THE COMPLETE SERIES
by Sean Reid Scott • First published years ago
NOTICE: This story contains vivid descriptions of homosexual encounters.
There's lurid, kinky sex here. Homo sex. It's prolly straight out of HELL, if you're inclined to hold the religious perspective.
Really, this story is not for those who button the collar tightly.
If you can't stomach this kind of smut, skedaddle. Likewise if you're under 18.
SPECIAL NOTE: This isn’t my great novel. Far from it.
It’s merely a gay muscle fantasy that I wrote years ago.
No deep character development. No deep plot. Just deep homosex.
ALL 12 CHAPTERS
by Sean Reid Scott
he bench press contest was pretty much like all of the others I had seen in the past. Maybe this one wasn’t as well organized as others, but as far as the competitors go, it looked run-of-the-mill. This one, though, was taking place right before a state bodybuilding contest. They had set up a stage area at one end of the high school cafeteria where the benchers would do their thing, and afterward the bodybuilding contest would start in the auditorium.
Having the bodybuilding contest coincide with the bench contest did draw a slightly different crowd. There were quite a few guys who were more concerned with form over function, which certainly added to the enjoyment of anyone who might be interested in muscle eye-candy. There’s nothing quite like walking around and eyeing hugely muscled guys in tight-fitting T-shirts.
My buddy and I stood to one end of the cafeteria, he watching the various babes-- some deeply tanned and obviously there for the women’s figure competition, and some there hanging on the over-developed arms of their boyfriends, trophies for the musclemen to display to their peers. Undoubtedly, some of these trophy babes were in place just to ward off any guys who might get the wrong idea about the sexual orientation of said muscleman. Truth be told, however, in my experience almost every bodybuilder occasionally dabbles in “the other side” of things to some extent. Some more than others, for sure-- but you’d be surprised at how easy it is to start up a conversation with a dedicated muscleman, and with the right mixture of flirtation and out-and-out admiration, develop a friendship that can lead to much more. Every man has his “price,” as they say, and it’s not necessarily tied to a monetary value-- but even then, it’s only money, right?
Okay, where was I... Oh yeah, my buddy kept ogling the well-built women, while I, on the other hand, didn’t bother myself with such mundane, common things. Unbeknownst to my companion that morning (I guess you could consider him my best friend; he’s my workout partner, and a really cool dude) he and I were each enjoying ourselves in quite different ways.
Shit, there were some really built dudes there.
I’ve made a lifetime out of observing bodybuilders. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to classify me as addicted to muscle. Yeah, I’ll freely admit that. But unlike those people who are addicted to drugs or alcohol, I refuse to attend meetings to break my addiction. I don’t need a cure. I need more. The bigger, and more ripped, the better. Oh, yeah, and the guy has to be handsome. Big muscles without good looks is like cake with no frosting.
Occasionally, some really well-built dude would pass by Evan (my buddy) and me, and after he passed, one of us would nudge the other and comment either favorably or un. For example, “He walks like he has something up his ass,” or, “Fuck, look at his lats-- freakin’ wide as a tank.” I always find it interesting that even the straightest of guys (Evan) can’t help but evaluate other guys’ based on their appearance. Makes you wonder...
The bench competition was just starting when at the other end of the cafeteria, he walked in. Like I said, I’ve spent a lifetime at powerlifting and bodybuilding contests, and have downloaded and filed gigabytes of pictures and movies of musclemen. So, to see someone who ratchets up my stomach into one big knot-- someone who literally makes me hold my breath, well, it’s a pretty cold day in Havana when that happens. But as he rounded the corner, and my eyes caught the outline of his physique, I could swear I heard audible reactions from people in the crowd.
Although he was clear on the other side of the room, he was walking straight toward Evan and me, and there was no one blocking the view. He was fuckin’ unreal. Well over six feet tall, he was blessed with genetics that would make any aspiring bodybuilder weep. But it was obvious that this Herculean muscleman was not content to rest on his genetic foundation. No, his physique had been tortured, pushed, worked and forced to the limit of its unbelievable potential. His clothes hugged the friggin’ hugest, most well-defined body I think I might have ever seen in person. And that’s saying a lot.
His T-shirt was tan, and his shoulders, arms and chest looked like they had been taken right out of some bodybuilding magazine and stuffed inside it. The whole upper body was capped with this fire-hydrant neck that rose out of thick traps forming a head that was perfectly crowned with a camouflage patterned baseball cap. Still far off, on the other side of the room, the outline of his physique, with that mountainous deltoid-arm-chest combination tapering into jeans that couldn’t have been bigger than the combined circumference of his forearms-- it was enough to cause Evan to softly gasp, “Holy shit.”
He kept walking through the room.
Like I’ve said, I’ve seen a lot of well-built guys. And, I’ve read a lot of bodybuilding articles, as well as a bunch of fantasy stories about musclemen on the web. And it’s difficult to avoid cliches when describing muscular physiques-- I’ll admit that. But you gotta believe me when I say it, this guy’s legs looked more like tree trunks than most tree trunks do.
And yet, despite all of this powerful pulchritude, this guy didn’t strut when he walked. He easily could have, if he wanted. In fact, I bet he probably had to practice not strutting. It’s the bane of bodybuilders (or, for some, maybe it’s their pride) that guys with overdeveloped lat muscles have to stick their arms out to the side, and when they walk, it really makes them look like they’re strutting. But Camo Hat, as Evan and I immediately began to refer to him) didn’t strut. Nor did he saunter. He-- he just walked. As naturally as you or I would.
Confidence? Of course. Over-confidence? Not a hint. He wasn’t scanning the crowd to see who was looking, although had he chosen to do so, he would have been rewarded with dozens of admiring eyes-- which, again, says a lot, considering the exposure the audience had to muscle. Yeah, he won the informal “who has the best body among the bodybuilders” competition that morning. Hands down. You could almost feel the other bodybuilders hang their heads when he entered the room.
He was probably about halfway into the room when he stopped and greeted some people he obviously knew. It was at this point that I realized that I had not been breathing. I let out a loud breath of air and drew in another. Camo Hat’s friends made obvious references to his build, and although I couldn’t hear their words, it was easy to insert phrases alongside their gestures to his guns, shoulders and legs. He turned to the side and engaged in conversation. His T-shirt fit perfectly-- not too tight, as if to brag-- but just, perfectly. As he stood facing my left, his hands down to his side, I could see that his triceps formed rippling horseshoe divots, even relaxed!
That cap fit his head perfectly.
His chest was deliciously formed-- thick, beefy and shaped perfectly.
And then, I was finally able to convince my eyes to finally dislodge from his delicious proportions and to move upward. It was here that I discovered, to the delight and motivation of my hard-on, that the dimples in his triceps gorgeously mimicked the dimples in his cheeks as he smiled.
I thought I was going to die.
He slightly turned his head toward me, to address one of his buddies on his left. I could see his face almost full-on. Fuck. Those dimples formed bookends for the most pleasant, perfect smile you can imagine.
Was there anything about this guy that needed improvement?
How one man could have that body, and that face, all in one virile, adorable package-- it was just a crying shame. I bet he had used up all of the musclehunk genes in the pool, and it would take millennia of human evolution for mankind to get back to normal levels.
Okay, maybe he could have been a little taller. But realistically, if I were the One creating this guy, I would have made him just the way he was.
Evan, despite his obvious fascination with Camo Hat, turned his attention back to the female sector, although I found it interesting to note that he frequently shot a glance in the direction of Camo Hat, probably just to make sure the guy was actually real. Indeed, every time I looked away, and then back, I found myself arguing vehemently with my eyes that what they were seeing wasn’t really possible. But they kept insisting.
And in fact, as I found my gaze constantly returning to Camo Hat’s body, I continuously had to stop, and actually remind myself to take a breath. He was that stunning. I told myself that morning that it was entirely possible that I could look at this guy forever and never tire of his image. The wrenching feeling in my stomach wouldn’t subside.
I really don’t know what more to say about this guy. I mean, I’ve tried to find the words in my mind to describe other guys over the years, and I’ve pretty much used up every possible adjective, not to mention every alternate noun I could find in the thesaurus to rename gigantic body parts. But this guy would break the dictionary. Don’t bother looking up the words; use any ones you want. They would probably never rise to the occasion of describing Camo Hat.
He smiled again, as he talked to his friends. And his dimples and teeth made my cock involuntarily jump. Fuck, that face, so solidly mounted on that neck-to-die-for, bounded by those boulder-like trapezius muscles-- I ached. Literally, my body ached for him.
I feared, though, that if he were to say even just a few words to me, I would fall at his feet in a heap of whimpering, quivering ejaculating, adolescent-like muscle-worship. It wouldn’t be pretty.
Evan nudged my arm with his elbow, and said, “I’m going to do some walking around. See you in a bit.” He obviously had his eye on a female bodybuilding competitor. I never knew that about Evan. I mean, he often talked about girls, and his conquests were frequent topics of conversation during our workouts; but I didn’t know he had it bad for muscle girls. But who cared. I felt a certain relief when he left; now I wouldn’t have to be self-conscious about where my eyes were glued. Not that I was really even thinking about that.
The bench competition continued, but I’d be hard-pressed to tell you anything about what was happening on the stage. My attention was hopelessly transfixed on the Herculean/Adonis physique that stood about 50 feet in front of me. Even from that distance, his dominating silhouette had invaded my psyche, and had rendered me impotent to resist his muscular presence.
Occasionally, I diverted my attention to the contest, just so that I could justify my presence in the room. But really, I wasn’t in the room. I was in bed with Camo Hat, feeling every rippling ridge of his rock-hard physique in a fantasy that couldn’t ever come true...
But as I returned my eyes to the body that they seemed made to examine, I was jolted from fantasy to reality. Somehow, some way, as if the gods were conspiring to bless me beyond comprehension, I came to realize that Camo Hat was-- and this is really unbelievable-- he was actually looking at me.
He was looking at me?
I averted my glance, but my eyes involuntarily returned to their fixation.
Yeah. Confirmed. He was looking at me.
Then his attention returned to his conversation with his friend. But even though he was engaged in talk, he continued to glance my way-- so much so that his friend even had to turn around and look to see who it was that Camo Hat was looking at.
I actually turned around to see if there was someone behind me that he was smiling at.
It had to be me. He was looking at me.
And, yeah, he did seem to smile as he did it-- not overtly, but it was definitely a pleasant look.
My heart began pounding in my chest. I immediately focussed my attention on the contest. I could feel my body temperature rising-- maybe even my face was flushing. I held my attention steadfast on the bench pressers, watching a few of them struggling to get either into or out of their powerlifting shirts. Powerlifters are not normally known for their stunning physiques-- they’re usually just big and fat. Sure, there are a few exceptions, but they are rare. So, watching the powerlifters did a good job at loosening my erection and reducing the protrusion in my pants.
I glanced over at him again, just to see. And, yeah; he was looking at me again-- or still-- I don’t know which.
Back to the bench pressers.
But in the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I didn’t need to look in that direction to see that Camo Hat had abandoned his conversation and was walking toward me.
Look straight ahead. Watch the lifters. Watch the crowd. Don’t look at him.
It wasn’t possible.
Camo Hat walked toward me, but his gait and direction, being ever-so-slightly off to my left, told me that he wasn’t actually walking to me.
There was a set of restrooms behind me. That’s it. Camo Hat, in all of his male muscularity, was going to take a piss. That’s where he was going.
And it was. But-- as he passed within inches of me (and he didn’t really need to get that close) he looked me right in the eyes and smiled. He nodded his head in a kind of guy-to-guy “How’s it goin’” male greeting. And he passed me. God, I swear I could feel the wind in his wake wrap around my body and give it a good squeeze. Holy fuck. Without even touching me, he invaded me with this other-worldly “close encounter” kind of connection, and I could feel my organs begin to dissolve.
My knees went weak, and I had to sit down for fear of falling. Literally. Just walking close to me, he sapped me of all my strength. I found myself placing my face in my hands, and I made like I was stretching, or trying to ward off boredom-- just so people wouldn’t know that I had nearly fainted. As I rubbed my face, his face filled my mind.
They were the most electric, glowing brown eyes I had ever seen. Like golden-tinted agates lit from behind.
Eventually, I regained my composure, and stood back up, facing the bench pressers again. Of course my radar was at full sensitivity, earnestly seeking any sign of Camo’s emergence from the restroom. I couldn’t just turn around and watch the men’s room door, so I had to keep on alert to see when he would walk past me again on his return trip to his buddies.
But the expected rush of wind that would break way as his rock-hard frame moved by, never happened. Instead, to my horror (and delight, although that emotion was repressed deep under the stark raving fear that immediately gripped me) I noticed a presence standing beside me. On my left. Just standing there. He was facing the same direction as I was, watching a competitor situate himself on the bench in preparation for his lift.
Camo Hat had stopped to stand next to me, to watch the competition.
Before I could even re-teach myself how to swallow, his mouth started to move and words began coming out. He was still looking at the bencher, not at me. But he was obviously talking to me.
“P- Pardon me?” I said. I’m surprised I was even able to get comprehensible words out at all.
“What’s he lifting?” he repeated, motioning his gigantic, rippling arm upward for just a second, toward the guy on the bench.
“Oh, uh... I’m not sure. The last guy did something like 450 pounds, but I didn’t hear them announce what this guy is doing.” I think my brain was totally infused with adrenaline or something, because for the life of me, I can’t figure out how I was able to manage any kind of composure. I must have just kicked in to instinct mode or something-- I was probably in shock, actually. As I had blurted out those words, I glanced at him, just to make some kind of visual contact-- and to verify who it was. Yeah. Shit. Forget everything I’ve said about how powerful he looked. Everything. Just take it all and multiply it times two. When he’s right next to you, you realize that standing within a foot or so of your body is probably enough physical power to overtake an army of strongmen-- with one arm tied behind his back.
He didn’t say anything, and momentarily the announcer on the stage repeated the amount of weight that the guy would be attempting: 485 pounds.
“Man, he looks kinda small to be doing that kind of weight,” Camo Hat said.
I mean, come on. I was racking my brain to find more words to say, but there just weren’t any in there.
The guy went through his pre-lift ritual of gripping the bar, moving his butt up and down the bench, gripping the bar again, clapping his hands together and yelling, and then finally gripping the bar and holding on to it. His body stiffened, and he signaled his spotter to unrack the weight. The whole process looked pretty shaky. The bar leaned to one side as he lowered it. He eventually balanced it, and the judge okayed the depth of the descent, and he began pressing the weight upward. It was a real struggle. The audience began yelling and cheering their encouragement, but it was to no avail. His progress stopped, and the spotters kicked in, lifting and moving the weight to the rack.
The crowd applauded his attempt politely, as a consolation.
“He needs to arc it more.”
I looked at Camo Hat and said, “How’s that?”
“Arc,” he said. “When you lower and lift the bar, you don’t want to lift it straight up and down.” He brought his arms up and with his hands at his chest, made like he was holding an imaginary bar. He pushed away from his chest, and lifted them in a half “C” motion, his hands were at eye-level when he finished the motion. “You bring the bar up in an arc. It’s moves more fluidly that way. It’s really a technique-dependent sport,” he said. His arms were still straight out in front of him, and the freakish divot of his triceps horseshoe lazily indented itself right there in front of my face. Fuuuuck.
He slowly lowered his arms when he decided I had absorbed all I could of his gigantic guns, and I swear he fought to keep the corners of his mouth from curling upward.
“I take it you have had some experience with weights,” I said, allowing my eyes to move from his arms to his chest and shoulders.
I could feel my knees get weak again. Shit. No! You can’t sit down! Hold on! Hold ON! I gritted my teeth and drew in a deep breath.
All the while I was fighting the blackout, Camo Hat had erupted in a hearty laugh. It wasn’t an egotistical kind of thing-- I think I just must have had a subtle sarcastic tone in my voice when I eyed his muscles.
Oh gawd. That smile! Those dimples! Holy mother fuck! He was so gorgeous! And I had made him laugh!
Let me die now. There is no more for me. My life is complete.
I had made him laugh. He thought I was funny. He looked at me. He talked to me. He stopped to stand next to me! What more could life bring me.
“Yeah, I guess I’ve spent a little time in the gym,” he smiled.
“Ya think?” I smiled, once again, eyeing his physique.
He seemed really pleased with me. Why, I’ll never know. I mean, he must have hordes of people go gaga over his body. Why he found my little routine anything new or interesting is beyond me. He extended his hand and said, “I’m Cam.”
Okay, first of all, the name. Cam? Was this some kind of strange coincidence? Or did he actually know that people would make the connection from his hat to his name? Okay, and second, his extended hand (and attached, freakin’ thick forearm, anchored to his cannon ball shoulder by a vein-lined biceps muscle that looked bigger than most guys’ thighs). I must have still been in shock mode, because I found myself shaking it; and the grip was firm and warm. Very warm.
Uh, excuse me, Cam, but could I go swimming in the palm of your hand please?
Those glowing agates again. They held all of the wealth of the Egyptian Pharaohs in their glow. Autumn must originate somewhere within them, and once a year they release their golden heat to set the hillsides on fire, extending the conflagration throughout the earth, to transform the hemisphere to the oranges, browns, yellows and reds of the season. I could see all of those colors in his eyes.
And still we shook.
“And you are?”
Oh, god! What was my name!? I scanned the deep recesses of my mind, hoping to find it. Oh shit, what was that damn name?! “Oh, Matt,” I finally said. With that, Cam released my hand. He wasn’t going to let it go until he got a name out of me.
“Glad to meet you, Matt,” he smiled. Did I mention his teeth? I think I did. Yeah, I know I did.
Perfect, white, and mind-numbingly gorgeous.
Especially when you note that they are bordered by those knee-weakening dimples.
Oh god, not the weak knees again.
“Yeah. Uh, Cam--” I looked at the cap and said, “Is your camouflage hat a subtle reference to your name?”
He smiled again; it was an appreciative smile, as if he was glad that I had gotten it. His brown eyes looked up at the bill of his cap (it was white underneath) and said, “Not many people make the connection.” He raised his eyebrows, again as a sign that he was impressed with me, and smiled once again.
How I wanted to say something about those dimples.
“But it get’s better,” he added. “My last name is Hattrick,” he smiled. “Cameron Hattrick at your service.”
Camo Hat. Cameron Hattrick. The guy was just gorgeous in his fascinating humor. What a play on words...
“Well, if we’re going to play word-association to remember your name, I hope you don’t mind if I accidentally call you Aircraft Carrier or something like that,” I said. God, I was proud of myself with that one.
Again, Cam’s face lit up and he laughed. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that was so loud that would make everyone in the room turn their heads (they were already turned anyway-- believe me), but it was just a genuine, deeply-held, heartfelt laugh. He appreciated a quick wit, I could tell. “Aircraft Carrier,” he grinned. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before.”
“AC for short,” I continued.
He smiled again. “AC. I like that.”
Now, if I could only bring my fighter jet in for a landing on his deck...
We talked further, and I’m not sure which was more impressive to me-- that he stood there and engaged me in conversation, or that I was actually able to converse back.
There was a guy there-- I don’t remember his name-- who was kind of a special “guest” lifter. He was a world-class bench presser, and most of the guys there had come just to see him. At the end of the competition, when it came his time to lift-- he was going to do 975 pounds-- the bar was bending quite a bit from the weight of the discs.
Cam and I watched quietly, as did the rest of the room. His spotters unracked the bar on his command, and he held it there just a second before slowly lowering it. The bar bent as the weights bounced up and down. When he got it low enough, he heard the okay from one of the judges and started pressing up. With a loud roar, he pressed it up and racked it. The room erupted into loud cheers and applause, whistling and hollering.
“That’s impressive,” Cam said to me. He kept applauding and then brought his fingers into his mouth and blew a whistle-- his dimples deepening as he did it. He watched with a surprising mix of admiration and self confidence.
Impressive? Well, yeah. He seemed to genuinely respect the feat we just witnessed, and yet he wasn’t about to do cartwheels over it. His confidence was overwhelming to me.
Like I said before, I’ve been to many powerlifting and many bodybuilding competitions. But just standing next to Cam during that bench competition was the hottest thing I had ever experienced. Except, what happened next.
“You staying for the bodybuilding?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
With that, it was just kind of decided that we would go in and find seats together. His buddy who was competing didn’t do too well, and to tell the truth, the show was kind of boring. For one thing, most of it was taken up with women-- the fitness and the figure competition went on forever! Cam didn’t seem to mind it, though.
Evan had found a girl to sit with-- whether it was the first, second, third or a subsequent prospect he had attempted, I don’t know. But he had found someone.
And so had I.
“Shit, man,” Cam said when it was over. “I’m starving. Wanna catch a bite?”
Oh yeah. This was getting unreal. Sure, I guess I presented a pretty macho demeanor, but I never really expected someone of Cameron’s caliber to accept me as such.
We found our cars and I followed his FJ Cruiser to a Subway® nearby. He walked in before me, and I found myself doing something I often found myself doing whenever I encounter a gorgeous muscleman in public: I watched the other people to see how they reacted to his presence.
And I was treated to more second-glances (at Cam, not me, of course), whispers of astonishment and downright stares than I had ever seen.
Cam turned around to me, as if he was totally oblivious to what effect he was having on the room of people eating their meals. “You know what you want?” It was such a turn-on to be with a guy like this in public! It was as if my self-worth had just jumped off the scale because I was standing next to, and talking to Cam. We were friends. We were together.
“Yeah,” I said. “I usually get the turkey club.”
We stood patiently, and I was overwhelmed again with his build. His enormous chest! Man, his pecs hung out over his rib cage like the eaves of a roof stick out from a house! They were thick, muscular mounds of meat, perfectly shaped and hugged tightly by his T-shirt.
There was only one guy in front of us, and as soon as he was done, Cam let me go first and I ordered. Then he stepped forward and told the awestruck kid behind the counter that he wanted two foot-long sandwiches, both with extra meat. I kept enjoying the attention Cam was getting; the audience was very appreciative. We found a booth and settled in to eat our meal.
Before we had finished, not one but two guys came up to Cam (at different times) and asked him if he competed. He was very friendly and polite, even going out of his way to extend the conversation with them.
“Do you get that often?” I asked after the second guy had left.
“Every day,” he smiled as he swallowed a bit of his sandwich.
We ate some more and then I said, “You ever get tired of it?”
“Having people come up to you and asking about your development...” I said.
He smiled. “Naw. An appreciative public never hurt anyone.”
“Wow. That must be awesome,” I said admiringly.
“It is kind of cool. But I bet most bodybuilders will tell you that, secretly, they enjoy any attention they get for their efforts,” he said.
Chewing my bite down, I said, “I bet you get more than most bodybuilders do.”
He smiled those two dimples at me and I swear I could have swooned.
“So, what do you do for a living?” I finally asked.
“I’m going to school right now-- well, during the school year,” he said.
I tried to draw out more information. “Studying...”
“Veterinary medicine,” he said.
“You’re going to be a vet?” I smiled.
For some reason that just sat well with me. I could imagine him taming even the most difficult animal. Shit. Not only does he have the body, he’s got brains! “How much school do you have left?”
“One more year and I’ll have my DVM.”
“Really? Wow. I guess I thought you looked a little younger than that.” Cam’s development obviously had to be the result of years and years of hard training, but his face and skin belied that, and it did seem a difficult contradiction to reconcile: How could someone so freakishly huge and developed (and ripped) look so young?
“I’m 22,” he said, matter-of-factly, as he took the first bite out of his second sandwich.
“So... how can you already be getting your veterinary doctor’s degree?”
He smiled as he chewed his food. “I graduated from high school a little early. I guess you could say I’ve always been on the accelerated track.”
“It’s people like you who make the rest of us want to kill ourselves,” I said stoically.
I had done it again. Cam laughed with his whole body; it wasn’t loud-- no, as a matter of fact he was pretty quiet. But his whole body tightened and rocked as he genuinely found my comment (and delivery, if I do say so myself) very funny. He put his fist to his mouth to control himself, even making like he was working at not choking on his food. “Sorry man,” he grinned as he brought himself to composure, “but I can’t be responsible for the problems of others.” He took another bite and swallowed it, then said, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful,” -- a cliche that fit him to a tee.
“Or because you’re hyper-intelligent.”
“Don’t forget rich,” he smiled.
“Oh brother,” I moaned, then smiled.
He grinned again.
“Shit, man. I hope you graduate with a huge debt from your tuition costs. It’s just not fair otherwise.”
Well, this kind of smack talk went on for awhile, and I found myself thinking that Cam and I had quickly formed a close friendship. He must have thought so too, because before we parted ways, we had made arrangements to get together the next day.
Cam had a wedding to go to that night, and so wasn’t going to be able to go to the evening show of the bodybuilding competition. A high school buddy of his had asked him to be his best man. Visions of Cam in a tux made my head spin.
I had planned on going to the evening show, but suddenly I had lost the urge. Besides, as I mentioned earlier, the morning show was pretty boring and I didn’t expect the evening show to be any different. It’s hard to get excited over looking at a normal bodybuilder when you’ve just spent the morning with Atlas himself.
I drove home to my hot townhouse and cursed myself for not drawing the shades before I had left. I closed them, but the damage had already been done. It was going to be a hot afternoon, both inside and out.
• • • • •
The digital clock on the wall clicked from 8:59 to 9:00. Beads of perspiration on my forehead formed into droplets and coursed down over my temples. I got up from the couch and turned down the TV. I opened the blinds and windows, hoping for some kind of evening breeze to come wafting through my place.
There was a slight breeze, but the relief wasn’t nearly as much as I needed. The air conditioning was scheduled to be installed in a week-- they had a backlog from all the demand-- and I was counting the hours.
My cell phone began to ring. The caller ID said CAM, whose name and number I had entered when we exchanged information at the Subway shop. Immediately my heart quickened. Why would he be calling me?
I answered, and was greeted by Cam, “Hey, is this His Mattliness?”
The moniker caught me off guard, but I quickly understood. “Uh, yeah. That’s His Royal Mattliness to you.”
Cam laughed. “Just blew out of the wedding, dude. What are you up to?”
“Oh, probably about 150 pounds less than you,” I smiled.
He laughed again. “I bet you’re just wasting away the evening on the couch with the remote in your hand.”
“Almost correct,” I said. “But I decline to tell you exactly what’s in my hand. I’d have to kill ya.”
“Whoa!” he laughed. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything!”
“Nothing that I can’t resume later,” I said. It was good to be able to broach this kind of subject. Made it good for later, I thought. Maybe we could... you know... talk about those things more freely. Who knows.
“Cool, dude. You want to grab something to eat? I’m starved!”
Oh man. I think I was falling in love with this guy. He wanted to be with me! “You just came from a wedding man! Didn’t they feed you?”
“Hell yeah, they did,” he said, “but the reception dinner was two hours ago. I’m famished! You in?”
“Sure, man. What are you thinking about getting?”
Within fifteen minutes his FJ Cruiser was in front of my townhouse and I was out the door, climbing in the passenger side of his rig.
Cam was still in his tux. Holy fuck, he looked unbelievable.
“Shit, you clean up good!” I said.
“Thanks,” he said as he pulled away from the curb.
“I feel a little under dressed,” I said. “But you did say we were going to get Teriyaki, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. You think they’ll mind the tux? I feel a little self conscious,” he said.
Now it was my turn to laugh a barrel. “Yeah, right. Dude, there’s no way in hell you could ever go into a public place without generating stares. I saw what happened at Subway when we walked in.”
Cam turned to me and smiled broadly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Shit, it’s hard being so huge.”
