NEW, June 24: THE COMPREHENSIVE DAVID ARCHIVE

 

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SEAN'S MUSCLE STORIES

OWEN AND THE PROFESSOR • CHAPTER one: PRIMING THE PUMP

by Sean Reid Scott 

 


NOTICE TO READERS: The characters in this story are played by professional, fictional actors and are not intended to represent, mirror, or allude to any real people. Any similarities with actual people are unintentional, inadvisable, inadmissable, and unbelievable. This story contains vivid descriptions of homosexual encounters. It encludes SEX ACTS BETWEEN MEN, and is thus intended for ADULTS ONLY. 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.


 

2021

 

Based on a couple of ManOfSteel renders, most notably David 164. And although this story is markedly different than the one MOS wrote for David 164, it’s pretty cool, if I do say so myself. And unsurprisingly I suppose, I do. ;)

 

a

HE PROFESSOR ADJUSTED HIS bow tie and cleared his throat while he sat at his desk, waiting for his obsessio—er, student—to arrive. The anticipation was pure torture, and now… now he questioned that he had even asked Owen to come to his office in the first place. What had he been thinking?

He busied himself with adjusting the paper weight, writing pad, and stapler on his desk—although as fastidious as he was, nothing was ever out of place.

A knock on the door brought his head up with a jerk. “Come… come in,” he squeaked.

This was it. He’d rehearsed his approach a million times: how he was going to compliment Owen and put him at ease; how he’d start by building up the muscle kid’s ego. You didn’t get a body like that without a lot of drive—and, the professor hoped, a lot of hubris about how you looked.

Yet, truth be told, the professor was actually confident in what he was going to say. It had worked dozens of times before with other students. Not that any previous jock that he’d had in his office was even in the same universe—let alone, league—with Owen’s physique. That was undoubtedly why he was more nervous than usual; this encounter was going to be singular—because Owen was singular. But he’d always been able to put the young muscle bucks at ease—at least at ease enough to not react unfavorably. Sure, a few of them had been unwilling, or uninterested, but none had ever responded with anger or even suspicion, even if they had left without flexing a muscle.

But Owen… Owen Matthews was absolutely stupendous. No one even came close. So the muscle teen had to be used to people fawning all over him. And that meant he had to be aware that some of that fawning came with… shall we say… less-than-honorable hopes and desires. Doctor Reed was definitely filled with hopes and desires for Owen that might be… erm… questionable. To say that Professor Reed had homosexual inclinations was an understatement. And to say that Max’s particular fetish was muscle was even more of a minimization of the truth. There was actually a phenomenon—if not a syndrome—that described Max’s condition: Sthenolagnia. Sexual arousal from the display of strength or big muscles. And he had it in spades.

He’d surrendered to his less-than-heterosexual desires (or was it more-than-heterosexual?) since he was a young teen. His countless encounters with muscle men had taught him to be cautious. So by the time he’d achieved tenure at the University’s Keck School of Medicine, he’d established an approach that worked quite well with the young, impressionable, easily-flattered muscle jocks he taught. He was smug about his record of being able to approach them with praise and adulation for their physical accomplishments—wooing them with his astonishments about all the hard work they must put in, basically sucking up to their base, egotistical natures with sweet-talk about how strong they looked and how they must be the envy of all the guys and the desire of all the girls. It was surprising how quickly you could get a guy to take off his shirt and flex if you knew a little about how they ticked.

AdultsBestReadConsequently, it was quite uncomplicated, dissecting their psyches and appealing to whatever simple soft-spot they harbored. Nearly all of the boys he called to his office obliged his wishes without so much as a raised eyebrow. Actually, they were pretty darn eager to show off. By and large, most of the young “dudes” (as they liked to be called) were all-too-happy to show off their bulging biceps—and more—for the Prof, who presented himself as an appreciative “fan” of bodybuilding.

And of course, immersed in his obsession as he was, Max knew all the names of the pro bodybuilders—and famous amateurs—and he knew all the topics: Reps, sets, insertion points, cycling, protein, obliques, anabolic stuff, dieting down, tanning… not to mention his perfect recollection of the past greats—names that were sure to convince the most naive bodybuilding novice of Max’s long-term interest in the sport: Dennis Newman, Rory Leidelmeier, Mike Mattarazzo, Dave Draper, even Reg Park. If it involved bodybuilding—or more specifically, a gorgeous bodybuilder—Max Reed knew about it, and he was adept at throwing around the right kind of information—convincing information.

