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About this blog

I hope to continue the fun I had on Tumblr here.  I also might start posting my stories (unfinished and finished) here (as well as on the forum).  I hope people enjoy!

Entries in this blog

londonboy

The incredible DAC took the time and the energy to make parts 1-22 all be in one place.  A big thank you goes out for all that effort.  

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 1

April 4th, 2007


 

I’m going to tell you a story that you will say is hard to believe. Don’t worry. I understand. I still find it hard to believe – and I lived it.

 

First Full Moon

 

I could not believe I was traveling in business class. For that matter, I could not believe I was going to London. I was going to Europe for the first time in my life. I had the passport to prove it. It just still seemed like a dream. Here I was a twenty-five year old computer programmer being transferred to London for three years. And I had only been working with this company for seven months. How lucky is that? Granted, I was good at my job and I had saved the company a lot of money – but it was still unbelievable. The best part is that I got three weeks to explore the city and beyond before I started my job. My boss had negotiated that for me. The only reason she did – I figured – was that she had a crush on me. She knew almost nothing about computers and was head of my department only because she slept with someone. Everyone knew it. That’s the way it was in our office – everyone knew everything. I was still amazed I had kept it secret for so long that I’m gay. It was getting harder, though, and that’s why this transition came at the perfect time. I promised myself that I’d be out at work in London – from day one. It must be easier there than it is in Houston, Texas. Life in general had to be easier in London.

 

“Excuse me,” a voice was saying behind me as I was pulling items for the long flight from my new Tumi carry-on (a gift from my parents). I turned and was blessed by the sight of a big man. Just the way I like them. He wasn’t the most handsome man I’d ever seen, but he did have the body of a huge football player. He looked like a fullback . . . or was it a halfback. Crap, why did I even use sports analogies – I knew nothing about sports. Let’s just say he looked like what Gaston from the Broadway show “Beauty and the Beast” should look like. There – that was an analogy I understood.

 

“Sure – sorry about that,” I said as I stepped into the space between my seat and the seat in front of me.

 

“No problem,” Gaston said smiling at me. He walked by me and I got a closer look at the arm that was bent over his shoulder carrying a duffel bag. The huge bicep wasn’t defined – but it was nice and big – and looked like it was full of power. I forced myself not to let my eyes follow him as he walked on – I didn’t want to be too obvious. I did glance up as I put my bag into the overhead bin. He was three rows ahead of me – and sitting in the same seat. Darn, I wouldn’t be able to look at that arm across the aisle. He didn’t seem like the type that would be sitting in business class – but, then again, neither did I. I began to sulk a little because I never got to sit beside someone like that on a plane. The seat beside me as still empty and I knew it would be filled by some talkative middle-aged woman who found that I reminded her of her son. At that moment a bag was dropped in the seat beside me. I glanced up and saw that I was wrong – it was a heavy-set middle-aged man chewing on an unlit cigar. I decided this was worse. I swear he looked like a cheesy used-car salesman and reeked of cheap after-shave. It definitely was worse. He turned to the woman behind him – obviously his recent mid-life crisis acquisition to make himself feel better. She looked like Disney had exploded on her face. There was enough make up for twenty people and I am sure nothing about her face or her body was even remotely real. The man was obviously mad about something. He was whispering to the woman with him and I heard her say something about calming down and she’d take care of everything. She slipped by him and went up the aisle.

 

The used car salesman blatantly watched her ass as she walked away and chuckled to himself. He then turned and saw me looking at him. A scowl came across his face. I looked down immediately. The excitement about the flight left me at that moment. I could not believe I had to sit beside this all the way to London. I quickly put on my IPOD headphones and turned up the music to drown out all noise – and hopefully all memory of the man beside me. I shut my eyes in hopes of calming down. Ahhh, the playlist I had named “A Little Pick Me Up Music” was playing. These were songs I had strategically chosen for when I might be sad or homesick. This would certainly cheer me up. The guy finally sat down beside me and I was shocked because his after-shave wasn’t that powerful. Maybe I had gotten used to it. The smell was actually quite pleasant. It was a mixture of a faint smell of sweat and that scent that usually goes along with guys who really don’t get into colognes or fragrant soaps. It was the kind of aroma that the guy three rows ahead would give off. I could only name it as a masculine smell.

 

I began to think about what it would be like to be close enough to Gaston to smell him. I even began to fantasize about burying my face into his chest – or better yet, his armpits. I know, I know – some people find that so gross – but I think it is really nice to get a real whiff of someone. See what they really smell like. To know everything about someone. I began to dream about how salty his sweat would taste. I started getting hard so I quickly stopped fantasizing. I didn’t want the used car salesman to see my hard-on.

 

The tone telling us to buckle our seatbelts went off and I opened my eyes. I turned to the left toward the aisle to grab that side of the buckle. When I turned to the right looking down to find the other half a beefy muscular hand was holding it for me. I glanced up and it was Gaston, the football player. He was smiling and saying something to me. I was too shocked to do anything. I am sure he noticed my reaction. He reached up with his other hand and pulled my headphones off.

 

“Were you looking for this?” he asked looking at the buckle again.

 

“Uh . . . yeah. . . thanks,” was all I could say. I took the buckle from his hand but my eyes stayed focused on his face. I had to finally look down to snap the buckle together. I looked back up and he was still smiling and staring at me.

 

“The little lady wanted to sit with her boyfriend and when I looked back to where he was sitting I told her I had no problem switching,” he said in explanation and gave me a quick wink. I did nothing but swallow hard. It was the true definition of a gulp. This made him laugh out loud.

 

“I think it will be a much better flight back here,” he said as he snapped his own seatbelt into place.

 

“I could not agree more,” boldly came from my mouth.

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 2 

April 6th, 2007


 


The First Full Moon – Continued

 

So I’d like to tell you that Gaston, the football player, and I had super muscle sex and fell madly in love. But that is not what happened. And that is not what this story is about. Don’t worry, I promise you there will be lots of muscle in this story. Well to be honest – a lot of muscle growth. But that comes later.

 

Gaston’s real name was Luke. And he wasn’t a football player – he was a construction worker in Houston. He was a good old southern boy who was very easy to talk to. He told me that when he looked back and saw that the option was sitting beside the woman with too much make up and a dog (I hadn’t noticed the dog) or a guy his own age he knew which seat to take. I was even able to steer the conversation to Luke’s work-out routine and that got him going. He wasn’t shy when it came to talking about how he developed different parts of his body and was quick to raise his shirt for a little show-and-tell. I was definitely thankful for the blanket that was covering my hard-on.

 

At one point in the conversation I did the most amazing thing. Luke was asking me if I was married or had a girlfriend and I just blurted out that I was gay. I couldn’t believe I did it. I was so proud of myself and hoped this was par for the course in London. Luke didn’t seem to care a bit. He told me he was straight but I got the feeling that Luke had definitely taken a “walk on the wild side” with some guy in his past. It was just great to have someone so easy to chat with sitting beside me. I found out that Luke was traveling on to Israel from London. He had gotten some great construction gig in Jerusalem. How cool was that. After dinner and about two hours of chatting Luke said he was going to get some shuteye. I was disappointed – but knew a little sleep would be the best for both of us. I downed an Ambien with the last of my champagne and lay back to get some sleep. I turned one last time to get a good look at the sleeping giant beside me. Somehow I knew I was beginning the trip of a lifetime.

 

The flight attendant asking me to begin preparing for our landing awakened me. I was pretty groggy but not so out of it that I forgot about Luke. I turned and found his seat empty. I asked for some coffee and began to get myself organized for landing. I glanced up as Luke came down the aisle with his duffle bag. He had changed clothes, shaved, and obviously washed up. He looked great. I found myself wishing that I woke up to Luke each morning.

 

“Hey there sleepy head,” he said smiling. “You might want to at least tame that hair before we land.” I’m sure my face flushed red as I quickly said thanks, grabbed some supplies and went to the bathroom. One glance in the mirror told me Luke was right. I look liked I had just ended a two week drunk. When I finally came back to my seat I was fully awake and feeling a lot better. Luke glanced up and said, “Yeah, I think you’ll do a lot better with the boys in London looking that way.” I blushed again. “I have a gay friend who comes to London all the time and he once told me about a grgay pub he liked a lot. I’ve written down the name for you.” I glanced at the sheet of paper. The name of the pub was ‘Halfway to Heaven.’ “It’s just off Trafalgar Square,” he added.

 

“That’s near where my apartment will be. Thanks, Luke.” I smiled and put the paper in my pocket.

 

Luke shook my hand just inside the gate. We were going separate ways in the terminal. He told me to have a great time in London and then said goodbye. After I had gotten about five steps away Luke called my name. I turned around and he said, “You’re going to be fine – you’ve got people looking out for you.” And then he was gone in the crowd. I turned back around baffled by what he had said. I didn’t have much time to think about it because I had to maneuver through customs for the first time in my life.

 

I had been instructed by my company to look for a driver with a sign bearing my name. Once I came into the meeting area I began looking for such a sign. I walked around and looked at all the signs but couldn’t find one with my name on it. After about twenty minutes I decided to call the number of the point person in London that my company had given me. I pushed my cart, containing four large bags and my carry on, into an open space. I took off my backpack and crouched down to retrieve my new company cell phone (which had made my mother very happy – I could call home on the company’s money) and the number. While I was searching for the phone two huge back shoes appeared in front of me. I’m not kidding. These two shoes looked like cars from a ride in the children’s area at a theme park. I know two small children could have ridden in them.

 

At the same time a voice, which boomed a little like a foghorn, asked, “Are you Anthony?”

 

I lifted my head and all I could see was a man’s mid-section. I had tilted my head high enough to meet the face of a regular sized man, but here I only saw a buttoned dark jacket. I leaned back to look higher and fell back on my ass. I was staring up at the tallest man I had ever seen. He reminded me of the actor that played the character named “Jaws” in those old James Bond movies starring Roger Moore. Wasn’t his name something like Richard Kiel or something – I couldn’t remember at the moment because the real thing in front of me was so mind-boggling. Anyway, I was staring up at a guy that was over seven feet tall. He could have been over eight feet tall – I couldn’t tell from on the floor. The giant held out his hand and asked, “May I help you?”

 

I instinctively grabbed his hand. It was gigantic. I had a flashback to age four or five when I would walk beside my dad holding his hand. His huge mitt covered my entire hand and part of my arm. He pulled and easily lifted me from the floor. My feet actually came off the floor a little before he stopped lifting. Again I had a feeling that could only be described as something like being a small stuffed animal carried by a child. I glanced again at the hand holding mine and realized it could actually cover my entire head. If this guy wanted to palm my head like a basketball his thumb would reach below one ear and his smallest finger would go lower than my other ear. I am sure he could pick me up that way easily – just like an athlete with a ball. The giant finally let go of my hand and I dropped a few inches to the ground. My cock stirred a little.

 

“My name is Atol,” the giant said, “and I am here to pick you up.”

 

I jokingly said, “You mean literally or in a car?”

 

Atol looked confused and said, “Pardon me?”

 

“Never mind,” I said laughing to myself. “I’m sorry that I missed you, Atol. I was looking or a sign with my name on it.” I saw a look quickly flash across Atol’s face as if I had reminded him of something he had forgotten.

 

“No problem. Are these your bags?” he asked pointing to my cart.

 

“Yeah, that’s my life in just four bags,” I said reaching down to grab my backpack. When I stood up Atol had already begun to walk away pushing the cart. Wow, a man of few words, I thought. I guess when you’re that big you really don’t have to speak. I watched in awe as the crowd instinctively parted for this giant. I noticed that most people lost all manners and just stared wide-eyed at Atol. He had gotten ahead of me so I moved quickly – I had to take three steps for every one of his. Just as we were about to break free from the crowd gathered to greet people coming through customs I noticed a man holding a sign that said “Anthony Lance.” That must have been my driver.

 

“Hey Atol,” I cried out, “I think there’s been a mistake. I see my name on a sign over there. Let’s go get that guy and we can figure this out. Maybe the company sent two drivers . . .” My voice trailed away because when I turned from looking at the guy with the sign I could see no Atol. My cart was there, but the giant was gone. I looked around in the crowd and couldn’t see him. How in the hell could a guy like that disappear? And he didn’t say anything. This was truly strange. I quickly grabbed my cart and walked to the guy with the sign. I didn’t want him to disappear, too.

 

The guy holding the sign was wearing a black suit, but I could still tell he had a mighty fine chest underneath those clothes. He was definitely hot. He looked like someone I knew but I didn’t have time to figure it out. I hoped to myself that he was what the common Londoner looked like.

 

“Hi, I’m Anthony Lance,” I said as I reached the driver. I held out my hand and felt a strong grip in return.

 

“Cheers, Anthony. My name is Matt. Welcome to London. Let me take that from you,” he said taking the cart. We started walking out of the airport. “Did you have a nice flight, Anthony?”

 

“Yes, thank you. Matt, the weirdest thing just happened, though. A guy came up to me and acted like he was my driver. When I saw you with the sign he just seemed to disappear,” I said as we walked.

 

“Well – you have to be careful at Heathrow. There are a lot of people that are trying to get your stuff. I’m sure it was some petty thief trying to lure you away from the airport.”

 

“But he knew my name,” I explained.

 

“Well it is on your bag, there.” Matt said pointing to my backpack. Of course, I had my name stitched across the bag to help me distinguish it from other peoples. Something inside of me still found it all strange, though. Something about that Atol made me uneasy.

 

Matt said in a cheery voice, “Everything’s fine now – you’ve got people looking out for you.” I stopped walking. “What’s the matter, forget something?” he asked.

 

“No, nothing like that. It’s just that you’re the second person to say that to me in the last hour. What a coincidence,” I explained. Matt just smiled and we started walking again. There was something so friendly and familiar about that smile. I decided I was just edgy from the jetlag. All I really needed was a hot shower.

 

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 3 

April 7th, 2007


 


The First Full Moon – Continued

 

I couldn’t take everything in fast enough as we drove into London from Heathrow. It would take too long to even list all the things I was seeing live and in person that I had only dreamed of from pictures, movies, or television shows. My head was already in London overload. As we got closer to the main part of town Matt asked if I wanted him to point out anything special. I suddenly remembered the pub Luke had written down for me.

 

“Yes, Matt,” I said digging out the note. “Do you know the pub ‘Halfway to Heaven’ and can you drive by it.”

 

“Sure, I know where it is. We go right past it on the way to your flat. Your place is just a two minute walk to that pub.”

 

How lucky, I thought. “Thanks. That will be great.”

 

“Sure, mate,” Matt answered smiling at me in the rearview mirror. He pointed out Trafalgar Square as we circled it, made sure I saw the front windows of ‘Halfway to Heaven,’ and then pulled up in front of my building. He handed me my keys and said, “You go ahead and open doors. I’ll grab the bags.”

 

“Matt, let me help you. There are four big bags and they’re very heavy.”

 

“Don’t worry about me Anthony,” Matt called out as he got out of the car, “I’ve got it under control. The big key unlocks the front door and the middle key unlocks the door to your flat. It’s on the first floor – which means the second floor to someone from the states.”

 

I got out of the car, walked to the front door, unlocked it and looked for something to prop it open so I could help Matt. I quickly noticed that the front lobby was quite nice. I smiled when I saw the plaque with the name of the place – Camelot Towers. I loved the legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. My parents raised me on those stories. I loved the whole idea of chivalry and all that. I couldn’t see anything to hold the door open so I turned back to see if Matt was okay. To my surprise he was right behind me smiling. He had two of my bags under his big arms and carried the other two by their handles. There was no sign of strain on his face. I stepped back and let him enter the lobby. I then moved quickly to the elevator and pressed the button.

 

“Don’t worry about me Anthony – I’m going to take the stairs,” Matt called as he started up the big staircase to the left of the elevator. I didn’t want to be outdone by the guy carrying everything so I followed him up the flight of stairs. On the first floor there was a hallway leading to only one door. This confused me. Matt stepped beyond the door and then turned back towards me. It was a little hard since he had all the luggage.

 

“Is there only one flat on this floor?” I asked.”

 

“That’s right, mate,” he answered.

 

At that moment I opened the door and stepped into a huge living space with floor to ceiling windows along the wall overlooking the street. There was a dining area and a kitchen to the right. I noticed a great fireplace along one wall in the living room. Matt disappeared down a short hall to the left. I followed him to what led to two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The master bedroom was very big and had its own bathroom. The second bedroom had a small bed and a study-like area with a desk. This place was great. Matt showed me where everything was and specifically reviewed a notebook that had directions on how to work everything in the flat.

 

Once Matt left I began to unpack. It’s the first thing I like to do when I take a trip. It gives some sort of order to everything. Once that was done I knew I had to go out. If I stayed in I would fall asleep and that would ruin my inner clock for a few days. I wasn’t that tired, anyway. As I saw it I had two options. I could go grocery shopping or I could go to the pub. I, of course, chose ‘Halfway to Heaven” – like any good Londoner, right? I walked down St. Martin’s Lane and passed the National Portrait Gallery and St. Martin in the Fields to get to the pub, which stood on a small street just off the square. As I passed the church I was a little disappointed because they were doing some construction and it was covered in scaffolding.

 

If you didn’t know the pub was there you might miss it. And if you didn’t know it was a gay pub there was little to tell you that, too. I bet many straight tourists came in for a drink and ended up being surprised. There was a rainbow flag hanging outside but I knew a lot of people just thought it was a nice decoration.

 

I walked in and the music playing definitely gave away the fact that this was a gay pub. I didn’t know the song but it had that driving beat that still ruled in gay dance clubs. The pub was really small – or so I thought until I realized it had a downstairs. The main room was upstairs, though. A few tall round tables and stools in the center, a counter that ran along three walls, and a small bar that stuck halfway out into the room in the back right area. I noticed that there was also a small alcove to the left of the bar that went back a little ways. It had some more tables and chairs. The place wasn’t very crowded – but it was only 3:30pm on a Saturday and it was a beautiful day outside.

 

I moved to the bar and immediately noticed the boyish cuteness of the bartender. “Hiya,” he said, “What may I get you?” I noticed his great smile and the numerous piercings in his ears – not to mention the one in his tongue.

 

I was very excited because I already knew what I wanted, “A pint of Stella, please.”

 

He said, “Sure,” grabbed a glass and started to fill it from the tap. I had been told by a friend that Stella Artois, although not an English beer (it was Belgian), was very good. He also told me it had a nickname – “the wife beater” – but today I ignored that. The bartender placed the pint in front of me and said, “Two pounds, eighty, please.” I pulled out coins from my pocket and began to sort through them slowly.

 

I looked up a little embarrassed and said, “Sorry, it’s my first time.”

 

The bartender laughed and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. Here let me help you.” I held out my palm and he picked the coins out quickly and explained each of them one-by-one as he placed them in the drawer. “You’ll get the hang of it, not to worry. My name is Dominic. Where are you from?”

 

That one question led to a conversation that lasted for about forty-five minutes. I told Dominic about my new job and my new place. He said he was sure he’d be seeing a lot of me in the pub. I told him he was right. It was getting crowded by that time and he was pretty busy. I ordered my third pint, got the coins right this time, grabbed one of the local gay magazines by the door, and sat down on a stool at the counter that looked out the large front window. This was a great place to sit - I thought to myself. You could see so much. So many people walking down the street. The thumping music made a funny soundtrack to their steps. Many walked to the exact beat of the song.

 

I was marveling at this fact when a cheerful voice said, “You must be from the States.” I turned and was greeted by the face of a very handsome elderly gentleman. I would have guessed he was probably seventy years old or more. It was hard to tell. He had vibrant silver hair and beautiful deep-blue eyes. He was maybe five foot ten and had a great smile.

 

“Yes, I am. How can you tell?” I asked.

 

“Sorry friend, it is the shorts and the sandals. Hello, my name is Martin.” And he held out his perfectly manicured hand. There was something definitely youthful about Martin.

 

“And I am Anthony,” I said shaking his hand. “What’s wrong with my shorts and sandals?”

 

“Oh my dear Anthony, there is nothing wrong with either of them. The shorts are just a little shorter than we wear here and not many people in London wear sandals. You also have an American air about you. I might have guessed Canada, as well. I hope I haven’t offended you. I just thought it would be a great conversation starter.”

 

I decided Martin was definitely a very good-looking man and his clothes also said that he probably did well financially.

 

As with Dominic before; Martin’s opening line turned into a very easy conversation that lasted for a long time. During our talk I shared everything about my upcoming three years in London. When I told him that my flat was at Camelot Towers he seemed impressed. He told me that building was a prime piece of real estate and then he stressed that I would one day be very happy I was there since it had air conditioning. Martin told me he was retired and lived in Hampstead. I told him I wasn’t familiar with that area but had read a little about it. He said that I would have to come let him show it off very soon. Then there was a lull in our conversation.

 

“Ah, Camelot Towers, named for a wonderful place and a marvelous time in England’s long history. And besides that, it is a mighty fine musical.” We both laughed.

 

I told him, “My parents played the Broadway recording of that show all through my childhood. And I devoured every book on King Arthur or similar stories that I could get my hands on.”

 

“That was very good of them,” Martin said in a voice that seemed to be thanking my parents. I must have had a confused look on my face because he quickly added, “I mean it is very good for parents to introduce their children to culture.”

 

“I agree. And it was an awesome fantasy world for me as a child,” I added.

 

“But Anthony – Camelot was indeed real. Oh, not the Camelot of the musical or even the books. But there was a King Arthur, a Guinevere, and of course that blasted round table. It was a time of great acceptance and inclusivity in England. A mighty fine time, indeed.” Martin was staring outside the window.

 

“And don’t forget Lancelot! I hope he was real too,” I said pulling Martin back into the conversation. “Since my last name is Lance I always connected with Lancelot in a special way. In fact, growing up I collected all the memorabilia that referred to Lancelot. I even had a mock knight’s helmet – if that’s what you call it. It had the name Lancelot written across the forehead. I know it sounds crazy but I even brought some of the expensive stuff with me. To put around my apartment – I mean my flat.”

 

Martin had turned back to me and was smiling. He started getting very excited as I spoke. “Oh, Anthony, it was certainly fortuitous that we met. I have a friend who has an antique shop and it has tons of items from Camelot theatrical events, the movie, and some very rare items from the real court of the real King Arthur. You must go there.

 

“Well, I will. That would be great,” I said – excited about possibly getting some more cool things. “I could get more stuff for my flat – especially because of the name of my building. Also, there isn’t much of any kind of decoration in the place. It doesn’t look lived in, you know.”

 

“You must go tomorrow Anthony,” exclaimed Martin. “If I did not already have plans I would take you there myself. Let me give you directions right this very moment.” And with that Martin pulled a little pad of paper and pen from the pocket of his jacket.

 

“Martin, I’m here for three years. There’s plenty of time,” I said laughing.

 

It was as if Martin wasn’t listening. He said, “Nonsense, Anthony. You’ll go tomorrow. The shop is only open on Sundays and you need to get things for your new place. He grabbed my arm and his grip was quite strong. I was surprised. “Promise me, Anthony, that you will go tomorrow. Promise me.” His face was very serious.

 

“Sure, Martin, sure. I’ll go tomorrow. I promise. I have no other plans.” He let go of my hand and I was relieved. That had been a tad scary. Martin quickly drew me a map and gave me the address.

 

“It is quite close to here. Just over in Covent Garden. It is on Maiden Lane. Now that lane is very small and it is easy to miss. My friend opens at eleven and closes at four. You are going to love it. As a matter of fact I will call him in the morning and tell him to bill me for anything you take.” He was very excited again.

 

“Martin, I can’t let you do that. You hardly know me. Really. I can’t. I will still go, though. I promise.” I was blown away by his generosity.

 

“Once again, Anthony, nonsense,” Martin said emphatically. “I have a feeling we are going to be great friends and consider this a housewarming gift.”

 

As weird as the earlier moment had made me feel, I did have the same sense about our friendship. I knew we’d be good friends and that Martin would make my transition to London easier. It was great to have a new friend. I said, “Well thank you, Martin. That is very kind. I am flattered. I promise not to go wild and spend all of your money.”

 

Martin laughed and said, “Anthony, there is no chance of that. I could buy that shop a few times over. I am not bragging. I am just old and have saved wisely. My money is old money – very old. I have found that money is nothing without friends to share it with. It gives me great pleasure to do this for you. Now I must go. It is late for an old man like me and I have a long ride home. Say, good friend, can we meet here Monday afternoon? The best time is four o’clock. It is before the work crowd gets here and just in time to watch them as they come in. Martin smiled a wicked smile and we both laughed.

 

“I will see you here at four on Monday,” I said. Martin patted me on the shoulder, paused for a few seconds after doing it – as if he was remembering something – and then walked away. When he got a few feet away he turned and said something to me. I couldn’t quite hear it because of the music and people’s voices. He could tell I hadn’t heard it, so he repeated it a little louder and then turned and left the pub.

 

I’m sure my mouth was wide open in shock. Martin had said, “You are going to be fine, Anthony, you have people looking out for you.”

 

I didn’t have time to think about the statement too much. Dominic was beside me with another Stella. He smiled and said, “This one’s on me. Welcome to London.”

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 4 

April 8th, 2007


 

The First Full Moon – Continues

 

I woke up Sunday with a slight hangover. Dominic told me that the alcohol count is higher in Stella. No wonder I liked it. No wonder it had its nickname.

 

I didn’t have much trouble sleeping during the night – probably because of the beer. I finally got out of bed around 11:30am. When I glanced at the clock I immediately remembered the antique shop I was supposed to visit. I contemplated not going – I didn’t want to spend my first full day in London inside. But I didn’t want to disappoint Martin – after all, I was going to see him tomorrow and I’m sure he would ask. I could also use some other items around the flat. I was still so honored by Martin’s offer. I would definitely get him a thank you gift.

 

I showered and went to get something to eat. I decided to head towards Covent Garden – where the shop was located. I had my pocket map and the directions Martin had given me. I finally stopped at a patisserie called Boswells. It was right off Covent Garden’s Piazza and Central Market. Once seated, I spread the map out to plan my path to the shop. I realized that I had, indeed, passed Maiden Lane walking to get food. Martin was right – it was easy to miss.

 

After finishing my lunch (or was it breakfast?), I followed my plan and found myself standing in front of “Arthur’s Antiques” on Maiden Lane. I opened the door and stepped in. It was a good thing that I do not have allergies to dust or mold. This shop, which was not that big, was covered from floor to ceiling with stuff and the stuff was pretty old. The room even smelled old. As the door shut I had to let my eyes adjust because there wasn’t a lot of light in the place. It was also very quiet – Maiden Lane was not that busy. I heard only the ticking of a large grandfather clock in the middle of the wall to the left. There were two long counters on either side of the room and large objects were strategically placed to make three aisles running up and down the middle of the room. I noticed a large table right in the middle of everything. In the back right corner of the room was a doorway that had strings of beads hanging in the frame.

 

A voice yelled from the back, “It is about time you arrived.”

 

“Pardon me,” I yelled.

 

An older gentleman came through the beads just as the clock struck two o’clock. The old man repeated, “I said – it is about time you arrived.”

 

“Do you know who I am,” I asked.

 

“Sure, sure. You are Anthony from the states. Martin sent you. Who else do you think is going to drop by today? No one – that’s who.” By this time the man had walked the length of the counter on the right and was standing across the glass top from me. He seemed a mess. The sweater he was wearing was buttoned wrong, his hair went in every direction, and his glasses were covered in dust. He reminded me of an absent-minded professor.

 

“So I’ve pulled out a few items for you,” he said as he took his glasses off to clean them with the sleeve of his sweater. He looked up at me as he spoke and when I saw his eyes I was instantly reminded of someone – but I couldn’t remember who. My face must have showed I was puzzled.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m sorry,” I said trying to hide my embarrassment, “It’s just that I know someone who has dark blue eyes like you and I can’t remember who it is.” Suddenly the clock started chiming again. I jumped at the sound and turned to look at it.

 

“That blasted clock,” the old man said loudly, “It does that all the time. Just goes off when it wants to.” I turned back to the man and he had returned to cleaning his glasses. I looked into his eyes again to see if I could remember who they reminded me of – but his eyes were a bright green.”

 

“Hey, weren’t your eyes blue a second ago?” I asked.

 

“What? No, Anthony. My eyes have been green since the day I was brought into this world. Martin told me that you might be a little jet-lagged. He said to go easy on you. Why don’t we take a look at the stuff I pulled out for you? It is right over here,” he said as he led me to the table in the middle of the room.

 

Of course the old man was right. I was still a little foggy from the time change. It seemed that my jet lag was getting worse, though. I glanced at the table in front of me and immediately saw something that interested me. There was a wooden stand in the middle of the table and resting on it was what looked like a knight’s glove for battle. I could tell it was pretty old but it seemed to shine brighter than anything else being displayed. I bent down to look at it.

 

“Oh, you are interested in Lancelot’s armor glove are you?” he asked.

 

I smiled and said, “It is nice – and different. It would be fun to think it really did belong to Lancelot. But then Lancelot would have had to belong to the real world to wear it, wouldn’t he?” I said chuckling. There was silence as I continued to look at the glove. The silence finally got to me and I turned to the man. He was staring right at me. I suddenly felt like I was in trouble.

 

 

 

“Anthony, son. Lancelot was real. He was a great knight and a good friend of King Arthur. His looks, his strength, and his courage were known the world over.” The shopkeeper sounded like a Harry Potter fan who believes the young wizard lives down the street.

 

I turned back to the table as I said mockingly, “Yeah, he was a friend of Arthur’s until he stole his girl.” The room suddenly became darker – probably clouds blowing across the sun. The room also seemed colder than before.

 

“Anthony, there are many things about Camelot and the legends surrounding it that no one knows. I will tell you something that very few have heard. Lancelot was not banned from Camelot because of his love for Guinevere. It was because of his love for Arthur.” The clock chimed once loudly at that moment and I jumped again. The old man seemed not to notice and continued, “And Arthur returned Lancelot affections. But this information had to be kept from most people in the kingdom. It was a different time then – much worse than the even when England was in an uproar over the ‘love that dare not speak its name.’ All the Knights of the Round Table shared in a fraternity far greater than anything we know today. They loved each other with an intensity that seemed almost beyond logic. They would have given their lives for each other – and sometimes did. But Arthur and Lancelot had a love that was the strongest – and the purest. The kingdom needed an heir, though. And there were evil forces across the lands that were jealous of the bond between Lancelot and Arthur. In order to save the baby of Arthur and Guinevere from this evil, a fake story was created about the queen and Lancelot. They were banned so Lancelot could protect her and the child. Arthur knew there was no greater knight for the job. Later, Guinevere and Lancelot had a son of their own. Both boys grew and carried on the line of Lancelot and Arthur. That lineage still exists today. And that, Anthony, is the true story of Camelot.

 

The old man finished and the room brightened again. I suddenly felt warmer, as well.

 

What a bizarre man, I thought. I did, however, enjoy the thought of Lancelot and Arthur having wild sex. The old man’s intensity made me want to get out of the store as quickly as possible. I blurted out, “I’ll take the glove, okay? Nothing else.”