“And good looking.”
We both laughed at our ability to banter back and forth so easily.
Without his baseball cap, I could see his hair better. He had it cut in a short, almost military cut. The shape of his head was-- what else-- perfect. His ears stuck out just right, and I was overcome with his masculine virility.
The food was really good. Apparently Cam knew all of the good places to get chicken. And, like the scene at Subway earlier that day, Cam’s presence was a show-stopper. When he had finished his two entrees, we piled back into his rig.
“Hey man, I’m beat,” Cam said as he pointed his Cruiser in the direction of my place. “And I just gotta get out of this tux. Thanks for grabbing some food with me. It’s better than eating alone, dude.”
“Shit, thanks for calling, man,” I said. “Anytime you need an eating buddy....”
• • • • •
I lied on my bed, staring at the ceiling; the lone sheet covering me was quickly discarded, and my sweaty (yet well-built) naked body glistened as the moonlight bathed it in a blue-white glow. An imaginary Cam stood at the foot of my bed, wearing his tan T-shirt and jeans from the morning. I tickled my steel-hard rod as he slowly started lifting his shirt.
But before my fantasy man even had his shirt all the way off, without even pressing down on my penis, I started erupting a rush of white, creamy ejaculate, squirting it up onto my chest. My whole body bucked with each throb of my cock, and between my ecstatic groans I could hear the jizz hit my torso. Fuck. I had never cum without pressing.
Cam smiled, and his dimples looked so cute. Too innocently, with a coy, almost shy, expression, he said, “Did I make you do that?”
Sunday morning came soon enough; I hadn’t slept well because of the heat, and immediately upon rising I planned out an early bedtime for that night. If only I could find some place cool.
I made my coffee and my usual bowl of cereal with a banana sliced on top, and sat down at my computer. I had retired from my job as a beer delivery driver about a year earlier and had started up a web design business. It seemed to fit me well, considering how much time I spent on the ‘net “enjoying” myself as I would watch musclemen. And I seemed to have an aptitude for HTML; my only regret was that I hadn’t retired earlier. The money I was making now was a lot better than I had done driving a beer truck. But still, the retirement check from my pension was real nice too, and if I hadn’t stuck it out ‘til the end, I wouldn’t have that. But where was I; isn’t this supposed to be a hot muscleman story? Sorry.
I checked my emails, my favorite muscle sites to see if they had been updated, and then my news page to see if anything important had happened overnight.
I spent about an hour doing maintenance work on some sites for clients, and then ran back upstairs and jumped in the shower.
Cam and I had decided to meet at Starbucks at 11:00. In keeping with my voyeuristic nature, I decided to get there at 10:45, and watch the crowd to see the reaction Cam generated upon his arrival. I brought my laptop and surfed the web (positioning myself in a corner so the screen couldn’t be seen by any curious onlookers), also taking some time to continue writing my latest muscleman story (it’s about a construction worker who is also a bodybuilder, who is watched by a guy in the apartment building next to the construction site... but more about that later).
Anyway, when Cam’s Toyota rig pulled into the parking lot, and he got out, I was not disappointed in the reaction of the latte sipping crowd in the store. As he walked in, wearing shorts and a white tank top (a wife-beater. I think they’re called), and that camouflage baseball cap of his, you could almost hear the gasps from admirers. Indeed, he was unbelievable. In fact, I was unable to continue my evaluation of the crowd as they took in his massively powerful physique because I was just overwhelmed by it myself. There were two people in front of him, in the line, so he waited patiently. The people in front of him were so intimidated by him that they almost just deferred to him and let him go ahead, but they somehow kept their wits about them and placed their order. Cam looked around the store, casually acknowledging the gawking stares and pleased astonishment of a few of the people. He smiled back, politely, then turned his attention to the case containing the cookies and muffins, etc. He honestly didn’t seem like he wanted to make a scene, but one has to ask how he would ever expect to not, given the way he was built, and dressed.
Finally, he ordered a Frappacino® and moved to wait for his order. It was at this point that he spotted me and his face lit up, his adorable dimples melting me as if it were the first time I had ever seen them.
He walked over to me. “Dude, why didn’t you say something to me?” he grinned.
“Just wanted to play it cool, man,” I replied. “Do you have any idea the kind of reaction you get when you walk into a place like this, looking like that?” I asked.
He sluffed off the question, waving his hand as if it were an irrelevant topic.
The female barista announced his order and he retrieved his drink and sat down at my table. “What you got there?” he said, looking at my computer. “You bring your work with you today?”
Smiling, I said, “Naw, I just decided to get here a little early and do some web surfing and a little writing.”
“Cool,” he said, taking his first drink of his concoction. “You must come here often?”
“Yeah, they know me by name here,” I smiled.
I closed the lid on my laptop and we both took more sips on our straws. His dimples indented when he did that, too.
“So dude,” he said. “Whatcha wanna do today?”
“I don’t know... we could do a movie. I’ve wanted to see that John Cusak movie, ‘1408,’” I said.
“Me too,” Cam said. “But what do you think about heading out to the Eight Flags? I could get into some roller coaster intensity today.”
Now it was my face’s turn to light up. “Yeah,” I smiled. “I’ve never been, since they opened up that Superman roller coaster.”
“Dude, you have to go on that thing! It’s settled, then. I’ll take you out there and make sure you get the hell scared out of you.”
“Deal,” I said.
We left my car in the Starbucks lot, and forty-five minutes later we were standing in line for Superman, and I couldn’t help but realize that Cam looked so much better than the life-size cutout of Superman that stood next to the entrance. Someone behind us agreed, because I overheard a guy’s voice say, “Fuck, that guy in the tank top looks like he could take down Superman.” I know Cam heard it too, but he didn’t react. In fact, he turned his attention to the ride and pointed up at the first drop-off, saying something about how horrible it was, and that he hoped I brought a change of underwear.
We got into a car, about five places back from the front. The cars sat two people, and since Superman was a wood roller coaster (but new), we weren’t wrapped with shoulder restraints, but instead had just a lap bar across our waists. I looked at Cam as we started to pull out, and just couldn’t get over the fact that I was sitting next to the hugest, best-built guy I had ever laid eyes on.
I’d like to think it was Cam’s intention that we go on this ride for the “get-to-know-you” force it dealt us, but I just don’t know. Regardless, when we went around the corners, there was no way we couldn’t keep from almost ending up on top of each other. Cam didn’t move nearly as much as I did, but I just didn’t have the strength to keep myself stable. About half way through the ride, I found Cam’s hand on the inside of my thigh, trying, ostensibly, to keep me from being thrown all over the car. When the ride was done, his arm was up behind me on the back of the seat, holding me close, squeezing me next to him as he exclaimed, “Well, dude, you ready to get in line to go again?”
I love roller coasters. I really do. And so, hmmm... should I go again, and get thrown around the car, having Cam hold me tightly as we bank back and forth on the track? Hmmmm. Such a hard decision.
We ended up going on Superman four times that day.
“You know,” Cam said as we headed back to his FJ Cruiser, “Someday I’d like to take a summer off, and just travel around the country and go to every major amusement park to ride all of the biggest roller coasters.”
I turned to him and said, “I can’t believe you just said that. Ever since I retired a few years ago, I have been wanting to do that! I just kept wishing for someone to do it with.”
“Score, dude!” Cam yelled. “Let’s do it!”
“Okay, how about next year?” I smiled.
“Shit, man. You’re on! We can do it to celebrate my graduation!” He wrapped his arm around me again, and squeezed me tight. It was like he was my big brother, or dad, or something. Even though I was almost (but not quite) old enough to be his father. We walked toward his rig, and my heart raced as I realized that Cam had left his arm around my shoulder. It must have been five or more seconds before he let go. Fuck, that felt so hot. You can’t even imagine what physical contact with this guy is like.
Of course, Cam’s body needs to be fed every few hours, so we stopped on the way home for some food. You know, even after he eats a huge meal, though, his waistline doesn’t seem to grow a bit. Totally amazing.
Cam pulled his rig into the Starbucks lot and let me out to get my car. We had already decided he would follow me to my place, where we would check out the movie listings.
1408 turned out to live up to most of what was advertised. We both liked it, and I have to tell you, Curious Reader, that I wasn’t able to pay attention to much of the second half of the movie, because Cam took it upon himself to actually put his arm behind me. And there it stayed, for the entire second half of the movie! We weren’t hugging, by any means, and most people comfortable with their sexuality wouldn’t give it a second thought (sure, a lot of guys who are afraid of expressing anything more than dumb jock-kind of things would have raised their eyebrows, but a lot of people wouldn’t have given it a second thought). I didn’t think Cam thought it was anything but platonic, but you know me (okay, maybe you don’t, but humor me here,) I couldn’t help but get a major boner.
We came back to my place and, of course, ate. I’m no chef, but I do know how to cook up some mean stir-fry. Throw in some major portions of chicken, and your musclebound Cameron is one happy camper. “Dude, your cooking rocks!” he said as he wolfed down my creation.
I just smiled.
“You know you’re running the risk of having me over here again to consume mass quantities of your cooking, man,” he said through another mouth nearly full of food.
“Cam,” I said, (I always think that when you use someone’s name, it communicates a certain seriousness) let me tell you something. I don’t know why you and I hit it off like we did, but you are always welcome here, man.”
He looked up at me, stopped chewing, and smiled. “Man, thanks. But I’m going to hold you to that.”
“I hope you do, dude.”
I so wanted to say more, but one thing I’ve learned by interacting with jocks is that when it comes to words, less is more. Me, with my gay tendencies, wants to spew out paragraphs full of words, saying how much I appreciate his friendship, etc. But I just smiled and turned to wash some of the dishes, because I knew that if I said more, my cover would be blows. Who knows, maybe I’d even tear up. That would be a deal-breaker.
As I put some of the cooking utensils into the dishwasher, I said, “So the cooking is acceptable, heh?”
He swallowed the last of his meal and said, “Hell, yeah, man.” Then he pushed away from the island counter in my kitchen and said, “but I gotta say that the air conditioning in this place needs some work.”
I did notice that his perfect, blemish-free skin was glistening just a bit.
“That’s probably because there is none,” I said. “But I’m getting it installed next week.”
“Good. I like my food hot, not my forehead,” he smiled. “You mind if I take off some of this?” he said as he acknowledged his tank top. “It’s pretty hot in here.”
And it was about to get a whole lot hotter.
Without really waiting for an answer, Cameron stood up (did he need to stand up? or was this just a move to accentuate the drama of the moment...) lifted his wife-beater over his head, and draped it over the back of a chair.
Oh-- Ho. Lee. Mother. Of. Jesus.
I know I let out an audible gasp. I couldn’t help it. In all of my voyages through the ‘net, videos and magazines, I had never, in my life, seen such a beautiful display of virile, masculine muscularity. I really don’t know what I expected to see, but whatever that expectation was, it was woefully inadequate in comparison to the reality standing before me. This guy must have had under 3 per cent body fat! Veins, appropriately place in just the right places-- especially on his forearms, ran all the hell over the place. Muscles bulged on his abs and the ridges between the muscles formed deep canyons of separation. His nipples were like twin silver dollars. His skin was blemish free-- totally perfect in hue, texture and smoothness. His deltoids, traps and arms just drove me crazy- powerfully shaped and formed like mountain ranges. A single thick vein ran down the length of his biceps muscles-- muscles which fought against their accompanying triceps to form the most powerful looking set of guns I had ever seen.
As for Cam’s demeanor. He seemed completely oblivious to my obvious (to me) inability to maintain any semblance of composure. He was comfortable with himself, and seemingly not aware of anything unusual going on. He casually draped his tank top over the back of the chair and looked up at me.
I was aghast.
Cam ignored it.
“Yeah,” he said. “That feels better. You need help with the dishes?”
I literally had to steady myself with my hand on the counter. “Uh, no, I’m fine,” I said. “Not really much to clean up. Relax, man.” I tried to concentrate on the dishes, but it was hopeless. Cam moved over to the living room area and just stood there, looking at my CD collection. I loaded a few glasses into the dishwasher, but I knew that in just a few seconds I would lose it all.
Fuck. His waistline came into focus; shit, it was so narrow, and his abs were so unbelievably defined! He was totally hairless, like maybe he shaved his whole body every day. I knew many bodybuilders did this, because it was just easier to keep their bodies shaved year-round, rather than let the hair grow in the “off season” and then have to shave it all off before a contest. Besides, many bodybuilders just liked to stay shaved. The competition stage wasn’t the only place where they displayed their physiques... as this moment demonstrated.
My eyes were glued to his shirtless torso. “Oh god,” I heard myself say. “Oh, fucking god.”
Cam looked over at me and smiled. “You want me to put the shirt back on?”
His chest. His chest! Oh fuck.
“Uh, no man. Uh... no. Sorry. You are just so huge and so totally ripped. Sorry.”
Cam smiled. He just stood there and looked back to the CDs. His huge arm filled my eyes as he pulled out a CD from my collection and examined it. It was incredible. Ripples everywhere. Totally buff, totally huge, totally moving with all kinds of lumps of muscle.
In the end, I was unable to contain myself. His muscles were just too much to handle. As I stood there, lusting after the most gorgeous display of muscle in the world, my cock began to fill my pants with hot, steamy, white milk. It squirted out of control, and my body visibly jerked with tight, hard volleys of cum as they ejected from my cock and wet my underwear and pants. I held the edge of the counter tightly and closed my eyes to try and stave off the involuntary orgasm.
But it was to no avail.
Before I knew it, Cam was standing next to me. He reached around me and pulled me close, saying nothing... just holding me, in silence.
Closer. He pulled me closer. His virility overwhelmed me even more, and my orgasm renewed with increased vigor and enthusiasm. The next thing I remember was finding my hand on his chest, as my cock continued to fill my pants. I felt his pecs. My hand moved over them, and my palm caressed his nipples. His face twitched. He seemed to grow weak. Just a bit.
And yet, his strength immediately returned as he pulled me even closer. “It’s okay, dude. Just let it go. Let it out, man. Let it out.”
And I did.
With his permission, I allowed my penis full reign, and it took control. As I turned into Cam’s body, holding him, my cock let loose with renewed vigor-- an expression of lust that I never knew I was capable of. I nuzzled his upper torso, and Cam held me close. My face pressed against his huge chest, as my body convulsed with an orgasm that was so powerful it hurt.
I almost choked.
“Uh... ugh... oh... gmmngh...” I groaned.
Cam’s gigantic arms encircled me, wrapping me in their incredible strength. “It’s okay,” he reassured me once again. “Let it go, dude.”
Even Cam’s inhuman muscles weren’t able to hold my body tight enough to keep me from jerking as I finished filling my pants with his worship offering.
I gasped as I finished my orgasm, totally filled with embarrassment and humiliated at my inability to control myself. Humiliated that I had outed myself, due to my uncontrollable lust over Cam’s body.
Yet, he seemed unconcerned with my self-consciousness. He just held me. Close. In the same instant that I felt humiliated, I also felt total acceptance and-- love. His strong arms squeezed me with reassurance that everything was okay.
As my face buried itself in the deep cleavage between his pecs, my knees weakened and I felt myself sink deeper into Cam’s embrace.
After an interminable amount of time, my aching penis finally finished it’s relentless jerking, squirting its final blast of milk into my pants. My body relaxed, and Cam sensed this, holding me up.
I was overwhelmed with humiliation. I pulled away.
Cam released me.
“Uh, I’m okay, man,” I said. “Uh, maybe you should go.”
He just stood there, and I realized he was totally comfortable with himself, and that he wasn’t about to leave.
I steadied myself on the counter. I looked down at my pants. I could feel the wetness inside, but the semen hadn’t visibly stained the outside-- yet. “Whoa,” I said. “Shit, I don’t know what happened.”
Cam smiled. “It’s okay, dude,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
I pulled my pant waist out and saw the huge globs of cum. “Shit,” I said.
“You want to go clean up?”
Cam looked down at the apron that barely covered his thick pecs. They literally overflowed from beneath it. It looked so hot! “Geez, I think this thing is too small.” He flexed his pecs in a slow, rippling wave underneath the green fabric, and although partially covered by that apron, it was an overwhelming display of his hyper-masculinity and power.
“Oh shit,” I said. “You are unbelievable.” My boner was as hard as a steel rod in my pants.
Cameron stopped flexing and stood up. “Yeah, I need to get rid of this. Mind if I excuse myself for a minute?”
Without waiting for my permission, Cam turned and went upstairs. I put my hand on my crotch, and had to immediately remove it for fear of another un-commanded ejaculation session. I pushed away from the table and went into the living area to examine the hide-away. I crouched down and looked for the handle to pull it out.
“I hope you aren’t thinking you’re going to be sleeping there.” Cam startled me and I looked up to see him standing there, shirtless. I jumped at the sight of him and stood up quickly.
“Uh, no-- uh, just seeing how it works.” His chest was staring me in the face-- it’s skin hugging the bulging muscles tightly, and the cleavage between his pecs a deep, dark valley anchored by a sternum covered by only a paper-thin piece of flesh. His massive shoulders pretty much filled up what was left of my peripheral vision, and what they didn’t cover, his gargantuan arms did.
He just stood there.
I could feel the heat emanating from his muscles.
I slowly moved my eyes up to his face and they were met by his gorgeous closed-mouth smile. He was so relaxed and sure of himself. But then, why wouldn’t he be?
“I’m hoping you can last a little longer than last night,” he said. “Before you-- you know.” He looked down at my crotch.
“Uh. I thought-- I thought we weren’t going to talk about that anymore.”
“Sorry man,” he said. “Forgot.”
“Selective memory, I think.”
“Guess so,” he said. We just stood there, staring into each others’ eyes. I could feel my heart racing. As if he could read my mind, he placed his palm on my chest. My heart throbbed against his hand, and I could feel that he felt it. “Your heart-- it’s beating pretty fast.”
“Is it?” I was getting totally flustered. I put my hand on my chest, trying to find a place where I could feel it. I certainly didn’t need to do this to confirm his observation; I was just trying to make like I didn’t know what he was talking about. My hand fought to find a place to get my heartbeat, but I was unsuccessful in getting his hand to move. “I don’t feel a thing.”
“Here,” he said, removing his hand from my chest and taking my hand and placing it where his had been. “Feel that?”
“Yeah. I guess it is pounding kinda fast.” We were still looking at each others’ eyes, and my neck started to get a crink from looking up at him. “Must have been the cooking or something,” I tried to joke.
“Well, I ate the same thing you did, and my heart is fine,” he said. “Here. Feel.” He took my wrist in his fingers and moved my hand from my chest to his.
Oh holy mother of god.
Amazingly, I could feel his heart beat, in spite of the fact that it was buried under huge deposits of muscle. He held my hand there, not letting go of my wrist to make sure I didn’t remove it.
“You feel it okay?” he said. Without waiting for a response, he moved my hand from the center cleavage area onto one of his pecs. Slowly, he slid my palm right on top of one of his nipples. He released my wrist and moved his fingers on top of my hand and pressed my hand into his pectoral muscle.
At that gentle squeeze of Cam’s hand, my cock-- once again rebelling against all sensibilities-- exploded with a hot volley of semen. My body jerked, and unfortunately, this time my penis had grown to such proportion and stiffness that it was actually snaked toward the elastic band of my briefs, the result being that said elastic was slightly pulled away from my waistline, the result of that being that as my orgasm commenced, my sperm actually found its way into the great outdoors and began to squirt up to my left side in a great arc and plop loudly onto Cam’s carpet, without regard for my composure whatsoever.
I found my hand tighten on Cam’s pectoral, and he tightened it just a bit, in response.
As is often the case in orgasms, the second jerk came with more force than the first, and my whole body convulsed with such force that I actually snapped a nerve in my neck. Likewise, the accompanying second shot of semen into the air was delivered with such enthusiasm that it easily bested the first in both height and distance, as well as the sound of its splatter on the rug. As is not common in orgasms, at least in mine, the third burst of semen came with an intensity that caused me to shudder with a deep moan. And in the periphery of my vision, I could tell that its mass was unlike anything my penis had ever produced. It was more a stream of jizz, not really a shot of it.
As Cam continued to meet the squeezes of my hand with equal force from his pectoral, I enthusiastically entered the wanton abandon phase of my orgasm. I cut loose.
Loud moans and the occasional “Oh shit,” and “Oh fuck” began to erupt from my throat. I steadied myself by putting my other hand on Cameron’s waist.
Cameron, fully impressed by the copious amount of milk I was producing (or perhaps because of his concern for his carpet) brought a hand up and cupped his palm around the opening in my waistline where I was spewing forth my love offering. It blasted into his big hand, and he must not have really been concerned for his carpet because it freely dribbled down his wrist and onto the rug without an effort by him to stop it.
I slowly moved my hand over the full real estate of both his pecs, back and forth, slowly exploring the massive muscles. Whenever I brushed a nipple, Cam seemed to tighten. I made sure I returned to them often, and each time, I was rewarded with a slight gasp, or a miniscule buckling of his knees. Yeah-- he had a sweet spot.
Or, two of them.
As my involuntary breakout subsided, and I was able to catch my breath, I looked Cameron in the eyes again. He looked back and said, “I hate it when that happens.” His dimples melted me once again as he smiled slightly, showing sarcastic concern for my well-being.
“You fucker,” I said. I looked down at my waistline, his hand still hovering over my cock head, and said, “You did that on purpose.”
He took his drenched palm up to his mouth and began to lick it. “I did not,” he protested.
“Did too.” I cupped his pec in my hand and massaged his nipple.
“Uuuhhhh,” he moaned as his eyes seemed to fight to keep from dropping back up into his head. “Don’t do that,” he begged.
Like, right. Like I’m going to stop? I lightened up on my touch slightly, the result being an even more irresistible tickling sensation that melted his enormous body into even greater whimpering.
“Oh gawd,” he said, closing his eyes. “You are driving me crazy.”
“’bout time the shoe was on the other foot,” I said, continuing to drive him nuts with my light, soft caresses over his nipple. “Samson, I think we’ve found your weakness,” I chided.
He stepped back. “You should probably go clean up,” he said, looking at my stained shorts. “I’ll get a towel for the rug.”
I couldn’t tell what he was feeling. Was he embarrassed by my touch and his resultant loss of power? Was he just fine with everything but wanted to play the field? Was this just a normal kind of thing he often did to guys, and it didn’t really mean anything to him?
I went into his bathroom and dried everything off as best I could, then returned to the living room where Cameron had just finished rubbing out the carpet.
As if there were no question in his confident mind, Cameron-- ever the self-assured man-- smiled and stood close. “You okay, dude? I don’t want you to feel bad-- like last night.”
“No worries, man,” I said, trying once again to appear confident. “Uh-- it’s cool with me if it is with you. I just don’t want to freak you out.”
“Do I look freaked out?” he smiled.
“Well,” I looked over his massive muscles, “you do look pretty freaky, but I’m not sure that’s what you mean.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“I know you are, but what am I,” I countered.
It was almost surreal. I mean, after I had just had a second orgasm while being totally turned on my Cameron’s body, he handled it like nothing had happened-- either positive or negative. Not that he seemed to be avoiding the issue; but it was as if it was just another normal thing to do-- like watching TV or eating.
I didn’t know what to make of him.
I mean, I would have thought that after we consummated our friendship like that (if you can call it that) one would either have signs of remorse and embarrassment, or one would feel the freedom to take the sexual expressions to the next level. But Cam didn’t seem to think like this. He continued to occasionally tease about the episodes, so that indicated that he wasn’t trying to stuff the issue away and avoid the obvious fact that his body made me have huge unplanned orgasms; and yet he didn’t at all take advantage of that fact and initiate closer contact. However, we did have closer contact-- but it came across as totally platonic. He hugged me occasionally, but it was like he was just a “hugger” kind of a person. He’d touch me, occasionally, but I never got the idea that he was making a move on me. I was totally baffled by this guy.
But I chalked most of it up to the fact that, being of the gay persuasion, I had the tendency to “read things” into things. It goes back to the talking thing. Jock-straight guys just don’t need to talk as much. Gay guys (at least this one) seem to be more communicative and sensitive. I figured that Cam was just reacting to this “thing” between us like a true straight jock guy might react to the normal progression of a friendship. It was confusing, but I was able to live with it.
Adding to the whole confusion was the verbal banter that we had quickly entered back into after we had finished the “session.”
“I know you are, but what am I.”
Within an hour I did indeed find myself in Cam’s bed.
And he was fast asleep on the hide-away bed in his living room.
I had never gotten so many mixed signals from a person in my life. And yet, for some reason it didn’t bother me. I’d have been willing to put up with a lot of mixed signals in order to be this guy’s friend. As I lay there in his king size bed, staring at the ceiling, I was amazed at the position I had found myself in. Never in a million years would I have ever predicted that I’d be lying here in the bed of this huge muscleman. If, after Camo Hat walked into that cafeteria a few days before, you would have whispered in my ear, “In a few days you’re going to be in that guy’s bed,” I’d have died laughing. Even though he wasn’t in the bed with me, it was still totally overwhelming that he let me sleep in it. That, you would only do for a friend.
At about 7:45 the next morning, Cameron walked into the room. He was wearing a skimpy tank top and shorts, both of which were drenched in sweat. As he made his way into his bathroom I said, “Have a good workout?”
He smiled at me and said, “Yeah. Where’s my breakfast?” He closed the door to his bathroom-- leaving it ajar just a few inches.
“We’re going out, remember?” I said loudly, rolling over to face the ceiling. I rubbed my eyes and stretched beneath the silky covers.
“Oh yeah, he said.” I could hear him turn on the shower, and he made some other moving-around-sounds in there. I assumed he was taking off his clothes.
Hmmm, I thought. I think I need to use the bathroom right now. The concept intrigued me quite a bit.
Naw. That would be pretty obvious.
But just as I dismissed the idea, I heard him say over noise of the running water, “If you need to come in and use the bathroom, help yourself. I’ll just be in the shower for a few minutes.”
I immediately let out a soft “Scooby-do” “Hurmphf?” kind of questioning-expression. Well, since you put it that way...
I slipped out from underneath the covers and went in. The shower was on my right. It was quite a large bathroom for an apartment. I suppose he needed the room, just to maneuver around. Anyway, the shower was actually a bathtub, enclosed by sliding glass doors. Cam had turned on the fan, and that, combined with the rushing water, made it a little loud in there. The glass shower doors were steamed up sufficiently to let me see Cameron’s hulking physique, but they didn’t allow me to see nearly as much as I wanted. Still, seeing him soap up and shampoo his head, those gargantuan arms flexing as he did so-- and seeing that massive torso taper down to a narrow waist, and then expand again down to two legs that could have doubled for columns in front of the Supreme Court building-- is was enough to get me excited real fast.
I had to hurry and piss, so that I could get it out before I got erect.
I pulled my boxers halfway down my thighs, as is my habit. The toilet was next to the shower, and as I stood there and started to go, he was right next to me. Behind the steamy, wet glass his physique filled the side of my vision even though I was careful to look straight ahead. Still, I could see that he was giving himself a very soapy rubdown; and in fact his large hands started to massage what had to be a third leg growing out of his crotch-- just as my stream started to trickle into the bowl.
As I held myself to aim, my hand became more than just a positioning tool; I started to “feel” myself, and before I was done, I had to lean forward to keep the stream pointing downward. I was getting hard-- fast.
Oh god, please, no.
Cam kept lathering himself all over, returning to that very special place frequently, and spending what seemed to be an inordinate amount of time down there.