And even if he got the occasional brush-off, a subtle hint about a dangerously-low GPA was usually enough to get the kid to cooperate. He’d delicately suggest that he might be amenable to giving them “extra credit” if they were to give him some kind of loosely-conceived biology “lesson” on, say, male anatomy, or some such outrageous idea. It always worked on the stubborn ones.

The opening door brought him out of his reverie, and he immediately returned to his previous state of nervous agitation. The image of the gigantic Owen stepping into his office and closing the door at his back did nothing to quell the professor’s nerves.

Owen was not only the most mammoth bodybuilder Max had ever seen—or fantasized about—he was the most handsome, stunningly-gorgeous specimen of manhood conceivable. And his youthful vim and vigor was off-the-charts appealing. Owen was winsome and fun. Nice to a fault. Confident. Sense of humor. All that. So even though Max was now anxious enough to wet his pants, Owen’s kind smile and friendly demeanor was so adorable. And the nineteen-year-old’s physique was decades beyond his age as far as muscular development goes.

Professor Reed coughed to clear his throat, and waved Owen closer. He didn’t stand though. Seated behind his desk, he knew he had the advantage. It lent an air of authority to the proceedings. It let everyone know who was in charge—and who wasn’t. Despite the prodigious mass of muscle that dominated the room physically, Max’s desk was a projection of all things authority.

Owen approached. There was no chair for him. He wore a dark gray T-shirt that hugged his colossal upper body perfectly—not too tightly, juuuuuuust right. He wore jeans that were filled with the most massive legs Max had ever seen; the denim simply had to be tailor-made. No pants off the rack had legs that big, and a waist so tiny. Not only that, but the kid’s pouch at the crotch expanded to almost obscene proportions. The physique that loomed over Max’s desk was beyond astounding. Every fiber in the professor’s body pulsed with lust.

Max swallowed hard. He knew his first words must be clear and confident. His tendency, of course, in the face of all this pulchritude, was to squeak and whine like a teenage girl, so he gave himself a moment to collect his thoughts before he spoke: “Thank you for coming in, Mr. Matthews. I asked you into my office here because I have a question.”

“No problem at all, Dr. Reed. But please, I hope you feel comfortable enough to call me Owen. How can I help you, sir?”

Max liked the “sir”. The fact that this musclegod was so respectful only made the kid even more irresistible. “Well, yes, then. Owen. I was just wondering… well, it’s about your… your… I mean, your… well, son….” He was already falling all over his own words. He needed to steady himself. “I just wanted to say… to say that… I couldn’t help but noticing… you obviously work hard to keep in such great shape. And I was wondering… well anyway… do you compete? Have you ever done any bodybuilding contests?”

“Aw, thanks, Prof. I kinda thought you were looking at me a lot during your lectures.”

Max’s throat constricted. “I imagine a lot of people look. Does that bother you?”

“Naw,” Owen chuckled, “not at all, Professor Reed. You gotta be a kind of show-off to be a bodybuilder.” His smile was genuine, and so innocent.

“But I’ve never… I mean, you’re just a youngster, practically, and I’ve never seen a man as… big… I mean, as developed as you.” Hopefully the compliments would work their magic.

 BiggerProf“Gee, thanks. But yeah, I get that a lot,” Owen laughed.

Professor Reed inhaled and relaxed. Owen wasn’t uptight about getting attention like this. Good. Time for some real flattery. “I bet you’ve won every contest you’ve entered,” he said smiling up at the tower of muscle at his desk.

“Well, I don’t like to brag….” The kid was almost coy.

“Well, you know what they say, it’s not bragging if it’s true, son.” Was referring to Owen as son too much?

Apparently not. Owen didn’t even pause: “I guess. So, yeah, I have actually been in four contests. And I won all of ‘em.” The muscle hunk accepted the moniker with no effort.

Dr. Reed smiled. “Impressive. Very impressive.” He let his eyes rake up and down Owen’s chiseled body. And the demigod stood there, still as a tree, smiling the whole while. “So, the question I wanted to ask was… is… um, well I don’t know if you get bothered by people wanting to….”