 

The man’s mood all of the sudden became very cheery. “Of course, of course. A fine choice. It would have been what I picked for you. But first you must try it on for size,” he said lifting it off the stand.

 

“What?” I asked incredulously. “No, that’s okay. I won’t be wearing it. I’m just going to put it on my mantle.” My mind was spinning. Was this guy insane? I was waving my hands in front of me trying to get him to stop when he slipped the glove on my right hand in what was a flash. It was obviously too big for me, but as soon as it was on it seemed to shrink and tightened around my hand and lower arm. Immediately the tips of my fingers felt as if a thousand needles were stabbing them. I screamed out in pain. My entire body flushed intensely hot for a couple of seconds and then everything stopped.

 

For a moment I forgot everything. I was confused and felt out of place. Did I dream all that just happened? I looked down and the glove was on my hand but it was way too big.

 

“Well, that is not a good fit,” the old man said laughing. “I think I would keep it on your mantle if I were you.” He had taken the glove off my hand and placed both it and the stand in a wooden box. He placed the box in a bag and put it in my hand. I was still in too much shock to say anything. I just turned and walked to the door. Before I stepped out onto the street I remembered about paying for the glove.

 

I turned to speak to the man but he was gone. I assumed he had gone to the back room. “Hey, what about the cost? How much is this?” I said - still in a daze.

 

His voice bellowed back, “Martin has paid for it already. Cheers, Anthony. Enjoy London.” I turned to leave but stopped when he yelled, “Oh – one more thing…”

 

Even in my semi-conscious state I knew what he was going to say before he said it. I could have said it with him.

 

“You are going to be fine. You have people looking out for you.”

 

I pushed open the door and walked into the bright sunlight. I knew the area well enough to know that turning left would take me in the direction of my flat. I just started walking. When I hit Trafalgar Square I was able to find my building. I opened the door to my place, put the bag on the dining room table, walked to my bedroom, fell face down on the bed, and was out cold for the night.

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 5 

April 9th, 2007


 

The First Full Moon – Continues

 

I woke up the next morning at 9:00am. I had slept for almost eighteen hours. I guess I needed it. I must have really been suffering from jetlag – and hadn’t known how much. There was, however, no feeling of being tired when I woke up. I jumped out of bed and felt fantastic. It was like I was high on vitamins or something. My entire body was on fire for action. It was as if every molecule in my body was in overdrive. I decided to go for a run. Never in my life had I run further than the length of a gymnasium – and that was in junior high. But today I felt an incredible urge to go for a run. And I knew it would be a long run. I got dressed, went outside, and began. I ran south to the river and then turned east, running along the Thames on the south bank. Two hours later I found myself coming back up the north side of the river and felt so good that I decided to go back to “Arthur’s Antiques” to see if there was anything else I wanted for my flat. I kept thinking to myself, “Damn, I feel good!” I wasn’t even breathing hard and I had run constantly for two hours.

 

I retraced my path from the day before and started up Maiden Lane to the site of the store. I must have gotten it wrong because the spot where I stopped was actually a passageway to the next street. These kinds of arched outdoor hallways seemed to be all over the city – a quick way to go from one block to the next. I looked around and came to the realization that this should have been the place where the shop stood. But that is not what I found. I walked up and down the lane again – checking the name of the street twice. It wasn’t that hard since it was a short street. This was completely baffling. I stepped into the passageway and the look of the walls told me they had been this way for a long time. Was I going crazy? It couldn’t be that. My mind and my body seemed to be alive for the first time in my life. I had never known such energy.

 

I walked back to the street and started for home. The only explanation was I had gotten the name of the street wrong, but I was pretty sure Maiden Lane had been what Martin wrote down. I would check to make sure when I got home. While I was passing Trafalgar Square it looked like a riot was taking place. There were people everywhere and even a crowd in the fountain at the center of the square. Upon closer observation I realized it wasn’t a riot – people looked happy, as if they were celebrating. I asked a guy standing beside me what was going on.

 

He said, “Where’ve you been, mate? England won their football match today!” And with that he started yelling and ran into the crowd. I laughed at his enthusiasm. I marveled at how wonderful this day was going and headed home.

 

That afternoon I went shopping at a market called “Marks and Spencer.” After getting groceries I spent some time in the National Portrait Gallery. I could tell that museum was going to be one of my favorite places to visit. There were some great paintings and photographs of people in England’s history and present day. I moved back outside onto the square where people were still celebrating. I still felt great! There were people sitting on the square – outside of the gallery - soaking up the sun. I decided to join the crowd – okay, specifically so I could scope out the cute guys who had taken off their shirts. Sitting there, the sun felt great and I felt a surge of energy. I suddenly decided to take my shirt off and do some push-ups. I never did push-ups – especially in public. And I never took my shirt off in public. I stood up, took my shirt off, hung it from my back pocket, and proceeded to execute 100 push-ups – knowing my form was perfect. I didn’t even break much of a sweat. Getting over my jetlag was great! I didn’t know I could feel so alive. At ten until four I decided to head towards ‘Halfway’ to meet Martin. Boy did I have a lot of questions for him.

 

I already had my Stella and was sitting in the corner of the front part of the pub – near the window – when Martin walked in. I could tell immediately he was either agitated or very excited. He scanned the room quickly, found me, and came directly to the corner. He didn’t even order a pint first.

 

A big smile came across his face and he said, “Anthony, dear, it is fantastic to see you – how are you feeling today?”

 

The way he asked the question seemed much more intense than a casual “how are you?” It seemed like he wanted additional information for some reason. I answered, “It’s great to see you, too, Martin. And actually, since you asked, I feel great. I don’t think I ever remember feeling this good. My jetlag seems to have disappeared and I even went running today – and, Martin, I never go running. I can’t explain it. I feel like a million bucks – wait, no, I feel like a million pounds.”

 

Martin laughed and said, “Splendid! I was hoping you would feel that way today. It must be the Stella Artois you are drinking and the great London atmosphere that has invigorated you. I am so happy you feel so powerful.”

 

“Well, I don’t know about powerful, Martin, but I do feel healthy for some reason.” But it did cross my mind that his word was more accurate in describing the way I felt.

 

Martin smiled and exclaimed, “By powerful I meant healthy. Sorry, my dear boy, I am often very dramatic. So, do you like Lancelot’s glove.”

 

“Yes! Oh, Martin, I completely forgot. That should have been the first thing I said. Thank you, thank you. I placed it on my mantle today. I really appreciate your gift! It looks cool.”

 

“Well, I know nothing about cool, Anthony,” Martin said, “But I am very glad it fit – I mean that it fit in your flat. Oh, I am just glad you like it.”

 

“Speaking of the glove, I wanted to tell you something very bizarre…”

 

Martin interrupted me, “Yes, of course, Anthony, but first let me get a pint of Carling. Do you want another Stella?”

 

“Sure that would be great,” I said and Martin began to walk away. I stood up to get coins out of my pocket.

 

Martin stopped when he saw what I was doing and made a face. “Oh, Anthony, for heaven’s sake – do not be rude. I am offering to buy you a Stella. After all, we are celebrating!” And with that he turned and walked to the bar.

 

I’m sure my face turned red. I wasn’t meaning to be rude. I just didn’t know that was his intention. How stupid of me. Then it hit me what Martin had said before he walked away – I wondered what we were celebrating? I watched Martin as he got the drinks and then took his time coming back. He stopped to talk to many people. I assumed they were all locals. I was beginning to think Martin wanted to avoid me when he finally looked up from a conversation, said goodbye, and walked back to our corner.

 

“So sorry, Anthony. I had to work the room, you know. It is like holding court – and I miss that so much.” It seemed Martin drifted off with an old memory.

 

“No problem Martin. As long as you’re not getting bored of me – trying to avoid me,” I said half joking.

 

“On the contrary! Our adventures together have just begun. It is like rekindling an old friendship,” he said smiling. Somehow, I felt the same way.

 

It was then I remembered. “Listen, Martin. I had a very weird experience at Arthur’s Antiques yesterday. I can’t remember much of it – because I guess I was still foggy from jetlag – but it involved the glove and that guy Arthur.”

 

“Oh, his name is not Arthur – it is Frank,” Martin said.

 

“I guess I just assumed, you know, from the name of the shop.”

 

“Oh, I see. No. The store is named after King Arthur,” explained Martin.

 

“Right,” I said and continued, “Well, you see, that’s just it Martin. Besides the weirdness of yesterday, I went back today and Arthur’s Antiques isn’t there. I thought I was getting the street wrong but I looked at your directions and they confirmed it was Maiden Lane. I walked up and down that street and there was no shop.”

 

“Do not be ridiculous, Anthony. Of course it is still there. Frank would have told me he was closing down. I know he does not get much business, but he still would have told me,” Martin said scanning the crowd – probably to see if anyone new had come in.

 

“No, Martin. I mean the building wasn’t there. It was a passageway.” And as I said this I knew it suddenly sounded a little crazy.

 

Martin patted my hand. “Anthony, I am sure you just went to the wrong place.” I started to protest, but Martin continued, “Listen, this Sunday I am free. I will meet you for lunch and then the two of us will go to the store together. All right then?”

 

This sounded very reasonable to me – especially after I sounded so crazy before. I had even begun to doubt my sense of direction and knew that I probably just missed the correct street somehow. After all, how does an entire shop disappear overnight? Especially a store like Arthur’s Antiques -that was completely filled. “That would be great, Martin.”

 

“We can get some more stuff for your flat,” Martin said looking at his watch. “Oh my, look at the time. Anthony, I’m afraid I have just enough time for a half pint. I am on my way to dinner with friends before going to see the musical “Wicked.” It will be my fifth time to see the show. It is wonderful. I just love shows that have witches and wizards – especially wizards! Have you seen it?”

 

“No, not yet. I don’t even know if it has come to Houston, yet. Maybe I’ll get to see it while I’m here,” I said.

 

“That is a definite, my good man. I will get us tickets for a night in the near future. I just cannot see it enough. Another pint?” he asked starting to walk away.

 

“Oh, no, thank you, though.” My mind was spinning. It was as if I was beginning to feel the beer, but I knew couldn’t- be buzzed. I was having trouble staying focused long enough to ask Martin all the questions in my head. I was so confused and most of the questions flew from my mind. I believe it was partly from Martin’s ability to change the subject. He was such a funny man, that way. So warm and open, but somehow so secretive. He could divert the conversation so well. And at that moment Martin returned.

 

“So what are we celebrating?” I asked. I was so excited to remember a question.

 

“Anthony, my friend, we are celebrating the full moon that comes on Thursday,” is what he answered, but I got the distinct feeling there was something else, as well.

 

“What’s so great about the full moon, Martin? Is that a custom in England that I’m not familiar with?” I asked.

 

“Not a custom, per se, but you never know what will happen during a full moon, Anthony, you never know. Exciting things happen,” Martin said looking intently in my eyes.

 

“You mean like werewolves,” I said jokingly.

 

“Anthony, remember that the moon has a strong connection with everything. There is much power that comes from the moon. Just take the tide for example. The ocean current is very strong and, yet, the moon is able to make the waves bend to its power.”

 

“Of course you’re right, Martin,” I said, “I just didn’t know that was cause to celebrate.”

 

“Well, it will be your first full moon in London, Anthony. That is definite cause for celebration.” Martin almost sounded a little creepy – similar to a conversation we had the first day I met him. But then he added quickly, “Oh Anthony, it is just fun to make up a reason to celebrate, is it not?” And with that Martin threw his head back in laughter. His laugh was infectious so I laughed, also. He had obviously just been mysterious to get me going. “So I am afraid I must run, Anthony. Dinner with a few friends is waiting. But you, my good fellow, are to come to my place for dinner on this Thursday night. Promptly at 7:30. I’ll send my driver for you. His name is John. He will buzz your flat around seven. Right, then?” He was staring at me. It was so incredibly generous of him. I was very flattered. I also got the feeling he wasn’t really giving me a choice.

 

“I’ll have to check my calendar, first,” I said and pretended to flip pages in an imaginary book. “Well, guess what, I’m free. As a matter of fact, I have no plans that entire day! I would love to come Martin.”

 

“Splendid! It will just be some close friends – you will love them. Maybe one will become a special friend for you - one never knows, does one.” Before I could say anything he leaned over, kissed my cheek, said loudly, “To the full moon, Anthony, to the full moon,” turned and disappeared in the crowd that had gathered in the pub.

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 6 

April 10th, 2007


 

The First Full Moon – Continues

 

I didn’t stay at the pub long after Martin left me to join his friends for dinner. I was feeling a little abandoned – and maybe lonely. Dominic was busy bartending and couldn’t speak to me that often. I needed to go and find a place to eat dinner, myself. I walked to the area of London known as Soho – the densely populated gay area. I was looking for a restaurant called Balans. It was “the” gay place to eat according to many of the travel guides. When I finally found the place and walked in, I knew my whole look screamed “tourist.” I kept forgetting that London is the cultural capital of the world. The men that were casually hanging out in the place looked like they had taken two weeks to prepare their hair, their clothes, and their attitude. Most of them looked like they worked out seven days a week – twenty-four hours a day. I had not felt this self-conscious in a very long time.

 

The crowd was definitely different than that of “Halfway” (I had picked up that most of the locals called the pub by this name). Everyone at the pub seemed content with himself or herself, not trying to prove anything. They all seemed eager to meet new people. The people at Balans were here to notice other beautiful people, but mostly to be noticed by all the other beautiful people. After putting my name in for a table I walked to the bar and decided to order a martini – certainly that would make me look a little more dashing. I really just wanted a Stella, though.

 

Deep down I knew the martini did nothing for my image, but I needed to find something to help battle this darkness that seemed to be taking over me. I knew, logically, that I was just having the first pangs of homesickness. My first few days in London had been a whirlwind and now the reality of this drastic change was finally sinking in. I had to admit it – I was very lonely. I looked around and saw what looked like a lot of “first date” couples – and some couples that surely had been together for years. At that moment it felt like all I saw in the whole room was couples. I wanted to be a couple. I found myself wishing that Martin’s dinner party had been that night – not three days away! What was I going to do to make it until then?

 

Three good-sized sips of the martini had not made me feel better. I decided eating at Balans – especially alone – was not a good idea. I contemplated going back to “Halfway” without having dinner – but decided against it. I didn’t want people to think I had become a fixture there. I asked the host to strike my name from the list, left the restaurant, and started walking home. On the way to my flat I passed a Chinese restaurant that publicized take-a-way (the British version of take out). I grabbed some food and walked the rest of the way to my place. Back at the flat I started feeling a little better.

 

I decided to make a list of some things I would do in the coming days – to help me lessen my homesickness. The first thing I wrote on the list was “run each day.” I stared at the words on the paper. It was still astonishing to me that I had this urge to run. I contemplated that thought for a while and came to the conclusion that it was a desire for much more than running that burned within me. Upon reflection, I guessed I wanted to be very healthy – my body was responding to something about London and it made me want to get in better shape. The crazy thing, though, was that I wasn’t in bad shape. But I wanted much more for myself for some reason. I tried hard to figure it out and then it hit me – I wanted to train. I was in training. For what I had no idea, but my body was telling me to prepare for something. This resonated so much in me that I underlined “run every day” three times. I decided I would continue what had started today – these long distance runs. I would run to build up my stamina – and when I had that thought a light went off in my mind telling me that I would also need to build up my speed – and my ability to make it through some tests. What tests would these be, I wondered. It must be that my body wanted to be prepared for those times that I would be depressed or lonely. Of course that was it. And I knew there would be many more moments of loneliness. I had known that when I agree to the move.

 

I smiled to myself since I had figured all of this out. I sat there in silence for a while and then a deeper feeling started to bubble up inside of me – a feeling that said my training was really about something else – something larger than getting myself through lonely times. I just couldn’t figure out what that “bigger something” was – maybe it would be revealed to me later. I decided to return to my list. I ended up writing nine things that I could do in the next few days to help me adjust to my new life in London. Some of the items were just names of places I wanted to visit. One item was that I wanted to make new friends. And the other items were ideas of things to keep me busy. But no item on the list resonated with me as much as running each day. I laughed to myself – maybe I was becoming a jock! If London could accomplish that task, then this city must have some dark powers that no one knew about.

 

I saw that I had a Big Ben magnet on my refrigerator – left there by the previous tenant, I guess. I took my list and put it there. I would be reminded each day of my commitment to myself – to my quest! I was filled with awareness that this list would be a piece of cake and that other tasks would come my way. My entire body tingled with excitement and anticipation of things to come. I knew I would be fine since I was so energized about the future. I cleaned up my dinner mess, watched a little British television, and then went to bed.

 

That night I had the most vivid dream I ever remember having. I don’t think I had ever experienced anything like it before. The dream unfolded slowly. I don’t remember how it began – but I know that it began in darkness. It was obviously night and as my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I realized there was a full moon that was providing the only light around me. I became aware that I was standing in the middle of a large field. There was a dense forest surrounding the field on all sides. I was standing there ready – for what, I had no idea. I just knew I was prepared for what was coming. In the distance I could hear thunder – no, it wasn’t thunder. I listened closely and could tell that it was the hooves of horses hitting the ground as they ran. I tried hard - but I could not tell from what direction the sound was coming. The sound was growing louder and louder. I knew these horses were coming closer and closer – but from where? My body instinctively went into a crouching position. I was preparing myself for something – I believe I was preparing myself for battle.

 

Then, all of the sudden, horses burst through the trees from every direction. They were running full speed into the center of the field where I stood. As they drew nearer I realized there were riders on the horses – and I knew they were knights. There were about fifty of them – or maybe as many as a hundred. I could not tell exactly. The armor of these knights glimmered in the moonlight. The speed of the horses and their motion caused the light to dance all around me. It was breathtaking. It was when the horses got even closer that I realized the knights were not wearing armor. They were not wearing anything at all. What I thought was shining armor was the moon reflected in sweat covered muscles. The moonlight glistened perfectly on the body of each rider - highlightning the bulging mass of every part of their body. The horses began to move faster towards me. I crouched lower and realized that I was nude, as well. My body was on fire with anticipation – but for what I did not know. My instincts told me it was not danger. No, the excitement building in me was not from fear of battle – it was something else. My blood was forcing every part of my body to be fully alert and tense. I was watching, as the beautiful muscled body of each knight got closer. I started turning in a slow circle to let each knight see that I was ready. I was making sure they saw that my body was prepared. Suddenly the men started yelling – it was not words – it was some type of battle cry. But I knew it was not about war. It was about getting ready to conquer something - in a different way. I observed myself in the dream and could not figure out what would be conquered or in what way.

 

By this time the horses were very near. I could see steam coming from the body of each man. I heard the excitement and power in their voices. I could see something that looked like lust in their faces. I noticed that none of them were armed and for a second this confused me. Right before they were directly upon me I let out an inhuman cry - that drowned out all other noise - and leapt into the air.

 

It was at that moment that I woke from the dream. Bright sunlight streamed into my bedroom. My mouth was wide open and I could hear my yell still echoing in the room. Lying there I could tell my body was on fire with energy again – as it was yesterday. But today the power and the excitement in my body were definitely greater. I sleep in the nude so when I went to push the sheet from my body I found that it was stuck to my stomach and my chest. It dawned on me that I had had a wet dream. The last time I remembered having a wet dream was when I was eleven, or was it twelve. Pulling the sheet from my body was like taking the wrapper off of a piece of candy that had been in your pocket for a long summer’s day. I could not believe the amount of cum that had shot across my stomach - up to the top of my chest. What a powerful dream, I thought – but at that moment I could not remember much about it. All I could recall was the sight of muscled bodies in the moonlight.

 

I really needed to get a boyfriend, I decided. It was also dawning on me that today would have to be a laundry day!

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 7 

April 14th, 2007


 

The First Full Moon – Continues

 

After stripping the bed of its sheets and putting them, and some other items, in the washer that was in a small room off of the kitchen, I got ready for my run. I was kneeling down to tie my shoes when it hit me that I wasn’t sore. My legs didn’t ache – they felt somewhat powerful. It was the damndest thing! Maybe the soreness would come tomorrow. I had feared what my legs would feel like after running so much – but there was a growing awareness in me that told me they wouldn’t hurt – even tomorrow.

 

I was struggling to figure out what made my legs adjust to the running so well when a flashback moment from my dream of the night before hit me. I remembered being crouched down – with legs powerfully bent – and then leaping into the air. Somehow I knew it had been a powerful leap. But that was all I could remember. Just thinking of that jump into the air filled my body with more energy about my run. My legs were screaming that I should hurry and get out there run that would last as long as the day before. I grabbed my wallet, my keys, and my IPOD and took off. Once outside, I found the playlist that I had entitled “Get Up and Dance.” It was going to be a run fueled by loud party music. As the first song began, I ran south, again, towards the river. Today, though, I turned right at the Thames and pushed off for what I knew would be an easy – but fulfilling – two hour run.

 

This day’s journey took me by great London sights. I passed the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament, and Big Ben. Each time my foot hit the pavement and pushed off, I felt a surge of energy in my legs that I had trouble describing. All I knew was that every now and then, when I felt no one was watching, I stopped, crouched down, and leapt into the air. It was a great feeling – as if I could jump much higher than the few feet or so that I actually did. I had another dream flashback during one of my leaps. As I landed I felt disappointed that there were no horses charging at me – to test me – to challenge me – to push me harder toward something. I didn’t know what that something was, but I ran as if I might get there.

 

As I got back to the area of town near my building, two hours later, I decided to try a new street – just so I could learn more of what was around my flat. As I turned onto the street I passed a building with a sign outside that said “Mark’s Body Shop – Personal Training Just for Men.” I slowed to a stop to look in the window of the place. I could see that the fitness studio (as it was called) took up half of the bottom floor of this building. It wasn’t a huge gym, but it looked clean and inviting. It also seemed not too crowded. A sign stood outside that advertised a “half off the regular membership fee” special. This caught my eye. My mind immediately started to question whether spending money on a gym that I’d probably visit twice and then stop was a good idea. But my body was saying something different, and I knew deep inside myself I wouldn’t quit if I joined. I also knew that running was not going to be enough to please the “need to train” that overpowered my body.

 

This thought made me stop. “Who are you Anthony?” I pondered. Who is this person you are becoming and what has caused it? Those thoughts disappeared quickly and were replaced with “Who the hell cares” and “Let’s take full advantage of this incredible desire!” My body said,” go for it, Anthony, push yourself more, prepare yourself more (for what, though), and enjoy this powerful energy pulsing through your body.” That was all the encouragement I needed. I stepped through the front door into a small, “doctor’s waiting room like”, lobby. There was a woman standing behind a long counter at the back of the small room. She greeted me with a smile and said, “May I help you, sir?”

 

“Yes, please,” I said tentatively. “I’d like to become a member.”

 

“Sure,” said Melody (I read her nametag). “Please just fill out these forms and we’ll get you started. You can have a seat right over there,” she said pointing to a sitting area. “It’s going to take about an hour – this first visit – is that okay?”

 

“That’s fine,” I said taking the clipboard holding the forms. “I’m sorry, but are you from the states?” I asked and then added, “It’s the accent.” I suddenly felt more adjusted to London than ever – I was noticing accents, first thing.

 

“Yes, I am,” she said with a face that looked a little disappointed. “But I’m trying hard to develop a British accent – so I’m bummed you noticed.”

 

“Hey, I know what you mean,” I said. “The British accent is so sexy and sophisticated sounding – isn’t it? I have always been a little turned on by it. My name is Anthony and I am from Houston, Texas.”

 

“I’m Melody and I’m from Boise, Idaho. I know what you mean about the accents here. A guy could get me to do anything if he asks for it in a classic British voice,” she agreed laughing.

 

“Yeah, me too!” I said smiling broadly. I could not believe how bold I was getting. A quick flash of comprehension crossed Melody’s face. She didn’t look shocked or anything – she just made a slight adjustment in her thinking. I just loved how England - well London, I guess – was so accepting! “I guess you were able to tell I was from the south by my “twang.”

 

“No, not really. You don’t sound southern,” Melody answered.

 

“Thanks,” I replied. “I take that as a compliment. I’ve worked hard to get rid of my southern accent – but I sure keep it handy because sometimes I know guys find it very sexy.”

 

Melody laughed. Her phone began ringing at that moment. “Just fill out the form and I’m going to assign you to Mark, the owner, himself. I think you’ll be pleased with him,” she said as she picked up the phone. I walked over, sat down, and began to fill out the forms.

 

Everything was pretty standard – when was your last check-up, what is your present exercise routine, do you smoke or drink – the basic stuff. I finished the forms and brought them back to Melody. She was on another call, took the form, and signaled for me to have a seat. After she hung up, I could tell she was reviewing my paperwork. She finally said, “Okay, Anthony, can I get a copy of your U.S. license or passport and the credit card you’ve listed here?”

 

“Sure,” I said handing her my license and credit card. When she handed them back to me she picked up the phone. After dialing an extension she said, “Mark, I have a new client for you – Anthony Lance. All right, I’ll let him know.” She hung up the phone and said, “He’ll be right out.”

 

“Thanks, Melody,” I said.

 

A door to my right opened shortly after that and out stepped one of the most perfectly built men I had ever seen. This guy was not huge – but he was classically packaged. I would say he was about six feet tall – he had sandy brown hair that was cut almost in a buzz style and just oozed manliness. He wore some cotton shorts that did little to hide the muscle grooves along his quads – they were just as pronounced under the cloth as the bare skin. I swear those legs were one of the most beautiful things in the world. He had on a green polo shirt that highlighted his eyes. To say that the shirt hugged his body was an understatement. You could see every chiseled muscle that moved under the stretched material. I know if I had looked close I could have seen pimples on his chest (if they existed) because the shirt was so tight. He looked incredible. Wide shoulders, large biceps, a huge chest, a stomach that was “to die for,” and legs that made me weak at the knees. Well, I thought, Melody was right – I was pleased! I thought about what a friend had once told me – always make sure your trainer looks like he works out. I think this situation went beyond that advice. Mark not only looked like he worked out – he also looked like the one who trained all the other trainers. I knew his body was beyond my most dramatic dreams for myself – but he would certainly make working toward that goal a lot of fun. The only word that could come close to describing him was “yummy.” I knew right then and there that I would commit to, and stick to, a workout routine that would need one-on-one training many times a week.

 

Mark held out his hand and said, “Hello, Anthony.” There it was – the accent that could get me to do anything – just like Melody said. I forced my eyes to move from his extended bicep to his face.

 

I meekly grabbed his hand and said, “Hi.”

 

“Let me lead you to the studio,” he said pointing to the door he had just come through. He had grabbed my paperwork from Melody. He turned from me and walked back to the door. I began to move but immediately stopped when I saw the guy’s ass. Yes, I am an ass man – and Mark’s gorgeous butt matched the rest of him. As Jack McFarland was fond of saying, “You could have bounced a quarter on those cheeks.” Even though I wanted to just stand there and soak in the view I forced my legs to move. By this time Mark had opened the door, turned, and was holding it for me. I made a mental note to force him to show me that one nautilus machine where you lay on your stomach and raise weights with your calves. I had a feeling that when I saw Mark’s ass moving up in the air slightly, as he pulled the weight up with his legs, I would be using my best southern accent to say, “I’m not quite sure I have gotten how this machine works – could you show me that about 100 more times, please, Mark?”

 

Halfway through this initial interview I started drifting off – not listening to what Mark was asking. Instead I was thinking, “Damn, on top of everything he has to be a really nice guy!” If he had been an asshole – or, at least, a guy hung up on himself – it would have made it easy for me to write him off or view him only as a trainer. But, no, he had to be truly interested in helping me and incredibly charming, as well.

 

“Emm, Anthony, are you with me?” Mark was saying. “I was asking if we could get some beginning measurements and other information.” I immediately stopped thinking about my hand sliding down his backside and re-focused.

 

“Why thank you, that would be fine with me if we took your measurements now,” I blurted out – forgetting to filter my thoughts. Sometimes what we think should definitely not make it to our mouth and this was definitely one of those moments. “I’m sorry – I mean it’s fine for you to do me now. Crap, I mean it’s fine for you to measure me now.” It was no use – I had turned every shade of red by this time and was a complete babbling idiot. I simply stood up straight and shut my mouth. It was much safer that way. Mark laughed and pulled a rolled-up measuring tape from his pocket. I immediately started fantasizing about him saying, “Hey, why don’t you pull that tape from my pocket and measure these arms, this chest, these legs. Yeah, just reach in that pocket and pull it out.” I forced my mind to stop and pay attention to Mark as he led me through the measuring process, and then took down my weight and height. He wrote everything on my chart.

 

I’m going to give you a copy of this,” Mark said, “plus some notes on eating and tips for doing some cardio. It says here that you run two hours a day. Wow. That’s pretty impressive.”

 

I was not going to tell this beautiful stud it was a routine that was only two days old. He continued, “Since your goal is to be healthy and only bulk up a little – its fine for you to do that much running.”

 

“That’s good,” I said smiling, “because I really like it.” I was trying to come up with –in my mind - some way to make him take his shirt off. Oh, if only I had a cup of coffee right now. My kingdom for a smoothie that I could “accidentally” spill on him. Then I would be able to say, “Here, let’s get that wet shirt off of you.” Mainly so I could see that perfectly carved upper-body really close.

 

“So you understand what I just said, right Anthony,” Mark was asking. And again I had drifted completely into my own little world.

 

No, I didn’t hear a single word you said because I was imagining my tongue licking every inch of you, is what I wanted to say. Filter your thoughts, Anthony. What we think does not always have to be voiced. I forced myself to say, “I’m sorry, Mark, I went away for a second. I was busy thinking of something else. Please forgive me.”

 

“No problem, mate,” Mark answered. He was just too damn nice! “I said I would like you to take these sheets home with you – and read them over. Place your chart somewhere you’ll see it each day – for encouragement. We can begin on Friday if that’s a good day. I have a ten o’clock available. Does that work for you?”

 

“Yes, that works perfectly. Not too early for you, is it, though,” I asked trying to prolong our time together.

 

“No,” Mark said, lightly laughing. “I start my first client at five.” By the look on my face I knew he got that I would never be coming that early. “Ten is perfect for me. Anthony, feel free to stay and take advantage of any part of the studio you want to. I look forward to seeing you on Friday. Right now, I have another client. Cheers, Anthony.” And with that we shook hands.

 

“Thank you, Mark. This will be great,” I said – not moving. I stood there waiting for him to walk away. I wanted one last view of that incredible ass to keep me going for the rest of the day. Mark didn’t move. He just stared at me. We both became a little uncomfortable. I had become obsessed with seeing his butt – why wasn’t he leaving.

 

“Sorry, Anthony, was there anything more?” he asked.

 

“No, thank you Mark,” I said and then added in my head – not unless you’re going to turn around and drop your pants.