“So, where do you think we should go?” he said as he washed himself. His voice was loud, but low enough that I could tell that he knew I was standing right there.
I tried to shake the last dribble of urine off my cock, but, again, I had to lean forward quite a bit. It was almost fully erect now. “Uh, I don’t know... You have a favorite place?” I steadied myself with one hand on the tank of the toilet. My other hand lingered on my penis just a second, and I slowly and very lightly stroked myself; I couldn’t help it.
It was the most sensual stroke I had ever given myself. My cock was so damn hard.
Suddenly, the water was off, and the glass door to the shower was open. I turned my head and there he was, totally nude, totally wet and totally just a foot or so away from me. His dripping shiny body was unbelievable. More muscle than you could shake a stick at-- and yet, I seemed to be attempting to do just that, so to speak. I was frozen. I couldn’t move.
The fan must have been on a timer, because at just that instant, as if by his own command, it switched off with a click from the wall.
Total silence. Except for an occasional drip and trickling of water.
At that moment, my boxers slipped down over my thighs, and fell to the floor.
And then, the smile. Oh holy fuckin’ shit. His genuinely friendly smile pierced my soul. He just stood there and grinned. It wasn’t sheepish, it was just confident and friendly. I pushed off the tank of the toilet and stood erect-- in more ways than one. My cock throbbed in the air, stabbing it, as it were, with each beat of my heart, so stiff that it almost bobbed against my belly button.
He was like a cartoon. Insane development of chest, shoulders, arms, abs, quads and thighs; but so proportionally tied together that it made you wonder if there could ever be a more perfect human male specimen on the planet. And his skin-- dripping with clean, clear water-- it was tan, clear and thin; showing off every rippling muscle to its optimum proportion.
Then my gaze landed on it. At the sight of it, I could feel my own penis jump. I don’t want to get all sacrilegious on you here, but you know that passage in the Bible where Elizabeth, pregnant with the Apostle John, visits Mary, pregnant with Jesus, and John “jumps” in Elizabeth’s womb at just the sound of Mary’s voice because he knows she holds the baby Jesus in her womb? Well, it was kind of like that. (I know I’m going to hell now...) My cock literally “jumped” when I saw his cock. His penis looked like it might have been partially engorged-- semi-erect-- just from its size. And given his attentions to it a few minutes ago with his soapy hand, I wouldn’t have blamed it for being so. And yet, it hung loose-- pointing lazily downward. Fuuuuuck, it was huge! At the base of his abs-- those twin rows of cobblestone-- a lone, thick vein wandered downward to feed his cock. It was like a pipeline of blood, filling the huge demand that his sex organ must have placed on his cardiovascular system. It disappeared into a manicured tuft of dark brown hair-- cut short and obviously trimmed with great attention to detail, yet without looking like he worshipped the thing. Behind and beneath the almost beer-can thick member, two testicles the size of lemons supported his monster-cock. They seemed to stand guard, two sentinels flanking the valuable penis, both supporting it and feeding it-- at the ready to release their bio-fuel whenever called upon to perform their duty.
They were hairless.
Cam obviously took very good care of himself.
I swallowed hard, not able to really comprehend how such a thick, long organ could actually exist. Cameron’s dick would have made the most prodigious porn-star weep with envy. I mean. really-- his cock should be in a museum. If you were to buy a dildo based on a cast made from it, you’d probably return it because of its unbelievable proportions. I’m sorry, but I just don’t know how else to describe it. If it were any bigger, I would have laughed because it would have been just so over the top.
It laid, comfortably, against his balls-- those gorgeous rocks filled with sperm (can you imagine the genetic wonders inside?) and against his massive quads, those pillars of power that would make the most devoted professional bodybuilder envious. His legs were unreal masses of muscle, covered with networks of blood vessels that could have only been designed by a telephone company. Un-freakin’-believable packs of muscle rippled on them.
“Morning wood?” Cameron said as if he really meant it. I mean, he was really serious! My cock was obviously more hard than any morning wood would ever get, but he just seemed to think it was normal. Maybe he was simply used to this kind of reaction when guys saw him nude and wet. Hell, I don’t know. All I know was that I was getting tired of being mortified in his presence.
“Could you hand me that towel?” He asked, pointing behind me. I turned around-- my cock swinging with my torso and pointing right at him-- and took a towel off the rack that hung on the wall. I handed it to him, and he took it from me, very slowly, allowing our common grasp of the towel to extend a few seconds. We looked into each others’ eyes.
“You going to let me have it, or am I going to have to wrestle you for it...” he finally asked.
I let go. “Sorry,” I kind of choked out.
Cam didn’t say anything. He took the towel and started to dry himself. I won’t go into detail here because I would have a hard time keeping my fingers on the keyboard if I got too much into what it was like watching him do this. As he dried, he nonchalantly said “Yeah, I get morning wood a lot too. Sometimes it can be annoying.”
He kept drying. His muscles flexed and bulged. My mind was frozen. I just stood there. Watching. And he didn’t seem to think anything of it. “I wonder if they really know what causes it,” he continued.
Well, I knew what was causing mine, but I wasn’t about to offer up the explanation. “Yeah,” I said, looking down at my blind eye, staring up at us both. Cam obviously didn’t seem to have a problem with this situation, and that helped me relax.
And still he dried.
Finally, he was done enough to get out of the shower, and he stopped drying. Of course, me and my frozen CPU-- I just stood there like a dork.
“You going to let me out?” he smiled.
“Oh. Sorry.” I stepped away from the toilet, giving him room to get out of the shower. He stepped sideways; his broad shoulders required it. As he positioned himself, his hip brushed against my erection, and he made no attempt to move away. I froze for a second and looked down at the contact we were making. Cam continued to dry his face and neck, still allowing my drooling cock to rest against his hip. As he bent over to work on his legs, I couldn’t take any more of it and I stepped back.
I moved in front of the sink, facing away from Cam, but having a wonderful view of his body in the mirror. He seemed oblivious to this fact. He lightly patted his skin all over, exposing everything to my lusting eyes.
Shit, my cock ached.
I just stood at the sink, trying to look busy at who knows what-- washing my hands, blowing my nose-- whatever. Finally, Cameron was done patting down his beefy body and he moved over to the sink next to me. He looked at himself in the mirror. “Did shoulders today,” he said. With that, he slowly squeezed himself into a most-muscular pose. Veins and vessels popped out all over. His leanness was matched only by his excessive vascularity. His traps grew into such huge mounds that I wondered if they’d tear the skin! His delts were the most mind-boggling pair of melons that you could imagine. And his triceps, with their deep, deep ravine separating them from the shoulders-- I couldn’t help but let out an involuntary “Shiiiiiiit.”
He didn’t seem to mind my attentions. He kept posing his muscles for me, rippling them for what could have easily been five minutes. My hard-on screamed for release, yet it was bound and determined to hold on until commanded to ejaculate.
As Cameron held his upper body in a tight pose, showing off his physique for me, his eyes moved down (in the mirror) to my cock, which was now dribbling out large amounts of clear, slippery precum. “Hmmmm,” he smiled, relaxing his pose. “They don’t usually do that with a morning woody.”
I dropped my head in shame and put my hands onto the marble counter. Cam moved behind me. Right behind me. “Maybe I can help you with that,” he said. His big, strong right hand slowly slipped around my waist, and his left hand moved up to my shoulder to pull me back to an erect position again. With the softest touch that a hand could give, his open right hand gently moved onto my cock, tickling it ever-so-subtly. I moaned and closed my eyes-- but they stayed closed for only a moment. I couldn’t get over the scene; as I looked into the mirror, Cameron’s Herculean body imposed itself behind me, dwarfing me completely. All of his body parts extended out beyond my own. His height; his broad shoulders; his wide lats. It was unreal. The only place where I had a bigger measurement than him was my waist; his svelte waistline narrowed behind my own. Then there were those legs. Mightier than boulders, his quads looked like each of them must have had the dimension of his waist.
His gentle caress of my penis almost made me choke. He soon realized that in order to touch more of it than just the ridge that the erection exposed on the outside, he would have to physically pry it away from my abs-- it was that hard now.
And so, he did.
His strong fingers and thumb wrapped themselves behind my hard shaft and oh-so-gently pulled it away from my stomach.
He slowly began stroking me. Very slowly, and very gently. His grip was almost totally open-- just enough to maintain control of my penis, but not enough so that his palm, or even all of the skin on his fingers, touched my raging hard-on.
“Uooooh,” I moaned. My whole body was tight, and very near climax.
Cam must have sensed this, because his fingers opened, and his hand moved off my cock, down to my thigh. “Not yet, buddy,” he said softly. “You need to have some self control.” His hand lightly rubbed my leg, moving inside to my crotch, occasionally brushing under my balls. I tried to regain control, taking deep, slow breaths. When Cam was satisfied that I wasn’t going to cum, he slowly changed the course of his hand and began to vector it in a pattern that allowed closer and closer passes by my nuts and cock. Finally, he moved his gentle hand onto my penis again and, with open fingers, gently caressed it, only occasionally pulling on the skin and tightening his fingers-- only occasionally.
Again, I quickly began to lose control, closing my eyes and tipping my head back.
Cameron released his fingers from my cock and moved his hand down once again. “Not so fast, buddy. Just relax. You don’t cum until I tell you, okay?” His hand moved back into the thigh-inner-thigh pattern again.
“Okay,” I whispered, closing my eyes and breathing hard again.
Cam put his other hand on my butt, and I jumped.
“Just relax, dude. Calm down,” he encouraged. He was bent slightly, and his lips were next to my ear, so he didn’t have to speak loudly. He looked at me in the mirror, and I at him.
Again, when he felt confident about my ability to continue without ejaculating, he moved back up onto my genitals. Shit, his touch was so erotically soft! More long, slow, gentle strokes.
My cock stiffened to its hardest. He traced his fingertip along the ridge on the outside of my cock and rubbed my precum into my skin.
“Ohhh,” I moaned.
I was reaching the point of no return. I held the countertop tightly, my knuckles turning white. I raised up onto my tiptoes and could feel my nuts begin to push out their liquid.
“Not yet, my friend. Not yet,” he said, backing off just in the nick of time. “You don’t cum, dude. Not until I give you permission.”
With that, Cam stepped back from me and said, “Watch.” He lifted his arms and started flexing.
Oh gawd! His arms are enormous!
His muscles tightened into mountains, laced with veins and rippling with striations and muscle fibers.
“Control, man. Control,” he reminded me.
Then he lowered his arms and turned around, facing away from me. He raised his arms slowly, again, and the cuts in his shoulders and back astounded me. I let out an audible gasp. He flexed his biceps again, and the peaks on his arms grew and tightened. It was as if a baseball had grown out of a football! As if his monster, ripped arms and shoulders weren’t enough to put me over, he lowered his guns and flared his back so I could see his lats.
Bigger than the Grand Coulee Dam, his back spread, and again, I gasped. “Feel my lats, Matt,” he coaxed. “Put your hands on them, and leave them there.”
I obeyed, and my feeble, trembling hands wrapped over his tanned, warm wings. Shit, they were huge, and hard.
“I’m gunna cum!” I cried.
“No. You’re not,” he ordered. “Keep your hands right there, and control yourself. You cum, and the party’s over, dude.”
I swallowed hard. It hurt. I closed my eyes and gulped. I tightened my squeeze on his lats. As if he wanted to drive me insane, Cam took a step backward as he relaxed his pose. His naked ass met my throbbing, dribbling cock and he held it there-- my hot dog gently resting against his bun. I slid my hand down to his waistline and just stood there, making mumbling, unintelligible sounds.
“Move your hands onto my glutes, man. Then up and down my back and waist.”
I did as I was told. It was pure torture to keep my cock tight, forcing it to hold off as my hands ran over his back side. He flexed his butt and it almost seemed to wrap around my cock pole.
“Ohhhhh, pl-- pl-- please don’t do that. I can’t hold off any longer!” I begged.
He kept flexing his ass muscles and they rippled against my penis. A huge drop of silvery precum fell off the tip of my head and made its way down his crack, losing itself somewhere near his cherry.
I must have tightened my grip on his waist, because Cam stood erect and moved away from me right then. He turned around and moved behind me, and put his hands on my shoulders, positioning me to face the mirror once again-- he right behind me, as before.
He moved his hand back onto my thigh and began the sensual teasing pattern again. After a minute of this, he moved his muscular hand back onto my cock, prying it once again from my abs. He held it tightly, but didn’t push on it. I could feel, and see, it throb in his hand.
“Just a few more minutes, my friend. Hold on,” he said. With that, he pushed down on my penis relatively hard. I went nuts. I panted, trying to fight off the orgasm.
“No, Matt. Not yet.”
He stroked my lightly, and then hard-- but each stroke was very slow-- very controlled.
“I’m gunna cum, Cam. I can’t help it!”
“Not yet, little buddy. Not yet.” His hand continued to stroke me. Slowly. His slow, methodical pace didn’t falter. His long, strong fingers moved up and down, up-- and-- down.
Finally, as if he knew I couldn’t hold off any longer, he said. “Okay, Matt. Go ahead.”
With no further coaxing needed, my cock immediately erupted with a volcano of white molten semen. It burst into the air and onto the marble counter. The second volley plunked all the way up onto the mirror, as did the third and fourth ejaculations. I breathed loudly and hard, groaning with each passionate jerk of my convulsing body.
Cam’ warm hand slid up and down on my throbbing cock, and he squeezed it at just the right times to produce the maximum effect, causing my bursts to continue to set new records of height and mass.
Then he tightened his grip hard, and slowly pressed down on the shaft.
And I cried out in ecstasy. He just held his hand still, and my penis opened and closed in his mighty hand, squirting rope after rope of hard, hot milk into the air.
My sperm slithered down the mirror, as helpless to stop its own course as I was to stop my orgasm.
Cameron, for all the effect he was having on me, didn’t do much else than massage my dick. I leaned backward into his torso, steadying myself, and even nuzzling the back of my head into his chest. And yet he didn’t nuzzle back. He seemed engrossed in my orgasm. His forearm-- as thick as most mens’ upper arms, with its insane network of veins and muscles, rippled as he flexed his fingers around my shaft, milking every last possible drop out of me.
By the time it was over, his mirror and marble sink area was a mess of gooey, white globs of my essence.
And I was reduced to a weak-kneed, wobbling, whimpering man in his grip.
“You okay?” Cameron asked as he let go of my penis.
I whispered, “Yeah.” I steadied myself. “I think I just need to sit down for a minute.”
Without a moment’s notice, Cam picked me up, like a groom would carry a bride, and took me out of the bathroom, back to the bed. He lowered me onto the mattress effortlessly. “Here,” he said. “You just rest. I’ll take care of the bathroom. Seems there’s a little bit of cleaning up I need to do.”
• • • • •
I moaned and stretched. My naked body was cool, but not uncomfortable.
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you.” Cam stood above me, looking at me. He was still naked, holding his towel in front of his torso. “You must have fallen asleep as soon as I put you on the bed, dude.”
“Oh, sorry,” I said, rubbing my eyes. God, I was tired. Exhausted, really. That orgasm seemed to drain everything out of me. Everything.
“So, you still up to going out for breakfast?”
“Uh, sure.” I moved to get up, and Cam stepped back to get out of my way. He returned into the bathroom while I gathered my senses.
“I was thinking of Eric’s Steakhouse. You ever been there for breakfast?” He was speaking loudly from the bathroom so I could hear him in the bedroom.
“Uh, didn’t know they served breakfast,” I called back.
He poked his head around the door and said, “Excellent steak and eggs, dude.” His cheeks were covered with shaving cream. God, he looked hot that way.
“Sounds good, man,” I said. I looked around the room for my clothes.
Cameron moved back into the bathroom and called, “You taking a shower this morning?”
Oh, yeah. I should probably take a shower.
Just as if nothing had happened, Cam and I maneuvered around each other for a few minutes, and by the time I was ready to step into the shower, he was in his bedroom getting dressed and by the time I got out, he was downstairs waiting for me.
Aside from the stares, breakfast was uneventful-- oh, and of course he had two orders of steak and eggs.
“So, what do you have going today?” Cameron asked as we drove back to his place.
“Just a little work on some web sites,” I said. “Nothing pressing, just some updates.”
“You wanna hang out when you’re done?”
I turned and looked at him. “Sure.” I paused a second. “Uh, but... I need to ask you something.”
“Well. I just want to know... why. Why do you like hanging with me? I mean, I guess I just don’t understand all of this.”
Cam smiled as he drove, and his huge arms gripped the steering wheel comfortably. “I guess I thought you just felt it too, man. Don’t you think we just hit it off? I mean, I hardly know you, but I feel like we’ve been friends for years. I don’t know how to say it another way, without getting all mushy and everything.”
“Mushy?” I probed.
“Aw, heck,” he said. “You know what I mean.”
“Well, what I do know is that you drive me crazy, and you know exactly what I want, and you give it to me.”
We pulled into his apartment lot and went inside his apartment.
“Doesn’t it feel funny at all to you?”
“Doesn’t what feel funny...” he asked.
“That I get all-- you know-- excited by you. And you just seem to handle it like it’s nothing unusual.”
“Whatever, man,” he said, plopping his keys on his coffee table. “If you’re uncomfortable around me, or if you don’t like it, there’s the door, man,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. Then he stepped close to me and put his hands on my waist. He looked down into my eyes and smiled. His deep dimples and almost blinding-white teeth melted me.
“You’re driving me crazy again,” I said, trying unsuccessfully to look away from his Adonis-face. “Why don’t you want to talk about it?” I pressed.
“Nothin’ to talk about, dude. Talking’s way over-rated, man. I don’t need to explain myself. And you don’t either. If people like me, then fine. If they don’t, then ‘see-ya’. You might try it sometime. Just live dude. Stop analyzing so much. Let things-- including “us”-- take care of themselves.
I was still totally not understanding what he was saying, but being that close, with his hands on my waist, holding my body next to his-- it was getting to me.
And then, Cameron stopped talking. His twinkling eyes looked deep within me. He moved his face to mine, and as his tongue invaded my mouth and his lips enclosed around mine, I moaned and caved at the knees. He quickly moved to hold me up, and embraced me fully. The kiss lasted. And it lasted. He hugged me; and I ran my hands around his back and felt its breadth. He was passionate.
He broke the kiss, gently pulled back, and his eyes continued to twinkle at me. “Matt, I really enjoy you. And I think you enjoy me too.” He pulled back more and looked down at the rod that had stiffened in my pants and grinned. “Yup.” He straightened his arms and examined me. “Dude. Don’t try to analyze it. Don’t work on it. Just accept my friendship. Just accept that I like you and you like me. It doesn’t have to have a label. I’m not into labeling things. What I am into is enjoying life-- and it just seems right, it just seems good that we are friends. Let’s just enjoy each other-- let’s enjoy finding out what it means to enjoy each other.”
My face must have contorted into an expression of total incredulity.
Cam started to laugh. “Dude, I get such a kick out of you! You are the greatest!”
“I-- I just don’t understand you,” I said. “You are like no one I’ve ever met.”
“As are you for me, man. You for me,” he said. “Can we stop with the over-analyzing for now? Maybe later, as we spend more time together we can talk about these things more, but I gotta warn you, I’m not much into talk.”
“I gathered,” I smirked.
Again, Cameron laughed. And I loved it.
He had me in the palm of his hand, and he seemed to know it-- and even enjoy that fact.
He released my hips and said, “Now, you have some computer work that needs done?” He raised his eyebrows in the cutest expression I had seen in about five seconds.
Cameron took another drink from his Margarita and sat the glass down on the table. The lunchtime crowd at the Red Robin restaurant filled both the dining room and the outside terrace where we sat. Cam, in a combed-cotton yellow T-shirt with fabric so thin that you could see his nipples, drew his customary stares and gawks. His broad shoulders-- I never got tired of enjoying their outrageous proportions-- mesmerized everyone.
The waitress who served us had it really bad for Cam. I mean really bad. Yeah, who didn’t, but with her it was pretty obvious. And she was indeed hot-- a fact not overlooked by my huge musclefriend. A very petite build, she was endowed very well. And just a knockout.
She brought us our three meals, and touched Cam’s shoulders. “You sure this’ll be enough food for you? I mean, you must need a lot of nutrition to keep that going on,” she said, eyeing his muscular torso.
Cam smiled up at her. “Well, if I need anything, you’ll be the first to know,” he said.
She probably nearly wet her pants after hearing that. I don’t know what women do-- but I know I would have. She left the table and Cameron and I dug in to our meals.
“Shit,” he whispered, looking askance to see if anyone could hear him talk, “that babe is one hot chick!”
“I didn’t notice,” I said without looking up, chewing my french fries.
“Yeah, right,” Cam said. “Even you noticed. I could tell.” He took a bite of his chicken. “Did you see her boobs?” He scarfed his food down with enthusiasm.
She did have big boobs.
• • • • •
I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be a woman in Cameron’s arms-- in bed with him. The concept made me hard-- and jealous. What must it be like to have him on top of you, penetrating you slowly, forcing his huge cock inside you while he enveloped you with his muscular body? The thought drove me crazy as he flirted with the waitress, even after we left the table. He eventually got her phone number, and we walked out to his car.
I was jealous.
Cameron was oblivious to my feelings, but in truth, I made an effort not to show them. How would that look if I came across as jealous?
Within fifteen minutes, as we drove through town, Cam had made a date with the girl, and that was that for the evening. He was truly turned on, and I was powerless. He dropped me off at home and made a beeline back to his place.
Oh, to be a fly on the wall that night...
But alas, I was left to my pale collection of computer video clips featuring regular, ordinary musclemen. Try as I might, I wasn’t able to get it up, even for my favorites. It was early to bed for me, but sleep came late-- images of Cameron and Waitress, enjoying each other in passionate lovemaking, filled my mind.
Actually, I didn’t sleep much at all that night.
• • • • •
At 9:03 I was awakened by my iPhone ringing. Cameron’s picture was on the screen, with his name above it. I slid my finger over the glass to answer, and was greeted by an enthusiastic Cameron. “You up yet dude?”
“Uh, yeah, man. Just getting some breakfast on,” I lied.
“You fuckin’ liar. I woke you up.”
“Yeah, okay. Leave me alone. Some of us need our beauty rest.”
“No chance, man. I’ll be over in a half hour. Be ready,” he said. The call disconnected, and I jumped out of bed and into my shower.
The shower was fast, and in spite of my fan running, the bathroom was filled with steam and the hot, sultry air of the humid day that lay ahead. I was pretty excited to see Cameron. I mean, he wanted to be with me after the Waitress encounter! I was so excited that I didn’t bother to clean my cum off the side of the side of my shower. (Yeah, I had regained my libido over night.)
I left a note for the air conditioning man, and put the key under the mat, and jumped into Cameron’s FJ Cruiser almost before it came to a stop.
“Mornin’” I said, nonchalantly as I climbed in. He was wearing--- Oh fuck. He was wearing a muscle shirt. A tight fitting muscle shirt-- his arms were the only thing exposed, and boy, were they exposed. Fucking shit, those were colossal guns. No man on the planet would dare challenge those babies. Un. real.
“Morning, dude!” he said. And then the most amazing thing happened. He leaned over to me, and he kissed me! It was just a peck, but a kiss it was.
Oh hell! What in hell is happening to me?
He resumed his position behind the wheel, and we were off. “Shit, man, I had one hot night last night!” he beamed.
“Yeah?” I smiled.
“Fuck, yeah,” he grinned. And then he commenced to tell me about the whole night. I mean, everything. Every sensual, sexual, hot detail. Over the next half hour, as we drove to breakfast, and sat at the table eating our meal, Cam proceeded to enlighten me about every detail of his tryst with the petite waitress. He told me, explicitly, how he caressed her jugs, held her in his strong arms, and how she ran her soft hands all over every ripple, every ridge and mountain of his body. He told me how small she was underneath him. Holy fuck-- what a picture that painted in my mind. And then he told me about how he penetrated her-- how he filled her, how he overpowered her, how she begged for mercy.
And how she begged for more.
It was all I could do to keep myself from cumming, right then and there in the restaurant booth.
Cam was truly enthused-- and oblivious to any misgivings I might have had about the whole situation. But for some reason, a higher sense overcame me. I don’t know why, but fortunately I was able to overlook my jealousy and just enjoy his story and his enthusiasm. And consequently, Cam felt more and more comfortable with confiding in me.
You see, the things he shared with me are things a guy doesn’t ever share with other women. At that moment I came to appreciate the fact that I was a guy. If I wasn’t, there was no way that Cameron and I would be as close as we were. I sat back and watched Cam consume his meal as I ate mine. It was truly an enjoyable morning. In a way that no woman could ever experience, Cam and I shared a truly unique intimacy.
After breakfast Cam needed to buy some sneakers, so we went to the mall-- of course, talking about all sorts of everything the whole time. Just being with Cam made people respect me. They’d look at me in a way that no one ever looked at me when I was alone. There was a kind of awe, or maybe envy, of how this huge Colossus would have me as his friend. Of course, it didn’t help the situation that he’d frequently joke with me, and wrap his huge arm around me in an obvious display of friendly affection.
We shopped for most of the morning, looking at shoes and things other than shoes, and then had lunch. The afternoon was pretty warm and muggy, and I was looking forward to seeing how my air conditioning was coming along, so we headed over to my townhouse to check things out.
There wasn’t a service truck at my place, but I did find a door hanger that had fallen onto my door mat that said the work had been done and that the place would probably be cooled off by about 2:00. It was 1:30 when we got home, so I anxiously opened the door to see if it was at all cool inside.
A refreshing breeze of cooooool air welcomed us as we walked into the entryway.
“Ahhhhhh,” Cam said. “Now this is nice.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, smiling. “Oh, yeah.” The place was already down to 73 degrees, according to the reading on the thermostat. Man, it felt good.
Cameron made himself comfortable on my couch, plopping lazily down. “Dude,” he said, stretching his mammoth arms out, “I think it’s time for a nap.” He closed his eyes and said, “Wake me when it’s time for my mid-afternoon meal.”
The gentle purring of the cool air as it flowed out of the registers sounded so comforting. And having consumed a big lunch myself, I was also in the mood for a little nap. I shuffled through the warranty and instruction manuals that the air conditioning guy had left me, and sat my tired body down in my recliner, pushing it all the way back and closing my eyes.
My feet, as the chair extended back, ended up being not far from Cam. He opened one eye and surmised my position and slowly moved one arm outward. His hand landed on my calf, and he squeezed it gently, and then just left it there. He just left it there!
Oh, shit. My heart began to race, and I knew immediately that I was going to get no sleep at this nap time. He rubbed my leg just a bit, but most of the time he just left his hand there. It was so cool! I made sure to keep my leg very still, if not actually moved a tad closer to Cam, to let him know that I was totally okay with his hand on me like that.
• • • • •
It was only about an hour nap, but it was just right. That is, for Cam, anyway. Actually, after the initial excitement of Cam’s touch on my leg wore off, I did slip into a light sleep for maybe fifteen minutes. Then Cam woke up, and so did I.
He stretched his rippling arms. “Ohhhhh. You get to sleep, dude?” he asked.
“Yeah. That was nice,” I replied.
Cam checked his watch. “I need to get in a workout today. You have any plans?”
“Naw,” I said. “I can do some computer work if I have to, but there’s nothing pressing. What are you doing this evening?”
Cam smiled. “Maya is coming over.”
“The waitress,” he said. “I’m making salmon on the barbecue.”