“Professor, don’t you worry a bit. Like I said, you gotta be a bit of a showoff to want big muscles, so, ask away.”

Max cleared his throat. He put his elbows on his desk and folded his hands below his chin. “You’re so impressive. And I’d say you’ve been quite successful—amazingly successful in your quest to get big muscles, son. Just astounding, Mr. Matth—Owen. I’m sorry, but it’s hard… hard not to stare. I do hope you’ll forgive me.” He cleared his throat again. The behemoth of youthful, virile muscle standing just a few feet in front of him was ripped and defined like no physique Max had ever seen. And he’d seen plenty. His cache of muscle magazines and videos could fill a library. But Owen just blew all those jack-off pictures and videos to smithereens. Max’s heart raced at the muscle man in front of him. He’d broke out in a sweat, anticipating his next words. Finally, he just blurted out, “Well, I was wondering if you ever… well, you said you were a show-off, and all….” He just couldn’t finish the sentence.

Owen didn’t respond, other than giving a slight smile and raising one eyebrow in a questioning look.

Max’s heart rate was at a sprint. Maybe he should take another tack. Slow it down. “And, well… I’m actually a long-time bodybuilding fan myself you know.”

“Really? That’s fantastic, Prof. Have you ever competed? I mean…” Owen politely eyed Max and continued, “I mean, back in the day?” He seemed to realize his words might be construed to imply that the professor was now old and out of shape—and he was, but he hastily added anyway, “Or even recently?”

Max chuckled. “Oh, no. My goodness no. My goodness no. My father was quite interested in weightlifting and such. That’s all. I try to keep in good condition, mind you, but I’ve never done any bodybuilding. No. My goodness no.” He laughed nervously. “It’s just that I’ve followed bodybuilding. All my life, actually. Why, you’re probably not even old enough to know some of the bodybuilders I followed in my younger days: Um… Dave Draper, Frank Zane, Arnold, of course—I followed him from when he arrived in America—Bob Paris, Matt Mendenhall, Rory Leidelmeyer.” He had rattled off a number of his muscle-idols—men over whom he’d masturbated countless times. There were scores—if not hundreds—of others, but he knew from experience that it didn’t pay to bore the potential muscle flexer.

“Wow, that’s awesome, doc. You really got it bad for muscle!” He abruptly clarified: “I mean, you really enjoy the sport, huh?”

“Indeed,” Max smiled. “Indeed. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. It’s all informal, you know. I just thought we—well, we obviously share something in common: an appreciation of the bodybuilding world.”

“I’d say we definitely share that, Prof. I mean, I knew you liked to look at all my muscles during your lectures, but I didn’t realize your appreciation was that… that deep, I guess.”

“Yes. Indeed. Well, be-that-as-it-may, as I mentioned, you obviously have an immense…” he paused involuntarily while his eyes glued to Owen’s immense crotch bulge… “I mean, an immense… dedication. To the sport. Obviously.” He ran his eyes admiringly up and down Owen’s body. The kid seemed to appreciate the gesture—certainly did not seem to mind it anyway. “And well, I was pretty sure you did compete…” Max knew Owen competed. Hell, he knew every stat, every measurement, every accomplishment—bodybuilding-wise and in power-lifting too—that the muscle freak at his desk had achieved. It’s amazing what you can learn on the Google. “And… now that you said you do, I was just wondering what you must look like… on stage I mean. I imagine it’s unbeliev… I mean, quite impressive, son. You’re so very impressive. I certainly hope my appreciation of your accomplishments don’t make you uncomfortable in any way.”

Owen smiled broadly. “Thank you, sir. I’m flattered. Really. Not uncomfortable at all. And like I said, I am kind of a show off. To be honest, ever since I started taking your class, and noticed your interest—in how you like to look at me all the time—I kinda like that. I could tell you must be interested in the sport of bodybuilding. I am glad you asked me here today—to discuss bodybuilding and stuff.”

“To talk shop, as it were,” Max smiled. This was going swimmingly. Better than he’d expected.

“Yes. I love talking shop about bodybuilding. And male aesthetics, you know? Bodybuilding is a pretty unique sport, you know? You have to work your butt off in the gym for years, but in the end it’s all about appearance and aesthetics. I love the challenge of making the judges notice me.”

