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Sunday, JUNE 26, 2022


cDudeHE STRENGTH COMPETITION OF THE Mr. Military Muscle contest continues. It's time to see what will happen! Today's guy is one of the audience members. This pic was taken before he stripped everything off for more Freedom of Expression. 

Thank you all for your many notes of encouragement! I really appreciate the feedback!




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Who is stronger?

FRIDAY, JUNE 17, 2022


cDudeHO REALLY IS STRONGER? The extremely astute visitor to this site will know that your Host is extremely attracted to today's two gorgeous hunks.

On the left, pretending to be a sailor-dude, we have Alessandro Cavagnola. This man is, in my opinion, better looking than God Himself (Please, Lord, forgive my sins, K? We good? Thanks.*). Oh, and helpful hint: Watch this YouTube vid of Alessandro. But here's the real hint: After you watch it the first time, and you're ready to masturbate to it (which, of course), go to the "Settings" thingy on the YouTube and then play Alessandro again, atquarter speed. You're in for a jerk-off treat. Please let me know in the comments if you appreciated this little, no-cost tip.

On the right is none other than Sergi Constance. He's Spanish. He's fucking stunning.

Want I want is to have Alessandro and Sergi have a little fun time. Together. Alone. Nekkid.

Yet, I have no reason to assume that they'd be interested in that (even though Alessandro has actually done some BDSM stuff that is definitely jerk-off worthy). Yet, who cares. I can dream, can't I?

Speaking of dreams, are you ready for the next, dreamy chapter of The Captain and his Privates? I think you are. This is where we get to find out WHO IS STRONGER (a nod at today's post's title). The IMSSPC moves into the  Let's find out, shall we?



* Since I'm an ex-evangelical, and all my peeps believe in the doctrine of "Eternal Security", even though I left the faith long ago, Jesus and me are like this. I'm in. And I'm pretty sure that according to the Catholics I am "innocently ignorant', which also means, "I'm in." SO, I've got two major religions/denominations backing me up, AND the confession that I'm just sure the Lord Himself has heard and accepted. Aint no one sending this reprobate to hell! 






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Time to flex some muscle!

FRIDAY, JUNE 10, 2022


cDudeAVID McALLISTER, OUR HERO, is ready to show off his incomparable physique at tonight's IMSSPC (Mr. Military Muscle) show. And you know it will be a fantastic event!

Everyone has gathered in the JBLM hangar cum auditorium to see the muscle spectacle. And the other competitors are worried.

Or are they?

Seems some of the guys feel kinda good about the potential outcome of the Physique/Bodybuilding competition. Is the confidence justified? CLICKAGE HERE will land you the latest chapter in the Captain and his Privates saga (Ch. 15).






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On the way to the Contest

SATURDAY, MAY 28, 2022


cDudeO THERE I WAS, minding my own business, driving north on I-5* out of Portland. I was on my way up to Tacoma (JBLM to be precise), to attend the Mr. Military Muscle contest.

I had been asked to attend as a representative of the media, so I could write an in-depth exposé of the event. So, armed with my trusty Press Pass, I was on my way.

It's not a long drive from Portland to Tacoma, a couple of hours basically, but as is my wont, I decided to pull off the freeway and get a PayDay and a coffee, as well as tend to any physical urges I might have. (Admittedly, while I had been driving, I had been fantasizing about the upcoming contest, and the panoply of muscle that would be on display there.)

So yeah, I had urges.

Fortunately, the gas station-slash-mini-mart was equipped with a handy dandy restroom. It was a single-occupant restroom. I entered.

"Whoa, big boy! You ever hear of knocking?" the shirtless hunk at the mirror twisted around at me as soon as I opened the door.

"Whoa!" I was startled. "Ex-SQUEEEEZE me, but... YOU'RE the big boy, not me! And 'sides... you ever hear of locking the door when you're taking care of busine... I mean... selfies?"

The dude was stunningly gorgeous, manly, muscular, and... oh fuuuuuuck. If I had a reason to tend to my urges before, I definitely needed to tend to them now. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He eyed me up and down, smiling.

"Hey, you're that crack reporter Internet muscle writer, Sean Reid Scott, aren't you?"