My stomach tightened with that all-to-familiar twinge of jealousy. Man, how I wished I was the one who would be spending the evening with him, enjoying his attentions. “I bet that’s not the only thing you’ll be making, dude.”
Cam’s big grinned turned into a chuckle. “Fuckin’ A.” He sat up on the couch. “Hey, you want to come over to my place right now and watch me work my pecs?”
“At your place?” I asked. “I thought you work out at a gym.”
“Most of the time. But when I go real heavy on chest I use the weights I set up in my garage. The ones at the gym don’t go heavy enough.”
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. “They don’t go heavy enough?”
“Yeah. I told you, dude, I’m on the high end of the curve.”
“I thought that was academically.”
Cam looked down at his arms and torso. “You don’t think it might be physically, too?” He looked up at me and flashed that unbeatable grin, dimples and all.
“Suppose so,” I relented, smiling.
“Let’s get to it then, man,” Cameron said, standing. “But I have to swear you to secrecy. No telling anyone about the weights I use. I learned years ago that I don’t want to be in the circus. That’s another reason I don’t do bench at the gym. It kind of freaks the other guys out when they see the weight I use. I don’t want the headache of fame, man.”
I scratched my head. “Well, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, but, yeah, I won’t tell anyone.”
• • • • •
Cam’s apartment complex had covered parking for all of the residents, and then some of the tenants rented out detached garage units as well. Most used them for storage, but Cam used his for his mini gym. It was basically just a bench and the accompanying bars and disks of weight. But Cam’s bench looked bigger and more solid than most I had seen at my gym. The disks of weight on his weight stands varied, but he had quite a number of the 100 pound plates. Sure, there were plenty of the standard 45 pound plates, and a lot of the 25’s and smaller; but there must have been eight or ten of the 100 pound plates-- something you definitely didn’t see at any gym I had ever been to. I mean, sure, maybe you’d see two or maybe four of them, but never this many 100’s.
“Shit, it’s hot in here,” I said, wiping my brow.
Cam threw me a bottle of cold water out of the fridge he kept in the corner. “Yeah, no sissy air conditioning out here in the garage, dude. Separates the men from the boys.” He opened his own water and chugged it down, hefting that huge specimen of an arm.
He finished his water and took off his muscle shirt, and then walked over to one of the racks that held the disks. “Let’s start with 225 to warm up,” he said. He pulled two 45’s off the post and I did likewise on my side. Well, actually, I had to do one at a time, but you get the idea.
It suddenly struck me that I was now, for the first time, going to get to watch Cam’s muscles in action. As the realization hit me, I started to get erect. I looked at Cam as he pushed the weights onto the barbell. Fuck, his muscles were so big! And he was so insanely ripped!
Cameron laid down on the bench and extended his arms outward, letting them stretch out his pecs. He took in a few deep breaths, and then easily lifted the bar off the rack. The bar lowered quickly, and it raised just as fast. One-- two-- three-- It was probably one rep per second-- really fast. He did it with ease; made it look like there were feathers on the end of the bar instead of twin sets of 45’s.
“You want me to stand above you-- to spot?” I asked.
Without missing a beat, Cam kind of chuckled out loud as he pumped the bar up and down. “Naw, I think I can handle it,” he smiled.
Stupid. I thought.
I didn’t bother to count the reps, but he just kept going and going.
Finally, he stopped-- never slowing down a bit from first rep to last. He sat up.
“How many was that?” I asked.
“Dunno,” he said. “It was just a warm-up. I just go for awhile.” He thought for a second. “Maybe 30. Forty. I don’t know.”
He stood up and grabbed another 45, motioning for me to do the same, and we slid them on each end of the bar. He sat down, then laid down, then placed his big hands on the bar again and started lifting and lowering-- just as quickly as he had done with 90 pounds less weight.
This time, I made sure to count the reps.
Again, he did his whole set without slowing down at all. When he racked the bar, I said, “Twenty-three!”
“Huh,” he said sitting up. “Sounds good to me.”
“Holy fuck, man!” I exclaimed. “You just did a warm-up set of 23 reps at 315 pounds! That’s insane!”
A slight smirk crossed his face and he said, “Oh shit. I can tell you’re going to have a difficult time with this. I’m just warming up, dude. You’re going to have to do less exclaiming, and more watching, man. Okay?”
“No ‘buts’” he said. “And no blabbing to others either. Remember?”
“Yeah,” I acquiesced.
He stood up and moved to the weights again. “Let’s get rid of these 45’s now and throw on some 100’s.”
I dutifully removed the three plates from my end of the bar, as Cam did the same on his end. “Let’s put two plates on each end,” he said. “With the bar, that’ll be 445 pounds.”
I made a concerted effort to hide my awe, and pulled the first 100 pound plate from the rack. Trying to look like I was handling it as easily as Cam was handling his, I slid it onto the bar, and then did the same with the second one. Cameron tossed me a clamp and we both secured the plates on each end.
He laid back down on the bench. “Okay; last warm-up set,” he said as he placed his hands on the bar.
“Warm-up set? Four hundred forty-fi--”
“Less talk, more watch. Remember?” he interrupted.
I closed my mouth.
He wrapped his hands around the bar and lifted it up. He lowered it, but it wasn’t quite as fast as his previous sets. Although, considering most serious bench pressers would probably be very satisfied with doing only one rep of 445, he seemed to lift and lower the bar with smoothness and ease. He stopped at ten reps-- not because he necessarily got tired, but it seemed to me that he stopped then just because it was a good round number to stop at.
His muscles were getting a pump now. I hadn’t really imagined that he could get any bigger, or more vascular, or more defined; but he certainly was. The blood engorged his muscles and my cock was settling into a nice stiff position under my pants.
“Let’s put another 100 on each side, and then slide a 45 on after that,” he said, standing.
I quickly did the math in my head-- I guess I’m just anal that way. Holy fuckin’ mother of mary! That’s 735 pounds! “You gotta be shittin’ me!” I said.
Cam flashed me that “Less talk, more watch,” look, but I couldn’t help it.
“Dude,” I continued, “the world record for a raw bench lift is only-- what-- 740 or something! And you’re going to do 735 right here-- here in your garage?”
Cameron was busy grabbing his 100 pound disk to add to the bar. Without even looking up at me, he said, “For reps, too, man.”
“You’re shittin’ me man. That’s impossible!”
Cam turned around toward me and slid the disk onto the bar. “You want to argue with me about it?” He looked down at his torso and then did a quick most-muscular, finishing off with his trademark dimple-cheek smile.
All I could do was blink my eyes.
“And correction, dude,” he said, grabbing his 45 disk. “The world record is quite a bit more than 740 raw.” With that, he bent one arm and tightened it, flexing his biceps muscle into a cantaloupe-sized ball. It split into two distinct mounds-- veins running all the hell over it. “It’s just not official.”
“I-- I think I need to sit down,” I said, leaning against the bar.
Cam relaxed his arm and laughed. “Can you put on that last 45 first please?” He pointed to the disk behind me, and I dutifully obeyed.
I did have to steady myself against the wall while he lifted, though. With each slow raising and lowering of the bar, the heavy weights bumped against each other, making the high-pitched clanking sound that seemed so powerful. The weights were so heavy on each end of the bar that they made it bend; and when he’d get all the way to the top of his rep, or when the bar would go all the way down to the bottom of the rep and barely touch his swelling pectorals, the bar would bend and bounce. Just seeing the weight make that bar bend, under his total control and domination-- it made my penis throb.
He racked the bar after doing eight slow reps. I felt weak in the knees. He sat up, his upper body swollen with power. “Okay, now for the real weight,” he smiled.
He slid off the 45’s-- by this time he seemed resigned to the fact that I was going to be of no use to him from here on out-- and slid on another 100 in their place. The weight was now at 845 pounds.
“Uh-- Do you... you need a spot?” I said.
He sat there, mentally preparing for the lift, taking deliberate breaths. He looked up at me and smiled. “You think you’d be any good at handling almost half a ton if I lost it?” His smile turned into a full-fledge grin. “I’m okay, man. You just watch.”
I couldn’t respond.
“Tell you what, though,” he said, as an idea seemed to pop into his head. “It’s damn hot in here, dude. I think I’m going to lose these shorts, if you don’t mind.” Without waiting to see if I did mind, he stood up and pulled down his short pants, exposing his boxers. He looked down at his super-body and examined it, checking himself out, and seeming somewhat pleased with what he found.
Now, I don’t know about you, but a well-built man in boxers is one of the most erotic turn-ons I could ever imagine. And Cameron, being the most well-built man you could ever imagine, made the scene totally unbearable. I moaned, “Oh shit, man. Don’t do this to me.”
Cameron looked up at me and grinned. “Don’t like the boxers?”
I could feel the precum dribble out of my slit like honey being squeezed out of one of those plastic honey bears.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Cam said, continuing his imaginary conversation with me. “They’ll just probably get in the way too.” And with that, he slowly pulled at them, making sure to look up at me for maximum effect. They protested greatly when they got down to his gigantic quadriceps, but his will eventually won out. The boxers fell to the floor and Cam stepped out of them, totally naked. “You okay with this?” he asked sheepishly?
Of course I couldn’t respond.
“Come here.” His eyes pierced me.
I couldn’t move, for fear I’d explode.
“Come here, man,” he said again, gently. He sat down, to get on my level, and motioned with one hand for me to come.
I finally moved toward him, stopping right in front of him. He placed his hands on my hips and told me to stand right there, at the base of the bench, while he lifted. His legs were splayed on either side of me, and yes, that insanely huge, sensual throbbing organ of his lazily nuzzled itself between his quads-- quads that were so vascular, they would have made Rand McNally jealous. I was simply blown away by the size of his legs! Un. Fucking. Believable.
He obviously knew what he was doing to me. I mean, here I was staring right at the biggest throbbing piece of manmeat on the planet, and he was literally spreading his legs for me.
Cam gently laid back and positioned his hands in a wide grip on the bar.
The scene before me-- Cameron’s totally nude body, with all of its ‘attributes’ ready to lift more weight than any other man could lift-- I really was getting weak. Never in a million years, would I have been able to imagine a scene like this. And this wasn’t my imagination!
Cam’s body rested as he finalized his grip. His tiny waistline expanded and contracted quite visibly as he took deep breaths. It looked so hot!
Finally, he pressed up on the bar. It argued with his massive arms. His arms pressed harder. The bar fought back even more. Cam loudly pushed the air out of his lungs. His gargantuan arms flexed harder-- they wouldn’t relent. His pecs grew and hardened into twin peaks of granite. And finally, the bar lost the battle. He raised it off the rack and held it there, each end bobbing as he fought to steady it and keep it level.
His entire body was tight. His legs jockeyed for the best position.
Then-- it was time. His arms bent, and he lowered the weight. As the bar moved lower, it was obvious that he was in total control. Despite the unbelievable amount of weight, Cameron was the boss.
The bar touched his pecs, and he began to raise it. Again, his body tightened anew, and every rippling sinew, every mound of muscle, every popping vein seemed to scream with power. His arms thickened even more, if that is possible. The bar moved higher. Slowly. Higher.
Now his whole body seemed to throb with energy; as if his heartbeat was propelling the bar upward. His rhythmic advances seemed to ratchet the bar upward with every beat of his pulse.
Or was it my pulse...
It was at this point I realized that the rhythm I was sensing was my own orgasm. As Cameron pushed the bar ever higher, I began to feel the warm wetness in my short pants-- wetness that had been rushing into my briefs for many seconds, but was only now entering into my awareness. As the awareness flooded my mind, I jerked with a hard convulsion. A powerful burst of cum erupted into my underwear and I lost all control of myself.
And I didn’t even care.
Dizziness, accompanied by euphoric ejaculations, engulfed me. I found myself holding onto Cam’s quad with my right hand. Then, my left hand grabbed his other one. And my palms were met with the warmest, hardest, veiniest mass of muscle they had ever encountered.
Unfazed with my system-wide failure, Cameron-- perhaps spurred on by the touch of my hands on his legs-- began his second rep.
Oh god-- he’s lifting 845 pounds, for reps!
I fell to my knees. At my face was Cameron’s crotch-- his over-developed penis and testicles were only inches away, and the surrounding mass of leg muscles completely overwhelmed my vision.
The weight went down, and then up again. I’m not sure if I temporarily lost consciousness or not, but the intensity of my orgasm, combined with the truly unique sensual experience of being surrounded by Cameron’s legs with his dick and balls right there, made me lose track of time, and just about everything else in the universe.
Somewhere-- somehow-- I became aware of the fact that Cameron was now sitting up, breathing very heavily, sweating profusely, and looking down at me. My hands were still on his upper legs, but now my whole forearm also rested on them as well.
I was weak.
He was strong.
Between heavy breaths, Cam smiled down at me. He opened a new bottle of water and took a drink, then smiled again and he continued to recover from his inhuman display of strength. “You okay?” he said, lifting his bottle for another drink.
“Oh god,” I whimpered.
With all the sarcasm of a master satirist, he looked down at how close I was to his cock and nuts, and said, “You plannin’ on servicing me dude? ‘Cuz I gotta tell ya’ I’m saving myself for Maya, later tonight.” Another perfectly-timed drink of water for effect, and I became blown away at his ability to joke at this-- and his unreal confidence in this otherwise “awkward” situation.
Thoroughly embarrassed, I stood up, still steadying myself on Cam’s strong legs. “Sorry, man. Sorry.” I wiped the sweat from my brow.
Cam didn’t move; he sat there, quite comfortable with himself, thank-you-very-much. He looked at my shorts. “Seems you have a habit of shooting that thing off at the most inopportune times, dude.” His grin let me know everything was alright. Fuck, I was loving this guy. “You do this a lot?” A momentary pause-- “...or do you think it might have something to do with me...” he chided.
I rolled my eyes at the obviousness of his sarcastic question.
“Here,” he said. I was still standing right in front of him, at the end of the bench, his legs still spread wide on either side of me. “Let me help you with that,” he smiled.
Cameron un-did my belt and unzipped my pants. I put up no resistance. But when he slipped his big hand inside the elastic of my brief, and his fingers began to get soaked by my cum, I jumped involuntarily. Cam paused, and seeing that I was okay, resumed his descent into my pants. Soon, his whole hand was sloshing around my slippery cock and balls, and I was getting hard again.
“Hmmm,” Cam said. “I think there might be some more inside this thing,” he said, squeezing my cock gently. “Let’s see.” He pulled my briefs down to my knees, exposing all of me, in all of my sloppy, wet glory, and he examined my penis as it began to throb back to full erection at the touch of his strong, yet gentle fingers.
Slowly, he stroked me.
Cam smiled just a bit. Not a big grin; but a knowing, gentle, “let me help you with this” kind of smile.
God he had some kind of touch. His stroking was long and slow.
So slow. So tender.
Of course it didn’t take but a minute before I was once again spewing long ropes of cum into the air. At first they splashed all over Cameron’s bare upper body, slithering down his rippling muscles like I wished I could have done. But quickly, Cam leaned forward and gently closed his lips around my cock head and began to drink in my milky essence. He moved up and down my pulsing shaft, pulling my cum into his mouth. His dimples indented with each effort. This, of course, only served to intensify my orgasm, and I cried in ecstasy, grabbing his head with my hands to steady myself.
As the orgasm subsided, Cam withdrew his lips from my cock, and stood up. As he stood, he lifted me up. Mind you, I wasn’t totally done ejaculating. He picked me up as he had before, when he carried me to his bed, and he began kissing me. Oh fuuuuck, he was a great kisser.
He had saved some of my cum in his mouth, and now he offered it to me with his tongue, and we both swished my warm milk back and forth between our mouths, wrapping our tongues around each others’ and swimming them in the creamy, sweet jizz.
I squirted a volley up onto Cameron’s shoulder and arm, and that was the end of my orgasm.
Yet he still held me, and we kissed.
“I didn’t get to finish my workout,” he said, pulling his face from mine. As he said the words, his diction was muffled by the semen he still had in his mouth.
“Who said you have to stop?” I asked, dreamily looking up into his eyes.
He lowered me, and stood me up. “Naw. Kind of lost the mindset,” he said. “Got a little distracted, I guess.”
“Sorry,” I said. I shuffled my feet around, wondering what to do next. I looked at the weights. “So, what’s your max? You ever use a lifting shirt?”
“Never used a shirt, dude,” he smiled. “Don’t need one.”
“So what’s your raw max?”
He smiled, paused, and said, “Let’s just say my raw max is more than the record with a shirt.”
And I believed him.
“Uh-- you want me to help you take the plates off the bar?”
Cameron looked over at the enormous weight he had just pressed. “Naw. Let’s leave them on.” He turned his head back to me and said, “Maya’s coming over later tonight.”
Cam came into my townhouse and promptly plopped down on my couch. “Dammit,” he said. “I just don’t understand women.”
It was the first time I had seen Cameron upset about anything. He always seemed pretty easy-going, even though I could tell underneath his calm exterior a typical “Type A” personality resided.
“Fuck, sometimes she just drives me crazy,” he continued.
It had been a week or so since Cam had picked up Maya, and he had told me of every one of his “encounters” with her-- in vivid detail. So much so that his stories provided much fodder for my fertile fantasy life.
“What is it?” I asked.
He reclined back on the couch and sighed. “She just wants to run everything.” He lifted his camouflage baseball cap off his head and scratched his scalp, then replaced the cap. “Is there such a thing as a woman who doesn’t want to take over everything?”
“I hear ya, man,” I said. “Never found one yet that I’d be comfortable with.”
He looked up at me and smirked. “That’s not saying much.” Then he grinned and his grin quickly turned into a laugh.
I joined him in laughter. Although we had never discussed my sexual orientation, it was a fact that had apparently been established. Come to think of it, we never really talked about much of anything as far as relationships go-- either ours or relationships with anyone else. I hadn’t yet actually found out why he had befriended me-- why he liked me so much. But it was kind of cool to not have to know. I think guys (straight ones, anyway) just don’t talk about this kind of stuff very much. And the fact that Cam didn’t talk with me about it, made it-- well, it was just cool that he thought of me as just a regular guy who didn’t need an explanation. We just were friends. We just were.
Cam never pressed me about the fact that I got off on him, and I never brought it up either. Actions speak louder than words, I guess. As Cam and I laughed, it felt so cool to just be able to be myself in front of him, and to be totally accepted-- just as I am!
His laugh calmed down and turned to a scowl. “She wants to plan out every night of the week for me now. Shit. She spends five nights in my bed and she thinks she is my own personal social director now.”
“Like what does she do? What does she plan out?” I asked.
“Everything. She wants to go out to the bars one night, then she says we have to go to a party at her girlfriend’s house, then the next night she plans a movie... She can’t be spontaneous! I hate planning out everything. Sure, it’s okay for some things, but every night?”
“So, just tell her ‘no.’”
“I do,” he said. “Then it’s a huge fight. I tell her to stop running my life, and she gets all upset that I ‘never want to spend time with her.’ It’s unbelievable. Then she starts on this kick where she keeps asking me the same question over and over. Even if I tell her I don’t know, she keeps asking. Finally I just have to get away from her. So here I am.”
“She’s at your place?” I asked.
“She was when I left. She tried to call me while I was driving over here, but I didn’t answer. Then she sent me about 20 text messages. I ignored them. One of them said she was going home, so I suppose that’s where she is now,” Cameron said.
“Shit, dude,” I said. “That’s the shits.”
“Yeah. It’ll blow off. But fuck, if women weren’t such a turn-on, who needs ‘em.”
“You’ll get no argument from me, man,” I said with a wry smile.
“You’re no help. Why I came here, I’ll never know,” he said. He didn’t need to smile at his comment. We both knew he accepted me and liked me. There’s something so powerful as when a friendship gets to the point where no explanation-- or apology-- is necessary; when the basis of interaction is total acceptance.
“So, you going to spend the night here?” I prodded.
“You wish, man,” he smiled.
“Can’t blame me for trying.”
That was another thing about our relationship that had been well-established, without actually verbally spelling it out: If there was to be any physical contact (the kind that got me off) or any kind of muscle display, Cam was the one who would initiate it. I never got anywhere when I tried to get him to do anything.
He sat up, rubbing his head through his baseball cap. “Naw, she’s gone home now. I can go home and be the king of my castle again.”
“Well, no sense going home on an empty stomach,” I said. “How ‘bout I throw some steaks on the barbecue. Got some beers in the fridge.”
“That sounds good,” he said, standing up and heading for the refrigerator.
We ate inside; it was just too hot to stay out on the patio. Cameron and I talked into the night. When we were out of beers, I started making margaritas. Cam kept lamenting about Maya, about how hot she was, about how good she was in bed, and about how angry she made him.
I kept making him more margaritas.
And he kept talking. Geez, for a guy who isn’t big on words, he sure was emptying them at quite a fast rate.
I had no idea how much booze it would take to get a huge guy like Cam totally soused, but I realized that he was getting to that point. Man, he had it bad for Maya.
More drinks for the huge hunk.
I diluted mine quite a bit.
I suppose I should have been more wary of my feelings, and intentions, at this point, but the more I was with Cam, and the more I saw his huge muscular body, the more I wanted to enjoy him. What I was fantasizing about doing was risky. Really, it was stupid, because I was risking our friendship. As I said before, I had come to understand the number one rule in our relationship: Only Cameron gets to initiate any kind of intimate, personal physical contact.
I was about to violate that rule. His drunken state seemed to beg me to at least try.
By midnight, Cam had nearly collapsed on my couch. He insisted that he be allowed to drive home, but I managed to grab his keys from him and hide them. He was actually pretty understanding, and I think he understood that he wasn’t able to drive. So, I took his shoes off him and gave him a soft pillow for his head. His huge frame overflowed my large couch, but as he lay there with his eyes closed, he did look comfortable and content. I turned the lights down enough to get him more comfortable, but not so much that I couldn’t see what I needed to see.
I decided to establish a little physical contact, on a platonic level, just to set the stage for more. moved to the end of the couch and put my hands on his shoulders. “Dude, you’re so tight,” I said softly. “Just relax, and let me see if I can’t get these muscles to relax too.” I gently massaged his traps and delts. Shit, they were so hard! Cam didn’t seem to mind the attention; a soft smile came over his mouth. I continued massaging.
Cam’s contented expression suddenly changed to frustration and anger. “She’s a bitch!” he said to no one in particular. “Damn, bitch. What good is she...” He squirmed on the couch a little, but I continued to massage.
“It’s okay, man,” I comforted. “She’s not here. We don’t need her anyway. It’s just you and your best friend, man. Just relax.”
He smiled again, his eyes still shut. “Yeah. You’re my best friend. Who needs women...”
He was really drunk.
My hands trembled as they ran over and over his broad shoulders. The T-shirt he wore hugged him tight, as usual, and I was so nervous about touching him, and about how I was planning on touching him that I couldn’t keep from trembling. I guess there’s something about doing a subversive act that makes it even more titillating. I squeezed hard in order to reduce the trembling.
Cam settled down even more, and soon his breathing had slowed down into a pattern that could only come with a deep, deep sleep.
I moved my hands down onto his chest-- slowly. He didn’t move. Slow, steady breathing. He was out cold.
My hands moved slower, onto his pecs, brushing over his nipples. Oh shit, this is hot. I scooted my body around to the front of the couch, and kneeled beside Cam. I was next to his chest-- his head to my left, and his feet down to my right. He was too big for the couch, that’s for sure. His left foot hung out over the end of the couch’s arm, and his right foot rested on the floor, which was actually quite fortuitous because it made him kind of splay his legs apart, exposing his crotch rather conveniently. He kept breathing slowly, and I continued my tactile invasion of his privacy. Down, onto his rock-hard abs my hands wandered. Then back up to his chest. Then down again.
Cam rustled a bit. He turned his head from side to side and said, “Yeah, you bitch-- you always want to feel me out, don’t you.”
Finally I found the nerve to say, “It’s not Maya, man. It’s me, Matt. She’s gone now. It’s just us guys.”
Cam, his eyes closed the whole time, smiled and said, “Yeah, just us guys. I like you, Matt. You’re not a bitch. You’re a dude. How come you’re always so nice to me?” I could tell it was a rhetorical question, because as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his face totally relaxed and he dove into a deeper sleep again.
I relaxed and allowed my hand to continue its erotic exploration of Cam’s mammoth muscles.
After about fifteen minutes of gentle, soft caresses of Cam’s torso, I finally moved my hand down onto his hip. I felt out his quad, moving inside and outside his huge leg. Then, I reached out and moved back up to his torso, on the far side. Slow, soft, gentle touching. Cam seemed to enjoy it. Whenever he formed an expression on his face, it was a pleasant one now. After another few minutes, he stopped moving totally. He just lay there and breathed slowly. He wasn’t going to be waking up for quite awhile.
Confident that I was safe, I brushed my hand down over his crotch. He wore khaki shorts, and the fabric was soft. I cupped my hand on his genitals and squeezed lightly. Shit, my hand barely was able to cover the real estate that his bulge produced.
Cam didn’t move.
I took my hand off and moved back down to his leg. I came all the way down his thigh, to the end of his shorts, and then started upward underneath the pant leg. Even unflexed with Cam unconscious, his quad muscles were enormous, hard and rippling with striations. Fuuuuuck.
My cock was totally stiff under my shorts, and I knew I was very wet with precum. But I didn’t mind soiling myself with clear honey-- it was unavoidable, I was totally helpless to stop it, just as I was helpless to stop the course of my hand, and my plan.
My heart raced. I felt my face flush with heat. The prospect of exploring and taking advantage of Cam in this way was intoxicating.
I pushed my hand up the inside of his shorts leg-- holy mother of gawd! His muscles were unbelievably hard and warm and massive! I moved all the way to his crotch. He was wearing briefs. I fingered the ribbed edge of them, right next to his ball sack. God, this was so hot! I left my hand there, on the very warm skin of his upper quad, and just rested it there. Occasionally I wriggled the tip of my finger against his briefs. I could feel my cock throbbing with each of my heartbeats.
Cam was almost snoring; though not really-- but it was a heavy, deep-sleep rhythm of breathing.
I nudged the tip of my index finger under the elastic leg band of his briefs. My other fingers moved on top of the fabric. A little farther. My finger met the trimmed edge of Cameron’s pubes. I thought I was going to ejaculate right there.
“Not yet, little buddy,” I found myself telling myself. “Show some control.”
I kept my hand right there, and explored his pubes oh so softly. I soon realized that I needed more, and that this angle-- up the pant leg of his shorts-- wasn’t going to allow much more. So, I pulled my hand out of his short leg, very slowly.
I realized that I hadn’t been breathing and involuntarily inhaled a deep breath. Cam did the same. My hand moved back onto the surface of Cam’s khaki’s and over to his button and zipper. The button came fast enough, but the zipper needed two hands. Keeping my eyes on Cam’s face, I undid the zipper slowly, silently.
I was afraid I was going to have a heart attack.
Sure, Cam had jerked me off a few times, now. And yeah, I had been privileged to be able to touch a few of his muscles. But he’d never let me get close to his cock. That had been off limits, so far anyway. What I was doing here, was clearly against the rules.
I pried open his shorts, revealing tighty-wighties that were stretched over a bratwurst that was so large that it looked obscene. It was limp. And yet, even in this state, his member was easily bigger than any boner I had ever seen. I rested my hand on the fabric and squeezed the warm penis that lay beneath the cotton.
My own cock began to twitch, and involuntarily I pressed it against the front of the couch as I kneeled there. But amazingly, I found the “self control” to pull back and hold off.