“Well, in case you’re not aware, son, it’s not just the judges noticing you,” Max smiled.

Owen laughed. “You mean guys like you? Yeah, you’re right about that!” His demeanor was almost childlike; he was happy-go-lucky and genuinely not threatened by the professor’s obvious interest in his body.

Oh dear. “Guys like me?” Max asked, trying not to raise an alarm.

“Oh, I just mean guys who appreciate big muscles—I mean, the bodybuilding community, you know? To be totally honest, guys like me get their motivation from guys like you. I certainly wouldn’t work my ass off in the gym to get these big muscles if I didn’t get any attention over it. Most bodybuilders won’t really admit to that, but it’s true.” He spoke with wide eyes, but his countenance quickly turned to a matter-of-fact kind of expression. This is a little secret between you and me, kind of thing.

“Your honesty is compelling, Owen,” Max said sincerely. “I admire that about you.”

Owen beamed. “That, and my muscles, huh?” He winked and flashed his bright teeth at the prof.

“Yes, truth be told, you’re right. I’ll go ahead and admit that, Owen.”

Owen grinned. “So, is that why you asked me here? Were you wondering if I would strip down for you? Is that what you’re thinking? I could give you a look at my posing routine if you’re interested.”

Max nearly choked. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. “Why, yes. I guess that’s it in a nutshell. But only if… if it’s something you’d like to do.”

“Like to do?! Heck, Dr. Reed, I think it’s cool that you asked! I’m honored, to be honest.” Owen smiled broadly. “And like I said, I kinda love showing off. And damn, Prof, it’d be awesome if you’d let me do some posing.”

“You don’t get tired of people… looking?”

“Nah, it doesn’t ever really bother me.”

“Well, I would have thought you’d get tired of it. All the people looking, and you know, staring. You are quite… amazing.”

“Oh, sometimes, if I’m busy… but not very often. And not ever with you, Prof. You’re one of my favorite teachers ever. I think you dudes say something like… ‘the bee’s knees’.” He laughed and his smile lit up the room.

Bees knees? Max’s grandfather used that term, but he hadn’t heard it in years. He swallowed a groan at the unintended insult.

Owen laughed some more. He leaned forward and rubbed Max’s bald head, still laughing. “Aw, Prof, I’m just messin’ with ya. I know you don’t use that phrase. I thought I’d try to get a rise out of you, old man.”

Apparently Owen had a pretty wry sense of humor. Now, instead of being insulted, Max felt a bit giddy that the kid would think enough of him to tease like that.

“Seriously, Professor Reed, you are my favorite prof. I knew it from that first day. You have a great personality. And you present the subject lessons so well. And with fun.”

Max blushed. The shoe was on the other foot now. The youngster was plying him with compliments. And it felt so good.

“Not to mention the bald head,” Owen added with a sly smile.

“Pardon?”

“Well, I don’t want to get all weirded out on you or anything, but I’ve always admired men with bald heads. They—you—just look so stately. Smart, but strong. I bet you’re a lady killer, am I right Prof?”

Ha. So he doesn’t really know, then, right? “Why, thank you Owen.”

“I guess, since you and I both enjoy bodybuilding—and that means admiring muscle bodies—I mean, like mine, right? Well, I guess I shouldn’t be so hesitant to admit it… that I think your bald head is pretty cool,” he laughed again and the dimples on his arresting face melted Max to pieces. The muscle stud thought he was… What? “And well,” Owen continued, “since you’ve been honest about admiring my body, I guess I’ll go ahead and admit that I think older guys—not that you’re old or anything—but I’ve always found older guys with bald heads to be really attractive. I just hope I can look as handsome as you are when I get older. I really, uh… respect the look, I guess.”

The kid is attracted to older men? Older men, with bald heads? Like me?

“I don’t mean to insult you. A lot of people think it’s an insult to be older. Not me. I respect the hell out of that. It’s very cool.”

“Well, thank you, son. I appreciate that quite a bit,” Max said politely. He was working overtime to make sure his response was respectful and sincere—not blown up with astonishment, like he was feeling inside. He made sure to come across as if Owen had not just told him he thought he was attractive.