I didn't know how he recognized me. I'm world-famous, but only in print, not by my mug. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, man. I'll just wait outside." I started to back out the door, trying to convey humility and embarrassment.

"Nonsense," he grinned. "I kinda get the feeling you weren't coming in here to pee, man. You weren't by any chance stopping in here to tend to any physical urges, were you?"

Fifteen minutes later we both exited the restroom. The dude was also heading to JBLM to watch the contest. Seems he was in the Army and wanted to meet his idol, Captain David McAllister. And well, in a few hours, the two of us would be sitting in the Press section (he as my guest) in a huge hangar at JBLM, watching the weigh-in for the contest. Read all about it: the next chapter of THE CAPTAIN AND HIS PRIVATES.


* For you Californicators, let's just settle something, okay? It's simply "I-5", not "The 5." The article "the" is inappropriate, inadvisable and basically... incorrect. K? Just: I-5.






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Go By Train

THURSDAY, MAY 12, 2022


cDudeOU KNOW HOW I JUST met my new neighbor? From the most recent post? Yeah, that guy. Well, you won't believe this but... A few days after Mr. Neighbor and I got acquainted, I had to leave on a trip for a day or two.

And well... I decided to take the train.

And well.. you won't believe this...* But... while I was all getting comfortable and such, I happened to glance up and see this dude coming down the aisle. And holy fuck on a condom!

The dude was shirtless (was that legal?) and well... shit in a big spittoon, the guy was 100 percent rippling, drool-worthy, jacked, buff, tall, wide, lean MUSCLE! Just all walking down the train's aisle! Like this was... guys like him were... just... normal!

I drooled. Literally, saliva was on my chin as the guy took a seat directly across from me.

I was so fucking hard.

Well anyway, the shirtless muscle hunk opened up his backpack and set out a few containers. I have no idea what they were for because when he looked over at me (with that silly mask on) he smiled, then flexed the closest arm to me.

I immediately started to fill my pants with my jism. TRUTH!

"You okay?" The dude apparently noticed my distress.

I was definitely not okay.

Fortunately, the train had an open sleeping berth. And well, the rest is up to your imagination.

OH! And guess what?! OWEN CHAPTER 6 is up! Yep! Hand-on-heart true! Check it out! (And you won't BELIEVE who happens to show up on Owen's doorstep in this episode. Jus' sayin'.)

[PS: I love you CWSs so much!]


* How does this stuff always happen to me? Just lucky, I guess.







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Meet the New Neighbor; Yes, Please

SUNDAY, may 8, 2022


cDudeO THERE I WAS, JUST minding my own business yesterday morning, enjoying my rutabaga omelette (as is my wont)... when what should happen, but my doorbell rang!

WTF? Nobody rings my doorbell! I live in a posh, gated community, complete, with like... SECURITY and everything. So like I said, no one rings doorbells around here.

Yet, I did realize that it is customary, when the bell rings, for one to get up and answer it. I know, because it was something of a Pavlovian reaction in me at that very moment.

I sprinted to the door (certainly pushed by fate) and flung it open in haste, not even availing myself of the little peep hole.

Well... howdy!

You would NOT believe the physique that was standing on my front porch! The man was fucking JACKED! He wore shorts and a white T-shirt with a screen-printed: "Adventures begin with muscle sex." And the man was just... I mean... 110 percent muscle. You know? Arms that could bend metal I-beams... Pecs and shoulders out to here. And fucking legs like the Queen Mary! (I have no idea what that even means, but you'll forgive me if my analogies [ANAL-ogies, heh heh] get a bit convoluted. It happens. 'Specially when Mr. Please-Read-My-T-shirt-And-Then-Have-Muscle-Sex-With-Me interrupts my rutabaga omelette, okay?)

My knees failed, and I had to grab onto the door jam to keep upright. I totally nearly slid down said door jam like a smitten sixth-grade girl just seeing her first muscle man. Just looking at this guy was more torture than I could bear at the moment.

"I'm sorry to bother you," the body said, "but... well... aw shucks... and golly... I'm your new neighbor next door, and well... I just made my coffee and well... I don't have any cream. Do you think I could use some of yours?"

Use... some of my cream? Exactly what would that entail? Was this the Double Entendre Wizard at my door? I mean, fuck! I would love to share my cream with this man. And the fresher the better, you know?