Another squeeze, and then I relaxed my grip and gently moved my palm and fingers over and back the mountain of manliness. His genitals were enormous, and yet perfectly shaped. It was a thick, stout penis. I ran my fingertip up and down it. It was still limp and it curved under his briefs. My touch hadn’t registered with him, and he wasn’t getting excited at all.
I marveled at its warmth, its firmness, its girth.
Cam sighed again, and I froze, looking up at his face.
He turned his head and relaxed again.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had come this far, and there was no turning back now. I slid my hand up to the elastic waist band and slipped my fingertips under it.
Heaven. I felt like I was exploring Heaven itself.
My hand moved inside and ventured through the simple, trimmed forest of his pubes where it met the cylinder. Involuntarily, my fingers spread out and rose up, pushing the cotton away so I could move onto my target.
Pure. Unadulterated. Manliness.
I swear I could hear a chorus sing Handel’s “Alleluia Chorus” at that very moment. It was as if the epic moment of my life had been realized.
My hand caressed it. Gently squeezed it. Lightly massaged it. I felt its smoothness, its powerful mass, its length, the freakishly defined rim that ran around his apple-sized head. Oh, the head! I explored every millimeter of it, from that thick rim to the piss slit. Then I got to know the ridge of his shaft. I could feel tight, taut veins pulse all over it. It felt like a relief map of highways and super highways.
Another gentle squeeze.
Is it just me, or is this thing getting bigger?
I continued to touch it. God, it was so warm. I moved down onto his lemon-sized nuts and wrapped my fingers around them with a luxurious squeeze. Holy shit. My whole body stiffened as my hand tightened on him. Holy fuckin’ shit. Oh, it felt like nothing you could ever imagine.
Yeah, that thing is getting bigger.
He was starting to get more firm, and longer. I looked up at his face; nothing. He was out like a rock.
Must be involuntary. He’s probably dreaming of Maya right now.
And with that thought in my mind, I watched and felt as his cock began to swell to unearthly proportions. Within a few minutes, thanks to more of my tactile coaxing, he had a full erection; the end of his penis extended quite a few inches above his waistband, and precum started to moisten his T-shirt, well above his belly button.
Oh shit, that’s going to leave a mark, I thought.
Gawd, that thing must have been the biggest rod on the planet! His ridge was so pronounced-- it looked like one of those licorice ropes laying on top of a foot-long beer can or something. I gently pulled his briefs down and slung them under his balls. Then I commenced with a slow, gentle open-hand exploration (again) of his cock and balls.
Slowly, Matt. Take your time. Self control.
My whole body trembled. I literally had to lift my hand off it at one point, and move away from the couch because of my trembling. My heart raced, my face burned. My hand, however, yearned to return and so I let it. I patted it. I petted it. I caressed it more, and squeezed it softly, enjoying its hard warmth. More precum dribbled out his slit and onto his T-shirt. By now, his abs were becoming quite defined through the cotton fabric of his shirt as the dark wet spot grew to encompass much of his twin rows of mountain rock. I didn’t know what I was going to tell him about how he got all wet there, but then, I didn’t care about that. All I cared about was now, and enjoying this moment.
I put my left hand on his sweet, huge, thick pec and felt it. All of it.
Meanwhile, back on my right hand, I wrapped my thumb (thank god for those opposable thumbs!) and forefinger around the base of the shaft. Wasn’t able to close them together. I pushed down, toward his balls. It stiffened, involuntarily flexing and oozing out a large dribble of precum; the head rose into the air and I held the base of his cock hard. He pushed back against me. I looked at his face, and he seemed to tighten his forehead, working the resistance. I held tight. More clear juice flowed out of his slit in a spider web-like string, down onto his shirt. He kept pushing at my hand, rotating his hips.
I relaxed my hand, gently letting his penis move back down to his torso. His facial expression seemed frustrated.
I looked at it. I took in the whole scene-- me, here, holding this thing, stimulating my muscle hero. My cock was so close. So close!
I didn’t want to hold off anymore.
With my left hand still on Cameron’s massive chest and my right hand resting on his erection, I pushed my torso forward, just once, so my cock squeezed itself between the couch and my body.
That’s all it took.
My right hand gripped his cock firmly, as did my left hand with his chest. Cum burst into my shorts, filling them. I jerked harder and harder with each blast. I pulled Cam’s penis back, up into the air. I closed my eyes, holding onto it hard at its base. I moaned.
Shit, man. Be quiet!
I climaxed. And I climaxed. Into my briefs.
I pulled harder on Cam’s cock.
And then, without warning...
He started to come.
I must have held his cock for five minutes while he orgasmed. At first I tried to cup my left hand over his head to contain the semen, but that was a lost cause. It just overflowed and his essence spilled out onto his shirt. So I abandoned that idea and allowed my palm to empty his jizz onto his shirt and my couch without regard to the mess it made.
As a consequence of allowing his ejaculations to go unchecked, he threw out rope after rope of semen, up onto his chest (making even more dark spots appear on the shirt) onto his face, and ultimately, over his head onto the arm of the couch and onto my rug.
Is this guy ever going to stop?
He never woke up. He did look quite content when he was done.
As for the resultant mess, it was overwhelming. I’d never seen so much cum in all my life. Shit, this guy was above the curve in EVERY way. He really put out!
Despite feelings of panic, I found a sense of calm. I realized there was no way I could clean it all up and hide the obvious from him. I simply pulled the elastic band from under his balls and tried to tuck as much of his cock inside (a fruitless attempt). I stood up and went into my room and changed out of my wet shorts and slipped into bed.
• • • • •
I could hear Cam stirring in the living room as I awoke. He wasn’t totally coherent, and I could tell he was suffering from a serious hangover.
“Holy Shi...” I heard him mumble. “Fuck, that must have been SOME wet dream...”
I crawled out from my covers and headed for the living room. Cam was picking at the crusty mess his semen had hardened into.
He looked up at me, his eyes red. “Shit, man. What the hell happened last night?” He dropped his head back realizing the pain that talking out loud caused. With his eyes closed, he mumbled, “Everyone, please remain quiet.”
I chuckled, but I tried to keep my voice down. “Fuck, man,” I said softly, “You had some time on the couch, dude. I swear I could hear you from clear back in the bedroom all night. Sounded like you had Maya out here with you... But,” I paused and looked at his semen mess, “apparently you didn’t.”
“Oh dude,” he said, head still tipped back, eyes still closed. “No talking. Just get me something to drink.”
“Want some aspirin?”
“No. Just water.”
I obeyed. (I always obey.) ;)
The day was pretty wasted for Cam. His hangover pretty much lasted into the evening. He ended up sleeping a lot. By six o’clock he drove home and, from what he told me later, went straight to bed.
• • • • •
Cam and Maya sat across from me at the outdoor table. He had finally introduced me to her a week or so ago. She seemed nice enough, but she also didn’t feel obligated to foster a close relationship with me. Which was fine with me anyway. Cam still had quite a few complaints about Maya, and he felt free to relate those to me on occasion. But he always made up with her, and they were starting to become an “item.”
The hot summer evening was starting to turn to twilight as we finished our meals. The restaurant terrace was full of diners. Since Maya worked at Red Robin, she didn’t really fancy spending her free time there, so the three of us had decided on a restaurant/cafe downtown. It was nice, and I was feeling fine, having imbibed on a few beers. Maya seemed to be feeling no pain as well. Cameron had decided to limit his drinking during the past few weeks, undoubtedly due in part to his explosive episode at my house that night, and the resulting hangover the following day.
The meal had been interrupted only once by someone who just couldn’t keep their amazement at Cam’s body to himself-- a low number for a dinnertime in a very public place like this. But the guy was pretty ballsy, going so far as to ask Cam to flex his arm. Cameron never seems to either let this kind of stuff go to his head, nor does he let the interruptions bother him. He’s always gracious, seemingly humble and grateful for the compliments, willing to offer advice (which he knows most guys will never take-- they usually want the results without the effort) and he generally tries to give only a very minimal amount of statistics out when guys pressed him for numbers (“How much can you bench, man?”). And of course, the numbers he gives out are never quite accurate. No one would believe him if he told the truth.
This guy was bug-eyed at Cam, though, and Cam politely bent his arm and flexed it when asked. His admirer hadn’t seemed ready for the resultant cannonball of muscle that rippled in front of his face. I thought he would faint right there.
After the guy left the table, and we started to wrap up the main course, I noticed three guys sitting at a table on the other side of us. They were big guys-- obviously no strangers to a gym. Either one of them would have been good subject matter for one of my jack-off sessions, but of course they didn’t measure up to Cam’s freaky standard. The guys had taken in the encounter that Cam had had with the admirer, and they seemed to be talking among themselves about it. I got the distinct idea that they weren’t impressed by the guy’s fawning all over Cameron.
We continued our meal, indulging in some pretty good ice cream concoctions for dessert. Cam didn’t seemed too worried about what it might do to his figure. Oh to have a superhuman metabolism...
When we got up to leave, Cam’s physique drew new stares and gasps, as usual. The three guys also seemed to admire the unbelievable size and definition, but their awe quickly turned to disdain. “Roid guys. They’re big, but it’s all show,” the guy in the green polo shirt said, loud enough for us to hear.
Cam ignored it, and putting his arm around Maya’s waist, he led us away from the guys and down the sidewalk.
“And, they’re cowards, too,” one of the guys said in a louder voice.
Cam just kept walking.
We decided to stroll through the downtown area. The summer evening brought out a lot of people, and there were musicians, art displays and food vendors all over the place. It was a nice evening to be out.
But, it was also getting dark so we decided to head back to Cam’s FJ Cruiser. Unfortunately, those three guys had kept their eyes on us, and they approached us as we headed down a quiet street toward the car. They had obviously enjoyed the libations at the restaurant. “Hey roid guy, let’s see just how strong those big muscles of yours are,” green shirt said. I expected some kind of verbal confrontation to ensue, but Cameron didn’t say anything as he pushed by them.
Unfortunately, the guys weren’t really interested in verbal confrontation either, they wanted to get a little more physical. “We’re taking you down, roid guy,” the guy in the blue T-shirt said. “Are you as rich as you are big?” At that, two of them grabbed each of Cam’s arms and the third guy made a move for Cam’s wallet.
The time for ignoring inappropriate behavior was over. Cam kicked the green shirt guy in the nuts, forcing the guy to release his huge arm and fall to the ground in pain. With simple brute strength, Cam whipped his other arm up (still being held by both hands of the blue shirt guy) and knocked the back side of his fist into blue shirt’s face. That guy also doubled over in pain.
Seeing what has happening, the third guy (who was the biggest) stuffed Cam’s wallet into his pocket and quickly wrapped his hands under Cam’s arms, up around his neck and established what looked like a very secure full-nelson. “Yeah, roid-head,” he yelled, ratcheting his grip on Cam’s body, “let’s see you get out of this one.”
I lunged at the guy, but before I could get to him, I was stopped by both green and blue shirts who now employed their tactic of each one grabbing one arm of their opponent, as they had tried on Cameron. They were much more successful with this maneuver on me.
Maya just stood there, helplessly. She wasn’t a threat, so none of the guys made any attempt to restrain her, although my two thugs did keep an eye on her.
The third guy, on Cam’s back, kept gripping and re-gripping his full-nelson. Cam winced in obvious discomfort; but it almost looked comical. I mean, Cam was huge, and although this guy holding him was indeed a force to be reckoned with, there was no question that the reckoning could easily be done, especially when I knew that Cameron’s strength was truly inestimable.
Cam’s big arms, being forced outward by the thug’s hold, began to move downward. I could see Cam’s traps begin to bulge, and it actually looked like he was merely assuming a “most muscular” pose in order to get out of the full-nelson.
And it was successful.
The guy wailed as he tried to maintain the hold, but Cam’s huge muscles were definitely not merely for show. The guy’s eyes grew big as he realized that Cam was simply muscling his way out of the hold. The guy staggered backward as Cameron’s bulging muscles forced him to let go. Cam quickly turned around and hoisted the guy into the air, wrapping his arms around the guy’s torso and squeezing the air out of him. I’m not sure, but I think I heard a rib crack. The guy, facing Cam, but being held off the ground by probably a foot or so, writhed in pain.
Cam squeezed harder.
“I could push the air completely out of your lungs, dude,” Cam growled. “You still think I’m all show?”
The two guys who held me back let go and jumped onto Cam, forcing the muscleman to struggle to maintain his footing. Cam released the guy, who was no longer a threat anyway, and the man dropped to the ground in agony, barely able to breathe. Yeah, I think that was a rib cracking that I had heard. Cam turned toward blue and literally picked him up and threw him over the hood of his Cruiser. He fell to the ground of the other side without even touching the rig. The guy in the green polo shirt, seeing the obvious, turned and ran.
“He’s got your wallet,” I said to Cam, pointing to the big guy on the ground.
“Thanks, Matt,” Cam said, bending down to retrieve it out of the guy’s pants. “You okay?” he said to me.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Cam moved to Maya. “They didn’t touch me,” she said. He hugged her, and at that moment she broke down in tears.
The scene of Cameron exerting his strength against three guys, and then his mammoth body cupping the diminutive Maya as he comforted her, did quite a bit to engage my cock in a steady thickening and lengthening process. Yeah, I realized that I had gotten very hard.
I moved over to them and put my arm on Maya’s shoulder to lend my support as well. She acknowledge me between sobs. Then, Cam reached around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze as well. “It’s okay Maya,” he comforted.
The evening seemed ruined. That kind of encounter goes deep to the psyche, and casts a pall for quite a while. Maya was clearly shaken. I was shaken. Cam, on the other hand, didn’t seemed fazed by the confrontation, although he did become much more comforting to Maya. He decided to drop me off at my place and then take Maya back to her apartment where he would probably spend the night.
I slipped into the darkness of my townhouse and turned on a hot shower to help calm my nerves. As I soaped myself, I wondered that those three thugs were doing now. We hadn’t called the police; Cam didn’t want to stick around and engage the situation any longer than necessary. I imagined that the two guys had carted the bigger guy off to an emergency room; maybe the guy who was thrown over Cam’s Cruiser had broken an arm or something as well. I don’t know.
The whole scene, while emotionally taxing, did serve to get me very hard, and I relived the experience of my hyper-muscular friend schooling those three dudes with ease-- it was a great j/o session in the shower, that’s for sure.
• • • • •
Evan pressed his last rep out slowly. He was definitely going to fail on this one. As the bar came to a stop, I bent over and brought my palms under it. Evan’s face was scrunched in hard effort. He hissed, and I assisted him in his bench press. My crotch was directly above his face. I made him work for the last few inches, refusing to do all the work for him. We both lifted the bar all the way up, then moved it laterally to rack it with a loud clank. “Good job, man,” I encouraged.
“Yeah!” Evan said, sitting up quickly. “That was a great set.” His pecs were pumped, and he looked really good. He stood up and we both moved to take off some of the weight so I could do my next set.
In a corner of the gym a guy caught my eye: big, but not so big that he’d attract attention, he looked strangely familiar. I didn’t think much of it until I was about four reps into my set; then it hit me. That guy was one of the three thugs who had attacked Cam a few weeks ago! And he’s at my gym!
I couldn’t finish the set. I racked the bar. “What the fuck, dude?” Evan protested. “You wussing out on me?”
I sat up. “Sorry, man. I just lost my concentration.” I looked over to find the guy, and he was still there. He was facing my direction, but not looking at me. Yeah, it was him. It was the guy in the green polo shirt-- the one who had cut and run after it was obvious that Cam wasn’t going down. I vacillated between smugness over his humiliation at the hand of my best friend, and anger/fear over encountering him again.
“What’s up, dude?” Evan asked.
“Oh, nothing,” I said. “Uh, I think I’m going to hang it up for today.”
“What? Why? We just got started. We still have another chest exercise to do, and then triceps, man.”
I stood up and turned away from the bad guy, facing Evan. “Uh-- well, I think that guy over there is one of the guys who jumped Cam a few weeks ago.” I nodded my head in the guy’s direction. Evan looked over at him.
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
Evan settled down. I had told him everything about the encounter that night, so he knew what I was talking about. “So, what are you going to do? Call the cops?”
“Naw. Cam said he didn’t want to mess with it anymore,” I said.
Evan got pensive. “So, you just going to hide every time you see this guy? You can’t do that.”
“I know, man. I just need time to think. He caught me off guard. I need to kind of regroup my thoughts.”
Evan was a total jock, but he understood how I thought. I wasn’t out to him, and yet I looked at him as a really good friend. “Okay, man. It’s okay. I’m going to stick around and finish my workout, though, ‘kay?” he said.
“Sure, man. Thanks for understanding.” I headed for the locker and grabbed my stuff. I hadn’t worked up a sweat yet, so I skipped the shower.
• • • • •
“Hey man, it’s me.” Evan said as I answered my iPhone.
“Yeah dude. What up?” I replied.
“Well, you know that dude you saw at the gym a few hours ago? He hardly worked out at all. Mostly just stood around and tried to pick up chicks.”
“Yeah, and he wasn’t very good at it,” Evan laughed. “He left about a half hour after you did.”
“Too funny,” I said. “Very interesting.”
“Yeah, he didn’t seem like much of a threat, to me.”
“Good. But he sure was an asshole that night.”
“Yeah. Hey-- you doing anything tonight?” Evan asked.
“Naw. Just hanging and maybe watching some TV.” I didn’t want to tell him what I really had planned: Surfing and jacking.
“Okay, man. I’ll be over at about six o’clock with some steaks. Get the barbecue fired up.”
I loved Evan-- how he liked me enough to just invite himself over to spend time with me. Other guys might get irritated at that, but Evan was a really cool guy, and I never refused the opportunity to spend time with him. He has a really good personality and a killer smile. And of course, his young, college-age muscles never hurt either. “Sounds great, man. Come on over.”
An hour later, Evan was walking into my kitchen and plopping down a bag of steaks. I threw them on the barbecue and handed Evan a Coors Light. “Cam’s stopping over a little later,” I said. “He called and wants to hang tonight, too.”
“Cool,” Evan said. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, but there was a funny mix of intrigue and apprehension in his expression. He had met Cameron only once since the muscle hunk and I had become close friends, and I could tell that he was enthralled with him-- but of course he would never admit anything more than just admiration and respect. Nevertheless, I loved to watch how Cameron affected Evan. “I guess I should have brought more steaks, though,” he continued.
“No worries,” I said. “Cam’s bringing some too, and some salmon. We’ll be all set.”
Evan’s face relaxed, even lit up a bit. “Awesome. Sounds like a good night.” He opened a second beer and settled into the couch.
When Cam arrived, Evan was in the bathroom. When Evan came out, Cam and I were on the patio tending to the meat on the grill. Evan slid open the patio door and stepped outside. I looked up and watched his expression as he saw Cam, standing there in a tank top. I wasn’t disappointed. Evan tried to hide his awe, but I could tell...
Cam turned around and shook hands with Evan. “Good to see you again, man.” He smiled and Evan reciprocated, although tentatively.
“Shit, man,” Evan couldn’t help himself, “you’re bigger than I remember you. Fuck, you’re massive-- and ripped!”
“Guilty as charged,” Cam smiled as they released the handshake. He turned back to the grill and changed the subject. “These things look almost ready,” he said. “And I think you can take the corn off now, too.”
I grabbed the prongs and lifted the foil-wrapped corn cobs off the grill. Cam cut into one of the steaks with a knife, to see if it was cooked all the way through. “Yeah, these look good to me.” Shit, his arms just rippled with his virility. He was so big and powerful. I could definitely see why Evan was blown away.
I took the steaks off and put them on a big plate. I looked up and Evan, and his eyes were practically locked on Cam. He saw that I had caught him looking, and quickly averted his gaze.
“So, I hear you handled that little confrontation the other night with ease,” Evan said to Cam.
“Yeah, those were some pretty drunk guys,” Cam said, not looking up from the steaks. “They were more like the Three Stooges than anything.” He looked up and turned to Evan and said, “I let ‘em know who’s boss, dude.” His grin seemed to have the same effect on Evan that it did on me.
Evan looked like he was going to pee his pants. His eyes were big, and he was totally enthralled with Cam’s strength. “Yeah, I bet you did.” I swear he slobbered while he talked to the muscle man.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s dig in.” I pulled out a chair from the patio table and Cam and Evan did likewise. The evening was beautiful, and the sun hung low as we ate and drank the night away. More than once Even made reference to Cam’s muscular body, and Cam politely engaged the topic, but didn’t dwell on it. He treated Evan just like he treats me-- asking questions, genuinely interested in him, joking, and seriously respecting his opinions. It was fun to see the two of them get to know each other. One thing they liked to talk about was women-- it was something that they both held in common-- their love for a beautiful female. I tried to join in occasionally, just so Evan wouldn’t get the idea that I was gay or anything. (I didn’t care what Cam thought, because I already knew that he knew all about me and accepted me just as I was.)
It was funny, though. No matter how descriptive or intimate their conversation about women got, Evan really seemed to develop what I can only describe as a man-crush on Cam. How well I know what that’s like; but seeing Evan succumb to it-- it was actually pretty exciting to me. Cam never let on that he thought anything about Evan’s obvious interest in him. And further, he continually turned to me and talked to me, as if to allay any fears that I might have a need to get jealous. Shit, I love that guy.
Well Evan stayed until Cameron left. No surprise there. As soon as the giant was gone, and Evan and I were alone, Evan fell all over himself in praise and admiration for Cam. “Shit, man, that is one cool dude,” he said.
“Yeah, he is,” I agreed. “Just the best friend you could ever have.”
“Yeah, man. And fuck, he’s just so huge! I mean, I hadn’t remembered that he was that big when I saw him at the bench pressing show, and then when I met him last time.”
“Yeah, it’s hard to hold his image accurately in your mind,” I said. “I swear, every time I see him I say the same thing too: I don’t remember him being that big!” I laughed.
“And ripped,” Evan added. “Fuck, his forearms looked like spaghetti!”
I smiled and nodded my head.
“Does he ever get tired of people saying things about his body? I mean, I hope I didn’t bother him. But I just couldn’t get over how muscular he was.”
“Naw,” I encouraged. “He’s used to it. Guys are always coming up to him. He never seems to be bothered by it. Just a totally cool dude about it.”
“Good. I hope I didn’t embarrass myself. But, shit, I was totally blown away...” He seemed to suddenly become aware of how he was swooning over Cam, and he tried to pull himself back. He shuffled his feet on the floor, stuck his hands into his pockets and pushed downward, flexing his big arms-- his triceps rippling with youthful virility. He looked a little embarrassed.
“Hey, man,” I said. “Thanks for bringing over the steaks. They were great.”
“Sure, man. Thanks for letting me invite myself over!” he laughed.
“Any time, dude. If it’s ever a problem, I’ll promptly UN-invite you.”
Evan made his way to the door, and I was totally aware of him trying to recompose himself back into the hunky jock he truly was. Fuck, it was cool to watch him fall apart like that. He had a look of a lost kid, or something-- like he wanted me to assure him that Cam liked him. I couldn’t really pin it down, but I certainly identified with him.
Evan pulled himself up quickly. We were at the end of our back workout, and after having pummeled ourselves with lat pulldowns and bent-over rows, we were finishing with high-rep chin-ups. Evan was on his third set and you'd never know that he had just spent 45 minutes thrashing his lat muscles-- he easily pulled himself up past the 15 rep mark, and was heading toward 20.
When all was said and done, Evan squeaked out 23 reps and dropped to his feet. He breathed heavily.
"Nice, man," I encouraged as I patted him on the shoulder.
He stood hunched over, his palms resting on his knees.
"You still going over to Cam's with me tonight?" I asked.
Evan stood all the way up. "Yeah, man," he panted. "I'll be there with bells on, dude."
"Cool. Cam's making salmon. He's been looking forward to having you over."
"Really?" Evan asked as he wiped his forehead with his towel.
"Yeah. He thinks you have a lot of potential, man. I think he has designs on getting you into some competition."
Evan took a drink from his water bottle. "I don't know about that. That'd take a lot of work, man."
"Yeah-- and commitment. But you have the genetics, man. It's yours if you want it. Just depends on how much you want it."
• • • • •
"Come on in, guys," Cam smiled. He opened the door wide and then turned away from us, leading us into his apartment. I always like how he did that-- just assumed. Evan went in first, and I closed the door behind us. I could see that Evan was transfixed on Cameron's back; his lats spread like two wings that refused to cooperate with the tank top that tried to contain them, and narrowed into his denim shorts. And then there was that butt. Shit. Just from watching the back of Evan's head, I could tell he wasn't letting his eyes off of the unreal muscle in front of him. "It'll be about 15 minutes 'til the fish is done," Cam said. "What are you guys drinking?"
"Coors Light for me," I said, plopping down on Cameron's couch.
"Same here, man," Evan said, sitting in the overstuffed chair.
"Coming up," Cam said. It was funny, but I wasn't sure if he intended a double meaning when he said that. Sometimes he's hard to read, and his killer smile can occasionally appear as devious. Certainly, any man with half a gay bone in his body could "come up" just by watching Cameron pull bottles of beer out of his fridge-- not to mention watching him use his big, strong arms to power his hands to twist the caps off the bottles. He handed us our beers and opened one for himself.
"Nice place," Evan said as his eyes took in Cameron's living room. He spotted some of Cam's veterinary books on a shelf. "You have much school left before you start cutting up animals?"
Cam chuckled. "Another year or so. Then I'll have my license to kill. Or at least maim."
Evan laughed and looked over to Cam, who was fiddling with some food in the kitchen.
"So, dude," Cam said, "Matt tells me you're just itchin' to get into bodybuilding competition, huh?"
Evan looked over at me with a surprised expression which quickly turned to darts coming out of his eyes. "Oh really? He did, did he?"
Cameron immediately started laughing and said, "Well, maybe not in so many words, dude. But I told him that I thought you'd be killer up on stage."
"Shit." Evan said. "Coming from you, I'll take that as the highest compliment."
By now, Cam had moved back into the living room area and was heading out to the barbecue on the patio. "I mean, it, Evan. I think you should consider it. It'll awesome. There's nothing like standing up on stage and having people appreciate all of your hard work. Knocking other guys out of the competition is cool, too." He stepped through the slider and opened the lid to the barbecue. A little smoke escaped and Cameron tested the meat with a fork. Satisfied that progress was being made, he closed the lid and returned to the living room.
"I dunno," Evan said. "I have a lot of irons in the fire. I don't know if I have the time to make that kind of commitment. I mean, I know it takes up your whole life when you compete."
Cameron smiled broadly. "Yeah, you're right. It's a lifestyle thing, that's for sure."
The meal was superb. Everything was fantastic. The temperature that day was a little cooler than it had been, so we ate out on the patio.
Afterward, we leaned back in our chairs out there, enjoying some more beer. I suppose Evan had had about four-- maybe five. Apparently it was enough to loosen him up to the point of being pretty comfortable with Cameron.
"Shit, man," Evan said, setting his bottle on the table, looking at the tank-topped Cameron. "You are the best-built guy I've ever seen. How do you do it, man? I mean, you look better than anyone I've ever seen on competition day, and you're not even dieting for a contest!"
Cameron smiled and took a drink from his own beer. "Just lucky, I guess," he teased.
Evan stared at Cam's upper arm. "So, how big is it?"
Cam looked down at it, then raised it into a flexed ball of rippling mass. "This little thing?" he grinned.
"Fuuuuck," Evan said.
I have to admit, at that point, seeing Cameron tease Evan like that brought me from limp to taut in about five seconds.
"Let's see yours, man," Cameron responded.
"Aw, don't be cruel. Mine's puny compared to yours."
