working out in the gym… originally to train for shot-put, but then, I got the weightlifting bug.”
“Ah, well, yeah.” I ran my eyes up and down all those bulging muscles again. “Apparently so.”
And then there was an awkward silence. Where to take the convo…? Do I move forward in verbally ogling his body? Do I let it go?
“Well, I should probably get back to work,” he said.
Fuck. And I had nothing to say.
“But… please, C—Callum,” he continued, “do let me know if I can help you at all. I really feel bad about…” he looked at the dead Kindle and the puddle of coffee. “…that.”
“No worries, Levi. It was nice to meet you.”
He smiled. “Thanks. Nice to meet you too, Callum.”
When he said it, without hesitation like that, it was like velvet wrapping around my ears. Callum. I had no idea my name was so beautiful. Having heard him say it, I would never think about my name in the same way again.
He started to turn, and once again I was treated to a profile view of an arm and a protruding pectoral plate that made me want to cry. How was I ever going to survive, now that I’d seen—and talked to—this?! Then he gave me the full-on view of his back side. His shoulders were so freakin’ wide; his lats were insane; his waist was insaner!* So small! His ass… well we could stop this little yarn right here and now, thinking about those round globes of gluteal muscle! I’m outta here, okay?!
And those legs! How had I missed them?! I think each of his quads must have been bigger than his waist!
I nearly leapt off the deck after him.
But as it turned out, I didn’t need to. He stopped, almost mid-stride. He turned around to face me, and I was instantly grateful that I hadn’t yet burst into tears at his leaving.
“Can I ask you a question, Callum?” he smiled.
“I was wondering if you’re still experiencing any problems with your shower drain in the loft bathroom.”
“Oh? Drain problems? I’m not sure what you…”
“Yeah. We refitted the drain in your shower last month,” he said, turning fully toward me again. “Your parents, maybe? I know you weren’t here.”
“Oh, yeah. Maybe so. I mean, my Mom & Dad didn’t mention anything about it though. So I suppose they were… I mean… I guess everything was… is… working fine now.”
“Well, good. I remember assigning our plumber to follow-up, and his report said the problem had been resolved.”
“Oh, good,” I smiled. “Like I said, my parents didn’t mention anything.”
He nodded. “Well, that’s good. I’m glad it’s working well.” He paused and thought for a moment, then said, “But if you wanted me to follow up and take a look again… just to make sure it’s okay, I’d be happy….”
“Oh, I don’t think that’d be necess…” What the fuck was I thinking? I stopped myself mid-word and made the necessary correction: “But you know, better safe than sorry, I guess.”
“Yes. Is there a time I could come and take a look? If you want, I mean….”
“Sure. I mean, yes. Um… When are you… I mean….”
“Actually, it’d probably need to be after my regular shift,” he said. “My days are usually pretty full. I’d need to come and inspect it… maybe in the early evening?”
“That’d be no problem at all, actually. Whenever it works for you. I’m on vacation,” (Duh), “so my evenings are totally free.”
“Cool. Well, actually I get off at 5:30 tonight. I could stop by after that.”
“Oh, I really don’t want you to come over after you’re off the clock or anything.”
“Oh, no, man. It’s totally okay,” he said, taking a few steps toward me. “It’s nothing. And if I do an inspection, I can turn it in for overtime. So really, it’s all part of the job, Callum.”
If he had driven me crazy by calling me “sir,” he was going to make me certifiable if I heard my name come off his lips one more time.
“Well that’s cool,” I smiled. “If you want to come over this evening, I’ll be sure to be here. Any time after 5:30, then?”
His face lifted. “Yes. I’ll plan on that then.”
“You have a great day then, Callum. I’ll see you this evening.”
Great day? Ya think?
He turned with a smile and walked away.
I watched. Intently. Fuck, those lats and shoulders. That ASS.
After he was out of sight, I ran inside, closed the deck doors, double-staired it to my bedroom loft, and within moments I was spraying the bathroom mirror with semen. My climax was so powerful that it hurt. It hurt soooo good. Goddamn, that Levi was the muscle man of my dreams.
And he was planning on coming over, that evening.
* Don’t start. In view of how fried my brain was in the presence of this god, I make no apology for any and all errors of grammar, spelling, or actual existence (or lack thereof) of actual words.
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