Holy cripes.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to agree that we’re in a mutual admiration society then,” Max smiled up.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Owen laughed. “A mutual admiration society.”

Max laughed back, then tried to move the conversation forward. Again he eyed Owen’s body. (Okay… he leered at Owen’s body.) “But people must pester you, don’t they? To flex for them, or show them your muscles?”

“I don’t ever think of it as pestering. Unless I’m really busy, I always think of it as a compliment.”

“Really? That’s very magnanimous of you.”

Owen blushed.

“Well, anyway,” the nervous professor continued, “sometime we’ll have to schedule a time for you to practice your posing routine on me. As I alluded, I go to all the shows and contests, so I know a lot about what looks good. I’d be happy to watch, and… well….”

“Well, how about right now, Professor Reed? I don’t have anymore classes today.”

“Really? As a matter of fact, neither do I.” Max glanced down at his daily calendar and ran his finger down his schedule for the day. “Just a faculty meeting in an hour.” He looked up at the tower of muscle and his heart skipped a few beats. “But even if I miss that altogether, it’s not important.”

“Awesome!” Owen grinned. “I’ll be honest, Prof, whenever you look at me during class, I like it. I get the idea that you really like how big I am.”

“Ahem…” Max kept clearing his throat. “Well, it’s not that….”

“Oh, don’t worry, Prof. I think it’s cool. It inspires me. It’s really motivating. Makes me just want to get bigger and more ripped.”

“Oh, well… um… that’s good, I guess….” Max looked away and cleared his throat once again.

“I just mean, well…” Owen sat his books down on the corner of Max’s desk. He began to tug at his shirt, untucking it from his pants while he talked, “I can kinda tell when… well… like, there was this one kid in class… in high school… and he kept looking, just like you do.” He unbuttoned his jeans and started pulling out the base of his tight-fitting charcoal T-shirt. “And well,” he started chuckling, “his parents were gone for the weekend once, and he asked me to come over and study.” He chuckled and said, “I knew the whole time he didn’t need to study. He was the brainiac of the class.” He got all of the shirt untucked and pulled open the front of his pants some more, unzipping them most of the way.

Dr. Reed stared with wide eyes at the bright white briefs that contained Owen’s privates. Apparently, the kid was immense, everywhere! What lie beneath all that bulging fabric was obviously immense!

Owen stopped undressing and continued talking. “Anyway, I kinda knew he just wanted to see me… you know… my body. And I liked him. He was a really cool dude, in spite of being the class brainiac,” he chuckled. Now he was just standing there, still, arms relaxed at his side, with his jeans mostly unzipped and his enormous genitals pressing out under his briefs—just having a regular conversation… nothing unusual at all, apparently. “Long story short, when I started to undress, he popped the biggest boner I’d ever seen. No shit!” He laughed loudly, grinning from ear to ear. “I thought it was the funniest thing ever. But I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I made sure not to laugh. But when I took my shirt off and let him touch my chest, he put one hand on my pecks and his other hand went straight to his crotch! I don’t think he even knew it. It was kinda cool, though. I’d never seen someone do that—you know?”

“I… I…” Max’s Adam’s apple was getting sore from all the swallowing he was doing.

“Anyway, I told him not to worry about his reaction. I said that it happens a lot—with guys… like in the locker room and stuff… I see lots of guys look at me, and they try to hide their hard-ons. So it doesn’t bother me at all.”

“No? It… it doesn’t?”

“Heck no, Professor Reed! That I can make that happen to a guy… it’s actually cool! I mean, you don’t know what it’s like to be able to do that… to someone else, you know? I think of it as the best kind of compliment. And especially an older guy… like you. I mean… that’d be the best kind of compliment of all. I don’t know what it’s like when you get older but, I imagine it’s a little harder to… well… you know what I mean….”

Max said nothing.

“I’m sorry, Prof. I didn’t mean anything bad by that. But really… I guess I can tell you’re into muscles. And it’s sweet to think that I might be able to… you know… get you… all… well….” His voice trailed off before he finished the sentence. And even though he was being hesitant, he didn’t come across as embarrassed or shy about what he was saying.

Max’s forehead was beading with sweat. He wiped it again. “Sss… so… wh… what happened? With your study friend? At his house?”

“Oh,” Owen grinned. “Yeah. Well, let’s just say we didn’t get any studying done, that’s for sure,” he laughed again.