 

“Right, then, well Mr. Adams, behind you, is my next appointment.” I turned and saw the middle-aged man that Mark referred to. I simply smiled at him and nodded my head. I then turned back to Mark, smiled at him, nodded my head again, and turned away. I quickly walked toward the door to the lobby. All I thought was, “Don’t turn around. No matter what you do – don’t turn around. Just keep walking out the door and they’ll forget the idiot that had been standing there. Really, they will.”

 

Once outside I glance down at my copy of the paperwork Mark had given me. I reviewed the measurements first:

 

Chest: 42 inches
Waist: 30 inches
Calves: 15 inches
Arms: 15 inches
Thighs: 21 inches
Height: 5’ 8’
Weight: 153 pounds

 

Mark had put everything in U.S. terms so I would understand them. The measurements didn’t look impressive, even a novice like me knew that. But I knew I was in good shape. I wasn’t a massive bodybuilder, but I was healthy and, deep down, I knew I was cute in a certain way.

 

I stopped abruptly on the sidewalk as I glanced down at the bottom of the sheet with my measurements. Mark had written across the bottom:

 

“You’re going to be fine. You have people looking out for you.”

 

I almost went back inside to ask him about it – but remembered how I had embarrassed myself. I decided to ask him on Friday. I was already looking forward to seeing him then. I was also starting to get very hungry, so I walked in the direction of my flat – satisfied with m morning.

 

*****

 

Later that day I went to take a ride on the London Eye. It is a huge Ferris wheel that was built for the new millennium. There are pod-like, plexi-glass compartments that hold about 20 people in each. The wheel turns so slowly that people board by walking into these compartments as each one pass through the station. The full ride around takes about 30-45 minutes and you get an incredible view of the city. It is known as a great way to get your bearings – to see how the city is laid out from an aerial view. It is also a wild feeling to be able to look straight down - as well as straight out - over the city. I could see so much from those heights. I shared the car with a few other people – there were a bunch of college-aged rugby players from somewhere north of the city. They made the ride even more enjoyable. I had to constantly remind myself that I was supposed to be looking at the view outside. I promised that I would someday come back and ride the Eye at night – knowing that the view at that time must be spectacular.

 

Around 3:30pm I found myself back at “Halfway” – so much for trying not to become a permanent fixture in the place. Dominic wasn’t working. There was a guy tending bar who obviously didn’t like striking up conversations with new customers. It was clear that he had a group of local favorites who were hanging out at the end of the bar. It was not often that he would break away from them to help a guy wanting a beer or other drink. I ordered a Stella, of course, and went to sit along the counter under the window. I began watching people hurrying by to get to the tube station right down the block. Charing Cross Station was a big site that was busy all the time, I had been told. Martin said that I could start a trip to practically anywhere in England from there. That was good to know since it was so close. I promised myself to get an annual tube pass tomorrow so I’d start using that mode of transportation more.

 

I had picked up another local gay magazine and was flipping through it when I heard a voice clearly say, “He is the one. He is the one.” I turned around quickly and no one was there. The closest person to me was about six feet away and no one was even looking in my direction. I looked around the place and could not figure out where the voice had come from – but it had been so loud and clear. The music stopped at that moment – transitioning to a new song. I laughed to myself – it had been the song. I was so edgy for some reason. My body felt uncomfortable in some way.

 

I was contemplating this fact when I glanced out the window. There was a crowd passing by right outside at that moment. When they had passed I looked across the street and saw a man’s chest, shoulders, and head high above the crowd on the sidewalk on the other side. My heart seemed to stop. It was Atol - the man who had approached me at the airport on the first day and tried to lure me outside. He was staring right at me from across the street. I immediately felt my body tense and I was thrown back to my dream from the night before – I was not tensed from fear – I was tensed in readiness. My instincts told me not to register recognition or even let him know I had seen him. I looked straight ahead – as if lost in thought – then let my eyes follow a man walking by. After watching the person disappear down the street I casually looked back down at my magazine – but lifted my eyes while my head stayed facing down. There was, again, a big crowd in front of the window and as soon as they passed I could see that Atol was no longer across the street. My heart started beating faster. Had he seen me? Did he know that I came here a lot? Was he following me? I glanced around the pub to see if he had come in – it would have been impossible for him to hide his giant presence. He was not there. There were only 15 to 20 people in the entire place. My body started to relax a little. I glanced back outside and looked across the street. All I saw were people walking down the sidewalk and the construction scaffolding around St. Martin in the Fields. My mind started searching for a reason Atol might have been there. I tried to convince myself it was just a coincidence – but it seemed like he had been looking right at me. I was still a little spooked when a hand rested on my shoulder.

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 8 

April 18th, 2007


 

The First Full Moon – Concludes

 

At the same time as I jumped, I heard Martin’s voice say, “Fancy meeting you here stranger.”

 

I even let out a little scream and when I turned around I could tell that Martin was quite shocked. He said, “I am so sorry, Anthony. I did not mean to frighten you. Please forgive me.”

 

“No, that’s fine, Martin. I’m sorry I jumped. It’s just that I had seen something that put me on edge and I didn’t see you coming,” I explained quickly.

 

“What has put you on edge, my dear boy?” Martin asked.

 

I explained to him the entire episode at the airport with Atol and the fact that I had seen the man again, just now, outside the pub. Martin had a serious look on his face and asked, “And what did this Atol look like, Anthony?”

 

“Like the giant Jack met climbing up the beanstalk,” I said laughing, but noticed that Martin didn’t even smile. “I’m serious, Martin. He was the tallest guy I’ve ever seen. His hands were this big.” And I held up my two hands with a large space in between them - emphasizing the size of Atol’s hands.

 

Martins’ face turned more serious and I could have sworn he said something under his breath that sounded like, “So, they know you are here.” As he whispered this he glanced out the window.

 

“What did you say?” I asked.

 

“Oh, Anthony,” Martin said returning his gaze to me, “I said I could use a beer.” And a smile returned to his face. At that moment a hot guy walked up to us with two beers.

 

Mr. hotness said, “Here you go, Martin,” and handed one beer to my friend. Wow, if just by saying something Martin could get an answer that fast and delivered by someone so cute, I must remember to get him to request a boyfriend for me.

 

“Oh, thank you, my dear,” Martin said. “Anthony, this is my driver and my friend, John. Remember, I told you about him? He’s the one who will be picking you up Thursday evening for my dinner party. John, this is Anthony.”

 

“Cheers, Anthony,” John said extending a hand, “I’ve heard so much about you.” He had a very hearty grip, I noticed, as I shook hands.

 

“Cheers, John,” I said in return. I smiled as I took in John’s appealing looks. He looked to be a couple of years older than me – maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven. He had a jock’s face – the bone structure was very masculine and it was obvious that he had little body fat. He had a high forehead, cheeks slightly sunken and dimpled, and a broad handsome nose. His eyes were dark brown and he had long wavy brown hair. He reminded me of what you might call an “all Englishman Guy” – kind of like the British version of an “All American Guy.” I wonder if such a term existed here? He was taller than me; broad shouldered, and wore a white button-down shirt and khakis. The shirt was unbuttoned at the top and I could see that his chest was covered in a soft dark hair that seemed to automatically invite hands to roam through it. John was the definition of a young furry-bear stud. I was beginning to think that every man I was going to meet in London came from the same muscle stud factory. Everyone I had met, except for Martin, and, I guess you could say, Atol, were so similar. It was like they could all be brothers or something.

 

Martin’s voice caused me to turn from taking in John’s hairy beauty and re-focus. “Anthony was just telling me about a man that approached him at the airport – and seemed dangerous. The same guy appeared across the street this afternoon and it felt like he was looking straight at Anthony through the window. Anthony thinks the guy may be stalking him.” As Martin said this I noticed that he looked at John with a very specific – concerned - look. It was as if they were sending each other a special message.

 

“Right, then,” John said glancing out the window. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Anthony. I’m sure it is just a coincidence. I’m sure there is nothing to worry about. The guy probably just happened to be on this side of town and you saw him.”

 

“You are not worried, are you Anthony?” Martin asked. “If you are then maybe we should do something. We might report it to the police or something like that. Shall we?”

 

“No, Martin. I don’t think that is necessary,” I said beginning to see how stupid the whole situation seemed. “It is probably, as John said, just a coincidence. Anyway, if it is more than that, I believe we would need more evidence to take it to the police. I’m not worried – it just freaked me out. Maybe because I am here in London by myself.”

 

“But you are not alone, my boy, you have us!” Martin exclaimed laying his hand on mine. And I did feel more secure knowing I had Martin (and John, I guess) as friends. “Well, then. Here’s to our health.” Martin raised his glass. John and I brought our glasses to his and said, “Cheers,” at the same time. Everyone laughed. Martin continued, “Anthony, I do hope you are planning to stay here this evening for Trivia Quiz Night. John and I would love to have you on our team. You can help us if there are questions about America.”

 

“I don’t know anything about quiz night, Martin,” I said.

 

John replied, “You see, there are teams and they compete against each other in a trivia quiz. The quiz appears up on the screens around the room and teams use remote boxes to answer.” John pointed to screens around the room. “It really is quite fun and people really get into it. People have been coming here forever on Tuesday nights to play.”

 

“It sounds like a blast. I’d love to join you guys,” I said.

 

“Splendid,” Martin said beaming happily. And then he turned to John, “See, did I not tell you Anthony, here, was a lot of fun? And did I not tell you that he is a perfect match for Manfred.” My curiosity was hard to hide.

 

“Now, Martin,” John said, “Stop being a matchmaker. Leave the poor boy alone.”

 

“John, that does not answer my question,” Martin persisted. “Do you not think he would be perfect for our good friend Manfred?”

 

“Yes, I do, but that does not mean we have the right to interfere, Martin,” John said, turning to me and making a face that signified hopelessness.

 

“I am not interfering. I am just assisting. Anthony, we have a dear friend that we think you will adore and vice-versa. As a matter of fact, he will be at my house for dinner on Thursday night – when you come.” And Martin had a look on his face that showed he was quite happy with himself.

 

I didn’t want to seem as desperate as I really was to meet someone that I could potentially date, so I said casually. “Is that right? It would be great to make a new friend. What’s Manfred like?”

 

Martin hardly let me finish before he quickly said, “Anthony, he is wonderful. Just like you. He is handsome, funny, a little on the wild side (I noted that for future questions), and a king of a man!”

 

“Well, that sounds a little too good to be true. I think I’ll get John’s opinion. I believe it might be a little more realistic,” I smiled and turned to John.

 

“Okay, I will share – but let it be known that I was not part of this idea. Seriously, Manfred is a great guy. He grew up in Germany, but his family is from England. They go back here for many years – too many to count. He is more English than me. Apparently, his family is quite wealthy and he is in line to inherit everything. They have a huge estate somewhere in the Cotswold’s. He is an only child – and probably a little spoiled, but he is so cute and fun that you do not notice. He definitely likes guys from the States. I have never met anyone he has dated, so I do not know his exact type. Have you, Martin? Met anyone he has dated?”

 

“Right. Now I get to speak,” Martin said mockingly. “I am only kidding gentleman. No, I have not met anyone Manfred has dated. He is very secretive about his gentleman friends. I do know, however, that he is not seeing anyone at the moment. He told me that a few days ago when we spoke. He is usually quite busy – maybe dating – so I was extremely happy he had Thursday night free. I took the liberty to tell him all about you, Anthony.”

 

That made me a little nervous for some reason. “Well, I look forward to meeting him. It will be great to meet some more people. I’ve already met great friends, though.” I made sure they both knew I meant them. “I look forward to Thursday night.”

 

“Here, here,” Martin said finishing his drink. “Shall we step down the block to get something quick to eat and return in time for Quiz Night?” John and I agreed. The three of us went to a small Thai restaurant near the pub and had a quick dinner. We returned to the pub and I was amazed at how crowded it was. We were able to secure a small table for the three of us and went on to lose every game of trivia we played that night. I was no help at all because I knew nothing about British trivia. I helped on a few questions that involved the United States, but it was not enough to help us win. I had a few too many beers and stumbled back to my flat around 11:30pm. It had been a great night.

 

*****

 

On Wednesday morning I woke up around eight. I felt slightly hung over, but my body was, again, on fire with energy and power. I went for another long run along the Thames. When I returned to the flat I called my future place of employment to check in. They asked if I might come in for a few hours to take care of paperwork for Human Resources in advance. Since I had no plans for the day (except to get a Tube pass), I agreed. That afternoon, around one, I went to my future office. It was a large building near the British Museum. It was in a beautiful neighborhood that made you believe all the buildings were homes – and not offices. I even walked by the place that Virginia Woolf lived for a while. There was a plaque commemorating the place. At the office, I only met one of the consultants for our Human Resources department. I took care of a lot of paperwork and then left. I looked forward to starting work, but I was also having a lot of fun getting to know the city. Work could wait, I thought.

 

I walked over to the British Museum and spent a few hours skimming through the place. I knew right away that a person could spend every day for a year in the exhibits and not see everything. I would be returning here many times. I was drawn to some areas that spoke of England in the time of knights and crusades. I guess it was my love of Camelot that drew me to these areas. After a while, everything started running together in my mind and I took that as the time for me to leave. I stopped by a little place near my flat for tea and scones. I knew that I was going to fall in love with the habit of “afternoon tea.” It sounded sophisticated and was a great way to take a break in the middle of your day. As I was having tea, storm clouds began to gather and, for the first time since I had arrived, it rained in London. I took my time – waiting to see if the rain would stop. When I could tell there was no let-up in sight, I started for home – trying to run from overhang to overhang or canopy to canopy on the outside of buildings. My best efforts did not prevent me from getting pretty soaked. I dashed into the Charing Cross Tube Station and bought my annual rail pass. This was going to be great. I would be able to take the Tube any time I wanted and save a lot of money.

 

The rain was coming down pretty hard when I arrived at my building. I knew this would be a night at home. I wanted to get some dry clothes on, eat a little dinner, and curl up reading a book or watching television. I also wanted the dinner party at Martin’s place to arrive quickly. I was so excited about two things – seeing a new part of London (as well as Martin’s flat) and meeting Manfred. In spite of my best efforts at not getting my hopes up, I had started daydreaming of what a relationship with him would be like. And I hadn’t even met the man. How crazy was that!

 

Sitting on my sofa watching television proved to be just what I needed that night. I was relaxed and beginning to feel as if the place were truly my home. My attention left the television at one point and landed on Lancelot’s glove above my fireplace. I got up and went to bring it back to where I was sitting. I began to look at it closer and noticed that there were many scratches and dents in the armor. It was easy to fantasize that they had come from battles and doing great deeds. I was moving different parts of the glove when something I did made a little compartment in the back of the glove to open up. It was a small secret hiding place. How neat, I thought immediately – then I noticed a small piece of paper stuffed into the compartment. I pulled it out slowly. The paper was obviously pretty old and a little delicate. I unfolded the sheet and saw, hand written, the following:

 

“dehs aelnus rewopthgin dimno omllufer aweb”

 

It seemed to be just gibberish. Or maybe it was some ancient English script. Who knew? I thought I might take it to the British Museum with me one day to see if I could find out what it meant. I was actually amazed to see that the paper was not as fragile as I had thought at first and maybe not as old. I put the glove back and took the paper with me as I began to prepare for sleep. I kept glancing at the sheet thinking I would be able to figure out what it said. I decided to put it at the corner of my mirrored medicine cabinet above the sink in my bathroom. I could slide it down into the metal rim around the mirror and keep it secure. This way, I could look at it each day and see if I could crack the code – my mind had already made this into a game or some sort of intrigue that I was going to solve. I glanced at it one last time, thought to myself it might only be letters that mean nothing, turned out the light and went to sleep.

 

*****

 

I woke up early on Thursday morning. Light was just starting to appear outside. I was, again, fully alert and full of energy. The drive and power in me seemed to be more today than ever. I am sure it was because I had gotten a great night’s sleep and didn’t fill myself up with Stella Artois. I decided to go for my run even though it was very early. I contemplated going to Mark’s Body Shop and using the treadmill – and, of course, hoping to get a glimpse of him (and his cute ass) – but decided that I really loved running outside. It was such a great way to get to know the city. I decided to go and run through Hyde Park. By the time I made it to the park the sun would be fully up and I would feel safe – even with it being so early.

 

When I made it to the park I was amazed at the number of runners who chose the same place. There were many people exercising in the park. I should have guessed that would be the case. I chose carefully which route I would run so I would be able to retrace my steps easily. I did not want to get lost in the middle of the park. I think it would be quite simple to find your way out, but my ignorance of the city might make it hard for me to determine where I was when I stepped back into a neighborhood.

 

I was near the stream that runs through the park when I heard a voice, again, say, “He is the one. He is the one.” It was loud and clear – just as it had been in the pub. I stopped and looked around. There was no one near me. I saw a couple running along the path but they were about fifty feet behind me. Suddenly, my body began to get uneasy as it had in the pub on Tuesday. It was the same feeling I had right before I saw Atol. I instinctively went into a crouching, “ready-for-action,” stance. I immediately recognized the move from my dream a few nights back. I listened closely and heard footsteps coming towards me around a large group of bushes along the path. Someone was about to step onto the path. I was prepared.

 

Right then a man stepped onto the path from a gap in the bushes with a rolled up blanket, a battered bag over his shoulder and a boom box under his arms. My body immediately relaxed and I stood up – not wanting the man to be alarmed by my stance. Music began to play from the box under his arms. It was a song with a driving dance beat. There was a voice rapping over the beat. The guy would not look at me and just walked by. He was obviously embarrassed that he had been seen coming from the place where he slept. I laughed to myself because a song had again, fooled me. The voice I had heard was obviously the singer (if you could call it singing) in the song. I made a note to ask John and Martin if they knew a song called “He is the one.”

 

As I began to run again I got an intense feeling that someone was still watching me. I forced myself to push the thought from my mind and at that moment the couple had caught up with me - so I let them pass. I was, somehow, more comfortable running near them. At the mid-point of my run I finally turned around and headed for home.

 

I spent most of the rest of that day shopping. I had not forgotten what Martin had said about my clothes the first time we had met in the pub. I had vowed that day that I would buy some clothes in London – especially some clothes for work. I noticed men clothing in the pub who were stopping by on their way home from work. Most businessmen wore shirts with cufflinks. It seemed to be the fad in London – or maybe it had always been that way. I also noticed that dress shirts tended to be a little more colorful than they were in Houston and stripes were certainly the “in thing” this year. I went to the area of town that was known for buying men’s shirts – Jermyn Street. I could see why – the clothes were fantastic, but the prices were too. I bought a couple of shirts and ties. I then went to a store on the way home for some shorts. I wanted to have the appropriate length – so I might look like I was from London.

 

I decided to wear one of my new shirts to Martin’s place that night. When I returned home it was around three. I decided to have a quick pint or two at “Halfway” and then come back to my flat to get ready for the dinner party. I found Dominic at work behind the bar when I arrived at the pub. We chatted a little, I had a beer, and then I left to prepare for the evening.

 

John arrived at my flat promptly at seven. I grabbed my backpack after he buzzed and met him downstairs. As we drove towards Hampstead he pointed out different parts of the city that might interest me. It reminded me of the first day I arrived and I rode with Mark from the airport. Mark did the same thing. I marveled at how much Mark and John reminded me a lot of each other. Upon entering the area called Hampstead I could immediately tell that it was a beautiful part of London – and an area where there were people with a lot of money. There were some great houses and some fantastic apartment buildings in this area. We turned up a beautiful street that had trees reaching across the road to make a canopy. Halfway up the street John turned into the driveway of a huge building sitting far off the road. It was a great building that seemed to have a lot of room for many flats. I tried to guess which set of windows were Martin’s flat.

 

“How many flats are in Martin’s building, John?” I asked turning to him.

 

“Oh, this is a house, Anthony. It is Martin’s house,” he replied stopping the car in the driveway.

 

“What?” I asked. “This huge place is one house?”

 

“I am afraid so. You see, Anthony, Martin is quite wealthy.” And with that John opened his door and stepped out of the car.

 

As I stepped out of the car I was overwhelmed at the beautiful gothic architecture of the place. No, it wasn’t exactly gothic – it was more like a medieval castle – yes, I landed on the word – it was like a castle. There were many towers and what looked like a beautiful courtyard in the back - that was surrounded on three sides by the house. I’m sure we didn’t drive around to the back because Martin wanted me to experience entering his home through the front door. And at that moment the huge front doors opened and out stepped the host, himself.

 

“Anthony, dear,” he said loudly, “Welcome to mi casa!”

 

“And what a casa it is, Martin,” I said smiling at him. “It is beautiful.” When I was a few feet in front of Martin he stepped forward and threw his arms around me in a big hug. I was caught off guard by this unusual display of affection – I knew it wasn’t exactly the British way.

 

“I am so glad you are finally here, Anthony,” Martin said squeezing me tightly. “I never thought this day would come.” It seemed that Martin might burst into tears. I was taken aback, a little.

 

“Well, Martin, it’s only been since Monday that you invited me. Not that long, really. There’s no need to make it a bigger deal than it is,” I added jokingly.

 

And Martin continued to hold me in a tight hug. It was almost long enough to make me uncomfortable, but then he let go, stepped back, and said, “Do come inside Anthony, do come inside.”

 

I stepped into the house and was immediately in awe of the foyer. It was simply astounding. There was a huge staircase straight ahead from the door that went half way up to a large landing. From that landing two staircases went to the second floor – one to the right and one to the left. There was a balcony that wrapped around the room on either side from the second floor and I could tell the house went on forever in both directions. There was obviously a east and west wing to the house. In the middle of the landing was a picture that stood at least fifteen feet high and ten feet wide. It was an incredible portrait of two knights – each sitting on horseback beside each other. It was a full-length view of both men, both horses, and a beautiful castle in the background. The knights were not in armor, but appeared in what looked like royal garments. I was quickly drawn to the faces of the two young men. They were simply beautiful. One looked very familiar. I was thinking I really knew the face and then it hit like a ton of bricks – It looked a little like me. I could see some of the same facial features in the face of the knight that I saw every time I looked in a mirror. My features were not as striking as the knight’s and I realized that was mainly because of the bigger build on the guy. Since the guy was obviously more muscular than me - it impacted what the face looked like. I would have described it as a “muscled-up Anthony.” It was unbelievable. And the other face was stunning. There was no other way to describe the second rider. He seemed almost two beautiful to be a man. Although the second rider was smaller than the first you could still see that he was also well built. Even in the royal outfit he was wearing you could tell. A crown sat on top of the second rider’s head.

 

“Ah, I see you are admiring Arthur and Lancelot.” Martin said looking from me to the painting.

 

“It is an incredible painting Martin. I hope you two don’t think this strange or stupid,” I said looking first at Martin and then at John, “but the guy on the right reminds me of myself a little. I’m not that handsome or built but it seems we have some of the same facial features.”

 

Martin and John looked at each other quickly and then looked at the picture. “Yes, I can see that – a little,” Martin said. “That is very odd.”

 

“Now that you mention it, Anthony, I see it, too,” John added in agreement.

 

“Well come meet the gang and get yourself a drink. Red or white wine, Anthony?” Martin asked as he led me into a large room to the left. The room must have been what people call a sitting room or parlor. It was huge, full of books, decorated with large tapestries, had very little - but large furniture, and many elaborate decorations. This was obviously a room that was used for entertaining. There was a large fireplace in the center of the far wall. Around the burning fire sat a small group of people. I saw a guy standing next to the fireplace, two people sitting on a large sofa directly across from the fire, and an arm and legs sticking out from a large wing back chair facing the fire. There was another wing back chair on the other side of the sofa. This must have been where Martin was sitting. I quickly glanced at the tapestries as we walked toward the group. They all had artwork depicting knights in battles. They were amazing. The room was a little dark so I could not see all the details in the artwork.

 

“Gentleman, let me introduce you to my new best “old” friend, Anthony,” Martin said as he grabbed me by the arm and let me to the area where they were sitting. The three men sitting immediately stood up and the guy leaning against the mantle above the fireplace straightened up. I wanted to acknowledge each person, but as soon as I saw the guy that had been sitting in the chair, with his back towards me, I became lost in his beauty. Nothing else in the room mattered. Nothing else in the room moved. I could only hear my heart pumping blood through my body at a quickened pace. I, at once, knew he was Manfred – Martin’s friend. I was as sure of this as I was sure of recognizing my own face in a mirror. He had piercing sky-blue eyes that sparkled even through his delicate wire-rimmed glasses. He had light brown hair that seemed both perfectly styled and casually tossed at the same time. It was a little longer than what I thought the style was – but then this was a man that probably set styles. He was a few inches taller than me – of a slight, athletic build – and when he smiled I felt something akin to a tidal wave hitting me. There was a moment when our eyes met and I knew the same wave hit him. I saw the sparkle in his eyes turn into a deep recognition that neither of us would ever be able to name or describe.

 

At this point Martin was introducing me to the couple that had been sitting on the sofa, “This is Todd and Robert.”

 

“Hello Anthony,” said Robert.

 

“It is nice to meet you Anthony,” added Todd. They were a nice looking couple about the same age as Martin. As with Martin, it was hard to gauge just how old they were.

 

“Thank you. The pleasure is all mine,” I replied.

 

“And this is Roger – our favorite bad boy,” Martin said, referring to the gentleman beside the fire. There was obviously an inside joke being brought up.

 

“Ignore the old man, Anthony,” Roger said holding out his hand, “He only says that because he’s too ancient to get into trouble himself, poor chap. Welcome to London.” Roger shook my hand and seemed to hold it a little too long – as if trying to sense something from me. I was too busy anticipating the next introduction to think about it.

 

“And before Martin goes on and on about me – let me introduce myself,” spoke the beauty of a man on my left. I turned and he was smiling that intoxicating smile I had already memorized. “I’m Manfred. It is great to finally meet you, Anthony. Martin has told me a lot about you. He practically has set it up that we are to be best friends no matter what.” When I took Manfred’s hand there was electricity that passed from each of us to the other. It wasn’t painful, but it was very noticeable. Our handshake ended quickly because the feeling surprised both of us. How could there be static electricity in this room, I wondered.

 

“And he has told me a lot about you, Manfred. It’s great to meet you.” I smiled and then forced myself to turn back to everyone else – even though every fiber of my body wanted to stare at this man. I saw that Martin was looking at us – and he had that far away look in his eyes I sometimes noticed. It was the first time it crossed my mind that Martin might be getting senile. That sad thought made me stop for a moment.

 

Martin obviously noted the change in my face and said, “You must have a drink Anthony. How about a glass of red wine?”

 

“That would be great,” I said and noticed John pouring two glasses at a table behind the sofa.

 

“Sit here, Anthony,” Todd suggested scooting closer to Robert on the sofa and pointing to the space nearest the chair that Manfred had returned to. You did not have to ask me twice – hell, I probably would have shoved them over if they hadn’t offered. John handed me a glass of wine.

 

“Thanks, John,” I said as he went over and stood beside Martin, who had returned to the other chair.

 

Martin lifted his glass saying, “Well, gentleman, let us drink to old and new friends. Let us also drink to rekindling friendships of long ago.”

 

I believe everyone was as confused by the toast as I was, but we all raised our glasses and said things like, “Here, here.”

 

I turned and saw that Manfred was looking right at me. He brought his glass towards me and I brought mine to meet his. The ringing of our glasses as they touched seemed to linger in the room for a long time. The sound reminded me of how I was glued to his eyes as we toasted. I could not explain anything. All I could tell you was that this man stirred something at the bottom of my soul. He obviously had a hold on me that was greater than anything I had ever felt before. It was much deeper than the love I had for any friend – and any family member. I know it made no sense at all – especially because I had just met him, but something was very different in me because I knew him. What was causing this? Maybe it was just an intensified lust since Martin had suggested we might get together (and it had been a while since I was with anyone). I didn’t think so, though. It was stronger than lust. I finally just let go. I stopped trying to analyze it. I stopped worrying about being someone that had to impress Manfred – and decided to just be myself. Somehow that decision brought me much peace. I fell into the evening – and let myself be open to possibility. It seemed like the best decision I have ever made in my life.

 

When we moved to the huge dining room that was back through the foyer and down a hallway to the left of the staircase, I was ecstatic to find out Martin had placed me beside Manfred. John sat on the other side of me and I picked up immediately that it was planned this way so I wouldn’t feel bad about spending most of the time talking to Manfred. It was obvious that John did not mind.

 

During the meal no one else existed on the planet – except Manfred. And I got the distinct notion that he felt the same way. It was almost as if everyone at the table left us to ourselves – like there was some secret agreement that we should have our time together. Every now and then I’d look to the head of the table and catch Martin smiling at us – as if he knew this magic between us would happen. That Martin, he is such a character! If he did know that we’d connect this way then he must be some kind of wizard.

 

Manfred was amazing. He had traveled the world. He was so cultured and educated. I did, however, make fun of the fact that he had never been to Texas – even though he had been to the states many times. He asked me if it was true that all things were bigger in Texas and I teasingly told him I would have to take him there so he could find out. The evening was magical. He laughed at my jokes – and I laughed at his. We had so much in common. He even shared my infatuation with the legend of Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table. He admitted to collecting memorabilia, as well. He was very fond of King Arthur mostly – and seemed curious about my special connection to Lancelot. It was the easiest conversation I have ever been involved in – in my entire life. It seemed that there was an arc of energy between us that surrounded our bodies completely and molded us into one.

 

I knew half way through the meal that I had fallen head-over-heels in love with him. Even with so little time together. It was insane. Through the rest of the meal this bond I felt moved beyond love – to a connection I had never felt before. It was something that involved every fiber of my body. Manfred seemed to make me whole – he seemed to finish the life I had begun. I saw myself with him – in a way that went beyond mere relationships. I was scared I was beginning to sound like a stalker. I knew it sounded like I had lost all sense of reality. But I was more grounded than ever in my life. I longed to make sure he was happy - even above my own happiness. I knew I would have given my life for him if the need had arisen.

 

The group moved back to the large living room after dinner. There was port served for everyone and I began to feel the effects of all the alcohol consumed. I was also intoxicated by the presence of Manfred. We sat on the couch together when after moving back in front of the fireplace. Everyone else seemed to be having a great time, as well. Everyone was laughing and soaking up the wonderful feelings caused by the evening. It was simply a perfect night – unforgettable.

 

At around 11:00pm people started to leave. Todd and Robert were first and as they began to exit, Roger asked for a ride home. The look on everyone’s face told me this was a common experience. Manfred and I stood to say goodnight to the three men. It was obvious that both he and I were going to stay a little longer. After we said goodnight, we sat back down. John excused himself to go help the caterers in the kitchen and Martin said he was going to walk the other three to their car. My heart jumped at the thought that Manfred and I would finally be alone.

 

After people left the room, Manfred and I sat in silence – watching the fire. It was not an awkward moment – it was just a chance for us to let the evening catch up with our momentum – the lightning pace we had been going. I finally said, “This evening has been incredible, Manfred.” I did not dare turn to him. I was too nervous about my feelings. I kept looking at the fire.

 

“Yes, it certainly has been,” Manfred said staring at the fire, as well.

 

“I hope you don’t think I’m too forward, but I’d really like to see you again, Manfred. To spend more time getting to know you,” I said hesitantly, but boldly. “I was hoping we could date.”