"You probably have a good 18 inches, don't you?" Cam prodded.
Evan looked a little embarrassed, but maybe a little proud too. "Yeah. They're 18, pumped." He looked back at Cam as the muscleman lowered his arm. "And yours?" he persisted.
"Oh, I dunno," Cam sighed. "It's such a pain to measure them. Keep breaking the measuring tape," he smiled, with his indented dimples probably having the same effect on Evan that they did on me.
Evan and I both laughed, and I said, "If it weren't so painfully true, I'd accuse you of having a big head, dude."
Cameron continued to grin and turned my statement into a double entendre, "A lot of people have told me that my head is pretty big." He looked down at his crotch to emphasize his point. Then, to my horror, he said, "And you ought to know."
That caught me totally off guard. Evan looked over at me, and I could tell my face redden into 150 shades of embarrassment. I felt hot all over. I froze, and then tried to force myself into a relaxed position; then I laughed. "Yeah, right. You wish," I finally said.
Cameron was laughing full out now. "You should see how red you just turned, man!" By now, Evan was laughing as well, albeit with some hesitancy. As the laughter calmed, Cameron said, "Just playin' with you man." He took another drink from his beer, and I tried to watch to see if he would give me any further indication of how serious he had been.
Did he know what I had done that night when he was drunk on the couch? Had he really been asleep?
I questioned myself for the rest of the evening, and afterward. A pit of pain came and went from my stomach. All the "what if" questions spun around and around my head whenever I would let them. It was unnerving; but in the end I told myself that even if Cam knew what I did, he evidently didn't care enough to let it make a difference in our friendship.
Evan again demonstrated that he had more than enough to drink by saying, "Well, man. That's obviously not the only thing that's big on you." His eyes flowed all over Cameron's exposed muscles, and even those that were covered by his shirt and shorts.
Another sip of beer. "Thanks, man," Cam said. "I think you might be into bodybuilding as much as ol' Matt here."
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Seriously, man," Cam finally continued. "If you want to get into it, I'd be glad to help you out. With workouts, diet, posing, supplements, and stuff."
"Yeah, the posing," Evan said. "That's gotta be pretty tough. Don't know how I'd do with that."
"Piece of cake," Cameron replied. "You just have to practice it. A lot." He looked at me and said, "But Matt and I would be good for that. You could come over here whenever you want and pose. And I bet Matt would help too."
"You bet," I said, wiping my mouth as I put my beer down.
"I'd teach you,” Cam encouraged. “You and I could just strip down to posing trunks and I'd walk you through it. It'd be work, but you'd pick it up."
Evan let out a funny noise that was half laugh, and half uncomfortable sigh. "Yeah, that'd be tough."
"What would." Cam prodded.
Evan fidgeted. "I mean... that'd be tough... to stand in posers, next to you in posers. Don't know if I could take that. I have some self esteem, you know. You're pretty intimidating, dude."
Cam smiled. "Aw, I'm just a sweet lovable teddy bear once you get to know me." That grin again. Then he raised his arm out in front of himself and tightened it, without really even bending it very much, flexing his forearm. Fuuuuuck. The rippling veins and muscles just danced all over his forearm and upper arm. His biceps muscle just seemed to keep growing and growing, threatening to separate completely from the rest of his arm. This impromptu demonstration of freaky muscle blew both Even and me away completely.
"Shit," Evan whispered.
I echoed the sentiment.
Cam twisted his arm a bit and allowed his audience to continue gasping, rotating it so we could see even more of its size and virulent vascularity. Finally, mercifully, he relaxed his arm and let it return to a resting position at his side. I could actually feel my pulse in my erect penis.
Evan opened another beer.
• • • •
The Jamba Juice was pretty busy this morning-- and with good reason, I suppose. It was going to be a scorcher outside. The forecast called for temps above 90 degrees. It looked like Cam, Evan and I weren’t the only ones who decided to grab a cold smoothie before heading to the beach. Even wore a muscle shirt, as did I. Cameron, however, had opted for an oversized T-shirt. The thing had to be XXXL, which had the effect of hanging loosely on his oversized frame. But even the excess fabric couldn’t hide Cam’s development. There was no hiding it. The sleeves of the shirt weren’t filled by his gigantic arms, but even so, you could see the size of them. But the thing that I kept staring at was his muscled back. Shit, his traps really were huge under the thick cotton fabric.
More than one of the patrons also noticed Cameron; yeah, even covered up like this, he was awesome. And of course, a cursory glance at his legs under his shorts, and his calves just blew you away. Clearly, these were not naturally occurring calf muscles.
We grabbed our smoothies and jumped in Cam’s car. The city is about two hours from the beach, especially when there’s traffic, and, being a Friday, there was traffic. But the trip went fast, and by noon we were in Cannon Beach, looking for lunch. There is a good pizza place there, and so we made our way through the throngs of off-duty beach-combers-turned-window-shoppers and had our fill.
The beach was unusually crowded. I mean, at least as far as I had ever seen. I guess I never made it down here in the peak of the summer season. The sand was filled with dogs chasing balls and Frizbees, kids being drenched with sunscreen by their moms, sand castles, and of course, plenty of skin-- both female and male.
The three of us found a pretty good spot, considering the density of sun worshippers, and we set up our spot. I glanced out at the water. It was filled with mostly guys, body surfing. The Oregon coast isn’t known for surfing, but body surfing is popular. I spread out my beach towel and took off my shirt, watching Evan as he did likewise. Damn, he was hot. I mean, I had to ask myself how I didn’t attack him when we worked out together. He spread out a little lotion on his hands and started with his abs. Shit, he looked fine!
And then, Cameron. Oh my god. Even without meaning to do so, Cameron pretty much destroyed the whole beach. One would think that in this setting, a mega-developed bodybuilder like Cam would look a little out of place. Like-- too big, or like he’s too bulked out for his own good. Musclebound guys can really look painful sometimes. The way they stand there with their arms sticking out to their sides, as if they are up on stage or something-- it can be kind of over-the-top. But Cam took off his oversized T-shirt, replaced his sunglasses and started joking with Evan and me as if he was just a regular Joe. No pretense, no showing off, no flexing, no checking the crowd to see who’s looking. Just Cameron. And his gargantuan muscles somehow looked slimmed down, as if he was able to adapt his physique to the beach scene. I know he really didn’t change, but he just looked totally balanced-- just perfect.
His swim trunks came down to cover most of his quads-- maybe a few inches above the knees. They were a tan and green print that looked like trees, or leaves. They really complimented his tan skin.
What Evan had started in my groin, Cameron more than completed. I really didn’t know what to do, other than stand there with a Frizbee in front of my boner. But active, energetic Cam wouldn’t have anyone just standing around. He started running off and called, “I’m going long, man! Send it out!”
What could I do. I couldn’t just leave him hanging there. I had to throw it. Cam jumped up in the air and retrieved the disc and then threw it to Evan, who had already started a lateral run. The three of us played for awhile, and I did my best to not keep checking out by penis. Pretty soon, I felt pretty comfortable.
The afternoon was filled with sand, sun and plenty of water. I have to tell you that Cameron looked as good wet as he did dry-- if not better. Of course a shirtless Cameron is like a magnet, or a vacuum. It can’t exist all alone; it attracts. It pulls.
And pull it did. Within an hour, dozens of teenagers and twenty-somethings were engaged with the three of us in games of beach football, volleyball, kite flying and even sand castle building. Someone had brought a long rope in his trunk and the climax of the afternoon was a monstrous tug-of-war game. Obviously everyone wanted to be on Cam’s team; and in the end, his opposing team required that they get two more guys than his team-- just to be fair.
But, even with that adjustment, the opposition just wasn’t enough to compete against Cameron’s massive biceps as they pulled the rope and won the game. Yeah, a lot of the studs on his team actually thought they participated in the contest, but I know better.
Finally the crowd dispersed, but only after Cam had treated them to multiple flexes of his various body parts. When the last adoring teenager reluctantly turned to join his friends back at his car, Cam plopped down on top of his beach towel, exhausted. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving-- and pooped,” he sighed. He closed his eyes and I watched his chest and abs rise and fall with his breathing.
“Wanna go into Seaside and find something to eat?” Evan asked, pulling on his swim trunks to see how tan he had gotten.
“Yeah, I’m starved, too,” I said.
Without opening his eyes, Cam said, “Too tired to drive. Let’s find something here.” He paused for a second and then said, “What do you guys think about finding a room and staying here for the night?”
Evan and I looked at each other. Then Evan’s face dropped as a thought struck him. “Uh...” he started. “Well... I told my brother I’d help him move tomorrow. I kinda need to get back to town.”
“Aw Evan,” I said. “You’re too dependable. You need to work on your flakey side. This is the perfect opportunity for you to grow up and act like a mature, unpredictable adult,” I said.
“Yeah, Ev,” Cam smiled, again without opening his eyes. “Who can you flake out on, if not your own brother. He’ll understand.”
“You can’t tell me he wasn’t ever 18, huh? He knows what it’s like to be irresponsible,” I chided.
“Well… I don’t know. I said I’d help.”
“He’s probably got ten buddies helping him tomorrow. He’ll never miss you,” Cam said. He folded his hands on his abs.
Evan rolled his eyes in a somewhat reluctant manner and turned away as he grabbed his cell-phone out of his back pack. He walked a few feet away and put the phone to his ear.
“You think we can find a place? I said to Cam. “It’s a Friday night in August. The whole town has to be sold out, man.”
He raised his head and opened his eyes. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I can’t reach him,” Evan said, rejoining us. “I left him a voicemail.”
“Good,” I said. “But now we need to find a motel with a room. Might be a challenge.”
• • • •
“They always leave one room open, just for emergencies,” Cam smiled as he plopped his duffel back down on the queen sized bed.
“Yeah, but one this nice?” I countered.
The room was more like a suite. It had a fireplace and a hot tub and huge windows that opened out onto a deck that overlooked the beach. Two queen beds were on one wall, and there was a small kitchen.
“And that girl at the front desk-- she gave us a huge break,” Evan said.
“Well, she took one look at Cam and almost died,” I said. “I think she had it bad for you, dude.”
Cam barely acknowledged me. He was busy testing the water temperature in the hot tub.
We got settled in and relaxed on the beds while we watched TV. A beer run had garnered many alcoholic beverages, as well as snacks aplenty. When we were sufficiently loosened up, Evan and I began working on Cameron to give us a sample of his posing routine.
“You know you have some posers in that bag of yours,” I said. “You always carry some.”
Cam relented, and Evan and I settled back on the beds, trying hard not to stroke ourselves while the show got underway.
It was the most stimulating half-hour I had ever experienced. I know both Evan and I came more than once, although I think we both hid it pretty well. Cameron’s absolute beauty and supreme muscular development was pretty much overwhelming. And Cam seemed only too willing to indulge our muscle worshipping fantasies. He let us put our hands on just about anything we wanted to, and then he’d just flex-- very slowly-- while we’d feel, and feel, and feel. I know it was during one of these touching sessions that Evan came. I could tell.
“Well,” Cam finally said, “you boys care to join me in the hot tub?” Without waiting for an answer, he stepped into the very warm water and walked down the steps. He stood there, with the water coming up to his mid-thighs. Shit, he looked so hot! He was pretty pumped from all the flexing and posing. Evan and I looked at each other, silently communicating our trepidation. We both had kept our swimming trunks on for the evening (we really hadn’t packed for an overnight trip), and we both had a huge amount of jizz inside them.
Cameron, still standing in quiet, thigh-deep water, looked down at his black posers and slipped his thumb inside, running it back and forth. He looked up at both of us and gave a devilish grin. He lowered his trunks just a bit, exposing the root of his cock.
He looked down at himself, admiring everything, then slowly removed his thumb from the inside of his waistline. What a tease.
“You guys don’t want to come in?” he said innocently. “Promise I won’t bite.” Then another, more subtle grin, and he said, “Unless you want me to.”
Evan was the first to move. He walked over to the tub and started down. “Man, this feels good,” he said. The hot tub wasn’t that big. It could seat four comfortably, but if two people stood, you were right next to the other person. Cam stepped back slightly to let Even come all the way down, and Evan did so. They were almost touching. Evan’s face hit right at Cameron’s pecs. I could tell that Cam was attracted to Evan. And for some reason, it really didn’t bother me.
Evan just stood there, looking up at Cam. God, he was strong. I mean, he seemed to know that he was turning Cam on, and he just let it happen.
Cam started growing in his posers.
Both of them just stood there.
I started to rub my crotch through my trunks.
“Shit, man,” Evan said to Cam. “You are amazing. How do you stand it-- having all those muscles?”
Cam didn’t answer. He moved his hand toward his posers, then slipped his thumb inside once again, running it back and forth, slowly lowering the this strap on the sides of his waist. Evan watched.
I could see Cam’s huge chest rise and fall. His breathing was getting heavier. And his cock was getting harder. Within just a few minutes, his posing trunks were perilously close to losing containment. Cam’s face winced as he tried to adjust his cock, which was restricted and forced into an uncomfortable position.
“You want some help with that?” Evan said, gazing into Cam’s beautiful eyes.
Again, Cam didn’t answer. He just waited.
Evan was a master. He obviously had much experience with women, but I was surprised at how he was able to take the lead here. I guess he just transferred his heterosexual skills to homosexual mode. He slowly slipped his hand inside Cam’s trunks-- very slowly-- starting with his long fingers. His hand moved downward, and Cameron was visibly stimulated. I could see he was holding his breath as Evan’s fingertips moved inside his posers and began to surround his thick, vein-lined shaft.
Evan held his hand there. It was fully inside Cam’s posing trunks. I watched with rapt attention, focussing on Evan’s hand. He gently squeezed it.
Cam held still. It was as if he was resisting. He was determined to not react to Evan’s touch. He was determined to remain in control.
How Evan was able to seemingly reverse the expected roles here, I’ll never know. Again, I just have to chalk it up to Evan’s vast experience with women.
But, Evan wasn’t totally in control of everything. A glance at his face, and his stare at Cameron’s, quickly revealed that he was coming to the end of his own rope. As he held his left hand inside Cam’s skimpy posing trunks, his right hand-- almost involuntarily-- moved onto Cam’s big chest. Cam bristled when Evan’s palm brushed over his nipple.
In response, I took my hand and moved it inside my swimming trunks. This was getting really good.
Now it was Cam’s turn to make his move. He gently pulled Evan’s swimming suit down. Evan’s totally erect cock sprang upward in salute, and Cam pushed the trunks down into the water. Evan wiggled just right so the trunks would go all the way down. I could see him step out of them, and shortly they were floating on top of the water. Cam didn’t waste any time; he tenderly started stroking Evan’s hard-on, occasionally running his fingertips into Evan’s already cum-drenched pubes. Evan was doomed.
A few gentle movements of Evan’s hand inside Cam’s posers seemed to reverse the balance of power for just a second, but only for a second.
Soon, Evan had removed Cam’s posing trunks all the way, and they joined Evan’s trunks, floating on the surface of the warm water.
Cameron leaned forward, and the two of them began kissing. They wrapped their arms around each other. The kissing was passionate, but mind-numbingly gentle and tender. It was soft and slow. Tongues, lips, nipping, frenching. Kissing. It was so erotic. Hands giving long, slow strokes. Moans. Hands running slowly over bulging muscles, feeling, touching, caressing.
Cam seemed to particularly enjoy touching Evan’s milky pubic hair; there was a lot of semen there to touch, and Cam took every opportunity to return his fingertips to the black forest, sampling the ejaculate that Evan had produced entirely because of Cam’s muscle-posing.
I had completely stripped as well, although I don’t remember how or when it happened. I was trying to drag it out a long time, but when they started kissing like that, there was no way I could stop it. With a hard jerk and a loud groan, I shot up a long string of semen. It happened suddenly, surprising even myself. Cam’s eyes glanced over at me as I began my orgasm, and I could tell Evan realized what I was doing even though he didn’t look over to me. He was too busy kissing Cam. Maybe it was my encouragement, I don’t know, but not long after I began my heavy ejaculations, Evan did likewise. Cameron squeezed his body into his own, and Evan almost yelled into Cam’s mouth as he shot. Cam pushed down on Evan’s cock and held still. I could see Evan’s penis throb with each burst of cream, and the jizz plopped up onto Cam’s abs and chest.
And they kept kissing.
When Evan was finally done, Cam turned him around and forced his hands onto the edge of the hot tub. Oh, god.
Cam placed his hands of Evan’s hips, and rested his rigid pole in the crack of Evan’s butt. His mammoth cock reared upward. Glistening beads of precum dribbled down Cameron’s penis and onto the small of Evan’s back.
Evan looked horrified. He even whimpered a little.
“Don’t worry, little guy,” Cameron comforted. His voice was shaking, as if he was struggling to maintain control of his own body. “I’m not going to fuck you. Not today anyway.”
I had never seen anything so long, with such a thick girth as Cam’s cock. And it was laced and rippling with veins-- all over it! The purple head grew and pulsed with each slow slide between Evan’s ass cheeks. I don’t think Evan would have been able to received it. Certainly it would have taken some time, and it was obvious that Cam didn’t have that kind of time. His grip on Evan’s hips tightened, and the muscles in his arms exploded with size and definition. The separation was unreal. His whole body wrenched; his traps swelled; his shoulders morphed; his gargantuan arms rippled. His head tipped back, and he bared his teeth in an almost barbaric growl. Evan whined in pain. Cam’s grip must have been unbearable.
Cameron’s whole body came to a climax. It wasn’t just his cock that came. Every muscle seemed to join in a beautifully painful expression of muscular sexuality as his cock opened up and began to fire like a hand-held plastic squirt gun. I happened to be in the position where Cam’s cock was pointing-- albeit about ten feet away. Nevertheless, my right thigh received the very first volley of Cam’s semen. It plopped onto my leg; it was warm. I looked down at it; there must have been a good tablespoon of jizz laying on my quad. A second round landed on my face. Holy shit! I wiped it off and just sat against the bed, watching in unbelief. Cam continued to shoot, and Evan held still. Cam hissed, but didn’t yell out loud. Cam’s subsequent ejaculations landed on the carpet and Evan’s back. Fuck, I had never seen so much jizz in my life! He produced much more than he had when I jacked him off in his sleep on my couch.
His huge rod kept sliding up and down Evan’s butt crack. God, that sight was incredible. Just incredible.
I had taken the generous amount of Cam’s semen that had landed on my body and used it as lube on my own cock. Despite multiple orgasms in the past hour or so, the sight in front of me actually made me cum again. It was awesomely painful. One of the best ever. Just seeing Cam’s naked, erect, jacking body like that-- more ripped and proportionate-beautiful-muscle than you could ever imagine-- it was enough to feed twenty orgasms, if that were humanly possible.
The room was awash in sperm by the time we hit the sack that night. We didn’t really even make an effort to clean it up much. I often wondered what the cleaning staff thought then next morning after we checked out. I’m sure there were many random globs of hardened jizz on the furniture, walls, TV remote, telephone and carpet. And I’m sure we never cleaned up the sheets on the one bed we used that night.
It was a pretty big crowd down at Waterfront Park. “The Bite” attracted thousands of people every year, and this year looked like it would be a record-setter. The hot sun, surrounded only by vivid blue sky, beat down on the masses as they moved from booth to booth, sampling culinary wares from restaurants all over the metroplex.
And then there was the wine garden. After we had gotten our fill of gourmet food, Cameron, Evan, Maya and I made our way into the roped-off area that was only open to the above-21 crowd. “Good think you guys took MAX down here,” Cam said to Evan and me. “You don’t have to worry about driving home.”
I smiled. “Yeah. Which one of you is going to be the designated driver?” I asked, looking at Cam and Maya.
The two of them looked at each other and simultaneously pointed at each other. The four of us burst out laughing.
“I think I can hold my alcohol,” Cam smiled. “Got a pretty good metabolism, and I think I’ll be okay.” Visions of that night he spent at my place-- totally inebriated out of his mind-- filled my mind. I didn’t get hung up about it, though. I looked at Maya and our eyes met. I got the impression that she knew I wanted her to keep an eye on the muscle giant. She seemed to understand, so I put my concerns at ease.
We started sampling. Man, they had some good wines there.
And you know, there’s something about spending a summer afternoon at a place like this. I mean, the tank-tops, muscle shirts and tight-fitting T-shirts were everywhere. This city must certainly have a higher ratio of bodybuilders than the general population. Dunno, but this August Sunday was sure a feast for my eyes. And of course, walking around with Cameron, it just made you want to cry-- seeing all of these bodybuilders, and their various reactions to Cam’s towering body. Sure, there were a few guys who came close to offering the build Cam has-- but not very close. Certainly none of them had Cam’s height or fantastic looks. Most, however, upon seeing Cam, just stared. You could see the envy ooze out of their pores.
And no wonder. Cameron’s broad shoulders, although definitely tortured to extreme measurements, had a genetic basis that no one could duplicate-- no matter how hard you worked ‘em. This was true with all of his body parts, but when you first saw Cam, it was his four-lane-wide shoulders that first grabbed you-- especially when he wore that skimpy tank top he had on today.
I don’t know, I suppose I could go on and on about his gorilla-sized lats, his pectorals that looked like they were mock-ups of some kind of Continental Plate display in a science museum, his arms that looked like they had just been harvested out of a watermelon patch, his tightly packed abs on that waistline that tapered to a tiny isthmus between two enormous land masses, or his gigantic legs that constantly fought against his shorts (and provided a cock-hardening ripple show when they did). Yeah, I could go on and on about all of this, but then, we’d be here all day and you wouldn’t get to find out what happened next. So, I’ll move on.
We were sitting at a table, in the shade, enjoying a sample of Cabernet. The wall-to-wall crowd that filled most of The Bite was a little lest dense in the wine garden, and that was nice. A little more elbow room never hurt anyone.
In from the throng on the other side of the rope emerged three guys who, in my estimation, were very, very hot. The biggest guy-- probably just under six feet tall, was gorgeous-- and totally stacked. (No, these were not the thugs who jumped Cam earlier.) He had short-cropped hair, and a body that just wouldn’t quit. He wore a lavender tank top that showed off everything. He had the shoulders and arms of a true bodybuilder, bulging out and blinding everyone with their size and shape. And his pecs, under that skimpy tank top, just begged to be felt out. Thick and bulbous, they looked like they held two huge nipples. Yeah, this guy was totally above the curve. I think I even saw Cam give him a second look. But of course, Lavender didn’t hold a candle to my best friend.
The second guy was a little taller than the first guy, but he looked a little leaner. Except for his chest. Holy mother of gawd, his chest was thick. His hair was a little longer, and darker. He wore a green sleeveless muscle shirt. Man, the division between his deltoids and his triceps was incredible! And that thick, bulbous chest was mesmerizing. There was no doubt that both of these two guys had done more than his fair share winning bodybuilding trophies up on stage.
The third guy was younger. In fact, I wondered how he got past the goons at the gate who checked for I.D. to get into the wine garden. Dunno. But he looked like the perfect protege of these two guys. His youth was the only thing holding him back. But as I admired him, I didn’t view his youth as a liability. No, he was drop-dead cute, and I could easily fantasize him in the locker room of his high school, dominating the school’s all-star quarterback, or maybe schooling the captain of the wrestling team in some power moves. Of course, he probably was the all-star quarterback and the wrestling captain. Shit, he had to-die-for eyes. Dark eyebrows and long, thick eyelashes. Man, if he had an agent, he’d be raking in heavy dollars in a modeling career. His young muscles were sickeningly adorable. That thick neck was killer-- and his cute ears stuck out in a way that made me melt. You could tell he was under the tutelage of the two muscle gods who accompanied him, and I had no doubt that he had undergone some heavy transformation in their care.
It was only because Cameron was relaxing in a corner of the garden that all eyes turned to the three as they made their way by the booths, sampling a few wines as they went. After the initial sizing up, Cam seemed to dismiss the three guys altogether. He certainly didn’t need to get up and hog the limelight-- although he easily could have if he wanted to. No, he was secure.
We continued to relax, and occasionally I directed my view back to the three guys. Yeah, I’ll admit that I did a little fantasizing about the three of them meeting Cam, and what kind of orgy scene might ensue if they ever got to be really familiar with each other. My, what a perverted mind I have! More immediately, though, I wondered what the reaction of these three would be when they saw Cam. Lavender Tank Top seemed so totally confident, yet not cocky. In fact, none of them (save, maybe the younger gorgeous guy) seemed to be aware of the scores of eyes that were clued to them. I wondered if they’d hold it together when they saw Cam, or if, like so many bodybuilders before them, they would show obvious signs of blatant admiration and envy.
I wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. As they made their way around the wine booths, they moved closer and closer to us. It would only be a matter of minutes before they would see Cam.
Gorgeous-- his youthful exuberance unable to prevent him from surveying the admiring crowd-- was the first to spot him. I saw him do a double-take.
I smirked to myself.
Even seated at our table, Cameron’s unbelievable physique was impossible to pass over.
Then, a third look. Get this-- he even bumped into Green Muscle Shirt because he was so distracted.
Cam was busy talking to Maya.
When Muscle Shirt regained his balance (after almost spilling his glass of wine from the impact with Gorgeous), he looked over at what had caused the kid to falter. He also gave a double-take, but he was a little more subtle about it.
My stomach tightened into a loose knot, enjoying how my best friend caused even the most robust specimens of virile, muscular manhood to take pause.
It took repeated glances by Gorgeous and Muscle Shirt before Lavender finally woke up to the magnet in the corner of the wine garden. And a magnet for muscle he indeed was. As if controlled by radio waves that emanated from Cam’s physique, the three hunks lazily moved from booth to booth, through the thin crowd, to a vector that ultimately led them to position themselves, conveniently, at the table next to us.
Cam didn’t notice.
Evan did in fact seem to register the presence of the three guys. Indeed, I wondered if he wasn’t actually wondering the same thing as me: What would these guys’ reaction be when they were allowed to interact with Cam and see more of his obscenely developed body. I mean, after all, seeing Cam sitting with his elbows propped on a table, while he talked with Maya-- that was very different from seeing him stand erect, allowing himself to be gazed upon in a more full glory.
Again, neither Evan nor I had to wait long to find out. Cameron took a break from his conversation with Maya and glanced over at the guys. They really didn’t seem to register with him, but I know they had to. God, this guy was cool. He took another sip of his wine and said something to Maya again.
The three weren’t making obvious overtures to Cam, but-- maybe it’s my gaydar here, I dunno-- I got the distinct impression they had planted themselves at that particular table for one, and only one, reason.
Of course, cool Cam totally knew what was going on, even though the average observer could never tell. He took some paper garbage that the four of us had generated (napkins, coupons that we had been handed that none of us wanted, other stuff) and stood up. He walked over to a nearby garbage receptacle and tossed the stuff inside. His back was to all of us (the three remaining at our table, and the three guys at the next table), and we were all treated to a delicious display, including-- but not limited to-- his freakishly flaring lats, his Aircraft Carrier shoulders, his tight, taught glutes caressed by his shorts, and his insanely developed hamstrings, capping off two calves that were obviously not naturally occurring (not in the sense of steroids, but in the sense of having to be worked to get that big).
I looked at the three guys, and their mouths were open to varying degrees, depending on youth and self control. All three of them averted their gaze as Cam turned around and returned to stand next to our table.