Adventures begin with muscle sex? What the fuck was IN that omelette I'd been eating (besides, of course, rutabagas)? This wasn't... not even remotely possib... could it be?

"I'm sorry," the guy's face was red now and he shuffled his flip-flopped feet on my Spanish Clay Tiles that cost, like $1,000 each. Or something. "I apologize," he went on, "It was presumptuous of me to ask for your cream. I'll just be going."

He turned and walked toward the gate at the far end of my posh, expensive, manicured yard (manicured, except for the weeds you can see at the side of today's picture. It's hard to get reliable help anymore, you know?) and lifted the hook on my posh, expensive gate.

"I don't have any cream," I blurted out. "I mean... I actually have a lot of cream." [Please note: this conversation was the most confusing interaction I have ever had with another entity. I was... I dunno....]

He froze—his muscles tight with anticipation (I'm just sure they were!), then slowly turned to me. He gave me a wan smile and said, "That's okay. It's just that... well, I saw you mowing your lawn the other day and..."

I inwardly shuddered. [The CWS needs to know that I do NOT DO manual labor. It's the lack-of-reliable-help thing that made me mow, you know? So any conclusion that the aforementioned Curious Web Surfer may conclude, regarding my wealth (and my ability to retain good help—not to mention my elite social status), shall not be concluded, okay?]

"...and well, when you were out in the yard with your shirt off, I couldn't help but conclude that you are fucking stacked—if you'll excuse my French." (Of course the man spoke French. The fucker. Could he be any more perfect?) He closed the gate and re-approached me. "It's Seanny, isn't it? I mean... I saw your flowery little name card on the mail box. I like the paisleys, by the way." He gave me a smile. His short beard was not able to hide his adorable dimples. His perfect, glaring teeth made my brain frazzl wi0923n, sid;,weik shsiahe3iog.

I recovered gracefully, despite my momentary disorientation: "Yes, it's Seanny," (you brute).

"Nice to meet you. I'm Brutus. I just moved in last week."

Thankfully, we were still standing far enough away from each other that a hand shake wasn't, at the moment, possible. Had actual physical contact been made between us, I knew I could not be responsible for my subsequent actions. Instead, I nodded—undressing him with my eyes for the 100th time.

"And anyway, when I saw how muscular you are... well, I thought to myself: 'Self? That new neighbor Seanny must certainly have a lot of... er... cream.' You know?"

I actually do happen to have a lot of... cream. It's on the Keto diet, you know? I batted my eyes: "Oh, why thank you."

"So... can I?"

"Can you?"

"Taste it? Your cream?"

I lifted one eyebrow.

He just stood there, holding his coffee cup.

"Actually, it sounds like an... 'adventure'!" I smiled.

I stepped back and made a broad waving motion. "Well, come in then... I'll have to actually make the cream, though. Perhaps you can help me."


-- -- -- -- --

OH, AND BTW, Chapter 11 of THE CAPTAIN AND HIS PRIVATES is up! We're giving this chapter the subtitle: "O Captain! My Captain!" Read it, and you'll see why. :) 






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Join the Club



cDudeOU CURIOUS WEB SURFERS have no idea how much I appreciate—and depend upon—your feedback. You all obviously are enjoying the CAP'N series, no? I mean, last week's blog post had more comments than EVr, so....

Be that as it may, this week you're gonna have to suffer through yet another episode of OWEN. I get it. Owen might not be your cup of tea. But the man is so flippin' ditzy and silly. I love him so much. For some reason, he has taken up (permanent?) residence in my brain, and I just can't stop laughing about the things he says (says... in my mind. Yes. Weird? Well you're probably not a writer then. Heh heh). Over the years, I've written more than one tome where the character I've invented has totally SCREWED UP the entire story.

I'm serious.

And I LOVE IT. I love it when a character completely takes over. That means I must be tapping in to SOME kind of muse, right? And yes, said muse might not actually connect with the reader, but fudge when it connects with ME! It might not be marketable, but sometimes you just gotta go with what is hitting you upside the face, no?