 

There was a long pause that made me very uncomfortable. When Manfred finally spoke I knew it would not be good news. My head was beginning to become very cloudy. “Anthony, I think you are an incredible guy. Really. This evening has been so much fun – so wonderful. And I know I have met a life-long friend.”

 

There it was. That word. A word that could bring so much joy into most people’s lives – but at this particular moment the word “friend” made my whole world crumble away. I am sure the sound of my heart breaking filled the entire room.

 

Manfred continued, “You see, Anthony, I think you are great, but I am drawn to a certain kind of man. I have very specific tastes. I have always had a certain “type” and I know I always will. The good thing is that knowing myself so well helps me to be very honest with people – but the bad part is that usually my honesty hurts some people. You are stellar, Anthony, and any man would be very lucky to be with you. Really. It is just that I am drawn to guys bigger than me – and guys who have huge muscles. I guess you could say I am really into bodybuilders. I am into guys who have massive bodies. I am not sure what all of this means – I mean I have never discussed it with a therapist, but I know that I cannot be happy unless the guy I am dating is huge. It says nothing about you, Anthony, because I believe you are a great guy. I just know that it would be unfair for me to even pursue a relationship with you. It would not be honest of me.”

 

I could not think straight. I was trying not to let tears begin to fall. I was also trying not to be angry. I was trying desperately not to lash out and say mean things in response – because I was thinking of many evil things I wanted to say. I just stared at the flames of the fire and searched my whole being for the strength to respond. I could sense that Manfred was looking at me. I turned to face him after a few seconds. I tried my best to smile. I am not sure it was very convincing. I finally spoke, “Thank you for being so honest, Manfred. You are right to tell me. It is better this way. I now know where you stand. And, yes, it would be great to be friends.”

 

As soon as I said the word I heard my voice crack. I refused to cry. I will not cry, I said to myself. I continued, “We have so much in common. It would seem useless to not build on those common interests.” I could tell by looking at his face that he was deeply sorry this was so hard for me. That did not make it easier for me to take. I knew I needed to leave soon or I would break down. I had hoped for too much during this evening. I had painted myself into a corner – and now I was trapped.

 

“Well, I really should be going,” I said trying to sound nonchalant. I stood up. “This has been a lovely evening.”

 

“No, Anthony, please stay. Let’s talk some more. I am very sorry to have hurt you,” Manfred said and I knew he meant it. It just did not help me to feel better.

 

“No, that’s fine. I mean - I’m fine. Not to worry, Manfred. You were right to be so honest and straightforward. I just have an early session with my trainer tomorrow, that’s all.” I wanted to move to the doorway. “I look forward to the next time I get to see you, Manfred,” I said holding out my hand. Manfred took it and there was a jolt of energy again. Manfred held on tightly this time. I finally pulled my hand free and said, “You have a great rest of the week, Manfred, and a great weekend. It was super meeting you.” I turned and left the room quickly.

 

“I’ll get your number from Martin and call you,” Manfred said as I left the room. I didn’t respond. I knew I needed to leave as soon as possible. I was so afraid of crying. I bumped into Martin in the foyer. It felt as if he had been standing there for a while. He saw the backpack in my hand and the distressed look on my face.

 

“Anthony, what is wrong? You are not leaving are you?” he asked.

 

“I’m afraid so Martin. I need to meet my trainer tomorrow morning – so I need a good night’s sleep. I need to be ready for a good work out.” I answered.

 

“Yes, but Anthony it’s not even midnight. We still have about twenty-five minutes,” he said looking at his watch.

 

In my head I screamed, “Who the hell cares about midnight.” But all I said to Martin was, “Thank you for a lovely evening, Martin. I really must go – right now.”

 

“Well, let me get John to drive you home,” replied Martin moving toward the kitchen.

 

“No, thanks Martin. I saw the Tube station at the end of your street. The walk will do me good. I’ll talk to you this weekend. Tell John I said goodnight. Thanks, again, for a great evening.” And with that I was out the door and five minutes later I was using my Tube pass for the first time.

 

As I had left the house I heard Martin ask Manfred, “What did you do?” I did not wait around to hear Manfred’s answer.

 

*****

 

Once I was sitting on the Tube heading towards home I pulled my IPOD from my backpack. I was so distressed I was looking for anything to do that would keep my mind from thinking about Manfred. I put the headphones on and found the playlist entitled “Time to Be Sad.” I started this list of songs. The first one to come on was from the musical Les Miserables. It was the song “I Dreamed a Dream.” This is the one that Fantine sings near the beginning of the show. The song begins:

 

“There was a time when men were kind,
When their voices were soft,
And their words inviting.
There was a time when love was blind,
And the world was a song,
And the song was exciting.
There was a time…
When it all went wrong.”

 

As the last line of this part was sung a tear hit the screen of the IPOD. I could no longer hold it back. I knew there was no logic in my crying – but I also somehow knew that wrapped up in this sadness was so much more than just what had happened in the evening. Not only the painful rejection of Manfred, but I was crying because of the struggle caused from being so far from home, the hardship created by not having any close friends or family, but mostly the disappointment of not being more of the person I wanted to be – that I dreamed of being. More specifically, the pain of not being the person that Manfred wanted.

 

I was so incredibly sad that I wasn’t more muscular – that I wasn’t, what word did he use, oh, yes, massive. Why couldn’t I be massive? If I had been bigger I would have been at Manfred’s place at that moment – kissing those lips that made me so crazy, holding that body which excited me so, and being with the man that seemed to be my soul mate.

 

How could I be so stupid? How could I act so childish? This was just an infatuation. Let it go, Anthony, let it go. He is not the one for you. You deserve someone who wants you – just the way you are. Your desires have taken over you logic. I told myself that I wanted a boyfriend so much that I put all of my eggs in this one basket. Let it go, I said to myself again. There are others – many others out there waiting to meet you, Anthony.

 

I began to notice that the Tube was getting unbearably hot. I glanced at the people right beside me to see if they were uncomfortable, but they seemed fine. It was probably because I was a tourist and they were used to it. It was really stifling, though. I unbuttoned my shirt a little. I closed my eyes and my thoughts returned to Manfred.

 

Even with knowing this feeling was illogical, I know I had connected with Manfred in a way I had never experienced before. He had everything I dreamed of in a partner – humor, kindness, beauty (of the heart and body), and interests similar to mine. I knew our connection was deep. I also knew he had felt it, too. Well, he didn’t know what he was missing, I told myself. That’s right. His desire for some “massive” bodybuilder caused him to miss out on the catch of a lifetime – and that person was me. So be it, Manfred. So be it. You made the decision to pass up on this great guy. I was starting to feel better, but the car I was riding in was unbearably hot. I looked up and the windows were wide open. I was even starting to sweat profusely, but no one around me seemed bothered in the same way.

 

I looked around the rest of the car to see if anyone else was as disturbed as I was. We were at a station that was a few stops before where I would get off. I had the map lying in my lap. As the car began again I looked forward in the car and my earlier sadness evaporated in a heartbeat and was replaced by a quickened pulse. Sitting at the other end of the car – staring right at me – was Atol. There were maybe twenty-five other people sitting in the car around him – but his size made him stick out unbelievably. This time he knew I noticed him. His glare did not change. He just sat there watching me. I was finding it harder to sit there because of the heat I was experiencing, but my fear of this man made me forget everything else. I started quickly thinking of something to do. My instincts told me he would do nothing to me with so many people in the car. I hoped my instincts were right.

 

I kept staring at him and it seemed that neither of us even blinked. I started formulating a plan. I didn’t know the Tube system very well, but I thought my plan was my only hope. The car was moving quickly into the next stop at that moment. I was sitting near the back door – the door that led to the next car. When the car came to a complete stop my luck got better because a large group of rowdy teenagers entered into our car. When the car stopped I paid special attention to how everything worked. The doors closed and we started traveling to the next station. My entire body was ready for this challenge – the experience that lay ahead of me. Even with so much alcohol in me I was able to think clearly and let my “energy rush” guide me. At the next stop I waited until a few seconds before I thought the doors would begin to close. My body somehow knew the exact moment to move. I jumped up and went through the door to the next car. I glanced back and saw that Atol stood and was trying to follow me – but the group of teenagers was in the way. He started shoving them to the side. At the last second I jumped to the platform. I moved so quickly that the doors did not register my body and closed. Atol did not have time to exit his car. I glanced at him and could tell that he was very angry.

 

At that moment the heat that had been bothering me in the car became intensified. I was having trouble breathing. I watched the train pull away and I knew Atol would exit at the next station; which was not far away. I needed to get home. I quickly exited the station and immediately knew I was in trouble. I had no idea where I was. My body was on fire and I began to think I was either having an allergic reaction to the fish I had eaten for dinner or a severe case of food poisoning was hitting me. My instinct told me it was something more than either of those.

 

I was in such a daze that I started just going down streets randomly. I figured that if I were lost then it would certainly be harder for Atol to find me. I had to stop twice because I was having such a hard time breathing. It seemed as if I could not get any air to my lungs. I began to fear that I was having a heart attack. I was on a street that was deserted. I had to stop at one moment because I was in so much pain. I had to bend over on the side of the road propping myself up against the wall with my hands. My stomach was in so much pain – no, not my stomach, it was my entire body.

 

I suddenly heard footsteps down the street. They seemed to be coming my way in a hurry. I looked up and could barely see a figure coming in my direction. The pain in my body was clouding my vision and my thinking. My senses told me it might be danger. I forced my body to move forward in spite of the pain. There was an alley further down the road. I turned right and moved down the alley – noticing that the only light came from the full moon. The overhand of the building I was next to prevented the moonlight from filling the entire space of the alley. If I stood up against the wall I was completely hidden.

 

I finally had to just stop. The pain that as coursing through my body was too much. I was hoping I could just vomit and be over whatever sickness this was – but I noticed my stomach didn’t feel upset in that way. The footsteps passed the alley way and kept going. In the distance I heard a clock tower striking midnight. As the clock struck the twelfth time my body began to rock with violent convulsions. It was again hard for me to stay standing so I placed both hands on the wall for balance. It felt as if something inside of me was trying to get out. Something was trying to escape my body at every part of my skin. I slowly began to notice that the pain inside of me was actually like a force. There was a force taking over me and it was causing me to change in some way. I watched my hands on the wall as they started to freakishly pulse. It was like some virus was causing my skin to bubble or become deformed. I could feel my fingers being spread further apart from each other on the wall. My whole body felt like it was expanding to welcome some foreign being into me. It was this incredible feeling of stretching.

 

Suddenly a bright light surrounded me. It was streaming down from the sky. It seemed as if a moonbeam had singled me out and was causing this change in me. Once the light hit me the force inside me intensified tenfold. I could feel this incredible power, even in the midst of the pain, flooding into my body. Suddenly a jolt beyond explanation forced me away from the wall and caused my back to bend unbearably. My chest was forced forward and upward. It seemed as if my chest was trying to reach for the moon. I was pulled to the tips of my toes by the power. My body seemed to be getting a surge of energy from the moon – becoming part of the incredible force that the moon had on the earth. I was completely under its control. I was unable to move and the pain was incredible. It felt as if my back might break. Suddenly another bolt of energy hit me and I was forced over onto my knees. And then it was all over. The inhuman cry that had come from my mouth was still echoing in the alley. I was drained of all energy. I could not get my thoughts to focus on anything. I was trying hard not to lose consciousness.

 

At that moment I heard the footsteps returning. The person was in the alley. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. I felt as if I had no life remaining in my body. Suddenly two arms grabbed me and lifted me off the ground. A car came up the alley slowly at the same time. It stopped beside me, but I couldn’t focus long enough to register anything about the car. I heard voices. The first one seemed so familiar but I couldn’t place it. The second voice was definitely Martin. I suddenly gave completely into the arms holding me. I felt safer. It was Martin, my friend. I heard the other voice again and it hit me that it was Luke – the football player from the plane – Gaston. The big guy from the plane was helping me into Martin’s car. What was Luke doing in London – why I was able to even formulate this question was unfathomable.

 

As I was placed into the seat beside Martin I heard Luke say, “Then it is true. He is the one.”

 

Then I heard Martin say, “Yes, he is the one. Let’s go now. We need to get him home quickly. The change has already begun. We also need to make sure he remembers nothing after the party.”

 

And then the darkness of sleep overcame me.

 



[End of Chapter One]

 

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 9 

April 22nd, 2007


 

The Second Full Moon

 

First I noticed my cell phone was ringing. Then I noticed that I ached all over. But it wasn’t a hangover – my head didn’t hurt. My body hurt – everywhere. I didn’t think it was the flu, though – it didn’t feel as if I had a fever. The soreness of the running finally catching up with me, I guessed. The phone was still ringing.

 

I turned my head and found my cell phone resting on the table beside my bed.

 

“Hello,” I said sounding very sleepy and a little sick.

 

“Anthony, dear. How are you this morning?” came Martin’s chipper voice.

 

“I’m okay. I guess. I feel very sore all over. I might have exercised a little too much the last few days. Since I don’t do it very often, I really don’t know,” I said more to myself than to Martin. Then a thought hit me and I said, “Martin, how did I get home? I don’t remember coming home. I guess I was a lot more drunk than I thought. I blame the port we had at the end of the night.”

 

“Not to worry, Anthony, John drove you home and made sure you were tucked into bed safely. So you’re a little sore, are you? Anything else new?” he asked – and I was too confused to see what an odd question it was.

 

“No, nothing more to report, Martin. Thanks for checking on me. I hope I didn’t make a fool of myself. Tell John I said thank you.” It was then that the memory of my last exchange with Manfred came rushing back into my thoughts. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh,” I added softly.

 

“What was that, Anthony? What did you say?” Martin asked quickly.

 

“Oh nothing, Martin. A memory of the evening came flooding back. I did kind of make a fool of myself!” I said before I could filter my thoughts.

 

“If you are referring to your conversation with Manfred in the living room – do not think twice about it. Manfred was dreadful to you, Anthony. Do not worry your pretty little head about that right now. We will straighten all that out at a later date. Manfred will certainly wise up in the near future – trust me. Well, I am very glad that you are doing well. I will check in with you again this afternoon – just to make sure that you are feeling supported in all the changes,” Martin said and sounded more cryptic than before. I was too distracted to question or argue. Why did my body ache so much?

 

“Okay, Martin. I’ll talk to you later. Bye,” I said hanging up the phone.

 

“Well make sure you get up and do some exercising today. Remember your trainer…” Martin was saying as I pushed my cell phone shut and hung up.

 

I realized that my body did not ache as much as it did at first. I moved my legs around and my arms. I realized that movement helped. I started to get up, but my stomach is where the pain was the greatest. It felt like someone had twisted my guts like a wet towel and was trying to wring them out – and not giving up at all. As I swung my legs to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed I realized there was another feeling hidden deep below the pain. I felt something new. I couldn’t describe it. I wondered if it was what someone felt like after an intense work out. Yes, that was it. I felt satisfied – I felt like I could enjoy the soreness because it was caused heavy exercise. It was a deep feeling of being… oh what word would be best to describe it? I struggled and then the word jumped into my head. I felt pumped. I had read enough bodybuilding magazines – yes, read them and looked at all the pictures – to know that a pumped feeling was good. It was great, even. It is what you wanted after a great workout.

 

I began to acknowledge the soreness in a different way. It was like a trophy. It was something that most guys sought – well those who worked out! I started moving parts of my body to highlight the soreness – to show that this part of my body had been affected by . . . By what? I had not worked out, but I knew that this is what it would feel like if I had. I rolled my shoulders. I lifted my arms up and down. I moved my torso to the right and then to the left. I tensed my leg muscles and then released them. Yes, I was sore from some kind of exercise. It couldn’t be the running – could it? How does that work out the upper body so much? I stood up and the pain in my legs was great, but it also felt good in some way. Once again I began to contemplate the idea that I was somehow becoming a jock. What was that all about? I was sore in muscles I didn’t even know I had. I’m sure I was feeling muscles that I couldn’t even name! But it all felt great in some strange way. I looked at the clock and noticed it was 9:30am. I was supposed to be at the gym in thirty minutes to meet with Mark. The vision of Mark’s body and his incredible ass crossed my mind. That was enough to move me to action. I decided to not shower – why? I was going to the gym. I moved stiffly to the bathroom and began to brush my teeth. Staring at me from the corner of my mirror was that blasted piece of paper from Lancelot’s glove with its mysterious language. As I brushed my teeth and combed my hair I stared at the piece of paper trying to make sense of each group of letters. No matter what I did you could not make sense of the groupings. I forgot about the soreness for a while, though.

 

I moved back into the bedroom and pulled my favorite running t-shirt from the chair in the corner. I had washed it with the sheets the other day – after my unexpected wet dream. It was a gray t-shirt with a picture of Spongebob on it. My nephew had given it to me for my birthday so it had a special place in my heart. I pulled it over my head.

 

“Shit!” I said out loud. It had shrunk in the wash. That damn London washing machine. Or was it the detergent I had bought? Whatever it was the shirt was too small now. It didn’t even cover my entire stomach. It felt like it was one size too small. It had always been a little small but now it was extremely tight – around the neck, at the arms and especially in the chest area. “Dammit,” I said out loud as I took off the shirt. I really liked that shirt.

 

I opened a drawer and pulled out a large tank top. I almost never wore this shirt – but something told me to grab it today. I pulled it on and it felt good. I liked how it allowed my sore arms to be free. Or was it something more? I suddenly reminded myself that I needed to get going. I pulled on some underwear (noticed that they were a little tight around the legs – were these the ones I washed?) and some cotton shorts. I pulled on some white athletic socks and then sat down to pull on my tennis shoes. I was still noticing my soreness, but it was getting much better – the more I moved. I knew, instinctively this is what bodybuilders felt like the day after heavy lifting. I felt so happy with myself. It was stupid, since I hadn’t worked out – ever, but I still felt good about myself and I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way. I was focused on all things good - except for the thought that was crawling into my head as I crammed my right foot into my tennis shoe. I say crammed – because my toes were jammed into the front part of my shoe. I tried to adjust my foot and then even checked inside the shoe to make sure there was nothing crammed into the shoe – and old sock maybe? Nope – it was empty. “How did my shoes shrink?” I thought. I didn’t wash them. I had to go. I jammed my feet into the shoes – painfully – grabbed my keys and my backpack and left the flat.

 

I made it to Mark’s Body Shop a few minutes before ten. My feet were hurting a little from the tightness of my shoes, but the rest of my body had begun to move from soreness to a feeling like something I had never known before. It was just this incredible sense of accomplishment – but what had been accomplished was unknown. When I walked into the place there was a different woman at the front counter. I was sad that Melody wasn’t working.

 

The woman looked up as I came in and she said in a heavy British accent, “May I help you?”

 

“Yes, thank you,” I said smiling. “I have a ten o’clock with Mark.”

 

“So sorry, with Mark?” she asked and I nodded yes. “We don’t have a person named Mark that works here.”

 

I smiled at her mistake, maybe she was new, and said, “You know, Mark, the owner of the place.”

 

“The owner’s name is Terrence, sir. He’s the only person who has ever owned this fitness studio,” she said looking at me as if I had two heads.

 

“But I met with Mark here on Tuesday. Really, a big guy – very muscular, light brown hair,” I said, trying not to sound too crazy.

 

“I am so sorry, sir,” she said again. “We do not have a trainer named Mark. We do not have any employee named Mark.”

 

“Okay,” I said trying to get my mind around what was happening. “How about Melody – the woman from the States – is she working today?”

 

The woman’s reaction to this question immediately alarmed me more. “I am sorry, sir. There is not a Melody that works here, either. Could it be that you are at a different place than on Tuesday?”

 

“No, I was here on Tuesday. I am sure of that. Can you see if you have an Anthony Lance in your system?” I asked.

 

The woman turned to her computer, pushed a few buttons, and smiled, “Yes, Mr. Lance. You are right here and we do have a joining date of this past Tuesday. Perhaps, you forgot the names of the workers. I cannot remember who was at the desk on Tuesday – it was my day off. There is one thing that is strange here, though. Usually we input the name of the trainer you are assigned to – and there is no name in the system. That was our mistake. May I choose a person to help you today?”

 

I was still too confused to really argue, so I said, “Yes, please. That would be fine.” The woman picked up the phone and dialed an extension – just as Melody had done on Tuesday.

 

“Hiya, Quan. I have a new client here for you. His name is Anthony Lance,” she said looking at the computer screen in front of her. “Yes, I’ll let him know.” She hung up the phone. “Quan will be right out.”

 

And like earlier in the week about a minute later the door to my left opened and a guy that was my height stepped into the waiting area. He was of Asian descent and had a small, but fit body. It certainly wasn’t a body like Mark’s, but it was still a body that passed the “make sure your trainer looks like he works out” test.

 

“Hiya, I’m Quan, “he said holding out his hand.

 

“Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Anthony.” I said shaking his hand.

 

“Follow me, Anthony, and we’ll get you started,” Quan said grabbing a file from the woman at the counter. As we walked into the next room I was slightly disappointed – Quan’s ass did not hold a candle to Mark’s. This thought distracted me for the moment from thinking about what had happened to Mark. Inside the gym part of the studio Quan led me to the same side counter as on Tuesday. “I like to take measurements when I get a new client. I know you did that on Tuesday, but I just want to make sure things were correct – especially since we show no record of who you met with. Sorry about that.”

 

“No, that’s fine, Quan. I met with a guy named Mark,” I said and saw that the look on his face meant we would have the same discussion I had with the lady in the waiting room. And Quan went on to tell me that no Mark worked at the place and, later on, said the same about Melody when I mentioned her name. This was so frustrating. I didn’t know what to make of any part of this.

 

“Do you mind stepping onto the scale, Anthony?” Quan asked and I stepped onto the machine in front of me. “Well, this Mark guy must not have been very good – you’ve either been eating well since Tuesday or packed on more muscle. You weigh about twelve more pounds than what is written here. If I put it in pounds like is written you are at 165. On Tuesday the guy wrote 153. Sorry about that mistake.” And with that Quan marked the correction on my form.

 

“That’s impossible, Quan,” I said staring at what the scale said, “I saw 153 on Tuesday. Really. Do you think the scale is wrong?”

 

“No, we check it every day and I weighed myself earlier – it was correct,” Quan said almost ignoring my protest. “You weigh 165. Maybe it was wrong on Tuesday or the trainer that helped you just got the conversion wrong – when he went to pounds.” Quan was lifting the bar that was attached to the back of the scale to measure my height. When he brought the bar to my head he said, “And he got the height wrong, as well - by three inches. His conversion must have been off here, as well. It’s impossible for someone to grow three inches in a few days.” Quan was laughing to himself as I stepped off the scale.

 

“May I measure your chest, Anthony,” Quan asked, but I was barely paying attention. Right before I left Houston I had a physical. At that time I weighed 159lbs. I had also been 5 feet 8 inches since I was in high school. How could I be five eleven? It just wasn’t possible, but I saw the equipment. It showed everything in inches and in pounds – obviously for Americans. You didn’t even need to convert it if you were used to reading in those terms. Could Mark have been wrong? This didn’t seem possible. I had looked at the scale and the marks for my height. I had raised my arms at Quan’s request. After measuring my chest and looking at the chart Anthony had a puzzled look on his face. “It seems your trainer from Tuesday got everything wrong. He marked your chest at 42 inches. It is really 46 inches. Let’s do your arms and legs, too.”

 

At this point I simply shut down. I stopped thinking about anything. I was so lost – trying to figure out what was happening to me. I felt amazing – that was a given – powerful and energized. But I also felt so confused – baffled. It was too much to handle. I barely registered anything more – even when Quan told me that my arms were now 17 inches – two inches more than Tuesday or that my thighs were now four inches more. My calves seemed to be the only thing that didn’t go crazy – measuring only one inch more than Tuesday. I also went through the workout routine Quan introduced me to in a daze. I didn’t pay much attention when he complimented me at each machine. He kept asking me if I had told the truth when I told him I was not used to using any free weights or nautilus machines. It was pretty obvious when he had to explain to me how the machine worked or how I should perform a set with a weight, but he was so impressed at how easy the task came to me once it was explained. He was equally impressed with the amount of weight I was able to lift in each exercise. At the end of the work out session he told me that I was a natural. I smiled – still half present to the moment and half trying to sort through all that was happening to me.

 

By the time everything was over my body was pulsing with energy and a craving for more exercise. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I felt as if I could have worked out all day. I wanted to try heavier weights and increase the amount of repetitions that Quan asked for. I also felt something else in my body. I still couldn’t make sense out of this new feeling – it seemed to be a need for someone to challenge me. Yes, that was it; I wanted to have another man test my abilities – but not using a machine. I wanted it to be man on man action. This thought aroused me a little so I continued with it. It wasn’t just man on man action that I wanted – it was also skin on skin action. I wanted to subdue someone, yes, and conquer him. I wanted to show someone the power of the energy that was surging through my body.

 

At this point my cotton shorts were not hiding my hard-on at all. Quan noticed and immediately said, “Anthony, I should probably tell you, since you are new to all of this, that working out often makes a man feel really good. I mean it can sometimes get a man – well, pretty excited. I just wanted you to know that this is a natural reaction.” I immediately turned red and placed my hands in front of my crotch. I was back in the present moment immediately. “Not to worry, Anthony. That won’t be the last time it happens. I could tell by the way you worked out that you are really going to take to bulking up, really well. I also believe you are going to continue to enjoy the after-effects, as well. No need to be embarrassed. A cold shower or a good cardio work out will take care of that.” Quan was smiling a genuine smile and I appreciated his honesty. I made an appointment for the next week, shook his hand, and left the gym – still with a hard-on that seemed like it was not going away.

 

I was incredibly hungry, but decided that a long run was more important at the moment. I had even begun to ignore the tightness of my tennis shoes. I wanted to take Quan’s advice and see if some cardio might help with the big problem at my crotch. At the end of my two-hour run I still had the same issue. I realized that when I got back to my flat I would have to take the situation “into my own hands” – and I meant the pun in every way implied.

 

*****

 

My hard-on problem would have to wait, though. As I walked up to the entrance of my flat I was surprised by the fact that Manfred stood there – obviously waiting for me. The pain in my heart from last evening came rushing back, but it was mixed with an excitement about seeing him again. I thought he was beautiful last night, but he was more gorgeous in the sunlight. My body reacted to him in the opposite way than expected – my hard-on lessened immediately. I guess I was still sad and angry over what he shared last night. I suddenly returned to feeling a little inadequate. I also forgot about the strangeness of the events at the gym. My world focused, yet again, on this stunning man who stood there in a striped light blue button-down shirt, tan slacks, a dark blue blazer, and sunglasses that hid his eyes, but nothing hid the powerful smile. I was lost in his presence, again.

 

“Hello, Anthony. Have you just returned from that meeting with your trainer?” he asked and I could tell he was testing the waters to see how I was feeling.

 

“Hi, Manfred,” I replied remembering I had told him about my appointment, “Yes, I worked out and then took a long run. Come in.”

 

“Thank you,” he said taking off his sunglasses and following me to my flat. “Martin shared your address with me. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

“No, that’s fine. I was just a little surprised. That’s all.” I said as I was opening the door to my flat and we walked in. My first thought was how happy I was that I am not a messy person – the flat looked presentable.

 

“Might you join me for a late lunch or have you eaten,” Manfred asked.

 

“No, I haven’t eaten and I’m actually very hungry. I guess I could go for some lunch,” I said caught up in the moment. As soon as the words came out I wished I had not agreed so quickly. I was still angry. I was still hurt. And I wanted him to know how I felt. “Let me take a quick shower and I’ll be ready to go.”

 

“That would be great, Anthony. Thanks for joining me,” Manfred said and I paused slightly as I peered into those eyes that looked like they contained an entire cloudless blue sky. I knew instantly that he had a closet full of shirts that color – just to highlight those eyes. I immediately stuffed that thought away and went to take a shower.

 

As I showered I thought of all the reasons I should not be going to lunch with Manfred. The number one problem was the fact that it was going to play havoc on my heart. Could I, in all honesty, just be a friend with Manfred? Most of me wanted to say yes – because he really was a great guy, but a small part of me knew we were destined for something more – even if that thought was utterly irrational. Manfred obviously was serious about being friends – for here he was asking me to join him for lunch, but the problem still remained – could I stop thinking of him sexually. At least long enough to become his friend. I knew I had to try – and I felt up to the task. Manfred could help my three years in London be more enjoyable – that was for sure. That meant I would have to struggle through the problem of how to get rid of the other emotions.

 

At that moment another problem took precedent over this one. I had finished showering and had pulled a shirt and some jeans out to wear. I went to put on the gray polo and it didn’t fit. Like the t-shirt I had tried on earlier it didn’t come down completely over my stomach. It was also very tight in the arms and in the chest area. The scary part was I knew this shirt had not been washed since I was in London. I had unpacked it into the drawer on my first day here. I could not understand what was happening to me – it was as if I had been through some adolescent growth spurt. I had bought this shirt pretty tight to begin with, but this was ridiculous. I took the shirt off and went to the closet. I had an extra large button-down that I had gotten as a gift and never returned. I slipped it on and it fit – but was still a little tight in the chest. It would have to do. I struggled to get my jeans up over my thighs – or as Quan had referred to them earlier – my quads. These jeans were not that tight when I bought them. I looked at myself in the mirror and for the first time noticed that I did, in fact, look bigger – just as the clothes had revealed. I was looking at my legs in the mirror and how they fit into these jeans and actually liking what I saw when I heard a voice from the living room.

 

“I’m getting famished, Anthony. Are you almost ready?” Manfred said laughing.

 

I called back, “Yes, I’ll be right out.” I went to put on shoes and decided that I didn’t want to cram my toes into the tennis shoes again. I slipped on what Martin had called the unfashionable sandals and was surprised to find out they felt okay. I believe there was a little more room in these shoes. My focus went from the changes in my body back to the upcoming lunch with Manfred. I began to psyche myself up. I knew I could do this. I knew I could handle being just a friend. I knew there were other men out there for me. I decided to try my hardest to let go of thoughts of being with Manfred – he had made it clear the kind of guy he wanted – the king of guy I would never be. I looked in the mirror one last time – really liked what I saw – and left the bedroom knowing it would be a good lunch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 10 

April 23rd, 2007


 

The Second Full Moon – Continued

 

I could not help but be happy as Manfred and I walked to lunch. He wanted to take me to one of his favorite restaurants. He had told me that it would make me especially happy. I was feeling good because I was with this great guy (and could not help but notice the people that stared as he walked by) and I was feeling awesome. I felt like a million bucks. I still felt like I should go work out some more. My muscles wanted more attention. They wanted more weight to challenge them. I kept thinking about going back to Mark’s Body Shop tomorrow and repeating the same exercises that Quan had shown me today. That seemed to make my body crave more action – as if waiting until tomorrow would not be possible. This was all a new feeling for me. I gave some credit to how I was feeling to the stunning man walking beside me.

 

“You seem to be in a great mood,” Manfred said turning to me as we walked.