Cameron talked to Evan, Maya and me for a second, then he glanced over at Lavender. The two met eyes, and there was instant respect between them. It’s funny, when you see a complete stranger, you usually don’t “connect” in this way. But when these two guys made eye contact, there was an immediate camaraderie, as if they were saying to each other (just by their eye contact and a subtle nod made by both of them), “Hey dude, so-- you’re built too, huh? Yeah. Cool.” They both knew what hard work went in to the other’s massive physique. They both knew that they belonged to the same club. But of course there was also another subtle message being sent-- and received. Every bodybuilder, while not necessarily conscious of this, partakes in a little-known-- almost secret-- evaluation process whenever he sees another buff guy. The pressing, although often unconscious, question that must be answered is this: Is this guy better than me?
There was no mistaking how Lavender would answer this question. And of course, Cameron never came across anyone who even came close...
But despite the obvious answer to Every Bodybuilder’s Question (EBQ), Lavender didn’t falter in his confidence. Surely, he wasn’t used to seeing too many guys who were bigger and better-built than himself; but he seemed to not let the EBQ determine his own security.
Green Muscle Shirt seemed to have a similar reaction to Lavender when his eyes were locked by Cam, but when the giant’s gaze moved on to Gorgeous, I thought the kid would pee his pants right then and there. He tried to settle himself by taking a drink of wine, but the result was that the liquid went down the wrong pipe and Gorgeous started coughing and choking, and was only able to regain his composure after repeated pats on the back and inquiries by Muscle Shirt.
Cam looked away as if he hadn’t noticed.
Lavender tried to smooth over the situation by standing up and depositing his own paper waste in the receptacle-- a move that put him in closer proximity to Cameron. Standing maybe five feet apart, it was easy to see that a convergence of muscle was taking place, and yet despite the similarities the two shared, I was very aware of the differences.
Cam was unreal.
“You work out at LA Fitness?” Lavender said, moving closer to Cam.
“Naw, 24 Hour,” Cam answered.
“Oh. I thought I’d seen you at my gym once,” Lavender replied.
I loved how he felt so at ease approaching Cam. There’s something so enabling about being in that club, isn’t there. Of course the idea that someone could mistake Cameron for another bodybuilder was fallacious, but at least it was an accepted “pick-up” line (if you can all it that) amongst bodybuilders.
Thus the two huge men struck up a conversation that lasted quite a few minutes; and despite the lateness of the hour, neither Evan, Maya, myself nor Green Muscle Shirt or Gorgeous at the neighboring table dared suggest that the two musclemen break up their exchange. No, it was clearly off limits to interrupt these two Alpha Males in their social ritual.
But finally Lavender seemed to come to the end of anything intelligent to say. I have to hand it to him; he held his own the whole time, never succumbing to the all-too-familiar routine of wallowing in worship over Cameron’s astounding musclebod. The usual questions of bench weight, biceps measurements, etc., never came-- most likely because Lavender himself was used to being on the receiving end of these queries, and he didn’t want to place himself in the submissive position that those questions obviously connoted.
He did have a really cool air of confidence.
The two came to the end of the conversation by introducing themselves to each other. They shook hands and then politely introduced each other’s contingency as well. I stood to greet the others, and Lavender obliged by introducing himself and his buddies: “Hi, I’m Adam,” he said. “The guy in the green shirt here is Rafe, and this is Drew.”
I’ll never forget that initial meeting at The Bite. I mean, it was like kismet, or something. It was as if the six of us had been destined to become the best of friends. Oh-- yeah, and Maya, too. Actually, Rafe had a wife too-- Jen. Sometimes Maya and Jen got together and went shopping or something while the six of us guys watched Sunday football or something. So, yeah, it was pretty cool.
The amazing thing was how well we all clicked, right from the start. And in some kind of weird guy-way, we also quickly paired off into couples. Obviously Cam and Adam had a strong bond. I mean, they were both huge and ripped, and both very good looking. Their personalities seemed matched for each other, and even though they had dissimilar vocational interests (Cam was going to be a veterinarian and Adam had been in banking, although he recently had inherited a large sum of money and apparently didn’t need to work a whole lot) they immediately connected-- like brothers.
And then Rafe and I seemed to hit it off pretty well. Again, I don’t know why, but within a few minutes of introduction, Rafe and I were laughing and teasing the hell out of each other. It was really cool.
And then Evan and Gorgeous-- I mean, Drew, they both were younger guys and that age similarity gave them a closer friendship. They were both consummate jocks, and it was fun to watch them talk sports and stuff.
I have to admit, I felt a little sorry for Maya that evening. The six of us guys hung together for the rest of the night, and I got the distinct feeling that Maya felt like a seventh wheel. And indeed, she was.
Fortunately, the next time the six of us got together, we didn’t invite Maya. That worked a lot better. That next time came quickly, too. In fact, two days later, we found ourselves on a train going up to Seattle to catch a Mariner’s game. Seattle’s train station is right next to Safeco Field, and a lot of fans take a shuttle train up from Portland. God, it was so hot being with all of these guys: On the train; at the baseball park; and afterward at a bar arguing about the game (Turns out Adam and Rafe are diehard Yankee’s fans and Cameron comes from a family that is totally devoted to the Red Sox. Tell me THAT didn’t make for some lively discussion!). As for Drew, Evan and myself, we were just happy to see the Mariners beat the Minnesota Twins that day.
On the train ride back, Rafe and I had a pretty deep talk. It’s amazing how quickly we became pretty intimate in what we shared with each other. It seems he and Jen had happened on some turbulent waters in their relationship. Their young marriage was already wearing on both of them. He didn’t come right out and say it, but I got the idea that he suspected that Jen might be seeing someone else. But then, he did admit that he had been less-than-faithful himself. No specifics, but he did tell me that he’d taken to fulfilling his sexual needs “with others,” and another time during the conversation he mentioned “other ways” to reach climax. I took that to mean the obvious-- masturbation.
It was really cool to have him open up like that to me. I mean, I found it very affirming that he would trust me like that. I’ve been told that I’m a pretty good listener, and I think Rafe appreciated that. At some point in the conversation, I think Rafe started to feel like he was dominating the topics, so he started asking me questions. “So, you look like you’ve been hitting the gym for quite a few years.” Yeah, that wasn’t really a question, but I took it and went with it.
“Yeah, ever since I graduated from high school. I guess that makes it almost 15 years now,” I said.
“So, let me see,” Rafe said. “That makes you about 32 if my math serves.”
“It serves you quite well,” I smiled. “And I’m going to say you have to be about mid-twenties?”
“Your math serves well, too, dude. Twenty-five.”
We both congratulated each other on our ability to deduce the age of the other, then Rafe said, man, you don’t seem seven years older than me. I mean… I don’t know.”
“I think I know what you mean. We seem to have similar personalities,” I said.
“And senses of humor,” he added. “You ever compete?”
“Compete?” I asked.
“Aw, no. I guess that’s where we’re different,” I said. “I could never get up on stage like that-- like you do.”
“It’s a rush, man. It really is,” he said. He looked at me in the face and said, “You could do it. You have a great body, man. If you put your mind to it, you could dominate, dude.”
I appreciated his confidence in my ability, and it was almost a boner-producing event to hear him say I have a great body. “Thanks, man,” I said. “But I think I’ll restrict my exhibitionist tendencies to private sessions only.” I could almost sense an excitement in Rafe when I said that, as if he was on the verge of asking me if I’d be interested in discussing that possibility in more depth. But he didn’t go there.
I looked down at his rippling forearms. “I can’t believe Jen would ever have a problem with being married to a guy like you. She needs her head examined.”
Rafe laughed. “Well, like I said, it’s not all her fault.”
I hadn’t noticed it, but we found ourselves talking in hushed tones now, as if we didn’t really want the conversation to be overheard; even though there was no one in the seat in front of us, and the car as a whole wasn’t that densely populated. I looked up a few rows, across the aisle, and saw the back of Cam’s head as he sat in a seat next to Adam. They seemed to be talking. Evan and Drew were in the car in front of us.
I looked back at Rafe’s arms. “I suppose guys like us have more than our fair share of testosterone, dude. Comes with the territory. A guy has to be able to deal with that, in some way.”
“Shit, it’s so good to be able to talk to someone who understands that,” Rafe smiled. “It’s really hard to find someone who knows what it’s like. But I don’t know if bodybuilders are necessarily cursed with high sex drives. I suppose there are other factors, not just muscle mass.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “But I think in your case, your sex drive and your muscle go hand in hand.”
Rafe smiled broadly, “Yeah. Or this in hand.” He made a jerking-off motion, and I burst out laughing. He lowered his voice more. “Is it just me, or am I the only one who has to ejaculate more than once a day?”
“Shit, man. You’re not alone in that. Not by a long-shot.”
“So… how often for you?” Rafe persisted.
I liked where this conversation was going.
“Well, I’ve never been married, so my hand is my only friend, dude,” I smiled.
“I didn’t find that marriage made any difference.”
“At least twice a day,” I interjected, answering his question.
“And excuse me, but you’ve got to be kidding,” he said. “Your hand is your only friend? Give me a break, dude. You could have anyone you want, with that body.”
I grinned just a bit. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.
Rafe smiled. “As it was intended.”
“But I just meant that sometimes a cock in the hand is worth two in her bush.”
I thought my ears would burst, Rafe laughed so loud. Both Cameron and Adam turned around to see what the joke was, and I have to admit, I was pretty proud of my quick wit. It took Rafe a good minute or two to quiet down, and when he finally composed himself (and I did likewise), he got quiet again and revealed more.
“That’s really part of Jen’s and my problem. She’s come into the bathroom and caught me pleasuring myself a few times. Shouldn’t be a problem, really; I mean lots of married guys do that. But when you hardly ever initiate sex with your wife and she finds you having sex with yourself, that can cause some problems.”
“Yeah. I guess that would.”
I put my hand on Rafe’s leg and squeezed it. “Well, bud, if you ever need to talk about it, I’m here. You have my number.”
He smiled and put his hand on top of mine, holding it firmly on his leg. “Thanks, dude.” He looked right into my eyes, and I returned his gaze. It was a tad uncomfortable for a second. But only for a second. God in Heaven, he was adorable. Dark eyes. Jet black hair. A build that just never quit. And today he was sporting a nice, dark five o’clock shadow that made me what to whimper.
“I know you’re going to take this the wrong way, man,” he said. We were still holding my hand on his muscular quad. “But I gotta tell you that just talking with you like this-- it means more to me than I can put into words. I kinda feel a connection-- like we were meant to be more than just…” he stopped mid-sentence. Then continued. “I mean, we’ve only known each other a few days, but I already feel like you’re closer than a brother to me.”
He still kept his hand on top of mine, on top of his thigh. Apparently he wanted me to leave my hand there.
“Dude,” I said. “I know exactly what you mean. I don’t want to get funny sounding, but I feel the same way about you.” We looked into each other’s eyes again. His face just made my gut turn somersaults. I’m not sure, but I think I saw his eyes water. Then he looked away.
I could feel my penis growing.
And still my hand remained. But Rafe lifted his hand from mine and moved it onto my forearm, rubbing it lightly. I know mine isn’t the biggest forearm in the world, but it is pretty thick and I have a good amount of vascular stuff goin’ on there. Rafe’s fingers seemed to be attracted to the veins as they bulged on my arm. A little higher. A little higher, and his fingers approached my upper arm.
God, I was getting hard.
I started to do to Rafe’s huge quad muscles what he was doing to my forearm-- slowly and gently feeling out the thick, rippling mass. There was no way he wasn’t getting hard, too. No way.
Our eyes had looked down to watch what we were doing to each other, and then they returned to lock onto each other again.
“You have a nice touch, man,” he said. His eyes were so piercing and romantic. His muscles were so big and masculine. “Really nice.”
“Thanks,” I said shyly. “You do too.”
Then, his hand slipped off my arm and went down onto my hip and down to my leg. Again we watched as our hands felt the other’s muscles. I could see my penis under my shorts. It was obviously engorged. I looked at Rafe’s.
Holy mother of all erections! His cargo shorts were soft and they allowed easy movement; the coverage of the fabric was loose and comfortable-looking. Consequently, his large, thick cock showed under the khaki fabric rather obviously.
I got nervous. I mean, I certainly wasn’t afraid to have my way with a guy, that’s for sure; but Rafe was married. And we had just met. And I didn’t want to complicate the friendship.
Oh hell; who was I kidding. It was obvious from the way we first looked at each other that this was bound to end up more than a platonic relationship.
Suddenly the door at the front of the cabin burst open and in came Drew and Evan. They were dressed in conductor’s uniforms! Complete with hats and pocket watches! They looked hilarious! (And gorgeous-- there’s nothing like a stud in uniform!)
Rafe and I immediately withdrew our hands from each other, and in an instant I went from hard to hardly breathing. Shit, that was scary. Almost caught!
They sauntered down the aisle as if they were real conductors, asking for tickets. It was funnier than funny. They hammed it up, mostly with Cam and Adam, and then with Rafe and me when they got to us.
“Dude, where did you get those uniforms?” I laughed. “That’s outrageous!”
“Just found them in a closet up there,” Evan said, motioning to their car.
The two youngsters continued to act the part, but not very well, actually. They were so full of themselves that they couldn’t keep from laughing. They playfully punched at each other and slapped each other’s backs, tugging on the chains that held their pocket watches. In a minute, they returned to the front of the car and went back to their own coach.
Rafe and I giggled about it for a few minutes, and then I leaned my head back onto my seat. It got quiet again. I felt Rafe’s hand move back onto my leg. “Now,” he whispered.. “Where were we?”
I turned to his face and once again, almost died from an overdose of beauty.
Was he leaning in to me? Or maybe it was just that he was so goddam good looking that he just seemed to overtake my whole field of vision.
No, he was leaning in to me.
I could feel my heart race, and as I placed my hand back on Rafe’s leg, I found a vein that throbbed with his pulse.
His shorts were kinda tight on his quads, so I had to wriggle the tip of my pinky to get it under the fabric. I slid it in just a bit-- only to the first knuckle; just enough to get it in there, but not enough to really do any damage.
Rafe’s little finger moved into a similar position on my leg.
I was hard as a rock.
I broke my gaze from Rafe’s gorgeous face and looked around the cabin. The only person behind us was three rows back, and he was against the window, asleep. In front, beside Cam and Adam, there was only one couple, and they were also slumped in their seats, sleeping. I returned my attention to Rafe who’s facial expression seemed to ask if everything was okay. I half nodded that the coast was clear.
Rafe looked down and watched his hand move onto the top of my denim shorts. His vascular hand rested on my cock. He didn’t squeeze it; he just let rest there. I slid my hand down his leg, slipping it between his huge thighs, exploring the magnificent gorge formed by the two pillars of muscle. It was a place no man’s hand should venture, but we seemed to be moving quickly beyond the social boundaries one might expect to have in a purely platonic friendship.
Rafe kept looking at his hand on my crotch. Then, slowly, he squeezed. Gently. Lovingly. He looked at my eyes, and I’m sure they went half-mast. I let out a soft moan, too. He squeezed it more. He moved his hand over it, tenderly exploring its hardness, its tumescence. Of course, that only turned me on all the more.
“Fuck,” I whispered. “You have a nice hand.”
He didn’t respond. He just kept feeling me out. A slow squeeze; a tender push; a soft rub. God he was driving me insane!
My hand, having gotten lost in the valley between Rafe’s giant legs, finally found the resolve to move up onto his crotch as well. I tried to return the tenderness that Rafe was offering my erection, but I can’t help but feel that mine was a woeful attempt compared to his. I pressed it as gently as I could; he responded by moving his face to mine.
Our lips were millimeters apart. Our eyes lustily locked. Our hands massaged each other. And then, slowly, seductively, Rafe licked his lips, nearly brushing my own as he did it. I couldn’t help but mimic his movement. He squeezed again.
God, I was so close to cumming.
Rafe tipped his head to the side, almost imperceptibly, allowing us to get closer without butting noses. Our mouths were open.
Before our lips touched, Rafe’s tongue slipped itself into my mouth. And then our lips met. He was so gentle. He was so slow. Romantic, really.
As he tenderly kissed me, he likewise massaged my cock through my pants. I think the best part was when he didn’t actually squeeze, but when he just moved his hand over it, rubbing it softly. His tongue explored my mouth like a kitten searching for its mother’s nipple. Oh-fuck he was so hot!
In less than a minute from when his tongue penetrated my mouth, I was cumming in my pants. And Rafe’s hand seemed determined to push as much semen into my briefs as possible. He seemed to smile as we kissed and my body jerked. I took my hand from his pants and moved it up onto his chest, feeling out his massive pecs. And still I came. And still he milked me.
As I finished and we parted, I looked down to my crotch to see if anything had gotten out. I could feel that my briefs were full of my warm, creamy cum; but there wasn’t anything visible. No dark marks, nothing oozing out anywhere. But still, I could tell there was a lot in there, and I wasn’t so sure it would stay hidden.
I took a few deep breaths.
Then it started getting dangerous. Rafe unzipped his shorts and pulled them open. He was wearing boxers. He looked up at me, as if to say, “go for it, man.” God, I was scared. What if someone walked into the cab? Rafe pulled open the slit in his boxers and despite it’s unreal length, managed to force out his penis. Fuuuuuck, it was long and thick! Vascular as hell. A big, purple head. A pronounced ridge. His balls were still inside his boxers. He pushed up his long cock, and it tightened-- looking as if it were throbbing. He let it go back to his torso. Shit, it came up well above his waistline. It was the goddam biggest organ!
I touched it and Rafe let his head drop back against the seat. It was hot-- I mean, it was very, very warm. So fucking rigid. So fucking thick. I slid my fingertips down to the opening of his underwear and poked them inside, feeling a thick bush of pubes. I managed to find his nuts, and began fondling them.
I don’t remember how it happened; if I were to logically evaluate the decision to do so, I would never have done it right there in the train, but somehow I found Rafe’s monstrous phallus inside my mouth. My quivering lips tenderly wrapped around the thick rim of his head, and I gently suckled, luxuriating in the sweet taste of his pre-cum. And there was a lot to taste.
God, I don’t know what got into me. I mean, here I was, sucking off this guy right there in the train car!
The combination of my deft fingers on Rafe’s balls, and my talented tongue and lips on his cock brought Rafe to moaning quickly. I slid up and down his shaft-- fuck it was so thick! And no matter how much I determined to not gag, I just couldn’t take it all in to the hilt. But I don’t think he cared. I think he enjoyed the attempts. His head would hit the back of my throat, and just before I would almost gag, I’d have to pull it out just a bit.
But then, he moved closer and closer to climax; and he seemed to lose a little control. He put his hands on my head and held me on his cock. I got claustrophobic, but I determined to satisfy him. Even so, my body tightened and my leg straightened out into the aisle with a jerk. My arms flailed and I hit the seat in front of us with a fist. Rafe was in control now.
I continued to slide up and down his long, muscular shaft, as well as tickle the underside of his balls. With a yelp that I’m sure should have grabbed the attention of Cam and Adam, Rafe began to come. His jizz spewed into my throat and his strong hands forced my head all the way down. I gagged, pounding the seat again and thrashing all over hell. Rafe was not able to contain himself.
“SHHHHIIIIIIIIIT” he hissed. It wasn’t overly loud, but I know it could be heard throughout the cabin. His hands held me fast, and the cum just kept coming out of his penis like a sprinkler. I fought against him, but it was in vain.
Now comes the unbelievable part. His cock head pressed against my throat and shot hot burst after burst of jizz. As I gagged, I started to panic. I wanted to keep going-- to give him the hottest blow job he’d ever had-- but I was really losing it. And yet, his hands held me firmly on his cock. I breathed in his pubes. And then, it began to happen. The bursts of sperm were so hard that they began going up into my sinuses. I swear this is true-- you’re just going to have to trust me on this one-- as he kept coming and coming, forcing my head down, his jizm started to come out of my nose. I almost went unconscious. I moaned loudly-- now anyone who was awake in the cabin had to know something was going on. More white cream oozed out of my nostrils and onto Rafe’s pubic hair.
At some point the claustrophobia gave way to a resigned peace and I started to relax.
And still he filled my head with his semen.
Allowing my body to go limp, I started to enjoy the rhythm Rafe was producing. The milk kept shooting out of my nose, but now it was all good.
With a forceful, final push, Rafe finished. His hands relaxed. His body went limp.
I lifted my head, allowed his penis to fall out of my mouth, and looked up at his face. His exhaustion quickly turned to surprise-- shock, really. His eyes went big. “Dude!” he whispered. “Dude, what happened?”
I stuck my tongue out and licked some jizz that was dribbling out of my nose.
“Fuck!” Rafe whispered loudly. “Did I do that to you?”
I just smiled up at him.
“Fuck!” he repeated. Then he grinned subtly and said, “Sorry, man. Shit, that was one helluva blow job!” He quickly looked around the cabin. He didn’t seem to see anyone watching.
I sat up and tried to gain my composure. “I think I need to clean up, man,” I said.
Rafe forced his post-orgasmic cock back inside his boxers and wrestled with his zipper. “Shit, man, I’ll have to clean you off before you can get up. You have my jizz coming out of your nose, dude!”
“Tell me about it,” I said. “Like I didn’t know.”
Rafe started to laugh. And when he looked at me, he laughed even harder. Just when he seemed to get his laughter under control, he’d look at my face again and he’d lose it, laughing uncontrollably. He used his thumb to wipe off my nose. My head felt sore. Rafe started laughing again. His whole, muscular, body shook as he laughed. God he’s so hot.
When he was satisfied that I was presentable to the general public, he said I could get up and use the restroom, which I did quickly.
I returned to my seat to find Rafe almost asleep. He nodded at my return. Soon we were both in the ozone layer, hand in hand.
The next thing I remember was hearing silence. The train had stopped. I opened my eyes and saw Cam and Adam standing in the aisle, still about three rows in front of us. I quickly let go of Rafe’s hand. That motion woke him up.
We found Evan and Drew and made our way off the train into Union Station.
“I don’t know about you,” Adam said, “but that was one hell of a train ride.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He paused and then wrapped his big arm around my shoulder. “I think you know what I mean, man.” Then he winked.
“So, you and Rafe seem to have hit it off pretty well,” Cam said, adjusting his camo-hat as he drove. “Seems like every time I see you, you’re talking to him on the phone.”
I shifted my legs a little in his front seat. “Yeah, he’s cool. We became friends right away.” I didn’t want to talk about it too much, because I had no intention of minimizing my friendship with Cam, and I didn’t want him to get jealous.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said. “Adam and I have become pretty good friends, too. And to watch Evan and Drew together, you’d think they were conjoined twins, or something.”
I laughed, and Cam did as well.
“It’s kind of weird, how that happened-- I mean the three of us, and the three of them. Who’da thunk?” I said.
“Who’da thunk,” Cam repeated. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking when he said it-- was he being sarcastic? Was he upset?
“But you know,” I continued, “I don’t think of Rafe as my best friend, or anything.” I looked over at Cameron’s muscular frame as he drove and said the following with great meaning: “That’s reserved for you.”
Cam displayed his drop-dead gorgeous dimples and adorable smile at me. “Thanks. I feel the same way.”
“You do?” I asked, a little surprised.
“But I thought you and Adam were getting pretty…”
“Aw, come on, Matt,” Cam interrupted, “You’re my bosom buddy. Always will be.”
I breathed a big sigh.
“What,” Cam said, more than asked.
I tried for force back a little smile. “I guess maybe we’re both a little unsure about the other-- maybe both of us are a little jealous about all of this…”
Cam put his big paw on my leg. “Relationships are funny, changing things, Matt. But that doesn’t have to scare us. You can rest assured that you’re my number one.”
“Number one? Does that mean that there are numbers two, three and four?”
Cam grinned. “Well, you tell me. How long did you spend on the phone with Rafe yesterday?”
I flushed a little bit. “I see your point.”
“And,” he continued, “who got a blow job first-- Rafe or me?”
I snapped my head toward him; my eyes were huge. “You know about that?”
Cam laughed. “You would’ve had to be deaf on that train to not!”
I turned crimson.
“But,” he said, “I don’t feel bad. At least I got a hand job first.”
Again, my eyes widened, and my mouth dropped open. “You were awake?”
Grinning, Cam said, “The whooooooole time.” He let his eyelids close slowly and then open, and said, “By the way, dude, you have one awesome hand there. Just incredible.”
I felt embarrassed, but the fact that he was laughing about it took all of my nervousness away.
“Matt,” Cam said. “I have to say something, though. I think some of this confusion is because of me. I mean-- I haven’t really… well, I mean…” he pulled the Cruiser over to the side of the road.
Shit, this sounded serious.
He looked me deep in the eyes. “Matt, I didn’t want to rush things. I didn’t want to scare you or anything. I mean, I knew I was mad about you the moment I saw you at that contest. And I could tell by the way you looked at me, there was something on your part, too. Shit, man. That’s what was so totally hot-- just seeing you get all worked up about me. Has anyone ever told you how astoundingly handsome you are?”
Cameron leaned toward me. “Maybe this is just because of what you said-- jealousy and all of this with the other guys. I dunno, but I have to say it now, Matt. I want you to know it now, dude.” He paused, as if accessing deep recesses in his mind, to find just the right words. “Matt, I’m crazy about you.” Then he sighed, frustrated, I think, that he couldn’t get the obvious words out.
“I understand, Cam,” I smiled.
“No. No. I need to say it. It’s just that I’ve never said it to another guy. Ever. Not even to another woman. Ever. But I want to say it to you. It’s just that it’s pretty big to me, and I want it to mean something.”
I held still; heart pounded. It hurt to see him all worked up and nervous like this.
“Matt,” he said. “I love you.”
As he said the last word in that eternal phrase, a single tear fell from his right eye. He didn’t wipe it. It fell onto his tan T-shirt,, staining it.
Oh gawd almighty.
Up until that very second, I only had nervousness. But at that instant I was overcome with emotion. I’ve never had it happen like that-- so suddenly-- but I immediately started crying. “Oh god, Cam.”
We embraced, and kissed. There are no words to tell you what that moment was really like. I told Cam I felt the same way. And we kissed some more. We kissed for a long time; it actually got to be kind of uncomfortable. The front seat of a rig really isn’t that conducive to making out.
“So, I guess it kind of hurt you when I gave Rafe that blow job,” I said after we had started moving down the highway again.
Cam turned to me. “No. No, it didn’t, man. I mean, I guess-- well, we’ve never really consummated our relationship, if you know what I mean. And even then, I’m not really a possessive kind of guy, man. You enjoying another guy doesn’t bother me at all.”
“How can you say that, after you just got done telling me you loved me like you do?” I asked, somewhat shocked.
“Well, I guess we definitely need to talk about what kind of relationship we’re going to have here,” he said, a little saddened.
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“Dude, maybe you don’t agree with this, but here’s where I’m coming from. I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”
I don’t know, but even though he had just said he loves me, hearing that last sentence had more impact.
But he continued without pausing. “And I hope you want the same with me,” he said, taking his eyes from the road and putting them on me. “But when I say that, I guess I’m not requiring that you stay away from other guys. For me, it almost makes our relationship even hotter--- knowing that you ‘know’ other guys but keep coming back to me.”
I scrunched my face in puzzlement. “But what if I lay with another guy and find that I want to be with him-- and don’t come back to you?”
He grinned, and slowly looked at me again. “You really think that’s possible?”
Damn, this guy had confidence. I mean, I could tell by looking at him that he wasn’t stuck up. He was just very sure.
I couldn’t help from grinning. “You have a point. But--” I was getting confused. “But, actually, it is possible, man. I mean, someday, someone might really be very attractive to me. And plus, even if I don’t leave, what’s to prevent you from finding someone else. I think the possibility of that happening is much greater. I’m not so sure I like the idea of you being with other guys. I’m not as secure as you are, Cameron.”