I have an unfinished Sci-Fi story (gay) that I should really get back to. But the thing about this plot is that at one point during the story, my main character enters the Bridge of the ship to find that the recent battle they went through had resulted in the fact that the Captain was DEAD! I had not planned that! But for some reason, my fingers thought they knew better than my brain, and they had typed out that the Captain of the ship had died in the battle! (Some kind of phaser attack, or whatever) What the fuck? What was I (or my main character) supposed to do now?

It was actually one of the most exciting moments in my writing "career". 

Sometimes you just gotta trust your fingers (your right hand? Heh heh) more than your brain.

Anyhoo, I say all that to say this: Owen is one of the most frustratingly fun dudes I've ever written. I laugh out loud at his antics. At how stupid he can be. At how he just barges in to people's lives and asks the most horrific, wonderful, assuming questions. To the guy (Cal) in the last chapter, standing in the magazine aisle, he just asks, "So, what kind of muscle men do you like the most?" I mean... only Owen could get away with something like that, right?

Anyway, so now you know some of the weird workings of Seanny's mind. You don't have to love Owen as much as I do. But I hope you can appreciate him. There's nothing quite like a big, dumb, innocent muscle guy, IMO.

Yes, one might not expect (or certainly appreciate) humor like this on a gay, muscle, erotica/porn site. But to paraphrase the song... "It's my site, and I'll laugh if I want to."

Today, Owen is flying home from OKC to his home just north of Los Angeles. Our pic shows him checking through TSA security. He has learned to get to the airport early, 'cuz, well... the TSA dudes like to MAKE SURE he checks out okay, if you know what I mean. Thank you, TSA, for your service. And for being so freaking thorough. (Heh)

He's flying First Class today, mostly on account of the wider seats there (wide shoulders, and all, you know?), when who should appear to take the seat next to him than a really gorgeous (obviously smaller than Owen) hunk of a man, Steve. But although Steve and Owen hit it off right away, there's another player in the cabin who is... interested. Read more HERE







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cDudeITH THE MR. MUSCLE contest fast approaching, Captain McAllister has decided to enlist the services of his favorite three privates to shave his ultra-muscular muscle-body. You know, bodybuilder contests are there to show off the muscles, the definition and the size. If your muscles are covered in hair, well, we can't see the muscles as well.

Never mind if you are in to bears or whatever... bb competitors shave before their shows so you can see their muscles better.

Of course, I'm preaching to the choir here, I'm sure. All of you CWSs already know this.

So anyway, in the most recent chapter of The Captain and the Privates (ch 10), we get a glimpse of how all of this shaving shit went down. You're gonna wanna take a peek.







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cDudeE SEEM TO HAVE LEFT OUR hero (or is he our hero?) Kake, and his captor, Andres, down in Andres' basement, where Kake was being indroctrinated into Andres' muscle worship cult.

Of course, I'm talking about the Trials of Perfection series; specifically Chapter Six.

Personally, I have no problem with muscle worship. Provided there are rewards.

With today's addition to the story, we meet Marcus—a bodybuilder in his own right. And what a bodybuilder Marcus is!

Anyhoo, in this chapter, Kake accompanies his captor, Andres, (although the "captor" label isn't quite clear to Kake just yet) to the town's gym. You'll just have to read the chapter to see how this story progresses.

But today's genitals are a brief look at how Marcus hangs. Jus' sayin'. Have a gander, then read the chapter HERE.

No fretting. We will get back to both the OWEN and the CAP'-n-PRIVATES stories shortly.






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Fun on a Jeep



cDudeAPTAIN McALLISTER IS JUST days away from the Mr. Military Muscle contest (IMSSPC) and while he's totally confident that he'll "mop the floor" with his competitors, he wants to finish this week with a bang before he flies off to JBLM near Tacoma.

Of course, it's entirely possible that he just wants to have fun with his privates.

Who knows for sure... and for that matter, who the hell cares? Certainly not Privates Kenny, Sam, and Sean. So with CHAPTER NINE of our continuing saga, we move out behind Cap's Quonset hut for a little more "training". It's difficult to know who enjoys this "training" more, the trainers or the trainee. Again: moot point. All we know is that when we're done today, Cap is gonna be ready and rarin' to go.

But wait! It's not quite time for the contest, so who knows what other fun things might happen between now and then? ;)

Stay tuned.







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