 

“I am,” I said, “My work out and my run has made me feel great.” I suddenly did not care how I sounded to Manfred. I was just being myself and being completely honest. I think it was partially what he brought out in me and partially how my body made me feel.

 

“Well something is working. You seem taller to me today. Are you wearing higher shoes?” he asked.

 

“No, actually they are smaller. Maybe you didn’t notice because we were sitting down a lot.” I said - not remembering that I had mysteriously gained three inches recently. I was too happy that he was noticing something about me. It made me feel good and empowered.

 

“You also seem bigger, somehow,” Manfred added. “It must be your good mood.”

 

“I think that’s it,” I said looking at him – trying to figure out what he was thinking.

 

We came to a restaurant near the edge of Covent Garden called Christopher’s. I noticed that they specialized in American Cuisine. That was why Manfred thought I would like it. And he was right. The restaurant part of the place was on the second floor. A large bar and lounge area made up the first floor. The host knew Manfred, of course, and directed us to a pre-arranged table. It was obvious that Manfred had called ahead for this table. He had planned this earlier today. I was flattered and a little bothered at the same time. It made me happy that he wanted to take me to lunch at a great place, but it bothered me that he knew I would come – since the reservation had already been made. I let it go - because the white linens, the impeccable staff, the exquisite wine list and the atmosphere of the place made me happy to be there. We just sat down when a huge body-builder looking guy walked up to our table. He was huge. I am sure he was 6’4’” and his muscled body made him look even taller. He looked Italian or Spanish – dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin.

 

“Manfred! It has been too long, my friend,” the behemoth said looking straight at Manfred and extending his gigantic muscled hand.

 

“Paulo,” Manfred said smiling and I noticed a change in Manfred’s personality immediately. He became less sure of himself. He lost the control that he exuded at other times. I was amazed at how he became different – more hesitant around this big guy. It was my first glimpse of Manfred’s timid side. Manfred felt inadequate next to this guy named Paulo. Could that be one of the reasons he was attracted to big guys – they were able to make him feel like he could be out of control. I filed this thought away for further contemplation at a later date. At this moment Manfred was introducing Paulo to me. “This is my friend, Anthony. He has just moved here from the states. Anthony, this is a good friend, Paulo.”

 

Paulo turned to me and I saw what the attraction was for Manfred. Paulo was a beautiful specimen of a man. He had wide shoulders, a huge chest, arms that showed their size even through a rust-colored linen shirt, and the kind of Italian face that filled famous paintings of beautiful men in museums. He smiled and the whiteness of his teeth contrasted his olive skin perfectly. “Anthony,” he said in a light, but distinguishable accent, “It is lovely to meet you. Any friend of Manfred is a friend of mine.”

 

We grabbed hands to shake and something took over me. I felt like a dog wanting to mark its territory. I squeezed with all my might in hopes that I would hurt Paulo’s hand – I wanted him to know that his presence was a threat to my friendship (or something more) with Manfred. How silly it was of me to think my grip would do anything to Paulo’s muscled hand. The pressure I did exert had a completely different effect on Paulo than intended. It was obvious that he took it as a subtle pass. He squeezed back and winked at me.

 

“It is nice to meet you Paulo,” I said trying to pull my hand back but he would not let go.

 

“That is a fine grip you have there, my American friend,” Paulo said and he was obviously flirting. “You must work out. I am a trainer – maybe I could help you sometime.”

 

I know I turned red and said, “I just joined a gym and have a trainer, thank you.”

 

“My loss,” Paulo said and finally let go of my hand. I could still feel the pressure of his grip on my hand for a few minutes.

 

“Paulo is a great trainer, Anthony. I would take him up on his offer. He is so popular that some people wait for years to get him as their trainer. He trains me, in fact.” Manfred said gaining some of his previous attitude back. He still seemed to be in awe of Paulo, though.

 

“If only Manfred would come to sessions,” Paulo said. “He is constantly a - how do you say, - “no-show” for appointments. But it looks like our friend, Anthony, would not miss a session. Right, Anthony?”

 

“I, uh, I do like to work out,” I stammered. “I find it very rewarding.” Who was this person inside of me answering this way?

 

Paulo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather holder. He slid out a card and handed it to me, “Well, if you ever want some work out tips or just need someone to help you get adjusted to London, give me a call. I remember what it was like to move here.”

 

I took the card and said, “Thank you Paulo, I will.” I noticed that this short exchange had gotten a reaction from Manfred.

 

He immediately got Paulo’s attention by saying, “Paulo, we’re on for Tuesday afternoon, right?” I could tell that Manfred did not want me to move in on what he thought was his territory.

 

“Yes, Manfred,” Paulo said, “as long as you show up.” Paulo was smiling and he turned from Manfred back to me. “I will bet he does not show.” He then laid a big hand on my shoulder, squeezed gently, and added, “It was great to meet you Anthony. I hope I get to see you again. Bye Manfred.” And with that Paulo left our table.

 

Manfred immediately looked down at his menu – avoiding my look completely. I was beginning to see Manfred in a totally different light. I now understood that Manfred was, in fact, a muscle whore. He had told me the truth last night – he felt great joy from being with a guy bigger than him. It was the only situation that he didn’t have to be his confident – slightly cocky – self. I bet myself that Manfred’s place in society and his need to be a certain type of person for his family (and his family’s business) must cause him to be “on” all the time. I had a sneaky feeling that when Manfred was with a big muscle guy he was happy because he didn’t have to be in control – he could let someone else be boss for a while. This explained so much about his interaction with Paulo and his obvious jealousy of Paulo’s attention towards me. This made a question pop into my head and I did not filter it before I spoke.

 

“Manfred, does your family know you are gay?” I asked looking straight at him.

 

He looked up from his menu and said, “What an odd question, Anthony. What has made you ask that?”

 

“I don’t know, I just got an overwhelming sensation that you lead a double life. Am I right?” I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but I didn’t care. Was I trying to hurt him since he had caused me pain last night? I didn’t think so. I believe I just wanted to know him more. Yes, that was it. I was trying to scratch the confident surface he had and learn more about his life - his true self. I did not want to hurt him – somehow I knew I was unable to hurt him. I didn’t have it in me to cause him pain. I loved him too much.

 

“Well, if you must know, Anthony, no, my parents do not know I am gay,” he said returning to his menu. It was then that I remembered John had told me he was an only child. “I assume from your question that your family knows about you.”

 

“Yes, Manfred. They do. My friends and my family know. I didn’t tell anyone at my job in Houston, but I do intend to be totally open at work here in London,” I felt so proud as I said this. I could tell Manfred took my obvious pride as a slam against him.

 

“Well, Anthony, bully for you,” he said lowering his menu, “I, however, have the incredible obligation to continue my family line. I also have the task of making sure all our wealth and property stays in the family. Things are much different here in England. We are not all able, as you, to pick up and live care free for three years or so.”

 

I had obviously struck a raw nerve, but I also thought our chance meeting with Paulo and his attention to me was causing part of this response. “I’m sorry Manfred. I did not mean to upset you. Really. If you want to know the truth I was trying to get to know you better. I had a hunch about you from our meeting with Paulo.”

 

His face softened immediately and he said, “A hunch about me, you say. Please Anthony, do share.”

 

I was amazed at how blunt I was being, but Manfred brought it out of me. He made me feel incredibly comfortable with myself and with him. I said, “Manfred, I believe that one of the reasons you are attracted to huge muscled men is that they allow you to let go of control. You are asked to be many things in your life and to represent many things – an heir, a leader of a business, an only son, and much more. I think you like being with big guys because they seem to protect you from that part of your life. You probably like letting them be in charge when you are with them – letting them make decisions and tell you what to do.” His face flushed bright red immediately. I knew that I had hit the nail right on the head. We sat in silence for a few seconds – just staring at each other. I could see he was trying hard to gain control of his emotions before speaking. I was amazed at how this knowledge of his vulnerability had made my cock hard. I was turned on by the thought of this man – a man of incredible beauty and confidence – wanting to be taken care of, as well.

 

Manfred finally smiled his killer smile, having re-gained his confidence and said, “I knew last night that you and I would be great friends, Anthony (the word friend did not hurt as much as it had last night). I knew you understood me in ways that no one else could comprehend. It will be very good to have someone that I can share so much with. I am very glad that we have found each other.”

 

I noticed he had not confirmed or denied anything. It didn’t matter – I knew I was right. Our bond had just gotten tighter. I knew – at that moment - our friendship would always be very strong. I knew that we would be able to share anything with each other. I began to be at peace with what we were becoming - friends. And the depth of our friendship had not even begun to be explored – it was apparent that both of us knew this. I smiled back at him and nodded. “Yes, Manfred. We are both very lucky.”

 

“Shall we have some champagne to celebrate?” Manfred asked and he knew my increased smile and slight laughter was my answer. He called the waiter over and ordered what I knew must be a very expensive bottle of champagne – because of the surprised look on the guy’s face. And when I had my first sip I also knew it was expensive – because it was so smooth and tasted fantastic. Manfred and I went on to talk of many things. He asked about my family and I asked about his parents. He insisted that he take me to his family’s house in the Cotswolds at some point and I told him I would love to visit his home. A second bottle of champagne was ordered and we both enjoyed great food for lunch. During our coffee Manfred asked if I minded that he needed to step across the room and speak to a friend of his father who was also a business associate. He said it would be terribly rude of him to ignore the fellow. I told him that I didn’t mind.

 

After he stepped away from the table, as I was basking in the joy caused by the champagne and our conversation, the host of the restaurant walked up to our table. “Are you Anthony?” he asked.

 

“Yes. Yes, I am,” I replied looking at him.

 

“I have a note for you, sir” he said handing me a folded slip of paper.

 

“Who is it from?” I asked.

 

“The gentleman did not give me a name, sir. He just stepped in downstairs and said please give this to Anthony in the restaurant and then gave an accurate description of you. He left without saying another word,” the host explained.

 

“What did he look like?” I pressed further.

 

“He was tall, short blonde hair, and nice looking, sir,” the guy answered and we both knew he was describing half of the men in this area of town.

 

“Thank you. Thank you very much,” I said opening the note as the host walked away.

 

Two sentences appeared in the middle of the paper in non-descript handwriting. It said:

 

Anthony, do not be afraid of the growth of your body. It is part of your journey.

 

I was immediately taken back to the strangeness of my visit to the gym this morning. It was true - I had indeed grown. It was not just a figment of my overactive imagination or a mistake of the trainer from Tuesday. This did not explain the missing Mark and Melody, though. Come to think of it – it didn’t explain the growth, either! I was just so happy to know I wasn’t going crazy that I had forgotten about how no one grows that much in such a short time – for no apparent reason. And, yet, the note did seem to make me feel less scared about the actual growth. But who knew about this? Who was watching me close enough to know I had grown. Or, more importantly, who or what was causing me to grow? My body did not turn to fear as I went through these thoughts. My body actually began to feel more energized or more powerful – like the note had opened Pandora’s Box or something. I somehow sensed the note was from a friend and the growth was part of some plan – some destiny. I didn’t feel fear – I felt satisfaction and peace. I had earlier thought I might need to go see a doctor to make sure I was not ill, but the note somehow assured me that no doctor was needed. I found myself ready for what this growth brought with it. I was taken back, yet again, to my dream from a few nights ago. This growth was part of my preparation – preparation for what was the only question. I was lost in thought when Manfred sat back down at the table.

 

“Well, something has made you all aglow!” he said smiling at me. “Are you drunk or just happy that I returned?” There was the confident cocky Manfred I knew. He wasn’t flirting, not exactly, he just liked to make sure people adored him. In less than twenty-four hours I had already learned this about him. He had obviously not noticed the note being delivered to me. I quickly closed my hand around the note and slipped it into my pocket.

 

“Trust me – it’s the champagne,” I said smiling at him – once again lost in his presence. I had forgotten the note immediately.

 

“Shall we go? I have paid the bill – and no arguments. I know you – you will want to argue about paying your half, but there are no options. I am in charge here,” he said smiling and then standing. The old Manfred had totally returned. I didn’t even begin to argue. I was having too great an afternoon to argue over what was probably a bill that equaled half of my weekly pay. I felt very happy and very energized. I wanted to go and work out all over again. I also knew that I needed sex and in a bad way. My new body and my new energy were screaming for some kind of contact – what kind I didn’t exactly know.

 

*****

 

It had turned out to be a great day. The sun was shining and a light breeze prevented it from being too hot in the sunlight. Manfred said he would walk with me back to my place because his car was parked near there. We decided to walk through the Convent Garden Piazza. It was a great area – a huge open square that prevented cars from being able to drive through. It had huge cobblestones that looked like they had been there for centuries. In the center of the square was a big building that housed restaurants, shops and an open market. This place was known for its street performers, as well as its pickpockets. It reminded me instantly of the place where Henry Higgins would have noticed Eliza Doolittle selling flowers. We entered the piazza from the southeast corner. Manfred was saying something about making dinner plans for Monday night when the hairs on the back of my neck bristled in anticipation of some kind of trouble. I somehow knew a lady was in distress a few seconds before we heard her scream.

 

My body instantly jumped into action when I heard the scream. I suddenly took off along the southern side of the piazza even though the scream had come from the northeast side. I was able to run through the crowd with no problem – dodging people and gaining speed. My instincts told me where the guy was running to before I actually saw the man who had grabbed the lady’s purse. The crowd was moving out of the guy’s way quickly as he traveled to the northwest side of the piazza. My body was controlling everything. There was no intentional thought causing me to move like I was – it was all by instinct. Even though the guy had been running a few seconds before me and was at the other end of the piazza I easily passed him along the sidewalk beside the road he was on. I got directly in front of him and lowered my shoulder before he even knew what was happening. As he connected with me I noticed some pain but my body knew what to do. I gave slightly with my shoulder during the impact and then stood up causing the guy to go flipping over my back and come down hard on the cobblestones. The impact stunned him greatly and I quickly turned, bent down, and pressed a knee into his chest. I realized quickly that he was not going anywhere – the impact had hurt too much. I reached out and grabbed the purse from his hands and used my legs to pin his arms.

 

By this time two other gentlemen had decided to be part of the rescue. They came over and knelt down to help hold the guy. Two officers, I came to find out they are known as constables, arrived at that time and I stood up. I was breathing hard and the reality of what I had just done was dawning on me. I couldn’t explain a thing. My body had just taken over all control when it happened. I just followed my instincts. The police constables were thanking me and calling me a hero as Manfred walked up. His face showed how stunned he was at my moment of glory.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked when he got to me. “That was amazing, Anthony.”

 

“I think I need to sit down for a second,” was all I could say and I immediately sat down on the curb. People were patting me on the back and saying that I had been amazing. I was still breathing hard and my body was pumping with excitement, adrenaline, and an unexplainable need for more . . . more what . . . more adventure. That was it – I wanted more of this “rush” that was consuming my body at the moment. The constables thanked me again, took my name and address, and then took the guy away. The woman who owned the purse was there. She bent down gave me a hug and thanked me over and over again. I looked at her - almost not registering anything she was saying. All I could say was, “You’re welcome.” The crowd finally dispersed and Manfred sat beside me on the curb.

 

“Anthony, what came over you? I didn’t know you could move that fast,” he said obviously impressed.

 

“Neither did I,” I replied.

 

“He could have had a weapon, Anthony. You could have been hurt. You need to be more careful,” Manfred said in a truly concerned voice.

 

I didn’t tell Manfred that I instinctively knew the guy was unarmed. That would have been too much for him or me to handle at the moment. But I had known that fact – somehow. All I said was, “Manfred, I had to help the lady in need. I had to. I didn’t have a choice.”

 

Manfred had a confused look on his face. I’m sure it matched the confused face I made as I said what I said. Even though it made perfect sense to me, I knew how it must sound to him. “Well, you certainly did, my friend, you certainly did. Are you able to walk now?”

 

“Yes, I’m sorry. Let’s go,” I said standing up. “I’m sorry to have delayed you, Manfred.”

 

“Nonsense, Anthony, nonsense. The excitement got my heart beating faster,” Manfred said helping me to stand.

 

“Yeah, you and me both,” I said laughing.

 

We walked in silence for a few minutes. I think both of us were re-living in our minds what had just happened. Somehow I knew I had impressed Manfred, in a special way. I also knew that part of why I had done it was to accomplish that goal – to impress him. Yes, I wanted to help the woman and stop the thief, but I also wanted Manfred to see me in a different way. I wanted him to know my goodness. Yes. And to know my abilities. But what abilities did I mean. It was all so confusing. At this point we reached the front of my building. I sensed Manfred wanted to say something important, but he chose not to.

 

“Well, Anthony, you certainly made this a very exciting day. Thank you for a great lunch and a heroic display. I am very impressed. Now, as for Monday night – you can join me for dinner, yes?” He asked smiling at me.

 

“Sure, Manfred. That would be great. What time and where?” I replied.

 

“I am going to my parent’s home up north for the weekend. I will return Monday afternoon. Let’s say come to my place around seven,” he said as he took a card from his wallet and handed it to me. “My place is just south of St. James’ Park. It is an easy walk from here or you can take a taxi. It will be the two of us and a few other friends – nothing too formal. No need to dress up.”

 

“That will be great Manfred. Have a great weekend,” I said holding out my hand. Manfred shook it tightly. I knew our friendship had moved to new heights today. I knew he felt the same way.

 

“You have a great weekend too, Anthony. And please leave the capture of thieves to the proper authorities. I do not want anything happening to you. You have barely been in London for a week.” He said smiling and beginning to walk away. He then turned and said, “It is as if you thought you had some guardian angels looking out for you or something.” Manfred smiled at this thought, then turned, and walked away.

 

“I’m sure I do, Manfred. I’m sure I do,” I thought to myself, but I did not dare say it out loud.

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 11 

May 7th, 2007


 

The Second Full Moon – Continued

 

As soon as Manfred walked away I felt lonely. It had been a great afternoon. I did not want my time with him to end – even though I knew he needed to start the journey to his parents’ house up north. I also knew we’d only ever be friends - but that didn’t matter - I still wanted to be with him. I was also still a little pumped from the excitement of capturing the purse-snatcher. The adrenaline rush did not seem like it would be leaving my body any time soon. I could tell that the feeling was much more than blood pumping through my body from the excitement of the day or the thrill of being with Manfred – there was something much more mysterious and powerful flowing through every part of my body. The closest thing I could compare this feeling to was the sensation your body feels when it rests in zero gravity as you come down the hill on a rollercoaster or those few seconds of indescribable pleasure right before ejaculation - when jerking off. Yes, that was it. My body did feel very sexual – more so than ever in my life. I was on fire with desires – to be pleased, but more importantly – to please.

 

My mind was trying to grasp all of this when my cell phone rang. I looked to see the number and it said “restricted”.

 

“Hello,” I answered.

 

“Anthony,” a voice responded, “this is Roger… from the party last night – at Martin’s house. I asked Martin for your number. I do hope that was okay?”

 

“Yes, Roger. Of course. How are you?” I answered – marveling at the fact that a second person from last night’s party was contacting me.

 

“I am fine, thank you. Listen, I am leaving work now and was wondering if you would like to join me for a drink. I belong to a club near you. We could meet there – if you do not mind,” Roger said in a very pleasant voice.

 

“That sounds great, Roger,” I answered, “I didn’t have any plans. What kind of club is it?

 

“You will love it, Anthony. It is one of London’s oldest gentleman’s clubs. It is a place where men gather to socialize, eat, drink, and work out. It will be a great experience for you,” Roger explained.

 

“It sounds nice – but it also sounds like something I need to dress up for – right?” I asked.

 

“I am so glad you asked, Anthony. Yes, there is a dress code. You must wear a jacket and tie.” Roger explained.

 

“That’s no problem,” I assured Roger. “Can you give me directions? And what time should I meet you? Roger gave me directions and I realized it was only about a ten-minute walk from my flat. He told me to meet him there in about thirty minutes. After hanging up my phone I suddenly remembered the growth of my body. I hurried up to my flat to make sure I had something to wear to the club. I didn’t panic immediately because I remembered I had an oversized sports coat that was a hand-me-down. I never had it tailored – but always thought I would. I tried the jacket on, and realized just how much I had grown since the once too-big-to-wear jacket was now a pretty snug fit. I tried on many pairs of pants and found one that didn’t look too much like high waters. I was also able to fit my feet into a pair of stretched out loafers. I didn’t look pretty, but I looked presentable. As I was walking to the club I was thankful that the tie I was wearing hid the fact that my expanded chest stretched the buttons of my shirt a little. I also began to think of my body differently than in the morning. I wasn’t freaked out by the growth anymore – as a matter of fact, something in my body told me that the growth was a good thing. A new thought was dawning in my mind – a feeling that said the growth was meant to happen – that it was a positive change happening to me. That sense of power I had felt when running, when working out, and when chasing the purse-snatcher was only going to get better. I somehow knew all of this – but how? What did it all mean? Just when I thought I was going to somehow have a breakthrough in understanding what was going on with me, I arrived in front of a huge non-descript building with huge double front doors and a small plaque that merely said Carlton Club.

 

I pushed open the door and stepped inside. I was instantly transported to a time that has all but disappeared in London. The noise of the street dissolved and the smell of cigars, leather, and liquor rushed over me. The lobby of the club was very impressive. The ceiling was four stories high and it seemed that stairwells went in every direction. There was a huge table in front of me with the most beautiful arrangement of flowers I had ever seen. A person could spend hours looking around that front room – the pictures, the furniture, the statues – everything spoke of old money and tradition. I knew instantly that it was a privilege to be able to visit this place.

 

After the initial impact of the space left I became conscious of another feeling within me. It resembled the feeling that overcame my body whenever Atol was near. I immediately reacted by becoming on edge and prepared for action. It was only after a few seconds of standing there that I realized the feeling was different, though. When Atol was near I was defensive and tense – but this new feeling didn’t seem necessarily negative. It felt good and, yet, somewhat bad at the same time. It gave me pleasure, somehow – yes; it filled me with a sense of power that was different from other times in the past few days. This feeling seemed to give me some kind of a buzz – like a wave of unknown and untested abilities. The main difference from this feeling and all the other feelings I had was that this one consumed me and I wanted it to continue and even grow more. At that moment an elderly gentleman stepped in front of me. He was wearing a tuxedo-like uniform and obviously worked at the club.

 

“May I help you sir,” he asked.

 

His question made me immediately self-conscious and feel out of place. I stammered, “Yes, uh, I am here to, umm, meet Roger Wexford.”

 

“Are you Mr. Lance?” the gentleman asked and this put me more at ease.

 

“Yes, I am Anthony Lance.” I said a little more confidently.

 

“Right this way, sir. Mr. Wexford is in the study,” he said and walked to a stairwell to the right. We went through an archway at the top of the short staircase and entered into a large room with multiple sitting areas. There were many men sitting in groups of two or three scattered throughout the room. Because of the size of the room the conversations throughout the space seemed like whispers. I followed my guide to a back corner that seemed a little secluded and there Roger sat in a large leather chair with a newspaper in his lap and a drink on the table beside him. When he saw me he immediately stood up and extended his hand.

 

“Anthony. Welcome to the Carlton Club. Thank you, very much, for joining me. Can I offer you a drink?” Roger’s welcome and his handshake were energetic and inviting. I immediately noticed what striking features he had. Jet-black hair, deep brown eyes, dark eye lashes that went on for days and a chiseled face. He was a little taller than me and seemed to have what people would call a swimmer’s body – I couldn’t really tell because of the immaculate suit he was wearing. I had been too focused on Manfred last night to get this good a view of Roger.

 

“Yes, Roger, that would be very nice. What are you drinking?” I asked knowing that was a safe way to order - I did not know the proper protocol at a London men’s club. I was trying hard to not mess up.

 

“I am having some good Irish whiskey – the one made by the Protestants, of course. Would you like some Bushmills?” Roger didn’t wait for an answer, “Of course, you would. Stanford, please bring Anthony a double, like mine. That will be all for right now. Sit down, sit down.” He said pointing to the chair across from his – another oversized leather chair. Roger sat down, as well, and looked straight at me. “Again, thank you for joining me, Anthony. It is a pleasure to welcome you here.”

 

“No, Roger. The pleasure is all mine. I know what an honor it is to come to such a restricted club,” I said - trying to flatter him. There was something about our short interaction that had made me want to “win” Roger over. I couldn’t describe it – but I wanted Roger to like me.

 

“Nonsense, Anthony, this place is overrated. But it does afford me a quiet place to meet friends, a great place to have dinner, and many other convenient ways to spend the time,” Roger said, smiling a somewhat naughty grin – but I didn’t understand the comment completely.

 

“Well, it is a very impressive place, nonetheless,” I replied.

 

“So what did our American friend do on his first Friday in London?” Roger asked as Stanford brought me my drink. I could not remember drinking a lot of whiskey before – if ever. As soon as I had my drink I took a pretty good-sized sip and immediately regretted it. I tried hard not to acknowledge the burning sensation in my throat, but when I went to speak it was hard to disguise. I saw just a hint of awareness of the situation in Roger’s eyes and was happy that he did not comment on it.

 

“Well,” I said trying to act like I was clearing my throat, “I worked out this morning, went for a long run, and then went to a late lunch with Manfred.”

 

There was an immediate change in Roger’s face. It looked like disappointment and that notion was confirmed as he said, “So the old boy got his claws into you first, I see.”

 

“I’m sorry,” I said - not sure I understood.

 

“Oh, it is just that Manfred tends to toy with anyone new on the scene. It makes it hard for the rest of us. I am sure he made it known that he is only into bodybuilders.” Roger said allowing the smile to return to his face.

 

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, he did,” I replied.

 

“Well, then the old guy is getting better – he usually strings a guy along for a while before telling him,” Roger said looking at his drink and it became clear to me that this must have happened to him. I could see Roger being attracted to Manfred (who on earth wouldn’t be) and I could see Manfred initially being attracted to Roger. I felt sadness for Roger because I could see that it was something that still hurt him. I decided to change the subject quickly – mainly because I did not want to remember the sadness Manfred had already caused me.

 

“Now you must tell me, Roger, so I know up front, why do your friends call you their favorite bad boy,” referring to the comment Martin had made last night when I was introduced to Roger – it had been an inside joke that made everyone at the party laugh.

 

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Martin.” Roger said re-gaining his earlier commanding presence. “There are so many reasons, Anthony. For one, I get into trouble a lot – I tend not to care what I say and that sometimes causes problems. I guess some people also get jealous of me and say mean things since I do not work.”

 

I interrupted him, “But you said you were getting off of work when you called me and invited me to meet you here.”

 

Roger smiled. “I did indeed. Yes. And in fact I was working right upstairs here – I was busy working away at the poker table. That is another reason that I am known as a bad boy – I do like to gamble. It is the closest thing to work for me.”

 

“And you can live off of your gambling?” I asked and immediately realized it was a rude question. “I am so sorry, Roger. That was very rude. Please ignore that question. It was just that I was surprised by the fact that you can make enough money to live in London from gambling.”

 

Roger was laughing and said, “No, Anthony, do not be ridiculous. There was nothing rude about the question. Truth be told, I like your frankness. The fact is that I do not have to work. I come from old money in London and my parents are both dead. I will be able to live off of my inheritance for the rest of my life. That kind of lifestyle does allow a few pleasures in life – like gambling. And, if you must know, yes – yes, I do very well and earn quite a bit of money from my gambling habit.” Roger looked straight at me smiling, and we sat in silence for a few seconds.

 

In those moments of silence something happened to me – there was a subtle shift in how I viewed Roger. Last night and even earlier in this conversation he had been just a friend I had made at a party – but I started seeing him as something else. Was he boyfriend material? I wasn’t sure. Was he “let’s sleep together as long as we can and enjoy the ride while it lasts” material? I wasn’t sure about that, either. The main thing I knew was that I wanted to find out exactly what he could be for me – friend, sex partner, lover – who knew? There was a slight pining in my heart that reminded me of my desire for Manfred – but he had made it clear that I wasn’t his type. And if my instincts were correct - I was getting the vibes from Roger that said he’d like to explore our attraction as well. I dug a little deeper at what this feeling was that rushed over me at that moment and I realized I really liked the “bad boy” side of Roger. More specifically, I liked how he brought out the bad boy side of me. That was it – I saw myself in a different light in the few minutes that I had been sitting here with Roger. It was mixed in with the feeling that I had experienced in the lobby of the Carlton Club. I was beginning to feel desirable – and a lot of power and pleasure came with that feeling. I could see how Roger viewed me – in a primitive, almost animalistic way. His desires for me made me want to do things to make his feelings increase. It suddenly hit me that all of this newfound knowledge was tied into my body growth. That was it! I liked the changes in my body – and more importantly – I liked how the changes in my body might affect other people. I realized that I was beginning to be hungry for more growth. Was that possible? I knew it was. God, this new awareness felt great. I desired to be bigger, stronger, and able to influence other men – but in what way? This wasn’t clear, yet - but I knew that most of these new insights had come from my meeting with Roger – and that made me want him in a special way. And I knew that Roger had similar feelings – I knew all of this somewhere inside of me. I could also feel that something in all of this was not good for me – something told me to go slower. But my need for sex, the continued rush from overpowering the purse-snatcher earlier today, the flashbacks from my intense dream of a few nights ago, and my desire to be – what was the word – powerful, prevented me from heeding any warning signs in my head. I turned my attention back to the handsome Roger.

 

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 12 

May 8th, 2007


 

The Second Full Moon – Continued

 

Roger was asking me a question, “And so, Anthony, is there a bad boy in you?”

 

I could see all the intended nuances contained in that question and that made me want to answer in a way that conveyed everything I was feeling. “I have a funny feeling, Roger, that you are just the person to release the bad boy within me.” I smiled and looked right in Roger’s eyes. My dick started to get hard and my heart was pumping faster. There was a line that was about to be crossed and I was ready to sail to the other side.

 

“Yes I am, Anthony, yes I am.” Roger answered smiling. “So, when it comes to sex – what do you like?”

 

I choked a little on the sip of whiskey I had just taken and lost my composure for a second. I also glanced away from Roger - and I know he noted my immediate discomfort from the question. I think it actually pleased him that he had gotten to me in that way – he had surprised me. I tried to get some of the cocky attitude I was exuding earlier and said, “Well, sex is very important, Roger, but foreplay is just as important. I like a lot of foreplay. The dance leading up to the sex can be very exciting – and very telling about a person. If someone is not good at foreplay they don’t get my attention.” I was being so bold and it was turning me on so much – or was Roger turning me on – I couldn’t tell and decided that it might be a mixture of the two. “And the most important thing about any relationship I have is the kissing. I love a kiss that makes my toes curl up.” I had regained some of my cool composure from a few seconds ago and I could tell that Roger liked it. He was silently staring at me; letting my last statement hang in the air between us. Roger’s smile turned a little devious and he sucked his lips inward to wet them. This moment of silence and staring at each other caused my dick to reach full mast. I had to break the silence – just to calm my excited body down. “And you, Roger, what do you like when it comes to sex?”