There was a good half-mile of silence as we drove westward, toward Forest Grove.
“Well, man,” he finally said. “I guess you’re going to have to make a decision. I want to be with you forever. I love you, Matt. I commit to being with you forever. But, you’re going to have to accept me as I am. I’m being totally up-front with you. This may seem foreign to you, but it’s who I am.”
“So,” I said, “it’s kinda ‘take me or leave me’?”
“You be honest with me, Matt,” Cam said. “Can you honestly say that you will never be with another guy again-- that you’ll only be with me? Can you really say that?”
“That’s kinda what I was thinking…”
I fidgeted again. “Yeah, kinda.”
“If I left you and Rafe in a bedroom alone, can you promise me that you wouldn’t do anything with him?”
“I dunno,” I said. “Maybe I’m just old fashioned.”
Cam turned the FJ Cruiser onto a dirt road. I could see a huge mansion in the distance. “God,” I said. “Adam’s place is gigantic!”
“Yeah,” Cam said. “Wait ‘til you see the inside.”
I turned to Cam. “Have you been with him?”
Without hesitating, Cam said, “Not yet.”
At once, my heart sank, but then at the same time I got really stimulated, sexually. I mean, just imagining the scene between these huge musclegods-- it was really unbelievable to imagine. But, I always thought that two people, when they decided to be together…
Cam stopped in front of one of the many garage doors. Adam’s place was immaculately landscaped. It was the most beautiful home I had ever seen.
“I wanted to wait until you could watch,” he said, turning off the key and looking at me.
I said nothing, but raised my eyebrows in curiosity.
Cam burst out laughing. “You are so goddam cute!” he said. Regaining some seriousness, he said, “So… what do you think?”
As if some new knowledge had just been imparted to me, or maybe it was some kind of innate trust I had in Cameron, I suddenly relaxed. I don’t really know why-- but whatever it was, I decided then and there not to be possessive. Maybe he was right. I mean, even as we sat in his driveway, inside that house was one hot muscleman, and in reality, I guess I never expected either Cam or myself to refrain from enjoying whatever fruits of the earth might avail themselves. God, I wish I had my head screwed on as well as Cameron’s was. I mean, he seemed to have already come to terms with who he was. And I realized that I was exactly the same way-- it’s just that I had never admitted it to myself.
I turned toward Cameron, and said with a slight grin, “Let’s go see what Adam’s serving for dinner.”
• • • •
Adam greeted us at the door, and as we walked up to the house he said, “You two discussing world politics out there?”
“Oh,” Cam chuckled. “Yeah. Actually we were just putting the finishing touches on our plans for world domination.”
Adam laughed. He raised his hand and he and Cameron gave each other a high-five and then a quick hug. Adam turned to me and we did the same. But his hug with me seemed just a bit longer than he had done with Cam. I liked it.
Having the hugest muscleman in existence as my best friend-- and now I guess, lifelong partner?-- was the best it could get. But I realized that I would never tire of having any gorgeous muscleman accept me-- and really like to be with me. I definitely got that feeling from Adam.
Plus, he was rich.
Adam escorted us inside, and announced that dinner would be served in the dining room shortly, but first he wanted to take us on a tour of the house. It was truly an amazing home. Just beautiful, and comfortable.
When the tour was over, Adam took us to the dining room, which was actually right off a beautiful “great room.” Solid rock lined one wall-- where the fireplace was. A few steps down into the living room and you were standing under a two-story vaulted ceiling. Beautiful woods and beams were everywhere. Just like I would have built it if I had a bazillion dollars.
We sat down and presently the door to the kitchen was opened, and out came the most stunning man (given this context) I had ever seen. I mean, he was very-well built-- even though not to Cam’s or even Adam’s standards-- but the stunning part was his face. This guy belonged on the cover of GQ. Dark eyes, dark eyebrows, perfect skin, square jaw, thick neck, gorgeous lips. He gave me a tight throat.
“Aw, Dale,” Adam smiled. “Smells terrific.”
“Thank you, sir,” Dale said. He served a tray of hors d'oeuvres and some drinks. It was the beginning of a delicious meal. And the company wasn’t bad either.
As Dale withdrew our dessert plates, Adam finally had to ask. “So, Cameron, I hear you not only do bodybuilding, but you’re quite an accomplished power lifter.”
Cam took a sip of his water and sat it down. “I’ve done a little.”
I practically choked on my marionberry pie.
“I have a few weights out back, in my gym,” Adam said. “You interested in a little demonstration?”
Cam wiped his mouth with his napkin. “You think you have enough plates?” He looked Adam right in the eye, and I think our host got the message that he wasn’t joking.
Adam flinched. “Well, I have enough to push me to my limit; so we should be able to jury-rig something for you. Shouldn’t really need to do much, though, I bet.”
“Want to put some money on that?” Cam challenged.
Adam grinned. Then he move the silverware that remained at his place setting. He looked like he was calculating or figuring in his head. “Well, I’m not really a betting man. You think you’ve got something that might surprise me?”
Cam leaned back in his chair. “Dunno. Actually, I’m thinking that pushing up a bunch of weights might be a little boring.”
“So… what do you have in mind?” Adam asked.
Cam looked at Adam’s body. It was a slightly lusty look. “Well, how ‘bout a little man-on-man competition. You know-- a friendly little challenge?”
Adam seemed to like the idea. “Name it.”
“There’s a little game I like to call, ‘Strongest Man Rides the Other.’”
Adam’s eyebrows raised-- a lot. “And how do we determine who is the strongest?”
Cam leaned forward, across the table toward Adam and said, “I think we already know who that is, dude.”
This time, I did choke on my pie. Cam, in his studliness, passed me some water without taking his eyes off Adam.
Adam couldn’t help but grin. I got the distinct idea that he rarely, if ever, came across a guy who was stronger than he was; and I also got the distinct idea that Cam’s proposal was very appealing to him.
“I think during that tour you just gave us, I saw a bedroom or two,” Cam said.
Adam looked over at me. “And Matt’s okay with this?”
Still, Cam kept smiling at Adam. “He is-- but then, you don’t think I really need permission from anyone, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Besides,” Cam continued, “I think he’ll probably enjoy watching almost as much as you will enjoy receiving.”
• • • •
“I’m still not sure we should just assume who the strongest one is,” Adam said, closing the bedroom door behind all of us. His smile was killer, and his mammoth muscles gave credence to his hesitation to admit submission too quickly.
But one look over at Cameron, and I was ready to concede Alpha status to Cameron in this confrontation. But I had to love Adam for his self-assurance.
From Cam, there were no words; just action. He lifted up his shirt, over his head, and tossed it on the bed. Holy, fuckin’ shit. Just seeing him display his upper body to Adam made me instantly hard-- and instantly light-headed. Further, Adam’s reactionary intake of air was just the reaction I think Cam was desiring. Cameron took a step toward Adam and with just a nod and a look, told Adam to take off his shirt as well.
Adam obeyed. Fuck; he sure didn’t have anything to be shy about. When he took his shirt off, I thought the room would explode with an overabundance of testosterone. The two musclemen stood about a foot apart from each other, staring the other down. It was pulsating power. Pure muscle.
Cam, without taking his eyes off Adam’s eyes, slowly unzipped his pants, and pulled back the opening. Then he just stood there. I think I saw him ripple his pecs, but I was standing at the side of both of them, and I’m not sure that’s what actually happened. Cam continued, lifting his pants away from his narrow waist and moving them down.
Adam’s eyes were locked on Cameron’s, otherwise I’m sure he would have watched Cam pull his pants down; but in all honesty, I don’t think Cam was letting him release his gaze. After Cam forced his pants down, over his quads, they fell to the floor, exposing the muscle giant’s red plaid boxer shorts. Cam stepped out of the pants and kicked them away. He had not been wearing any socks, since he had been in sandals, so he now only wore the boxers-- and a confident (but not overbearing) grin. It was apparent that Adam was impressed; and it was apparent that this was the fist time he had seen so much of Cameron.
I took a position on the end of the high bed, allowing my feet to dangle. I decided to leave my pants zipped for the time-being. It was kind of stimulating to feel the tension of my stiff penis against my pants.
Cam took the lead further and placed four fingertips inside Adam’s pants, using both hands to unbutton and unzip his khaki shorts. Adam just stood there. Cam opened up the fly and pulled the pants down. They dropped to the floor as soon as Cam had negotiated them past Adam’s huge quads, which was no easy task. Adam was wearing navy blue boxers. Both men were now only in their underwear. Cam stood a few inches taller than Adam, and his size was indeed more impressive; but Adam was so defined and proportionate that even Cam’s superior size and development didn’t overshadow him. The two men were face to face, only inches apart.
Adam was getting hard. His cock, although concealed in his boxers, was growing. Cam showed no sign of stimulation.
Cameron moved his hand onto the bulge growing in Adam’s crotch and felt him out.
Goddam it, this was going to get good.
Adam grabbed Cameron’s forearm in an effort to get him to stop. Cam’s actions were purely an act of aggression and domination, and Adam wasn’t about to concede anything. Not yet. But Cam’s hand didn’t move off the growing cock, so Adam took his other hand and grabbed Cam’s free one. In moments, the two of them hand their fingers intertwined, and in the end, Adam was successful in making Cam move off his dick and interlink fingers on that hand as well.
The two men were now locked in a grip with the palms of both of their hands pressing against each other’s and their fingers interwoven. Their arms were straight, pointing straight down.
I could see their faces steel against each other. Their expressions were serious, but they both seemed confident. As they gripped the other’s hands, the show of triceps muscle began to make the room get very, very warm. Or something like that. Whatever it was, just watching them grip and flex as they each tried to assume an air of superiority made me mighty hot. God, I couldn’t stop darting my glance back and forth between Adam’s mighty, rippling triceps or Cameron’s.
Adam’s cock seemed to retreat slightly as his attention was diverted to the struggle-- away from being overwhelmed by Cam’s body. It had never emerged from his boxers, mind you; but the bulge was now a little less obvious.
I looked at Cam’s face. His grip slowly started to force Adam’s wrists backwards, and yet his facial expression didn’t show any effort. Adam stared into Cam’s eyes, and his expression started to show stress, although I could tell he was trying not to let on. Cam pushed harder. Adam’s wrists moved back farther. His face winced.
I sat, enthralled.
Adam began to breathe hard, and I could see it was becoming more and more difficult for him to maintain his position on the carpet. He was putting his whole body into it, and yet his feet seemed to be losing traction. And indeed, he was, in fact, losing contact with the floor.
Cam’s mighty arms grew and grew, and the emphasis moved away from his triceps and onto his bulging biceps. He was forcing Adam’s body off the floor!
Adam presently lost contact with the rug and he fell into Cameron, gasping and whimpering as his wrists were forced backward. Cam held him up, a few inches off the floor-- he just held him there. Adam was forced to rest his big body against Cam’s. He was helpless. Cam’s biceps bent even more, and he extended his arms outward, forcing Adam’s feet out and away, even higher off the floor, moving Adam’s body almost into a 45 degree angle with the floor.
Adam’s head rested on Cam’s chest and shoulder, his face toward me. His eyes were closed in anguish. There was grunting and moaning, but I couldn’t tell who was making which noises.
The doorbell rang.
Cam didn’t release Adam for a second, but after evaluating the doorbell, seemed to think it best to let Adam make a decision as to whether or not to answer it. He lowered Adam down, and the two men released grips. They stood there in silence; Cam looking inquisitively at Adam, and Adam looking as if he were trying to make a decision.
“Let’s ignore it,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “No-- let me see who it is,” he then said. He grabbed his shorts and quickly pulled them on and dashed out of the room, leaving Cam and me.
Cam walked over to me, as a fighter might walk over to his coach in the corner during the break between rounds. He just stood there, relaxed, looking composed. His muscles were pumped, and he was breathing hard, but the breathing was more out of powerful exertion, not desperation. He put his hand on my shoulder, and I melted. I wanted to close my eyes; I mean, here he was, all pumped, masculine, muscular, and powerful-over-his-opponent and everything. He was the total man of my dreams. And he liked me! I looked into his eyes and found serenity and comfort. Strength, of course. Confidence, of course. And Tenderness. And affection! And competitiveness.
There was talking down in the entryway, and it got closer. Adam returned to the room, and behind him walked Drew.
“Gentlemen,” Adam smiled somewhat jokingly, “This is my coach, Drew.”
“Don’t think he’s going to help, dude,” Cam smiled. “But suit yourself.”
• • • •
It took a few minutes for Adam to answer the door, but when he did, I immediately began getting hard. He was only wearing his khaki shorts. He looked winded-- even a little flushed in the cheeks. His body looked a little pumped. Shit, he looked hot!
“Drew!” he smiled. “Cool! You’re here. But I thought you were studying at your mom’s this weekend.”
“I was,” I said. “But I got done!” I grinned, and Adam embraced me. Yeah, he was pumped, winded, and he had been sweating just a bit. “Did I catch you working out?” I asked.
“No,” he smiled. “Cam and Matt are upstairs. We’re just having a little muscle competition, dude.”
I had noticed Cam’s FJ Cruiser in front of the garage.
“Come on up,” Adam motioned. I followed him upstairs and he refused to answer any of my questions about exactly what kind of muscle competition he was talking about. We got to his room and he led me in. “Gentlemen,” he said somewhat jokingly to Cam and Matt, “This is my coach, Drew.”
“Don’t think he’s going to help, dude,” Cam smiled to both of us. “But suit yourself.”
I had never seen Cam shirtless.
I had never seen Cam shirtless.
O yeah; I already said that.
Uh. For that matter, I had never seen him in boxers.
Uh. Shit. Where was I.
Oh yeah, we were in Adam’s bedroom, and Adam and Cam were in various stages of undress.
I thought I had seen everything when I first saw Adam in all of his glory. And when I first had seen Cameron at The Bite that day, I was totally overwhelmed by him-- even clothed. I hadn’t even considered who of the two was bigger or better-built, but now, seeing Cameron like that-- just standing there with muscles coming out of everywhere, I was dumbfounded.
I mean, he was so big. And so built! And so-- unbelievable!
He stood there, relaxed, and smiled at me. Had I noticed those dimples before? Hell, how in the world could I have missed that gorgeous smile? Hell, how in the world was I noticing it now in the naked presence of all his muscles?
“Drew,” Adam said, somewhat agitated. “You want to come in, or are you expecting an earthquake?”
I realized I had been standing in the doorway, so I came in and closed the door behind me.
Matt, in his friendly, smart-ass way, said “I think he’s already experienced the earthquake, dude.” Matt was looking at me, and then Cam, and all four of us knew what he was referring to.
“Sorry, man,” Cam apologized to me. “Do I need to put some clothes on so you can regain your composure?”
I snapped out of my trance with Cam’s body just long enough to sneer a derogatory look at the giant, then made my way over to sit next to Matt on the end of the bed.
But the little intimidation show by Cam wasn’t over. He and his boxers walked over and stood in front of me. Right in front of me.
I-- uh. Hadn’t remembered him being-- so… so big.
He looked down at me and smiled. Shit, his narrow waist. His fuckin’ chest! His arms and shoulders seemed to take up all of my field of vision.
He cupped my chin in his hand and slowly moved his thumb across my lips. He smiled into my eyes. My cock was now full-blown in my pants. His thumb moved seductively over my lips, and I tried to fight off the urge to pucker them as he did so. Not totally successfully.
“Hey dude,” Adam said to Cam, “you want to let me finish what I started here?”
Matt burst out a cute laugh, and from Cam’s grin, I could tell Adam was being sarcastic.
Cam released his hand from my face and turned toward Adam. As he walked away from me, I tried to adjust my penis, but the sight of Cam’s wide back didn’t help things.
As soon as Cam rejoined Adam, he said, “Well, dude, you gunna make me do that again? Or are you going to get back to where we were on your own…” He looked down at Adam’s shorts, and immediately Adam pulled them down and stepped out of them. “Now,” Cam said, “where were we? Oh yeah, I was just a few seconds away from breaking your wrists.”
For some reason, that smack talk turned me on all the more. The image that created in my mind was hot.
“You wish,” Adam retorted.
Without needing to choreograph their motions, the two men laced their fingers with the others’ and pressed their palms together. Their arms stretched out wide, parallel with the floor, as if they were forming a cross. Cam’s span was slightly wider than Adam’s, and I think that even without the larger muscle mass, he would have had an advantage simply because of his longer arms. Within seconds, it was apparent that Adam was struggling. Cam showed no stress. Adam’s wrists were losing the battle and you could tell his body was being forced in toward Cam’s . Their faces grew closer-- Adam’s straining with effort, and Cam’s showing a smirk of ease.
Cam forced Adam even closer, and momentarily their noses touched. Then their lips. As Cam held Adam’s arms out wide in an iron lock, he began frenching Adam. As if the force of Cam’s body wasn’t enough, the kissing made Adam’s knees buckle, and both Matt and I could hear him whimper as Cam’s tongue invaded his mouth.
I know Matt heard it, because he moaned in response. I looked at him, and found his hand on his crotch, rubbing. But of course, so was I.
Cam’s arms flexed and the bulge was unbelievable. Adam’s whole body seemed to wilt, and yet he seemed to want, in some small way, to resist. Yeah- he’s competitive. Still, ever since he, Rafe and I met Cam, Evan and Matt-- Adam seemed to like talking about Cam. I had gotten the distinct impression that he was very taken with Cam’s physique. And now, seeing him being held captive by him, I could see the struggle-- not just the obvious physical one going on in front of Matt and me-- but also the emotional one going on inside Adam. He had never played second-fiddle to anyone. And now, meeting Cameron, I could tell he was both awe-struck and fighting to maintain his Alpha position. Where it would lead, I couldn’t tell.
But no matter. The emotional question, while indeed important, necessarily had to take a back seat for the moment. Adam, no matter how much he was struck by Cam’s body, was not about to take the position of worshipper.
Adam pushed, and tried to get Cam off, but it was in vain. They finally did break the kiss, but only at Cameron’s bidding, as he forced Adam downward to his knees. Adam’s muscular body trembled as his knees bent farther.
Cameron started to perspire, and show just a bit of strain. Yet he maintained the upper hand, edging Adam downward.
A burst of wetness hit my face, and I quickly looked over to see Matt’s cock oozing out his creamy white essence. He had unzipped and started jerking without me noticing. “Fuck,” he whispered between ejaculations. He glanced at my face and noticed what he had done. “Sorry, dude,” he hissed. He continued jerking.
Fuck, that was hot. Matt was surely no slouch in the body department, and seeing him cum to the muscle-scene unfolding before us was pure erotic hotness.
When I looked back at Adam and Cam, I found Adam’s knees fully on the floor-- Cam towering above him. Cam twisted their arm angle and maneuvered Adam’s face so that his mouth was right against his crotch. Adam didn’t need any more coaxing than that. He began to mouth Cam’s boxers. Soon, Cam’s boxers sported a big wet spot, from Adam’s saliva. Within a minute, Cam and let go of Adam’s hands-- it was apparent that Adam needed no more restraining-- he was now a willing servant.
Also apparent was the fact that Cameron was being strongly affected by Adam’s oral ministrations. Yeah-- he was liking it.
I don’t know the exact sequence of events that followed, but somehow all four of us found ourselves naked. Although Matt had already come, he evidently had quite a rebound ability, because he and I-- somewhere along the line-- had wound up embracing, kissing and fondling. I loved the feel of his muscular body, and even though he kept his pubes well-trimmed, I had quite the time smearing his jizz in his soft, brown hair. God, he had a big cock. Not as big as Adam’s, but it was big and thick. His hand was deft at manipulating my cock, and I got the idea that he really enjoyed being with a young buck like myself.
As Matt and I engaged in all kinds of touching and kissing, we never let our attention wander from the much bigger item of interest in the room: Cameron and Adam’s encounter. By this time, like I said, both of them had stripped, and Adam was still “servicing” Cam orally.
How I was able to keep from cumming during all of this visual (and physical) stimulation, I’ll never know-- but I kept fighting back the orgasm, waiting for the perfect moment.
And, after what seemed like an hour, that moment indeed came. (As did I.) Adam found himself on the floor, on all fours. Cam stood behind him, his huge tool riding between his ass cheeks. I had never, in all my life envisioned a cock that big, that veiny, that stiff. I would have liked to hold off until Cam penetrated Adam’s ass, but seeing the giant manhandle and dominate my boyfriend hunk like that-- seeing Cameron’s unbelievable body-- muscles and veins and rippling mass bulging everywhere-- it was too much. As Cam slowly placed his cock in the valley of Adam’s butt and slowly rubbed it, I couldn’t hold back any longer.
As I recall, it seemed that Matt was unusually good at sensing where I was, in the orgasmic spectrum, and at just the right moment, he pressed down hard on my cock, giving me one long, firm stroke-- all the way down to my root. My head thickened and my rod throbbed with my accelerated heartbeat, and as I looked as Cam’s muscles overpower Adam, I shot hard and long. Matt’s firm hand held tight and I let out a gasp-- then a loud moan. Then a grunt. More ropes of thick cream pushed out of my penis as Matt held it upright and still. The globs were propelled into the air and onto the both of us. My whole body jerked in satisfaction, and Matt moved his head and kissed me as I spewed. Fortunately, he cocked his head to the side as we kissed, and I was able to watched what happened next.
As if motivated by my orgasm, Cam pulled his hips back and lined up with Adam’s ass hole. I could see him purse his lips. He was intense. He pushed gently. Shit, he had a lot of self-control. Harder. Slowly, I could see his head part the opening and force its way in. Adam cried out.
It must have hurt.
Cam’s muscles tightened. Fuuuuck, it was unreal. His body was just so-- perfect and all muscular. His arms flexed as his hands steadied themselves on Adam’s hips, then he pushed his head inside-- just the head. The long, thick shaft-- okay, let’s call it a beer can-- still remained outside the hole as his penis head moved inside Adam’s rectum, checking out the scenery. Adam yelled. He jerked in pain.
“Oh fuuuck,” he cried. “Fuck, me Cam. Push it in!” He moaned some more, breathing hard. “Oh it hurts!”
Cam held still.
Matt released his kiss to see what the commotion was.
I kept shooting, regardless.
As Adam began to shoot thick wads of semen onto the carpet below, Cam slowly-- with a methodical, even pace-- began to force his shaft in farther. And farther.
Adam writhed in pain, but kept ejaculating. His stiff cock bounced up and down underneath his abs, shooting burst after burst of white-hot jism.
And Cam pushed harder. His lips moved away from his teeth. His dimples deepened. His muscles tightened even harder-- each muscle group separating from its neighbor. He seemed to get bigger. He was struggling to keep it slow.
Adam yelled out loudly. Shooting.
Cam pushed harder. Inside more.
Finally, Cameron was up to the hilt, and with one last “umpf,” he squeezed his ass cheeks and forced himself all the way inside Adam’s rectum.
Adam screamed like a baby.
Cam yelled out and hissed. He bucked his hips slowly-- only twice, and then held completely still as he began to fill Adam with what I can only imagine must have been a huge amount of jizz. He squeezed his hands on Adam’s hips, tipped his head back and closed his eyes, and let loose. I could almost feel the room fill with the pulses of his cock as it rhythmically pumped out his superman ejaculations. It’s as if my ears pounded with the bass notes formed by his bursting cock inside Adam.
As if invigorated by Cam’s climax, Adam, despite his obvious pain, renewed his orgasm and propelled out a new round of steamy cum. As Cam filled him, he emptied himself onto the carpet with revived vigor. His triceps bulged under the weight of his rider, although Cameron was more or less positioned behind him, not on his back. But not for long. Cam leaned forward and moved his hands under Adam’s torso, onto his pecs. Adam like this. So did Cam. As he continued to fill Adam, Cam leaned farther forward, finally resting his whole upper body on top of Adam’s. Despite Cam’s immense size, Adam was able to hold them both up. Cam bucked now, and rode Adam with much skill. Adam was strong. Obviously exhausted and in pain, he nevertheless continued to support his superior.
I don’t know how long they kept it up, but I do know that we left quite a mess for Dale to clean up that night.
And despite our frequent forays into the world of four-ways, and even six-ways (yeah, Evan and Rafe joined us too), the relationships that developed out of those friendships lasted.
I eventually moved in with Adam, in his Forest Grove mansion, and he and I worked on his philanthropic causes. Matt and Cam also ended up together; Cam became a veterinarian and Matt often helped him in the office when he wasn’t busy at their place working on his computer business and keeping house. Eventually, Rafe and Jen ended up divorcing and he and Evan got together. Of course, there were many, many trips together; Adam made sure that the six of us were able to see the world. And see it we did-- on Adam’s private jet and on his yacht. And we even realized Matt’s dream of visiting all of the top amusement parks, and got to ride hundreds of roller coasters.
And that was only the beginning…
Even though this is the end of this story.
“Fuck, she can drive me crazy sometimes. And then, she can suddenly turn me on and I’m lost in love with her. Shit, man,” Cam said to me as he played with his soda pop, “Sometimes I think I could cum, just by thinking about her and those huge boobs of hers.”
I tried to remain engaged in the conversation, even though the picture Cameron had just painted in my mind, made me reel with lust. “So, where does that leave you?” I asked.
He played with the ice in his glass as I offered him some more pop from the two liter bottle. He declined the offer. “I don’t know... that’s the problem.” He took a drink from his glass and sank deeper into the cushions of my couch. “Shit, dude. They’re right: ‘Women. Can’t live with ‘em; can’t live without ‘em.’”
“I hear ya, man,” I offered. “But you know me... I don’t have a problem at all living without ‘em.”
Cam smiled He thought for a minute and said, “Yeah, but the wedding is only a week away. I really do want to marry her. But, sometimes I seriously wonder if it will all work out.”
Not wanting to throw more fuel on the fire, I said, “Shit, man. You can make anything work out. It’ll be okay.” I didn’t know whether to believe myself or not. Part of me wanted to tell him to dump her before it was too late, but I was really unsure about how heterosexual relationships work, so I kept my mouth shut-- a decision that I would later regret.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” he said. “Maybe I just need to go with the flow.” He seemed to withdraw into himself for a second, and then he looked at me and said, “Shit, dude, if I could fuck a you like I fuck her, there would be no decision.
My jaw hit the floor. “Yeah, right, man,” I said. I grinned from ear to ear. “If you really believed that, you’d have made your move long ago.”
Cameron looked at me long and hard. He had a very serious look on his face.
I averted my glance. I was scared shitless.
When I looked back at him, he was still looking at me. “So...” he paused for an eternity. “What... are you... saying?”
“Me? What am I saying?”
He paused for a second eternity. “Yeah...” He took a deep breath. “Yeah.” He frowned slightly and then continued. “Are you saying you’d let me?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Like I could prevent you if I wanted to...?”
“Well... I’d never do it against your will, dude,” he said. “I just thought you’d totally object to that.”
I didn’t know how to proceed. I mean, here he was, the man of my dreams-- MORE than the man of my dreams-- seemingly asking me if I wanted to do it with him. And yet, it was practically the eve of his wedding! What kind of whore would I be if I acquiesced to THAT proposition? I wasn’t able to respond, but I think he got the right idea-- that I’d be willing, if he was interested.
“So...” he kind of got a smirk.
“Dude,” I interrupted. “I don’t know... maybe you should be concentrating more on Maya, and how to make this marriage work.”
© Sean Reid Scott
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