“Oh?” Max’s eyes bulged. “Really? What?”

“Yeah,” Owen beamed. “It all kinda spiraled out of control, I guess. I don’t know if it would offend you to know what really happened, but….”

“Oh, son, I am the last person on earth to get offended.”

“Okay. Well, I get most all of my clothes off, and he’s just staring at my body, up and down, see? And he’s like really excited. Like he really likes what he sees, you know? So I don’t want to scare him away or anything, because he’s a nice dude, and all. And so I just stand there and answer some of his questions, but he’s really nervous I can tell. And then he asks if he can feel some more of my muscles, so I say, ‘okay’, like, I think that’d be really cool, you know? And now he’s really feeling out my chest, and my arms. And…” he paused to laugh, “and damn if he doesn’t really have a boner in his pants. It was pretty obvious. I kinda felt sorry for the dude to be honest. At least at first. The guy just couldn’t help but get hard while he felt me out. But he didn’t seem to even notice—or at least he didn’t even care. He ended up opening his pants and pulling them off, and damn, his boner was just pointing up at me! So then he started feeling me out again. It was actually pretty cool. I just let him. I wasn’t weirded out or anything.” He gave a whatcha-gonna-do kind of expression.

So anyway, long-story-short, I end up taking off all of my clothes—shorts and all, totally naked. And well, I guess me flexing for him, and seeing him get all excited over my body has an effect on me, see. And then, just out of the blue, he reaches out and touches my… my… you know…” he glanced down at his open jeans. He looked back at Max’s face and said, “I don’t mean to get too personal now, Prof. I mean, if you don’t want me to continue, I understand. I mean, we—you and I—don’t have to do any of this. I’m just telling you what this guy and I did. I don’t…”

“It’s okay,” Max rasped. “I’m not offended. It sounds… well… Go ahead.”

“Okay. Well anyway, I was kinda surprised, but not really, by the way he’d been getting all turned on, you know? So out of the blue he puts his hand on my shaft like I said. And it’s getting kind of hard too—like it’s really growing from the way he’s enjoying seeing all of my muscles. Not as hard as his boner was, mind you. At least not at first. But I’m getting harder and bigger. And he just leaves his hand on it. And holds it while it grows.”

Max’s eyes were even wider now. And his cock felt as if it would burst in his pants.

“And the dude just keeps holding it,” Owen said. “I figured, what the heck,” He shrugged his shoulders and made a face like go with the flow… “I mean, we’re both good friends and all. So I let him. ‘Sides, it kind of feels good, you know? I mean, you really don’t know what it’s like to have all these big muscles, and have people admire them, you know? And especially when a guy really admires them and wants to feel them, and it turns him on, you know? And having him hold me—my thing—like that… well, it was pretty awesome to see him enjoy himself.”

He pulled his pants open more, and his bulbous white briefs kind of fell out, holding his enormous shaft and balls. He looked up from his pants to ask the professor, “You sure this doesn’t offend you, prof., ‘cuz I really like you, and I certainly don’t want to make you feel bad or anything….”

Max swallowed hard. “No—not at all, Owen. I’m actually quite intrigued. Go on, son.”

Owen grinned. “Thought so,” and gave a sideways smile. “So anyway, back to the story… At first I wondered about all of it… having a dude hold my cock. And then, well, he actually gave me a good, long stroke. Nice and slow, you know? And fuck… oh, pardon my language, prof. Sorry ‘bout that… but damn, he had a nice touch, you know?” Owen’s voice moved a little higher in pitch: “And it made me even harder, you know?” This was obviously a very fond memory for the musclegod. “And then he took his other hand and started feeling out my balls? And if that didn’t make me even harder! And I just stood there, letting him. He felt out all of my muscles, and I flexed anything he wanted to feel, but he always kept coming back to my boner, you know? Well, that and my chest. And my arms. Well anyway, by this time, I was so hard I thought I was going to break, you know? And he was too, because, well, he was just busting out of his underwear? So I helped him take them off, and pretty soon both of us were buck naked and as hard as flag poles, you know?”

“Ahem, I see….”