 

“Oh you know – everything,” he said laughing slightly, and then added, “but mostly I like it when I find someone who likes to trade-off being the aggressive one. I like it when I can be the hunter and the hunted.” He knew this last comment would please me – he was such a player. It was obvious that he had made up his mind to let our conversation be the first part of our foreplay. He also knew that I wanted him - very much.

 

“Either way it’s really the hunt, itself, that matters – isn’t it?” I asked – prodding him along.

 

Roger leaned forward and put a hand on my knee. The contact sent pleasant shivers through my body. “We are going to get along very well, my American friend. Very well, indeed. Will you join me for dinner, Anthony? We can step upstairs to the dining room. They have excellent food here – and even better wine. I am not quite done bringing out the bad boy inside of you – I think it will be a very long process.” Roger squeezed my knee tightly and I noticed his powerful grip.

 

“Wild horses couldn’t pull me away right now, Roger – so I would be honored to join you.” I said as I placed my hand on his and squeezed back. I released his hand quickly, though. The image of wild horses took me back to my dream of a few nights ago. Why was I thinking of that right now? I wondered if the pleasure I was feeling standing in the middle of the field of my dream was a sign of the pleasure I would be feeling right now with Roger. He noticed I was thinking about something else.

 

“You didn’t change your mind that quickly, did you Anthony?” Roger asked.

 

“No, sir. I am all yours for the evening.” I said teasingly.

 

“I hope so Anthony, I hope so,” Roger said standing up and putting his arm around me after I stood up. “The dining room is just this way,” he said guiding me out of the large room. I could feel that his body was tight –even through his expensive suit. His subtle cologne mixed with the smell of him – a mixture of sweat and something – I couldn’t tell what it was – was definitely manly. I was lost in thoughts about the upcoming evening.

 

The dinner was fabulous and the company was perfect. Roger was a brilliant man and it became clear to me that he was extremely wealthy – not just kind of rich. He had graduated from Oxford – with two areas of emphasis – philosophy and business. He told me that the philosophy part was just to bug his dad. He explained that his family’s money came from buying and selling lots of real estate – mostly in London. He also now owned a lot of property around the world.

 

At one point in the evening I just stopped the conversation and said, “Roger, forgive me for asking this – but why are you having dinner with me? You could probably have anyone in London – or the world – why would you choose to have dinner with a young guy from Texas that just works with computers?”

 

Roger looked at me and turned quite serious. He said, “Anthony – you are so much more than that. You have no idea of your potential. You are going to do great things in England. I am sure of it. I just want to be there – so I can experience it with you. Why would I not be with you tonight? How did you put it earlier – oh yes – wild horses wouldn’t pull me away.” And the smile had returned to his face. Underneath the table I felt his leg move against mine and stay there. I responded by rubbing my leg a few times up and down against his. The candlelight lit his face in a way that emphasized his dark features. He looked somewhat ominous – but his smile was infectious. I only saw the smile. He poured more wine in my glass and his. The evening was moving to the dreaded moment when “so-called” logic won out or pure lust took over. I wondered who would be brave enough to bring up our next step. I felt very brave and empowered.

 

“So, Mr. Roger,” I began and this title made him smile. “I don’t feel that I have been sufficiently converted to the bad boy side. I was wondering if there was a second part to releasing the badness within me.”

 

“Well, as a matter of fact, Anthony, I do not feel that you have been doing a very good job. I was thinking a more private tutorial might be needed to help you get better marks. Do not get me wrong – I think you have made splendid progress, but some more intense work is needed.” Roger leaned back from the table and his face was half hidden in darkness. It was an extremely sexy look for him.

 

“Well, I guess I deserve the best tutor around – don’t you? You came so highly recommended by Martin – he called you his favorite bad boy. Where do you suggest this private tutoring should take place?” I was now ready to start making out with him on the table in front of me – this was how excited this conversation made me. I knew he felt the same.

 

“I was thinking we might hold a master class this very evening at my home. I am a very short walk from here – but I was thinking we might have someone call a cab to make it quicker. How does that sound?” He asked – waving to one of the men working in the dining room - obviously not waiting for me to respond. He knew what my answer would be.

 

“I think that will be great. I am just going to step into the bathroom. Can you point me in that direction?” I said standing up. Roger gave me directions and when I walked in I noticed the men’s room was bigger than most London flats. There was a gentleman sitting in a chair by the counter ready to offer you mints, a comb, cigarettes – you name it. I wondered if he handed out condoms. The older guy smiled at me as I entered and wished me a good evening. I smiled back and walked around the corner. I was at the urinal when I heard the door open again.

 

“Good evening Mr. Wexford,” the attendant said as Roger walked in.

 

“Hello Hugh, how are you this evening?” came Roger’s strong voice.

 

“Fine sire, I am fine,” Hugh answered.

 

“That is great. Might I ask you to step outside for just a few seconds?” Roger asked as I came around the corner to the sinks. I saw Roger handing Hugh a handful of what looked like pounds. I caught Roger’s face reflected in the mirror in front of me and then noticed that Hugh looked from Roger to me and smiled.

 

“Yes sir, Mr. Wexford.” And with that Hugh stood up and walked out of the restroom. I could see that he stood just outside - in front of the frosted glass door.

 

As I dried my hands Roger stepped behind me and put his arms around my waist. We stared at each other in the mirror. He bent slightly since he was a little taller than me. He slipped his hands into my pockets and a finger brushed up against my rigid cock. I let my body lean backwards into him. My ass clearly felt his own hard prick. He brought his lips to my neck and kissed me gently – starting at the back of my right ear and going around my neck to the left ear. At the same time he started gently pushing his hard cock and crotch into my ass cheeks. He took his lips and went to the center of the back of my neck – and began to suck on that spot – letting his teeth scrape my neck softly. I pressed my body into his with a little more force. Roger moaned lightly and took two fingers of both hands and pressed into the sides of my quads – just across from my balls. This made my legs give a little - but Roger held me with his strong arms wrapped around my body. I began to turn my body around and he took his hands out of my pockets and then stepped slightly back to give me room. Once I was facing him he brought his body back into mine with a pretty hard push. I was up against the counter and our hard cocks connected in a collision of pleasure. I reached up and grabbed the sides of Roger’s beautiful head and brought his face to mine. This had been the moment both of us were waiting for. Yes, the upcoming sex would be great, but we both knew that the first kiss needed to be magical – powerful. It disappointed neither of us. My mouth opened wide to accept his tongue – and his did the same for mine. I could still taste wine in his mouth and he sucked air from my mouth gently - causing my head to follow his as he pulled back. He pulled his mouth from mine and I moaned in displeasure – but he immediately began to kiss my cheeks, neck and chin. He let his teeth slide gently on my chin and this made me throw my head slightly back. Roger then brought his mouth to the side of my head and took my right earlobe in his mouth – teasing it with his teeth, lips and tongue. I turned and did the same to his ear. His body shook and I realized I had found something that pleased him. I filed this knowledge away for future use. Roger took his right hand and placed it at the back of my head – pulling my mouth back to his. This time he kissed me hard – hard enough for me to feel the stubble of his day-old beard around my mouth. This was something that turned me on and he noted it for future use, as well – I was sure. Roger took his left hand and cupped my right ass cheek. Using slight suction from his mouth on mine and his strong hand on my ass, Roger pulled me to my toes for this kiss. He remembered that I wanted a kiss to “curl my toes” – and that was what he was giving me. We were also busy rubbing our hard cocks together and I was running both hands through his thick black hair.

 

Just when I thought we would take it to a place where we would not be able to return, there was a light knock on the door. Roger pulled me closer to him in a very strong embrace and then let me go. He stepped to the sink next to me and turned on the water. The door opened and Hugh invited two middle-aged gentlemen into the restroom. There was conversation immediately. The first guy to walk in noticed my cock pushing my pants out as soon as he walked in. He smiled at me and then walked around the corner. I quickly turned to my sink and glanced up to see Roger’s face in his mirror. He was smiling straight at me. Before reaching to get a towel he raised his hands, flicked his fingers and water went flying into my face. He then laughed and stepped away from the sink as he dried his hands.

 

“Wexford, old boy. How the hell are you?” said the second man who had stopped at the counter to get some mints.

 

“Hello Rochester. I am fine. And how is your family?” Roger asked shaking hands with the gentleman.

 

“Everyone is fine. I just had some dinner – and you?” Rochester asked.

 

“Yes – I had a lovely dinner with my friend Anthony, here. He is from the States and has just moved to London to take it by storm.” Roger said placing a hand on my back and pulling me – literally – into the conversation. Rochester stuck out his hand to me.

 

“Very nice to meet you Anthony. If you are a friend of this young man – beware! He has ways of making you do things you never would. He sold me some property in the States that I have never seen. Do not let that happen to you.” Rochester said pumping my hand.

 

“I won’t, sir. I promise. I will not let Roger do anything to me that I don’t want him to,” I said glancing at Roger and noting the twinkle in his eye.

 

“Well that’s just the problem, Anthony, he can make you want to do a lot!” Rochester exclaimed laughing. “You two young men have a wonderful evening,” He said walking around the corner.

 

“It was nice meeting you,” I said as he walked away.

 

Roger grabbed me behind my neck and pulled me to the door. As he passed Hugh he handed him some more money and they nodded to each other. It was apparent that this happened quite frequently. Roger squeezed my neck – pretty hard - so I winced a little.

 

“Let’s go get our cab,” he said ushering me out the door. I don’t remember a lot about the cab ride to Roger’s place. Of course the cab driver knew him (didn’t everyone) and this made it possible for us to act like high school students making out in the back seat of a car at some lookout point. As soon as we were in the cab Roger reached over and pulled me on top of him. Because the black cabs in London have so much room he was able to lean back and have me on top of his whole body. He reached down and grabbed my ass with both hands. He pushed my crotch into his own and this caused us both to moan. Our lips were glued to each other the entire trip. We did not stop the kiss for the entire seven-minute ride. I knew my lips were going to be chapped the next day - but I didn’t care. I undid a couple of buttons and slipped one hand into Roger’s shirt. I was instantly rewarded with the feeling of a hard muscled chest – but I was also very happy because it was covered in hair. His body was as I thought it would be – a tight swimmer’s body – or maybe more like a gymnast. All I knew was that it turned me on very much.

 

I don’t remember taking a good look at Roger’s building as he paid the cab driver. I had lost all inhibitions and I had my arms wrapped around his body from behind as he leaned into the window. We walked to his front door with me holding on to him this same way. Once inside the front room I could tell the place was magnificent. I glanced around the front hall and noticed that it was decorated perfectly. I didn’t want to look around right at the moment. Roger was busy putting his keys and wallet into the drawer of a table beside the door so I walked up to him, spun him around to face me and pushed him back into the door. I pushed hard and I could tell he liked it. I bent my knees slightly and then brought my hard cock up his quads and crotch pressing into him the entire time. He let out a loud moan this time and I pressed into him harder. I moved my right hand down between us and grabbed hold of his cock. It was a nice size and fully hard. As soon as my fingers gripped it tightly he let out a loud yell – not from pain, but from pleasure. I placed my mouth on his to stop the noise. His mouth responded by sucking my tongue into his throat. I began to fantasize about the job his talented mouth was going to do on other parts of my body.

 

At that moment the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stood up in warning. I knew this feeling was completely separate from the pleasure that was happening all over my body. It was the exact feeling I had every time... every time... I pushed away from Roger and turned to see Atol standing on the other side of the front room. He was staring right at Roger and me. My body reacted immediately by going into a stance of defense. My body was shaking from excitement – not fear. I was ready for a challenge.

 

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 13 

May 14th, 2007


 

The Second Full Moon - Continued

 

“Atol, my friend,” Roger said. “I am sorry if our noise alarmed you. There is no problem here. On the contrary – everything is just fine. Thank you for checking on me. I promise that we will be quieter. Really, I am fine – go back to bed”

 

Atol looked at me - and then back to Roger. He was assessed the situation and then turned around walked back down a hallway off the front room. I was still standing like I was ready for a fight. My mind was spinning. I could not figure out what was happening for a few minutes and then it dawned on me.

 

“Atol works for you,” I said harshly – turning to Roger.

 

“Yes. He is my most trusted employee. I guess you could call him my bodyguard – but he does so much more,” Roger said moving behind me and sliding his hands around my waist. He let his fingers glide over my skin just at the top of my pants. I had lost any feeling of arousal that had been there earlier. I broke free from Roger’s arms and turned around.

 

“But he has been stalking me – since the first day I arrived here. What is that all about?” I asked looking straight at Roger. I was still slightly shaking.

 

“Anthony, he has not been stalking you. I asked him to follow you.” Roger said smiling.

 

“What? Why? Roger, I don’t understand. He really scared me!” I was close to tears. I was still in shock that this giant that had frightened me so much was connected to this man that turned me on. I was so confused.

 

“Anthony,” Roger said reaching out and grabbing my hand, “please let me explain. Come, sit down and I’ll pour us a drink.” And Roger pulled me into a den just to the right of the front hall. I followed partially because I was so stunned to do anything else and also because his hand on mine calmed me a little.

 

“I don’t want a drink, Roger. I just want answers,” I said letting go of his hand when we got to the middle of the room. Roger continued to walk toward a side table with glasses and bottles of alcohol.

 

“Well I’m going to have a drink – if you don’t mind. Please sit down Anthony. I can explain everything.” Roger looked at me pleadingly and I sat in a chair. He poured himself a drink and one for me. “Here – you may want it later.” I took the drink and Roger sat in the chair across from me. “Anthony. Do you know who owns the company you work for?”

 

I was frustrated by his question and answered quickly, “No. I mean yes. I don’t know the person, but the company was sold a few months ago to a rich guy from Lon . . . don.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. Roger said he owned property all over the world. “You own my company. Don’t you?”

 

“Yes, I am that rich guy from London, I’m afraid.” Roger said looking straight at me. I could tell he was waiting for my reaction.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked trying to stay calm.

 

“I know it does not seem honest, Anthony. But please let me explain one thing before you judge me. We are about to expand our company’s operation in Europe. I need people here I can trust and people I know can help get the job done. When reviewing the work of several employees at the Texas location your knowledge and accomplishments stood out above all others. I requested that you be transferred here to help with our expansion. But, as you know, you are a mystery to most people in your office in Texas. No one could tell me a lot about you on personal level. I assume that has something to do with being gay, but I was not sure. The expansion of our company is very secret and could easily be thwarted by someone from the inside. I had Atol follow you to make sure you were not connected to any of our rival companies. I also sent him to the airport to pick you up when you arrived – not realizing the company had already made arrangements. I was new to the company and had not learned how they did things. Also, Atol is not the smartest employee – but he is the most dedicated. He told me he did not know what to do when he saw that another driver was there to pick you up – so he just left. I am sorry that all of this has been so secretive – but that is the way business is run sometimes. This is especially true when someone is about to be named vice-president of our European operations.” Roger paused to let this information sink it. For a few seconds I did not understand all of what he had just said and then it sank in.

 

“Do you mean me?” I asked. “You are saying that I am going to be vice-president of our European operations?”

 

“If you want the job, that is,” Roger said smiling. “So, you see, I could not take any chances with someone in such a high profile position. I needed to be sure that you were on board with only our company. And one more thing, Anthony – I had no idea that you would become friends with Martin. When he told me you would be at his house that night I was very excited. I knew I would get to meet you on a personal level before a professional one.” Roger paused and then added, “I also did not know I would be attracted to you.” He, again, let the information shared sink in as I tried to get my mind around all that he was saying.

 

I was trying to find something in all of this to ground me. My mind kept racing over many different things – Atol was not an enemy, I was to be vice-president of European operations, Roger owns my company, my intense attraction to him has somehow increased, and so much more. It really was too much to handle. I knew I needed time and space to sort through everything.

 

Roger finally spoke again. “Anthony, I know this is a lot of information for one night. I must also tell you that I am quite relieved you know everything. Tonight has been very difficult for me because I have enjoyed your company very much. I want to be very honest now – I want to sleep with you, Anthony. Our foreplay has excited me about all the possibilities of a more intimate connection. I also know, deep down, that we have made the right decision about bringing you to London. I am able to separate work from my personal feelings. I think you are going to be very big, Anthony, and do great things here in London. You are a great addition to our team. But I also want you to know that I intend to continue to pursue you romantically. To quote you from earlier this evening – our kisses have made my toes curl. I am ready to see where those kisses can lead us. I am desperately hoping that you intend to stay the night.”

 

By the time he finished speaking my hard-on had returned. There was no denying the passion that had built up between us during the evening. There was also no way to ignore my feelings for him. I wanted to have sex with Roger – that was for sure. I wanted to feel our naked bodies entwined with each other – and release this intense desire that had built up inside of me. But I knew I needed time to digest all that I had learned tonight. I needed some space from Roger to begin to understand what all of this meant. Sleeping with Roger also meant I was sleeping with the person who owned my company. There was so much in that one action. My body said yes, go ahead – but my head said wait, slow down.

 

I spoke deliberately and slowly, “Roger, I want you to know that I have felt the same way about tonight as you have. You are very aware of my desire for you – I have not even tried to hide it. I do want to explore this passion between us on a deeper level, yes – but I also want to process some of the new information you have shared tonight. It does change everything – whether we want it to or not. I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to stay the night. But please do not hear that as me not wanting to pursue what has begun. I am very attracted to you, as well, and I want to see where that attraction can take us. I just need time to work through everything you have shared. I mean, come on, sleeping with you now has so much more attached to it than just a lovely evening – you are ultimately my boss.”

 

Roger interrupted, “No, Anthony, I am not. Let me make that very clear. I am only involved in the setting up of the company’s expansion in Europe and then I will not be involved in the day-to-day operations. It is impossible for me to do that with all the companies I own. I stay out of the business side of things once we have established the foundation.” It was obvious that this was Roger’s way of pleading with me to stay. It was written all over his face and I could hear it in his voice.

 

“Roger, please. You own the company. You had the power to get me transferred. I have a strange feeling that you know almost every detail of what is going on in all of your dealings - at any moment. I’m just asking for a little time, that’s all. I’m not saying no to whatever the future brings. I want to slow down a little, that’s all.” I could tell that these last few sentences reassured him. They also helped me to gain a little control over my desire to tear his clothes off at that moment. I stood up from the chair and he stood up quickly, as well.

 

“I can have Atol take you home,” he said starting to walk into the front hallway. I grabbed his arm as he passed me. I turned his body toward me and wrapped my arms around his waist. I looked into his eyes.

 

“I think I’d rather walk home, Roger. But thank you.” I did want to walk home, that was true – but I also cringed at the thought of being in a car with Atol. Nothing Roger shared with me had helped to alleviate my distrust of the man. I knew that would take time. I had built such a fantasy around the guy – of how he was pursuing me for evil reasons. I needed time to re-think how I viewed Atol – and I knew it would take a while.

 

Roger locked his arms around my lower back and pulled me close to him. He brought his face down to mine and our lips met in another “toe-curling” kiss. Roger bent his legs slightly as we kissed and then squeezed me closer – lifting me slightly off the ground as he straightened back up. It was what I called a “bear-hug kiss” and it was one of my favorite things in the world. Roger held me a little in the air as our tongues explored each other’s mouths. Our hard-on’s were pushed together and this took me immediately back to the passion from earlier in the evening. I pulled my head back – taking my mouth from his. He squeezed tighter and this caused my dick to jump a little – an action that did not go unnoticed by Roger.

 

“Don’t think you can change my mind with your bad boy ways, Roger. I am definitely going home.” I brought my lips back to his for a quick peck. “You can be evil, can’t you young man?”

 

Roger smiled and said, “It looks like I have you just where I want you, Anthony. I think it would be hard for you to go anywhere if I did not want you to. Something pressing into my crotch tells me you like it this way, too. Am I right?”

 

The cocky Roger had returned. I pressed my arms out in a quick thrust to try and break his strong grip holding me. My movements had no impact on his hold. Roger was a lot stronger than I thought. He just smiled at me – and it was that devilish smile I had come to like so much. I tried to push his arms out again and he just squeezed tighter – pushing our rock hard dicks together more.

 

“Anthony, my man, I definitely think we will have fun exchanging roles when we finally get together in bed. Something tells me that you like so many of the things I like.” Roger released me and let my body slide down his the few inches to the floor. The movements made my crotch move closer to a place of losing control. I immediately pushed away from Roger – before my body’s desires took over my head’s intention of leaving. I believe Roger knew he could easily win me over – but instead he began to walk to the front hallway. “May I call you tomorrow, Anthony? I know proper manners say I should wait a few days, but I was never one for manners.”

 

I could hear the humor in his voice. I followed him to the hallway. He opened the front door as I said, “That would be very nice, Roger.” I stood in front of him in the doorway. Roger grabbed the back of my head with his left hand and pulled my face to his. My mouth welcomed his and he kissed me hard – again letting the stubble of his face press into the skin around my mouth. I moaned slightly and he let go of the doorknob with his right hand and reached out to grab my hard cock. He squeezed it slightly and the impossible happened – it got even harder. I put my hands on Roger’s chest and pushed my body and mouth from his. He let go of my cock and just stood there - smiling at me. He looked more handsome than he had at any point in the evening.

 

“I think you are going to be the downfall of me, Mr. Wexford,” I said stepping outside onto the steps that led to his door. I turned to look at him one last time.

 

“I’m going to do my best, Mr. Lance,” he said laughing slightly, “I’m going to do my best.” I smiled at him, gave a little wave, and turned to head home. At the street I turned back to the house and saw that Roger was still standing in the doorway – making my heart beat faster and my blood pump stronger – especially in one area of my body.

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 14 

July 8th, 2007


 

The Second Full Moon - Continued

 

I don’t remember much about walking home from Roger’s house. I was walking in a slight stupor – not from the alcohol, but from the memory of my kisses with Roger. I was still hard by the time I reached my flat. I was very tired, but I also wanted to avoid sleep so I could remain in the euphoria of the moment. I began to regret not sleeping with Roger. All memory of Atol in the house had left my body. I was in what I would describe as a “lust trance.” I wanted to be naked in bed with this very sensual man – with this man that made me weak at the knees! I felt as if I were on the edge of a cliff wanting to jump off and fall into a waiting ocean – full of the unknown, but so inviting. Something was definitely pulling me towards this sexy man and I was allowing it to envelope all of me. I lay down on my bed fully clothed and was asleep in less than five minutes.

 

Sometime near morning I fell into another deep dream – similar to the one before. Again the dream began in darkness. I knew I was, once again, in the middle of a giant field. This time there was no full moon to light the area – it was complete darkness. My body was fully aware that someone or something was coming nearer to me. I felt on fire again with anticipation – but this time the feeling was different. It was not a feeling of arousal or pleasure. This time it was a distinct feeling of preparing for something unknown – but it was also mixed with fear. I crouched low to the ground and listened closely - to ready myself for some kind of battle. I knew something evil was drawing near to me – but I could not see it. I could not get fully prepared because I did not know what to expect. Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up the sky. It was too quick for me to get a full view of what surrounded me – but I could tell that I was, indeed, in the field that was surrounded by a thick forest. Thundered rolled through the area loudly and made the earth beneath me vibrate. My heart was racing and every molecule of my body was tense from anticipation. A second lightning bolt lit the sky and this one lasted longer – the storm that was coming was obviously close by. In that instance of light I was able to see what was causing me fear.

 

This time there were no nude muscled men on horses coming towards me in the field. I could see that I was surrounded by figures in hooded dark cloaks. I could see no faces – or no skin at all, for that matter. There were about one hundred dark figures moving towards me. I could sense that I was completely surrounded. The approaching army was about fifty feet away. A third lightning bolt lit the sky as the deafening thunder of the second bolt pierced the silence in the field. A strong wind had begun to sweep across the space. During the brief moment of the third flash I saw that the figures had moved quickly and were almost in striking distance. My body instinctively readied for the battle that was coming. Rain began to shower the entire scene. I felt a battle cry building within me. Many things happened at the same moment – I suddenly stood and bellowed a yell that was filled with a promise of destruction, lightning raced across the sky showing me that the enemy was close enough to feel the heat of my body, hands as cold as ice grabbed me from all directions, and in that same instant, I awoke - sitting straight up in bed.

 

My breathing was hard, my body was completely tense, and I, again, could hear my scream echoing in the room. It took me a full thirty seconds to realize where I was. Light was streaming into the bedroom and I could tell it was late morning. I was able to calm myself and finally my heart stopped racing. Even after becoming calm I could sense a deep fear somewhere within myself. I could not understand where the fear came from or what it was about. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was ten in the morning. I knew I needed coffee. I got out of bed and went to the kitchen – noting that I still had on the clothes from last night. This fact made me think of Roger immediately.

 

I lowered my head and pulled my shirt to my nose to see if Roger’s scent was still there – and it was. I was suddenly thrust back to the magic of last night and lost in the memory of the hold this man had on my body. I still craved to be surrounded by his strong arms and locked in a passionate kiss. The vivid dream of earlier had caused me to wake up without a morning hard-on, but that changed completely after my thoughts about Roger. I knew there would have to be some release to this little problem during my morning shower. I forced myself to focus on the task of making coffee as my cell phone began to ring. I walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the phone. I smiled to myself when I saw that it was the number from yesterday afternoon – it was Roger.

 

“Well good morning, Mr. Wexford,” I said trying to sound as sexy as possible. My morning voice made it somewhat difficult.

 

“And a good morning to you, Mr. Lance. How are we this morning?” Roger asked and I was immediately thrown deeper into the euphoria of last night.

 

“We are doing fantastic – and all the better because of this call!” I replied and I am sure he could tell I was smiling broadly.

 

“I had a wonderful time last night. Thank you for gracing me with your presence. It would have, however, been much better if I had awakened with you in my arms this morning.” The charming and seductive Roger struck again.

 

“That does sound nice, Mr. Wexford, but I do not regret my decision to come home,” I said trying to sound convincing.

 

“I might not let you leave so easily next time, Anthony. I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be. And if that doesn’t work I could always use force,” Roger said laughing softly.

 

Even though somewhere in the back of my mind I noticed a strange feeling about his comment, I still answered, “You might not need to persuade me at all next time. I might turn the tables and force myself on you. How about that, Mr. Wexford?”

 

“Sounds like a challenge. And I think you know how much I like challenges, Anthony. As a matter of fact – I believe you like the challenge almost as much as I do,” Roger said obviously toying with me.

 

I matched his intensity by saying, “If you feel that you are up to the challenge, Mr. Wexford, I might just have to show you how determined to win I can be when competing. I’m wondering if are truly prepared to test my abilities.”

 

“Touché, Mr. Lance, touché. I believe we should end this part of the conversation before I come over there and conquer you right now,” Roger said laughing out loud.

 

“It would not be hard to conquer the willing,” I said causing him to laugh again.

 

“Well before this call spirals into a conversation that would make my grandmother blush, I will tell you that I called to see if you would be available for a little excursion tomorrow? I was thinking it would be a wonderful day to take you to visit the beautiful city of Oxford. You know – college students, bicycles, old buildings, and some wonderful old pubs.” Roger knew my answer before I even responded.

 

“I can think of nothing that would excite me more. Well, that’s not entirely true. I can think of one thing that excites me more – but we wouldn’t be leaving your place if we did that,” I said and I marveled at how bold I was becoming. Something in Roger continued to bring out the bad boy in me.

 

“Now, now, Anthony. I am going to honor your desire to take things slow. I know there was a lot of information shared last night and I would not want to jeopardize the budding connection we have. As a matter of fact I see this as part of the incredible foreplay you desire so much. I do not need immediate gratification, but only the promise that gratification is guaranteed at some point.” I could tell Roger knew this kind of talk excited me greatly.

 

“They say there are no guarantees in life, Roger, but I believe you could bet your entire fortune on the potential of the so-called gratification you seek. I have a feeling a field of wild horses could not drag either of us away from what the future promises.” And as soon as that statement had come out of my mouth I was drawn back to my dream of a few nights ago and the dream that was still fresh from this morning.

 

I believe Roger could tell that my mind drifted away so he quickly said, “Well then, I think we are both on the same page, Anthony, and that makes me very happy. I will be at your place around eight thirty tomorrow morning – that way we can catch the nine o’clock train. Will that work for you?”

 

“I can hardly wait. Thank you for this kind invitation,” I said.

 

“It is entirely my pleasure, Anthony. I hope this is the first of many excursions we take – both locally and beyond. I also hope there are many excursions into two beds planned for our future,” Roger said trying to get me to return to talk that would excite us both.

 

“No, no, Mr. Wexford. I refuse to go there with you again. I am already going to have to take a cold shower this morning – and it is your fault entirely. I will see you tomorrow morning. Have a great day,” I said emphatically.

 

“What did I say? I was just talking about the future and how much I looked forward to feeling your naked body up against mine…” Roger said, but I interrupted him.

 

“I am hanging up now. Goodbye.” And I hung up the phone. I stood there for a while thinking back on the conversation and smiling. I finally returned to fixing coffee. I really needed some caffeine – even though my body was wide-awake from the excitement caused by the conversation with Roger. I also still had a raging hard-on. My phone began to ring again and I grabbed it without looking at the number.

 

I knew it was Roger and quickly said, “You are going to have to give my body some time to recover from our conversations before you call again!”

 

“Emmm, Anthony? It is Martin. What was that you were saying?” Martin asked and I could feel my face turn red immediately.

 

“Oh, Martin. I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else.” I stammered into the phone.

 

“How are you my dear boy?” Martin asked quickly to make me feel more comfortable.

 

“I’m great, Martin. Just great,” I said getting back some composure.

 

“Did you have a nice lunch with Manfred yesterday?” Martin asked.

 

“Yes, I did. It was great. And guess what, Martin. I also had a nice dinner last night with someone else from your party.” I needed to share with someone about my time with Roger and I knew my friend Martin loved to hear stories. There was a slight pause on the other end of the line – just long enough for me to notice Martin’s hesitation.

 

“Anthony, did you have dinner with Roger last night?” I could hear the concern in Martin’s voice.

 

“Yes, Martin,” I said, ignoring that he sounded weird, “and it was fantastic. How did you guess? Did you also know he owns my company?”

 

“I did not know that Anthony. How interesting. I am glad you had a good time. Do you think you will see him again?” Martin was slowly coming back to the friend I knew. He sounded more at ease.

 

“Well, we’re going to Oxford tomorrow. I can’t wait. I have always wanted to visit Oxford.” I could feel the excitement building in me with each sentence.

 

“That is great, Anthony. Does this mean that we won’t be going to the antique store over in Covent Garden?” Martin asked. I had completely forgotten about our planned visit to the shop that had mysteriously disappeared – or that I couldn’t find.

 

“Oh, Martin, I am so sorry. Do you mind if we do that some other Sunday? I really do want to see Oxford. We can go to the shop another day. Is that alright?” I asked feeling a rush of embarrassment that came from forgetting about our plans and the fact that I was making Martin prove to me that an entire building had not vanished into thin air.

 

“Of course we can go there on a different day, Anthony. You should go to Oxford. It will be a great time for you. It is a lovely place. Just make sure you are… oh, never mind. I just want you to have a great time.” Martin quickly added – covering up some thought.

 

“Just make sure I am what, Martin?” I asked.

 

“Oh, it is quite silly of me, Anthony,” Martin explained. “I was going to tell you to make sure you are careful with Roger. He is known to break hearts. I am just being an overprotective old man. I care for you, Anthony, and I want you to be happy. Just be careful with yourself.”

 

I was touched by Martin’s concern. This confirmed he was a good friend. I also knew I would have to ask a lot more about Roger’s past at some point. I did not, however, want to know right now. I was too excited about the potential relationship – and a day in Oxford. I assured Martin, “Thank you very much, Martin. You are a good friend. Trust me. I had my heart hurt once this week and I don’t want it to happen a second time. I will be careful.” I was referring to Manfred, of course – and Martin knew it.

 

Martin turned philosophical when he added, “My dear Anthony, just remember that things are not always as they seem. There are many mysteries in the world and people do grow – in different ways. I think time will reveal a lot of things, so just make sure you go slowly.”

 

It was a typical bizarre Martin statement. Again I began to think that Martin might be losing his mind – and this made me very sad. I assured again him by saying, “Martin, I promise to take care of myself. Oh, I almost forgot. Remember that guy that I told you was stalking me? That really tall guy – his name is Atol. Guess what? He works for Roger and he was following me to make sure I was going to be good for the company. That is a big relief. I can’t believe how paranoid I was.”

 

“Was it paranoia or awareness?” Martin asked and I became lost in the craziness of the question. Then he quickly added, “Oh, do not worry, Anthony. I am so into drama – see how I create it wherever I go? I am certainly glad you are not being stalked. I am also glad that you will take care of yourself. By the way, will you be at Manfred’s on Monday night?”

 

“Yes. Will you be there, too?” I asked hopefully.

 

“I most certainly will. I look forward to seeing you there. Have a great time in Oxford. I will want a detailed report on Monday. Remember – keep a mental log of everything so you can share, share, share. I live vicariously through you, you know.” Martin said laughing.

 

“I will certainly fill you in on all the sordid details, Martin. You can be sure of that. Have a great rest of the weekend. See you Monday,” I said hanging up the phone. I quickly forgot about the phone call because I re-focused on making coffee. I also decided that I would go for a run before eating anything. It was another beautiful day and I was feeling fantastic. It was hard to believe that I had only been in London for one week. So much had happened. I was feeling a lot better about my stay in this city – and who knew, maybe it would turn into something permanent. I pushed those thoughts from my head. I just wanted to enjoy the present moment and not rush anything. I started thinking about my job – almost wishing I were beginning that week. I forced myself to return to the excitement of playing and exploring for two more weeks. Work would be here soon enough. I planned out the rest of my day. I would go for a run, I would do a little shopping – maybe going to one of the open-air markets that were so popular in London, and then I would return to the National Portrait Gallery – I wanted to spend some more time there. The late afternoon would have to include a stop at Halfway to Heaven. I was missing my afternoon pint of Stella Artois.

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 15 

August 9th, 2007


 

The Second Full Moon - Continued

 

My Saturday was exactly as I planned it. I went to the open-air market and bought some fresh food, took a long run, spent some time at the National Portrait Gallery, and ended the evening at Halfway to Heaven. No one I knew was at the pub. I was hoping that Martin would drop by, but he didn’t. I had a few pints of Stella and then went home. I was getting very excited about my excursion to Oxford with Roger. At home I watched some television, ate a late dinner, and went to bed early. I wanted to be wide-awake in the morning when Roger arrived at 8:30.

 

As I drifted between the last moments of awareness and sleep I found myself fantasizing about Roger. When we had been together the night before a strange force shot through my body each time he touched me. It was hard to explain. It was something more than lust. It was almost like an addiction. There was something like an animal magnetism exploding from every part of his being – and it had a strange effect on me. It was like my body was being drawn to his by some unknown connection. This strong bond definitely included a need for sex, but it also involved something deeper – and even in my drowsy state, my mind tried desperately to figure out what special power this man had over me. My body recalled the strength of his arms as they held me. I knew there was a fantastic body underneath those tailor-made clothes. I also knew that my body longed to match the intensity of his. The closest I could come to naming the feeling that surrounded me was comparing it to the intense awareness two wrestlers must feel as they engage in the sport. I had never wrestled, but I was sure that you became very aware of your opponent’s every move as your body entwines with his. I am sure that many wrestlers found it difficult to not get an erection from the close masculine contact – especially when strong arms wrapped around each other and tried to out-power the opponent. There must be a thin line between wrestling and sex. This was my last thought before I drifted into sleep.

 

That night there were no dreams. My subconscious was aware of the void in my mind. When I woke I had the strange feeling that something had wanted to drift into my mind as I slept – but a stronger force blocked it. It was as if an outside force was controlling everything I thought. I did, however, awake refreshed and energized. I could feel the excitement and anticipation building in my body - as the time of Roger’s arrival got closer. I chose a tight fitting shirt that showed off my eyes and a pair of slacks that hopefully emphasized my butt. I looked in the mirror and actually liked what I saw – no, I really liked what I saw. I could tell that my body reacted strongly to the running and the exercising – or was Roger’s interest in me fueling this upward surge in self-esteem? Either way – I didn’t care. I liked what I saw and I knew Roger would too.

 

At eight thirty my doorbell rang – not the buzzer at the front of the building, but the bell right outside my door. It surprised me. I immediately wondered how Roger had gotten into the building. I opened the door - trying hard to contain the excitement welling up inside of me.

 

Roger stood there – looking more handsome than ever. He held a bouquet of roses and had that devilish smile that made crazy with desire.

 

“Good morning, handsome,” he said handing me the flowers and then leaning in to give me a quick kiss on the lips. The same electricity as from Friday night shot through my entire body – and I knew he felt the same thing. “Are you ready to go explore the wonderful city of Oxford?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Wexford, I am. Thank you for the roses. I’ll put them in some water and then we should be on our way – or we might never leave this flat,” I said walking to the kitchen and reaching down to adjust my hard cock.

 

“That wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, Mr. Lance – would it?” Roger’s voice was light and full of mirth. He was walking around the place looking at the decor.

 

“No, it wouldn’t, but I really want to see Oxford. I hope you are ready to play tour guide. Please know that I will ask a million questions. You’ll probably get bored of me in the first hour.” I had joined him in the dining area by this time and placed the flowers on the table between us.

 

“I see you have a replica of Lancelot’s glove,” he said glancing at my mantel.

 

“Yes, I got it last week. But the guy said it wasn’t a replica. Wait a minute – how did you know it is Lancelot’s glove? And while I’m asking questions – how did you get into the building?” I turned from the mantel and looked at him.

 

“Anthony – you don’t grow up in England without knowing the Camelot story intimately. You should also know that my family has an ancient connection with the King Arthur legacy. If you were from England you would know that the emblem on the side of the glove represents ‘Lancelot du Lac.’ It’s quite an impressive looking glove. And, in answer to your second question, there was a nice elderly woman leaving as I walked up and she politely held the door open for me. That is how tight the security is in your building.” Roger laughed slightly and I noticed, again, how handsome he was. His black hair was not slicked back with gel today – it was full and fell into his face as he moved. I had not realized how long his hair was the other night. And his eyes sparkled more today than ever – like some dark jewel that was brown and, yet, appeared almost pitch black.

 

I found myself being drawn into an uncontrollable lust – which would only lead to trouble this morning – so I grabbed the glove and walked toward Roger, “Here, do you want to see it closer or, better yet, try it on?”

 

Roger immediately said, “No,” and almost tripped over a chair as he moved quickly backwards. It was a glimpse of Roger that I was seeing for the first time – it was almost like he was scared of the glove. He seemed to let his guard down for just a moment and then regained his usual cockiness. “Thank you, Anthony. But I think we should get going so we don’t miss our train.”

 

“Sure – let me just get my jacket. I thought it might get cool later on tonight,” I said placing the glove back in its place and walking to the bedroom. I forgot about Roger’s reaction because of my excitement about going to Oxford. That giddy mood also made me miss the fact that Roger followed me into the bedroom. When I grabbed the jacket off the bed and turned around I was surprised that Roger was right there. I jumped slightly and began to lose my balance. Roger reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders. His strong grip steadied me immediately. I could see in his eyes he had something more on his mind than catching me. He pushed me gently onto the bed – coming slowly down on top of me. I let go of the jacket and it fall to the floor. Roger let the full weight of his body rest on top of me. He brought his mouth to mine and kissed me hard. I noticed for the first time that Roger had, what felt like, a two-day beard – God, it was sexy. The kiss was deep and passionate. As much as I enjoyed the kiss – it was the feeling of his body pressed against mine that got my attention.

 

Everywhere his body touched mine I felt only hardness. His chest pressed into mine and I could tell it was well muscled – in that lean, not beefy, sort of way. His legs even felt hard as rock as they wrapped around mine. I could tell he possessed great power in those two pillars of muscle. He was able to slide his arms under my upper body and I could feel super tight biceps and forearms squeezing me hard. And speaking of hard – I felt his rigid cock twitching with excitement between us. I could tell he was controlling the movements of his cock – just to make me notice. I am sure he could feel the hard response coming from my crotch, as well. When he started slowly and intentionally moving his own crotch up and down – forcing shivers to shoot from my toes to the tip of my head – I knew we needed to stop now or we’d be cleaning up my “response” in a few seconds.

 

I turned my mouth from his and whispered in his ear, “Oxford is calling Mr. Wexford!”

 

“Couldn’t we just stay like this the rest of the day?” he asked – as he, thankfully, stopped pressing his hard dick into mine.

 

“We could – but I’m not sure I would be learning any cultural facts about this great country,” I said teasingly.

 

“While that is true, Mr. Lance, I do believe we could learn many things right here in this bed – many, of which, might be considered somewhat cultural. Don’t you agree? Maybe we do some things differently here – differently than how you do them in the States,” Roger whispered as he lightly bit my left earlobe.

 

“I believe there are some things that are universal, sir,” I said carrying on the banter. “No matter where a person lives – there are some things that are just instinctive and already known - because our body reacts automatically. I think every human on earth would know what to do with a beautiful man with long sexy black hair, dark eyes, a wicked smile, and a body that could melt icebergs. But right now I think that beautiful man should stand up or his nice linen pants could become wet and stained - because of the man beneath him.”

 

Roger laughed, kissed me hard one more time, and then stood up. I immediately glanced to his crotch to see the perfect outline of his lovely piece of manhood. He saw where I was looking and teasingly ran his hand up and down the outline of his shaft. I shut my eyes to prevent myself from going over the edge. I felt his strong hands, again, grab me by the shoulders and pull me from the bed. When I opened my eyes I saw him walking from the room with my jacket in hand. “Come along Mr. Lance – it is time for your lessons to begin.”

 

I had to stand still for a second. I knew, at that moment, any movement would cause my cock to shoot with pleasure. I made my mind think about things that I didn’t like – turnips, eating dinner at Hooters, the way my mother nagged about my manners – anything to take me away from the feeling, the smell, and the memory of that incredibly sexy man. I worried about how I would make it through the day. I began to walk only after I knew my body was safe – safe from exploding.

 

Oxford is almost like a secret city tucked away in the countryside of Middle England. It lies about fifty miles west-northwest of London. It seems to have been established in Saxon times – around the 8th century. Oxford University is really what the city is known for now – and it is made up of 36 colleges. The city is a quiet place - full of tradition, education, and a vitality that comes from so many young people. The train ride was wonderful – Roger told me we could have driven, but he wanted me to experience the train – since most people traveled to Oxford that way. It was also great to be able to look at the countryside together. Once we got there, we walked the streets of the city and Roger showed me a lot of the well-known colleges. We stopped at a pub called the “Eagle and Child” – nicknamed the Bird and the Baby – for lunch and a couple of pints. This place was well known because of a literary group that met in the back room many years ago – including C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. The pub even had napkins and papers framed around the place that were handwritten notes from these writers and more. It was a place of much history. We visited the Ashmoleon Museum and caught an afternoon matinee of a play downtown. The day was capped off with a wonderful dinner at the Old Parsonage Hotel – a beautifully renovated building. This completed a fantastic day. Sitting in the small dining room – that was pretty vacant - Roger became a little quiet.

 

He finally said, “I am afraid I must go out of town on business, Anthony.”

 

I had not picked up on his apparent sadness and said, “Well that’s the life of a big businessman – when do you leave?”

 

“Tonight, I am afraid,” he said looking directly at me. I am sure he saw the disappointment in my face. “I know it is terrible timing, my good friend – but the trip cannot be avoided. I am leaving for the States at midnight. Atol will be here soon to take me to the airport. I am sorry that I waited to tell you now – but I did not want to ruin our day together. I have found all of it truly wonderful – I hope you know that.”

 

I quickly decided to not let my disappointment ruin the evening – or to let Roger know how sad I was that we would not be sleeping together. I said, “Well, Roger, my boy, you certainly remember how much I like foreplay – so we will just chalk this up to building the excitement even more between us.” I smiled too broadly, I’m sure – I bet Roger saw through my facade of casualness. I added, “How long will you be gone?”

 

“It is hard to say – I am acquiring a new company based in New York and might need to be there for three to four weeks – it really depends on how smooth the acquisition goes,” he answered searching my face for a reaction.

 

This time I hid nothing – I became quite selfish and said, “So, you won’t even be here as I begin work at your company?”

 

“No, I am afraid not,” was all he said. There was a moment of silence and I regained some of my composure. He finally continued, “I do not know if this helps or not – but I do believe the bond between us is becoming stronger and stronger. I hope you feel the same way, Anthony.”

 

The word “bond” stung in a strange way – or did I just find it odd. My emotions were on overload so I couldn’t sort anything out at the moment. I looked Roger straight in the eye and said, “I am deeply attracted to you, Roger. You know that. I’m disappointed you’re leaving – I can’t deny that – but I am positive that we will be able to pick up from this moment when you return. What is that famous saying? Absence makes the dick grow harder. Do I have it correct?”

 

Roger laughed out loud and said, “I am not sure that is the way it was originally said. You know, of course, that the real phrase was used as the title of an anonymously written English poem back in the early 1600s. You might have to write a new poem using your version as its title.”

 

I was happy that I made Roger laugh. A silence surrounded us as he insisted on paying the bill and we walked outside. I could see a black limo parked down the lane. We walked slowly in its direction and I could make out a huge figure in the driver’s seat – Atol. Roger motioned to Atol to stay in the car as we moved down the length of the giant limo. Roger maneuvered my body between him and the back end of the car – he bent his legs slightly and pressed his crotch into my mine. We were both hard instantly – it was becoming a familiar feeling. Roger reached down and grabbed my ass with both of his large hands. He easily lifted my body slowly – and my crotch pressed hard against his giant cock. He moaned lightly. He moved my ass onto the back of the car – and slid his hands up my back – resting them on my shoulder blades. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled his body tightly into mine. I could tell he was impressed by the strength in my thighs and calves.

 

He smiled at me and said, “I meant to tell you that this shirt highlights your upper body very well. You seem different – almost bigger in some way.” He knew the compliment turned me on.

 

“Let’s just say that I’ve been working out,” I said smiling back and running my hands up and down his sides beneath his arms.

 

“Oh, a growing boy, I see,” he said trying to tickle my stomach. I could see the disappointment when he realized I wasn’t ticklish – well not in that spot, at least.

 

I grabbed his right hand and slid it down to my hardened cock saying, “Boy? I think you better check again Mr. Wexford. I believe you will see that what you are holding is all man.” He squeezed softly - but firmly – and it was my turn to moan. People were walking by on the sidewalk but neither of us cared. I reached up and pulled Roger’s face into mine and kissed him. I let my tongue explore every part of his mouth and a lot of his throat. He easily accepted my probing and it made me look forward to the moment something else would be in his throat. Even though he tried to hide it, I could tell he glanced at his watch as we kissed. The mood that had been set by our wonderful foreplay was immediately destroyed. I pulled my body back, but he grabbed me and embraced me one last time. The intensity of his hug caused all the air to rush out of my body. His display of strength turned me on – and he knew it. Right before we almost released what had been building inside of us all day, Roger let go and stepped back. He was such a tease – he knew exactly how much our bodies could take – and he danced us both up to the edge and then backed away. He was surely the master of foreplay.

 

“Shall I drop you off at the train station?” He asked opening the door.

 

I slid off the car and said, “No, I don’t think so. I plan on going back into the hotel here and taking my sexual frustration out on our cute little waiter. What do you think of that?”

 

Roger smiled and said, “I don’t think you will, Mr. Lance.”

 

I hated and loved his cockiness - at the same time. “Oh, and why is that Mr. Wexford?” I asked as he slid into the back seat of the car.

 

“Because we were waited on by a fifty year old woman with bad teeth,” he said looking up at me and laughing. “Are you sure you are okay to get back to London?”

 

He was right, of course. Throughout the meal I had focused only on him – but now I did remember our waitress. “I’ll be fine,” I said, “I might even end up staying in Oxford for the night.”

 

“Well, when you do decide to leave there will be a ticket waiting for you at the station. All you have to do is show them your identification. Good night sweet prince – I will call from New York and we will see each other very soon. I promise. I ask only one thing while I am away,” he said as he rolled down the window, tapped on the glass barrier between him and Atol, and shut his door.

 

“What’s that,” I asked.

 

“That you promise me you will not sleep with Manfred,” he said loudly as the car drove away. He watched me with that huge devilish smile and kept his gaze on me until the car disappeared into the traffic.

 

I said out loud – and to no one, “Manfred! What makes you think I would ever sleep with him?” I then noticed a couple on the street staring at me. I quickly walked away – and went back to the station catching the 9:00pm train to London. My body was so wasted from the sexual tension of the day that I slept most of the trip. When I arrived home I went straight to bed – even though I still had the same raging hard on.

 

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 16 

September 1st, 2007


 

The Second Full Moon - Continued

 

I woke up very early Monday morning in a cloud of sadness. I was depressed because Roger would be gone for almost four weeks! My depression was caused mostly by the fact that we didn’t get a chance to move beyond our incredible foreplay into some wild and – hopefully – mutually pleasing sex. As I drank my first cup of coffee and ate some breakfast I began to feel better. I actually started to see Roger’s absence as a good thing. Maybe I would finally be able to explore more of this great city while he was away. I believe we would have spent most of our time in the bedroom if he had not gone out of the country. I would be able to wait for his return and, in the meantime, would search for other ways to occupy my time.

 

At around 6:30am I began to crave going for a long run. I got dressed and stepped out into another perfect summer day. The city was actually quiet – and this caught me off guard. I wondered where all the business people - usually trekking to the office – were at this moment. I decided to take my favorite route on today’s run. I would end up along the Thames and knew of a stretch of road going west that had very few stoplights for a few miles. This made running easier – because there wasn’t a lot of stop and go motion. I felt like pushing myself hard today – seeing what these legs could do. Sometimes they felt unstoppable and I wanted to test them and see what that meant.

 

I, again, marveled at the fact that there were almost no cars on the road. As I came upon the final stoplight before the stretch of road where I would test my abilities, I noticed a biker waiting for the light to turn green. I could tell right away by the muscled legs, the broad back, and the slightly hairy arms it was a man – and what a man! He had the kind of legs that make other people cry – huge muscled thighs and calves that looked bigger than some small children. He was out in the middle of the road – so he was pretty far from me when I got to the light. He turned to look at me and caught me staring at him. He gave me a big smile – flashing perfect white teeth – and nodded his head. I boldly smiled back – something that was unusual for me.

 

“How about we see what you got, stud,” he yelled from the street. It was hard to hear him, so at first I didn’t understand what he had said. At that moment the light turned green and he loudly yelled, “Let’s race!” and he immediately took off.

 

I had been jogging in place and when I finally heard what he said I stopped all movement and stood there. The dark sunglasses he was wearing – along with the helmet on his head - made it impossible to read his face. Was he actually serious? In the seconds since the light had turned green and he shouted his remarks something powerful happened within me – a force took over my body. The guy’s challenge had stirred a reaction in me that came from some “never tapped” part of my psyche. My body immediately became a machine and acted without any direction or thought-process from my brain. My legs instinctively began running. I am sure if there had been a camera recording my initial start to this race it would have shown me looking like a cartoon character whose legs run in place as the body revs up for a blast of energy that sends it screeching forward. The biker was already a few yards ahead of me. I saw him glance back and smile with a “see you sucker” look.

 

I cannot begin to describe what happened next. My legs were pounding the pavement like a wild mustang in an open field. I could feel the wind whipping past my body and I somehow knew that this would really be no contest – the biker was going to lose. There was a drive within me that took over every part of my body – it was not going to let me down. When the biker turned around a second time his mouth fell open as he found me running even with him. I heard him cry out “what the fuck!” And then the unimaginable happened - I passed him. To give him a little credit, though, we were beginning a pretty sharp incline up a hill. My powerful legs were pushing me forward without any strained effort. As I came to a pretty sharp curve in the road I knew the biker was now far behind me. I knew there was a stoplight just beyond the corner. As I got to the light I stopped and turned around. The biker had not even made it to the curve yet. I saw a bench just by the road and quickly jumped up on it – sitting on the back with my feet on the seat – looking like I had been waiting there for a while. The guy came around the corner and, seeing me, slammed on his brakes. The bike skidded sideways as it stopped and he ended up looking straight at me – completely dumbfounded.

 

“That was incredible, mate! Who are you – superman?” he asked haltingly between heavy breaths. It was at that moment I realized I wasn’t breathing hard at all. I was, however, on fire with desire – but for what? My body wanted something in return for winning the challenge. It knew I was the victor and it wanted to make sure this guy accepted his defeat. I jumped down from the bench and walked toward the bike – standing in front of him hovering over the handlebars.

 

“Not superman – just a guy that likes a little challenge. I also like to win,” I responded and I knew my smile and cocky attitude made him weak at the knees. I instinctively got that I had control over him at this moment and could have asked him to do anything. I longed for some type of prize – and began to visualize a plan to get one. It was at that moment I heard a soft voice within - warning me to not give in to this desire. It was pretty soft, but I heard it clearly.

 

My body responded by surging the need for this man to succumb to my power so great that it drowned out the warning. I reached up and grabbed the man by the hair at the back of his head. I pulled his face into mine and our lips met in an intense kiss – his mouth opening in submission to my probing tongue. I could feel his body responding to my power as he tightened his grip on the handlebars and let out a moan of desire. I sucked in strongly and forced his tongue to slide into my mouth – letting it scrape firmly across my teeth. My tongue then overpowered his – another show of dominance – pushed back into his mouth and continued to explore the back of his throat. A car honked loudly as it passed - because we were slightly in the road. I let go of his head unlocking our lips and pulling my head back - smiling at him. He was in sexual-desire overload – I could tell. He quickly looked around.

 

“Can we please go over there?” he asked pointing to a clearing in some bushes across the road. I simply walked away – towards where he had indicated – knowing he would follow like a well-behaved eager puppy. Again I heard a small voice crying out for me to stop before I went too far. I ignored it and stepped into a slight open space within the high shrubs. I turned to see him lay his bike on the grass as then he stepped into the area, as well. I reached out and grabbed him – pulling his body into mine. Again, our lips met in a vacuum-like kiss. I thanked God for thin biker shorts as I felt his hard cock pressed against mine. I reached down - grabbing his ass cheeks and squeezing – and pulled his body roughly into mine.

 

He was my height but I could tell he had a bigger build. This didn’t matter a bit, though – I knew I was in control. My body had won the right to dominate his – and he wanted it that way. I pressed my crotch into his and aggressively rubbed them together. I could tell that this motion would quickly cause him to explode – so I stopped. I had other needs that had to be met first. I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed him to his knees. He cried out as our lips parted – like when a child has his favorite toy taken away.

 

Once on his knees I grabbed the back of his head with both hands and forced his face into the front of my jogging shorts. He immediately forgot about our kiss as his mouth opened to run along my hard cock through the fabric. It was my turn to moan – and I sounded like some animal in heat. I kept one hand on his head and moved the other one to the elastic band around my shorts. In one movement I had my rigid dick out and the swollen head pressed up against his lips. I shoved my rod into his unprepared mouth – causing him to gag slightly. He quickly recovered and opened his throat wide to accept me completely. I immediately started pushing my cock back and forth in his warm wet mouth. This guy was an excellent cocksucker.

 

I felt very proud when after a few minutes of sucking on my piece of meat the guy’s body began to shake from an orgasm. The guy had cum just from my display of power – both during our race and in our sex. Even as he came he continued to suck on my cock – as if the action intensified his pleasure. It was certainly increasing mine! I finally let out a thunderous yell and unloaded my juice into his waiting mouth. I continued to shove my piece into his throat a few times after I was done – just because I knew he wanted to feel my power a few more times. I pulled his head off of my cock and he glanced up at me with a look of immense satisfaction. I swung my hips a few times causing my still-hard cock to slap up against his face. This made him purr with delight. I reached down and helped him stand – bringing our mouths and bodies together again for one last kiss.

 

He wrapped his arms around me and held on in a way that told me he was smitten. At any moment I knew he was going to ask for my number – or, worse, ask when he could move in. I knew that I had dominated him in a way he was not used too – and it had opened something new inside of him. Hell, he had probably been straight before me. I pulled myself from his body and looked into his eyes. I could tell it was dawning on him that this was a one-time exchange. I saw sadness engulf his face, but the pleasure of my conquest left me with no sympathy. He had challenged me and lost. My reward had been to receive pleasure from him – his own pleasure had simply been a by-product of my needs being met. He somehow knew all of this after just those few seconds.

 

“I must run,” I said looking at him. And then, without even thinking, I added, “There are many other conquests out there waiting for me.” I stepped away from him – back into the street and took off running back towards my place. I had a giant smile on my face – knowing that I had crossed an important line today. I thought of Roger, of Manfred, and even of the two recent dreams that had seemed so real. Something was being unleashed in me and I really liked it. I wanted more of this feeling. I wanted more of this power that flowed through my body. I wanted to dominate other men. This was definitely going to be a great day.

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman In London - Part 17 

August 26th, 2008


 

The Second Full Moon - Continued

 

By the time I neared my flat at the end of my morning run, and my morning sexual encounter with the man on the bike, I was feeling very guilty about how I had treated him. I had a distant memory of my desire to conquer the man – to beat him in our little race, but I also began to feel like something had taken over my entire being. It was totally out of character. I struggled to figure out what had made me want to dominate him. I also wanted to understand why I wanted to get off so badly that I would step into the bushes with the guy. It wasn’t that I was opposed to something like a one-night-stand, those had happened a lot when I first came out, but what I had desired from this exchange was so different and was also beginning to scare me a little. It was something primeval, something I could not easily control. I stopped about a block from my place and sat down on a bench. I wanted to spend a few minutes focused on my memories of the situation before it left my mind forever.

 

My desire to show the guy that I could outrun his bicycle came from some unknown place deep inside me. No, it was more than that. I had known I could outrun the bike before we even began. I knew I was going to win before the race started. And the blowjob was simply a just reward for my victory. Even as these thoughts passed through my head it seemed like I was contemplating another person. I wasn’t very competitive. Hell, I wasn’t very athletic. But there had been something inside of me that wanted to show off, wanted to make the guy see how powerful I was. This last thought made me look around – I guess to see if anyone was noticing the beast that somehow was taking over my body. For that is what it felt like when I allowed myself to re-live the experience from this morning. I felt like I was stepping into some type of dark void that mysteriously fed a side of me that had never been nourished before. And to top it off, the feeling was incredible. My cock was hard again, just as it had been after I had outrun the bicycle. It was as if I was perched on some unseen fence and knew I could easily fall in one direction that would cause me to search out the next good looking man that passed and force him to succumb to my power or I could just as easily fall in the direction that simply chalked the earlier experience as a need arising from Roger’s unplanned trip. Something forced me to shake off my need for immediate pleasure and I accepted that this morning had happened because I was so horny after the incredible no-release foreplay with Roger. It seemed like a logical and an acceptable explanation.

 

The hardness of my cock finally subsided so I stood up and began walking the short distance to my flat. My entire body still felt like an unprotected nerve, ready to react to any outside stimulus, but I set my sights on home and did not let my mind wander. Suddenly, a vision of Manfred entered my thoughts. This pissed me off. I didn’t want to focus on someone who had hurt me – I wanted to focus on Roger. I wanted to allow my memory of Roger’s hard body and his incredible kisses to flow through my entire being, but Manfred’s face kept shoving any thought of Roger out of my head. It was as if the two men were somehow battling for my attention. I decided to shut everything out of my consciousness and focus on the city around me. I chalked Manfred’s prominence in my thoughts to the fact that I was going to his house that night. My cock suddenly sprang to life again. Damn, I thought, I’m still not over that beautiful man – no matter how hot I found Roger. The thought of not going to Manfred’s party crossed my mind, but deep down I knew I wanted to go more than anything in the world. I let the joy that this thought gave to my body fuel the rest of my steps home. At that moment there was a feeling of peace surrounding me that had not existed all morning. I chose to not analyze that fact, because I was tired of second-guessing everything.

 

During a lazy afternoon nap I entered into another vivid dream. Again, everything seemed so real to me. My dream focused on a god-like being that had a face half in light and half in darkness. This being was obviously somehow torn between good and evil. In the dream I found myself inexplicably drawn to the part of the being’s face that was in darkness. I felt a need to behold what was hidden – and to embrace it. The part of the face that was in light seemed weak in some way – or less powerful than the side of the face that was hidden. Even during the dream I sensed that this scenario somehow connected to my earlier dreams. In my sleep I could tell that all of the scenes I encountered while dreaming were related on some powerful level. As had happened that afternoon while walking, my dream was overpowered by a vision Manfred. The half of the face that was in the light seemed somehow similar to his – but there was also a presence of someone else. I could not distinguish who the mysterious person was, and any attempt to uncover the part of the face blocked by darkness ended in confusion and a feeling of helplessness. I awoke rested, but uneasy. It reminded me of times when jerking off did not quench my desire for release – but only intensified the need for more satisfaction. I was somehow lost in an abyss that existed between the face of light and the face of darkness. I wanted to fall back asleep and see if I could return to the dream, but my body wouldn’t let me. I finally got out of bed and decided to head towards Halfway to Heaven for a pint or two. I thought some beer might help dissipate the uneasiness left over by the strange dream. I also wanted to ease the nervousness that was growing inside of me because of Manfred’s party. I worried that I might not be able to have a casual friendship with Manfred. I forced these thoughts out of my head and jumped in the shower to get ready for the evening.

 

Why is there no rhyme or reason as to when a gay bar is busy or not. It was just a late Monday afternoon and Halfway to Heaven was packed. I know I had not been in London long enough to know the rhythm of this bar’s crowd, but I could tell that other people were shocked at how full it was because of the look on their face when they came through the front door. How could the quaint neighborhood pub I had fallen in love with seemingly turn into such a hot spot over night? I was worried that I would have to find a new place to hang out. After making my way through the crowd to the bar and ordering my much-desired Stella Artois, I miraculously found an empty stool by the front window. It was actually a stool I had sat on numerous times. I thought, jokingly, that people were going to start associating the stool as my throne or my perch. I would have to make sure I sat somewhere else the next time I came in. The trouble was, though, that this stool was at the center of everything in the pub. You could survey the entire front room, the entranceway, and look out the big windows at the same time. It really was my favorite place to sit.