Owen grinned. “So, he kept feeling me. And now that he was naked too, I felt him. I mean, he didn’t have very big muscles, so I just mostly felt his boner. Since he was really excited by me, and all. I thought it’d be fun to compare. And he was really big for a guy his size. Not as big as my shit by any means. Oh, sorry. But most guys aren’t—in fact I’ve never seen any guy…” his voice trailed off as he thought. Then he continued: “But still, when I held him in my hand, it was really hard. And it throbbed. You could actually feel his heart beat in it. The dude was really getting turned on by looking at me and touching me.”

“Fuck,” Max whispered under his breath. He brought a hand under his desk and adjusted himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry, prof. I’m gettin’ you all hard with all this talk and I haven’t even taken off my shirt yet.” With that, Owen began to pull up on his shirt. He revealed some of his abdominals.

“By Jesus,” Max spat.

With his shirt still partially lifted—just above his abs—Owen turned toward the office door and paused. He lowered his shirt and looked at the Prof again. “You know, maybe it’d be better if we weren’t in this office setting, you know? I mean, I don’t have any problem showing you all of my muscles here, but if someone were to interrupt, you think it might make you uncomfortable?”

Max gulped. “Well, I supp—I suppose you’re right, son. Um, what do you… what are you thinking?”

Almost as if he were mocking a person who’s thinking, Owen brought his hand to his chin and started stroking it with a finger while he looked upwards. “Hmmm… well, we could always head on over to my dorm… but naw, my roommate has an erratic schedule; I don’t know if he’d be there. I don’t know if he’d get all weirded out or anything if I brought a prof to the dorm.”

“Well, ahem, I don’t know if you’d be amenable, but you could always come to my house. I live alone and…”

Owen dropped his arms to his side and smiled. “Amenable?! You bet! That’s a great idea, doc. How far away do you live?”

“Oh, just a little drive. Right here in Malibu actually. It’s not far. Do you have a car?”

“Sweet! Yeah. I can get there no problem.” He began tucking his shirt (and package) back into his jeans and zipped up. “Do you want to go now? Like I said, I don’t have anything else to do all afternoon.”

“Oh, why, yes. I think… I mean… yes. Why don’t I just tidy up my office a bit… and I need to make a… a few calls before I leave for the day. And well, perhaps you could meet…”

“That sounds sweet, Prof. Hey! I know! I’ll run over to my dorm first and grab some of my posers and stuff. You could tell me which ones you like on me the best.”

Max cleared his throat. This was simply mind-boggling. “Yes. Yes, that sounds quite… very good.” He wrote his address on a piece of paper and gave it to the tower of muscle. “Um… why don’t you give me a bit to make sure the house is nice and tidy. Shall we say three? Three o’clock?”

“Sure thing, Prof!” Owen said as he tucked the piece of paper into his jeans pocket. His mighty, rippling triceps muscles bulged as he did so. “I’ll be at your place at three.”

Max gave a smile—albeit a nervous one—and stood. Owen turned and left, grinning.

This was simply the worst idea Max Reed had ever had. And he knew it. All of the muscle studs he’d had in his office had, until now, simply flexed and preened for the enthusiastic professor. None had ever gone further than that. Certainly none had ever even talked—or even suggested—anything about having someone touch their cock or feel their muscles. Max had never even touched one of his muscle students. His enjoyment of their bodies was purely visual. Nothing untoward in any way. Of course, when the students left his office, he always hurriedly made a dash for the private washroom in the back of his office—or waited till he got home (or both) to masturbate to the memory of the delicious muscle display he’d just witnessed.

He’d never had any of his students to his house. Never. This was going to be so amazing. So wonderful! His very own private muscle worship session! And the way Owen was talking, the demigod was really enthusiastic about letting Max see everything and even more than just see, apparently. Yes, this was going to be a fantasy come true. The best thing ever. And, the worst.

As soon as Owen was out the door, Max made for his washroom and beat out an orgasm so quickly that he nearly didn’t get his pants open in time. His semen, quite plentiful for a man his age (yet given the subject of his jack-off fantasy, it wasn’t surprising), splashed out into his washbasin.

He emerged from the bathroom straightening his bow tie and, forgetting all about the fictitious phone calls he’d told Owen he had to make, grabbed his cardigan and dashed out the door to prepare for his date with muscle destiny.

 

______________
There IS a chapter two….

 

 

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