 

Turning to survey the crowd brought me out of my inner monologue about my favorite stool. I had not noticed many other people before that moment, but my first thought, after glancing around, was that there must be a convention for male models in town. The stud-factor of the room was unbelievable. I tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to notice that each face seemed to be just as handsome as the other. I saw some of the “regulars” that I now knew because I had been there so often, but they even looked more handsome, as well. I wondered if the beer had gone to my head quickly because I hadn’t eaten much that day. It really didn’t matter if it was the beer or not, I liked the view.

 

Another glance around the room revealed another odd thing. There seemed to be two distinct types of men in the pub that day. I can’t believe that I was so blatantly stereotyping the men around me, but there was clearly a division to be made. The first thing that made me notice the difference was leather jackets and suit coats. I couldn’t believe it, but there was, what I would call, a group of gentlemen and a group of rough guys. It was kind of freaky that this distinction was so obvious and the thought of it made me chuckle on the inside. There were groups of businessmen here and there talking together and then there were guys with three-day beards, t-shirts, and leather jackets standing in similar clusters.

 

Two different feelings went through my body as I studied the room. The first feeling was a certain kind of comfortableness. Somehow I felt united, in some bizarre way, with the two groups assembled and it didn’t seem odd in any way. And, secondly, I stood out from the crowd in a big way. I was dressed in khakis and a newly tight polo shirt. I somehow fit right in between the two groups, which might explain why no one seemed to acknowledge my presence.

 

It was very peculiar that no one was talking to me and I could never seem to catch anyone’s eye. This usually would have bothered me a great deal and I probably would have left the pub, but there was that deep feeling of comfortableness that existed and that empowered me to stay. In my head I tried to figure out what made me so relaxed in this situation, because I wanted to be able to draw on the source on other days, as well. But the only answer that passed through my head was that this is how it should be. I somehow lived beyond the division of the two groups and felt accepted by both. No, it was more than that. I instinctively knew that I could choose either group. Yes, that was it. I could easily get off my stool and go to any small crowd gathered in the room and be included.

 

Okay, the beer was definitely giving me delusions of grandeur. My last thought seemed so incredibly cocky – that any group in the room would be honored to have me join them. Who did I think I was? But the more I sat with that feeling, the more I understood it to be true. It did have something to do with sensing that the groups of men would be happy to accept my company, but it, more importantly, was supported by an awareness of my own worth. I felt as if I could choose to . . . to what . . . to bestow my favor on someone. As crazy as it sounded, this thought resonated deep inside me. I was at peace with my self-importance and simply sat back to savor my newfound knowledge. It was at that moment I detected that many people in the room were, indeed, stealing quick glances at me. My self-esteem soared even higher than it already was, because I felt many men hoping for me to stand up and come to talk to them. But I was waiting for something, no, someone else, even though I didn’t know whom it might be. I knew, instinctively, that no one in the room could meet my expectations.

 

And that was all my mind could take. I had crossed some line that proved my insanity. I was immediately self-conscious and needed to leave the room. The fantasy I had been living as I drank my beer was over. I could not believe that I allowed my mind to take me to such a cocky place. I looked at no one as I stood up from the stool and walked toward the door. I didn’t know where I was going, because Manfred’s party didn’t start for another hour, but I knew I couldn’t stay at the pub. The cool air that hit me once I stepped outside and instantly cleared my head. I was, once again, my semi-insecure self and that brought me a strange sense of joy. As I walked by the pub’s window I glanced in. I could swear the entire crowd was watching me walk away. I decided to get some food in me right away so I would be sober for Manfred’s party. I was shocked that one beer had made me so loopy.

 

I stepped into a little market called Tesco around the corner and bought a pre-packaged sandwich and a bag of chips. No, not chips, they were called crisps here in London. I needed to start calling things by their correct names. I walked over to Trafalgar Square and sat by the fountain to eat my food. It was a nice evening and many people were out walking. The fresh air started to affect me in a strange way, I guess, for I started to get a hard-on. There was no other explanation for my sudden arousal. That is also the moment that my cell phone rang. I looked down, but didn’t recognize the number. I thought about not answering it, especially because of the hardness at my crotch, but decided to see who it was.

 

“Hello.” I had been quiet so long that my own voice sounded strange to me.

 

“What are you wearing?” asked a familiar voice. My heart jumped a little, but I was calm enough to match the sexy question with an equally shameful response.

 

“I’m sitting in Trafalgar Square totally nude with a raging hard-on.” I replied and was surprised by my boldness, not to mention my almost truthfulness.

 

“Were you thinking of me to attain this rigid state?” asked the voice and it was then I noticed the familiar delay that comes with overseas calls.

 

“No, I was thinking about some guy I met at Halfway to Heaven,” I said teasingly. I wanted to make the man suffer, a little. I don’t think it worked, though.

 

“Well, be careful. I know about half the men that come into Halfway and I could easily get a full report of any actions that might be unfitting for a gentleman.” And with that comment Roger broke into a soft, but familiar, laugh. “Good evening, Anthony.”

 

I was not ready to give up on the teasing and replied, “Who is this, anyway?”

 

“Oh no one important,” Roger said, immediately regaining his playfulness. “Just someone that can make all of your deepest desires come true.” That last comment caused my cock to finish its journey to complete stiffness. It actually hurt and I had to stand up and readjust.

 

“I’m not so sure about that, sir. I have some really intense fantasies,” was my reply and my mind wandered back to my recent feelings of power at the pub. “It might take a lot of men to satisfy all of my desires.”

 

“Unless there was one man who was super-human and knew exactly what you liked,” shot back across the airwaves. Roger certainly could choose the right things to say. His comment caused me to desperately want him back in London. I would even have gotten naked in Trafalgar Square for him at that moment. This is the kind of control he had over me. I wanted the telephone foreplay to last forever.

 

“And tell me, Mr. Roger, what makes you super-human?” I asked trying not to sound like I was intentionally leading us to phone sex.

 

“Oh, you know. The usual. I am as strong as a hundred men, I bend steel like it is licorice, and I can last continually in bed for over seventy-two hours. But I am sure that none of that would impress someone as magnificent as you, Anthony.” His words caused me to catch my breath. It was like he knew my deepest desires. I knew if I didn’t change the subject fast I would have to go home and change my pants before going to Manfred’s party.

 

“When are you coming home?” I asked. It wasn’t really a question someone could ask this soon in a relationship, but I, presently, was not in a place to filter my thoughts.

 

“My dear man, I just left yesterday,” Roger said laughing. This gave me a little time to regain composure and realize how stupid the question was. He continued, “I know my departure was not convenient to our budding relationship, but, look at it this way, it will definitely prolong the foreplay and I know how you like the foreplay, Anthony.”

 

“Yes, Roger, but I like foreplay that involves our bodies touching each other!” I cried into the phone, a little too loudly. I glanced around to see if anyone was staring, but no one was.

 

Roger laughed again and then said, “I understand, but I also believe we were headed toward cutting the foreplay short, if I remember correctly.” He was right, of course. His comment calmed me down abruptly.

 

In a feeble attempt to defend where we had been headed before he left, I asked, “Would that have been such a bad thing, Roger?”

 

“Of course not, Anthony,” he answered. “And we are certainly destined to come together in a way that makes our foreplay look like child’s play. I guarantee it. We simply must be patient. The powers-that-be have definite plans for us, Anthony, definite plans.”

 

“I know, I know, Roger. You’re right. I guess I’m just feeling a little lonely,” I said truthfully. I think my honesty caught him off guard, because he paused for a few seconds. Either that or he was doing work as we chatted.

 

He finally spoke, “Anthony, maybe you need to go out. Maybe you need to be with people.”

 

“I am going out. I’m on my way to a party at Manfred’s home. I’m not really looking forward to it, though.” Again I was sharing openly with this man I barely knew. I believe it was because he was so far away. There was a longer pause and I started to think we had lost our connection. “Are you still there?” I finally asked.

 

“Yes, Anthony. I am still here. I had not meant to infer that you should spend time with Manfred,” Roger replied and I could tell his mood had changed. I marveled at the thought that Roger was jealous of Manfred. I thought I had made it very clear the other night how much I wanted the man now talking to me on the phone. Still, here was part of me that liked making Roger a little nervous. I decided to take him back to an earlier part of our conversation.

 

“Well, maybe someone’s not as super-human as he thought. It looks like I have found a chink in his armor.” I said returning to my teasing attitude. My statement caused Roger to pause again. This time I got nervous that I had gone too far.

 

“It is quite obvious that you have feelings for Manfred, Anthony. I hope my absence does not increase your fondness for him.” Roger said with all seriousness.

 

“Roger, come on. You know I am not Manfred’s type. We acknowledged that when we had drinks at your club the other day. I don’t fit the bill when it comes to being a bodybuilder and that is what Manfred likes.” I said laughing at my own words.

 

“For now, you do not,” Roger said softly. I was not sure I heard him correctly.

 

“What was that, Mr. super-human?” I quickly asked wanting to return to our playfulness of earlier.

 

“Nothing, my dear, Anthony, nothing.” Roger said, seemingly perking up again. “I just do not like competition when it comes to something I desire so desperately.” The smooth talker had returned, as well as my boner.

 

“Do you desire it desperately enough to catch the next plane to Heathrow?” I asked coyly.

 

“Yes, I do, but that will not be happening for a while, I do believe. I have run into a lot of legal struggles with my latest acquisition here and I must remain in the States for a while. Your country certainly likes a lot of red tape, does it not?” He asked and I could hear the strain his work was causing.

 

“Yes they do, Roger, yes they do. I think you should use that incredible charm of yours to seal the deal. I can’t think of anyone who might be able to resist that,” I said to encourage him.

 

“Thank you, Anthony,” came the reply and I could tell he was smiling. “That is very kind. I do believe you would be amazed at how un-charming I can be when it comes to business, though. I choose to save my sexual attraction for chasing men that turn me on. Like you turn me on, Mr. Lance.”

 

I could sense the conversation could return to dialogue that would get me near a point of ejaculation quickly, but I saw that it was almost time for Manfred’s dinner to begin. I pushed away my desire to move back towards phone sex. Roger could sense the decision I made – even from so many miles away.

 

I began to end our conversation by saying, “I’m afraid I need to start heading towards Manfred’s place. Thank you for calling, Roger. It means a lot to me. I hope you will do it often. I also promise that you have nothing to worry about with Manfred. That ship has sailed.”

 

“Your superman is happy to hear that, Anthony. And do not worry; I will continue to call frequently. I do not want you to forget me,” Roger answered. I immediately thought the man was crazy. How could I possibly forget someone so sexy and beautiful?

 

I quickly shot back, “That could never happen, Mr. Wexford. There won’t be a day that goes by that isn’t filled with a longing for your return. I promise. Have a great day and figure out a way to close the deal over there. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

 

“Au revoir, Anthony,” he answered and then hung up. I sat there for a few seconds letting the sound of his voice and the feeling the call had created in me permeate every part of my body. I was smitten and in a big way. I ached to make love to that sexy man. I would certainly hold off having any kind of sex until his return. Suddenly, my little tryst in the bushes that morning popped into my head. I rationalized that encounter by blaming Roger. He had created the need in me by turning me on so much and then leaving. I would start my new commitment to him right now. From this point on I was saving myself for Roger’s first night back. And it would have to be his first night back or I would explode from sexual overdrive. That is how bad I wanted the man. I stood up and began walking in the direction of Manfred’s home, knowing that the conversation with Roger was going to make me late.

 

**********

 

It wasn’t hard to find the street where Manfred lived because I had scoped out this area of the city before. This part of London did not have a lot of full sized homes and the ones that did exist overlooked St. James’ Park. It was quite obvious by the front of Manfred’s house that it had been here for many years. I was pretty sure it had been in his family for a long time. The outside was not as impressive as Roger’s place, but I could tell, by looking in the floor-to-ceiling bay windows at the front of the house that it was furnished impeccably with, what were surely, family heirlooms. Manfred did not answer the door. The butler, who introduced himself as Charles, welcomed me and ushered me through the large foyer and long hallway saying everyone was in the kitchen at the back.

 

It struck me as strange that Manfred and his guests were in the kitchen, but I simply followed Charles. I stole glances into other rooms as we walked down the hallway and was impressed with the incredible furniture and other décor of each room. Manfred, or possibly someone in his family, had great taste. I was not prepared for the incredible modernized kitchen of Manfred’s home. There was too much to take in at one time. It was not just a kitchen; it also included a huge family room area with a large fireplace, full bar, sofas, desk area, and more.

 

There was a huge island that separated the great room from the kitchen area that had multiple cooking tops; lots of counter space, and areas for eating that included beautiful wrought-iron stools. I also saw a long table, just beyond a wall containing two unbelievable large ovens, which served as an informal place to eat. All of this was very impressive, but nothing compared to the giant open space between the kitchen and the fantastic balcony that looked out over the park. I could tell that there were large glass doors with wood frames that slid into wall pockets to make the kitchen area and large porch one huge space. I believe my entire flat would have fit into this area of his house. I also bet that the majority of Manfred’s time was spent right here. He probably could have closed up all the other rooms, except his bedroom and bathroom, and lived very comfortably. There was a long tale on the porch set for dinner and it looked magical.

 

I didn’t see Manfred at first, but I did notice that his so-called informal get-together was not that small. I counted at least ten people over in the bar and sofa area of the kitchen and some others out on the balcony. I suddenly became very self-conscious and that’s when Charles called out in a loud voice, “Mr. Anthony Lance.” I couldn’t believe it. I was being announced! It was like some movie I had seen growing up where people coming to the King’s ball were introduced loudly as they came down the ballroom steps. All eyes turned to look at me and that made me want to immediately turn and leave. I froze and did not know what to do. That’s when Manfred seemed to come out of nowhere and pressed his hand against my back leading me into the room as he welcomed me.

 

“Anthony!” Manfred said warmly. “I am so glad you are finally here. I was worried that we would have to hold dinner for you. Welcome to my home. What would you like to drink?” We had stopped between the large kitchen island and the back of the large sofa and chairs facing the enormous fireplace. I turned to face Manfred, but was not prepared for how seeing him again would affect me. I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out. Manfred’s masculine beauty caught me off guard, as it had when I first met him. I must have looked like a complete idiot. Manfred quickly noticed my predicament and said, “A vodka tonic, you say. What a wonderful choice that is.” He then turned toward the bar and called out, “Paulo, look who’s here. Of course you remember Anthony, right? He will have a vodka tonic, if you please.” I looked in the same direction as Manfred and saw the muscular Paulo behind the bar. He was smiling in our direction and nodding his head.

 

“Welcome, Anthony. How could I forget such a handsome man? I will personally deliver your vodka tonic to you on the patio, my American friend. And I will drag you away from that evil Manfred, and keep you to myself this evening,” Paulo said beginning to mix my drink. I heard Manfred laugh beside me and then felt the pressure of his hand leading me out onto the balcony. Most of my earlier nervousness disappeared when I saw the view of the park from Manfred’s home. It was like a fantasy come true. It was still pretty light outside, but lamps were on all along the paths in the park and that made it look incredible. You could actually see most of the park from Manfred’s balcony.

 

“That view is unbelievable, Manfred,” I said following him around the table set for dinner to the railing on the other side of the patio.

 

“He speaks,” Manfred said teasingly as he turned to look at me. My face flushed red as I realized he was acknowledging how tongue-tied I had become when I saw him. It struck me that Manfred must be used to causing that reaction in people, because he did not let the conversation dwell on it any longer. “Yes, it is a wonderful view. I never take it for granted. That’s why I re-did the kitchen, so I could enjoy the park as much as I could.”

 

“You have a beautiful home.” I said bracing myself mentally and then turning to look at him. This time I was prepared for how his face would move me. I was not, however, prepared for the sudden stiffness in my pants. “Thank you so much for inviting me. Although, I thought you said it was going to be informal and small.”

 

Manfred smiled at me, causing the stiffness below my waist to increase, and said, “This is small, Anthony. You will have to come to my Christmas Party. There are three hundred people here. Having twenty close friends over is nothing compared to that evening.”

 

I didn’t have time to react to Manfred because a large hand came from above my head and lowered a drink in front of my face. Manfred’s gaze turned upward and I knew he was looking at the tall Paulo behind me.

 

“I hope you like your drinks strong, Anthony. I made it the Italian way,” Paulo said as I took the glass from his large hand and he stepped to the side so the three of us made a triangle – conducive for talking.

 

“What is the Italian way?” I asked Paulo innocently. I did not register that he was pulling my leg.

 

“That means it is strong enough to get a man to do anything once he has finished it,” Paulo said loudly and then broke into laughter. “I know many straight men who have, how do you say, changed gay – no, turned gay after one of my drinks.” This made him laugh harder. This time Manfred and I joined him. I took a sip and immediately knew what he meant. I think he might have just waved the tonic bottle over the glass. That one sip did, however, calm my tensed body quickly.

 

“Anthony, I am going to leave you in the frighteningly huge, but capable hands of Paulo,” Manfred said placing one hand on the big guy’s shoulder and one on mine. “I must go put the final touches on our dinner.”

 

“Manfred,” Paulo quickly said, “When are you going to hire a chef to do your cooking?”

 

“Now, Paulo, we have been through this,” Manfred answered and I could tell it was a conversation the two had engaged in before, “I love to cook and I am pretty good at it…”

 

Paulo interrupted, “We will be the judge of that.” He looked at me and winked.

 

“That is fine. The bottom line is I like to cook and it soothes me. Now, please excuse me as I must go and open the wine.” Manfred looked directly at me before he walked away, as if he was trying to figure something out. There was a slightly confused look, no, it was a surprised look on his face. I could not figure out what it meant. And then he was gone. Paulo moved into his place, turning to lean against the railing, which caused his tall body to lower a little and helped our faces to be somewhat even. Paulo stared at me, his gaze going down my torso, before speaking. The awkward silence caused me to take another big sip of my drink.

 

“You are bigger Anthony, no?” Paulo said looking at me in a way that made me nervous and excited at the same time.

 

“I don’t think so, Paulo. I haven’t made much time to work out the last couple of days.” I looked down at the ground because I didn’t like to talk about myself in this way.

 

“No, you are bigger Anthony. I can tell. It is my job to notice such things.” He said, turning to place his drink on the railing and then standing to face me. He laid his big hands on my delts and squeezed hard. His grip didn’t hurt, but it did feel strong and manly. “You fill out your shirt differently than before. You have the perfect body for building up muscles. I am very jealous, my friend.”

 

I don’t know what caused my head to spin. Was it the fact that this big muscular guy was jealous of me, was it his sexy accent, was it the two sips of his famously strong drink, or was it the feel of his powerful hands on my body? I was lost in some kind of momentary stupor. As Paulo’s hands continued to check out different parts of my upper body – my arms, my chest, and my shoulders – I started to feel something familiar beginning to well up in my body. It wasn’t lust, because that was already happening since he began to touch me, but something more. I tried to remember other recent moments when I had felt the same way and it suddenly hit me.

 

It happened this morning when I had been challenged by the guy on the bicycle, and the other night when I made out with Roger. Yes, that was it. I was having a similar reaction right now. At this point I no longer looked at the sensation that was overcoming my body from the outside. I simply let the spell I was under take over my body. I tensed my muscles wherever Paulo grabbed me. He noticed my change in attitude and strengthened his groping. I looked down at his crotch and noticed his pants becoming tight because of his swelling member. This sight made my body rage with some unknown power. Paulo started breathing harder and I could tell the confidence that seemed to now shoot out of my body was really turning him on. I brought my hands up to his broad chest, made fists, and then punched him right on his erect nipples. I hit him pretty hard. The impact made him step back a little, but he continued to hold onto my shoulders. I could tell he loved the feeling of his pecs being punched.

 

Charles, the butler, calling out “Dinner is served”, interrupted our muscle groping session. I was, somehow, able to snap back to reality as soon as I heard Charles’ voice. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching us and then stepped back from Paulo. He moaned slightly as I broke away and tried to grab my body. There was something inside of me that took over and I merely turned and walked away from him. I didn’t look back, because there was no need. I instinctively knew he was watching me walk away and trying hard to prevent himself from ejaculating. It was a feeling of power and control that was becoming familiar to me. I felt great because I sensed that I had conquered the big man in some small way.

 

When I got to the table the trance-like fog in my head gradually cleared. I had a memory of the feelings that overcame my body when I was with Paulo, but it seemed like it had been someone else. I felt sort of lost and confused. Manfred appeared beside me, again, out of the blue and ushered me toward a chair.

 

“Here, Anthony, please sit beside me. Where is Paulo? I have a place across from you for him.” Manfred said all of this as he lit candles on the table. I glanced to the edge of the balcony and could see that Paulo had his back to us and was adjusting the hard-on I had caused. When he turned toward us I could see the outline of an enormous cock. I guess it was true what they said about a man with large hands. He stared at me as he came to the table. He did not attempt to hide his stiff tool. Somewhere, deep inside of me, I was aware of how passionately he wanted me, but I could also sense that he wanted to do something else. I wasn’t sure what it was and then it hit me. The look on his face was a mixture of challenge and submission. I could tell that I had won the first part of some unknown battle between us and knew there would be a second round later. Paulo could not let me leave without engaging in our little contact sport again. When he got to the table almost every set of eyes was focused on his tenting pants, but Paulo just stood there proud and erect. He continued to stare at me as he sat down. I glanced at Manfred and saw that he had noticed none of this because he was still lightning candles. He finished and then came to sit down at the head of the table with Paulo on his left and me on his right. I knew dinner was going to be quite interesting.

 

***********

 

Manfred said a few words of welcome and then invited everyone to begin. The table was decorated impeccably and the food was incredible. As bowls and platters were being passed around for people to serve themselves, I suddenly felt a foot against my leg. I glanced at Manfred first – ever the optimist – but immediately noticed the size of the foot making its way up my leg and turned from Manfred to the waiting stare of Paulo. He had a wicked smile across his face and I was caught off guard when I realized his long leg was reaching all the way up to my crotch. His toes rubbed against my cock and it started to stir. Manfred was talking to someone to the left of Paulo and was oblivious to all that was going on underneath the table. I tried hard to not let on that a large foot was stroking my cock under the table. I also tried hard to not catch Paulo’s eye and acknowledge how great his toes were making me feel – as if the stiffness of my dick hid anything. Paulo showed no mercy. He was quite capable of seeming to be involved in conversations and completely engaged in everything around him while he masterfully worked my crotch. There is no way I could return the favor because my leg would not reach him. As I began to near a point where I would not have been able to stop my building orgasm I pushed my chair slightly away from the table. Paulo’s foot could not reach my crotch anymore. I glanced at his face and could tell he was disappointed, but we both knew I was too close to release for him to continue. He pulled his foot back and acted like he was sulking. I turned to talk to Manfred to get my mind off of our “under the table” connection.

 

“Manfred, I thought Martin was coming,” I said finally getting the chance to ask about our friend.

 

“Oh, Anthony. I guess you did not hear,” Manfred said with a very serious look on his face. “I should have told you right away. Martin is very ill. John called and said that it looked pretty bad. I plan on going over to see him tomorrow.” The look on Manfred’s face showed his great concern for his friend.

 

This news stunned me and my hard-on disappeared quickly. I could not believe Martin was so sick. I quickly rattled off a lot of questions, “Manfred, how sick is he? Is it serious? Has he been to the doctor? What did John mean by it looks pretty bad?”

 

“I do not know much more than what I told you, Anthony. I am very sorry. Would you like to come with me tomorrow?” Manfred asked with that same serious look.

 

“Yes, please.” I said without hesitation. “Thank you, Manfred. Thank you very much. I am so fond of Martin. You’ve got me worried now.”

 

Manfred smiled, “Now, Anthony, tonight is an evening for fun. Martin would want you to enjoy the party. We will go over tomorrow and we’ll both see how great he is – and it will be a pleasant surprise. For now, let us enjoy the evening as much as we can.” Manfred leaned into me and had a devilish look on his face. “Tell me, has anyone here caught your eye?

 

I glanced around the table as I returned Manfred’s smile. I then said, “Oh, I don’t know Manfred. There are so many cute guys to choose from.”

 

“But none to match the beauty of you, Anthony,” chimed in Paulo, who had been listening intently to our conversation.

 

This comment made Manfred glance quickly in the big guy’s direction. I detected a look of confusion mixed with immediate jealousy. Seeing Manfred react this way made something deep inside of me shift a little. I felt a surge of power at the thought of making Manfred jealous. It wasn’t even about making him notice me or focus more on me. No, it was more about now knowing a weakness in him. I was drawn to that slight chink in his armor. I could feel that an unexplored part of me wanted to make sure Manfred knew I could see his exposed weakness. I desired to use this knowledge to somehow dominate him or win some battle – but I could not, for the life of me, tell you what battle. I simply had a desire to win. And it took over, just as it had when I was racing the guy on the bicycle that morning. I turned to face Paulo.

 

“And no one here can match the size of you Paulo,” I echoed back. Manfred looked back at me and I saw a flicker of something indescribable in his eyes. For a second I thought it was desire, but I knew better. Manfred simply did not want me to flirt with Paulo, which only encouraged me more. “I’m sure there is no other man here that is as big as you.” I smiled and Paulo’s face lit up. He glanced around the table and then turned back to me. He spoke to me as if Manfred didn’t even exist.

 

“No one even comes close, my American friend,” he said in a voice dripping with sex.

 

All three of us knew what was happening. And we each knew the next few moments would change our friendships forever, but there was no turning back. I wanted Paulo. I didn’t want him as a lover or boyfriend. I wanted him so Manfred would lose. I wanted to claim the prize and end up proving my power over both men at the same time. I was completely out of control. Something beast-like was causing my heart to pound, my cock to ache from stiffness, and my entire body to come alive with a desire to make both men surrender to my superiority.

 

“But remember, Paulo, even things as big as you can be overpowered. You may be huge, but that just means there will be a louder crash when you come toppling down,” I replied with challenge in my voice.

 

Paulo laughed slightly and then said, “And tell me, Anthony, are you the man to overpower Paulo?”

 

“I am. And it will be easy,” I said softly, but firmly. I did not blink. I stared directly at Paulo and I could sense lust, mixed with something else, emanating from his body. It took me a few seconds to realize what was mixed in with his desire for me, but when I figured it out it made me smile. Paulo wanted me desperately, but he also feared me. I suddenly relaxed as if some struggle had ended. It was as if I knew I already controlled the huge man and there was no need to continue to be aggressive. He was already mine to do as I please. Goliath was about to fall before David.

 

Manfred interrupted my celebratory moment when he suddenly stood and loudly said, “Gentleman, shall we move to the library for drinks.”

 

I heard some distress in Manfred’s words that were not noticed by anyone else. He glanced at me and tried to smile graciously, but I could see he was hurt. I also detected that he was not admitting defeat. “Anthony, come walk with me. I have some aged scotch that you will love.”

 

He held out his arm and I rose. I locked arms with him and we walked away from the table, neither of us even acknowledging Paulo. I had a feeling that the big guy would need a few seconds to allow his cock to calm down. Paulo was not used to having someone impact him the way I did. He was so turned on by my aggressiveness that I knew he was, again, close to orgasm.

 

As the party continued in Manfred’s spacious library, I slowly became aware that Paulo was not in the room. It was not because I looked around and didn’t see his face; it was more of a feeling in my gut. It was as if I had a sixth sense that, when focused, could tell me things my other senses could not. This same feeling told me that Paulo was waiting for me somewhere in the house. I could feel his heart beating fast as he waited for me to come. Again, I became aware that his quickened heartbeat was because of his lust for me, but also it was caused by something akin to fear. Paulo wanted me to come and search for him, but he was also frightened by what might happen when I did finally find him. My own body began to pulse with anticipation and power as I thought about Paulo’s nervousness. I knew immediately that I could find the giant man easily – his quickened heartbeat pounded in my head and I knew it would grow stronger as I got closer to him. It was like some childhood game where someone told me I was getting hotter as I stepped closer to where the prize was hidden. Paulo’s body was calling out to me, as if it were begging to be found so it could be dominated. There was no way I could ignore the desire that had taken over my entire body. I moved toward the doorway to the library and slid out unnoticed. I let my “sixth sense” lead me. I moved across the large entranceway and down a small hall on the other side. My cock had become hard and was like a divining rod leading me to waiting pleasure. I could feel Paulo’s pulse begin to quicken as I walked down the hallway. Somehow, he was aware that I was coming. I held up my hand to each doorway I neared and could instantly determine if it blocked me from my desired prey.

 

I finally came to a room at the back of the house. When I placed my hand on the door the pounding of Paulo’s pulse in my ears became so loud it was almost unbearable. A smile crept across my face as I felt the heat of Paulo’s waiting body passing through the wooden door to my palm. It was quite clear to me that the big man knew I was standing in the hallway, just a few steps away from him. The trance-like feeling that had overcome me earlier on the balcony returned and some animalistic force took over all of my actions. I remained aware of what I was doing, but I could not control my desires or any of my movements. I reached down and turned the doorknob, allowing the thick piece of wood to swing open slowly.

 

My mind instantly registered everything about the room and the big man standing in its center. I was immediately aware that there were four floor-to-ceiling windows in the room and one other door that went to a bathroom. It was obviously a guest bedroom that was used as some kind of study. There was a large leather sofa, two big chairs and a desk in the room. I paused in awe for a brief moment because I realized that I could have drawn a floor plan of this room after only five seconds. My ability to take in everything around me was heightened beyond belief. This same ability told me that Paulo’s big fat dick was rock hard and oozing copious drops of cum just because I had entered the room. The giant lion had somehow been reduced to a frightened kitten. I knew he would not move until I somehow gave him permission. I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me. I could sense that Paulo’s heart was beating so fast that, for a second, I worried he might have a heart attack. I looked straight into his pleading eyes.

 

“Come,” was the only word I said.

 

Paulo immediately stepped in front of me. I tilted my head upward to look at the big man and he quickly brought his lips down to mine. Paulo’s kiss was so forceful and full of desire that it momentarily brought me out of my semi-trance. There were just a few quick seconds where I was blown away by the fact that this huge stud-like man wanted me – little Anthony. This consciousness of what was happening disappeared quickly and I returned to only desire, a need to make this big man succumb to my power. Paulo was kissing me like I somehow held the key to life inside me and he wanted to suck it out of throat. The guy was like some sex-starved beast that was ready to offer his body for the taking. Our torsos came together and I could feel his two-by-four sized cock pressing into my stomach. Paulo had his hands on my ass pulling my body into his. I reached around and grabbed his hands with mine. I lifted them to our sides and I heard the big guy moan in displeasure. He was obviously disappointed that I ended his ass worshipping session. I maneuvered my palms against his and guided Paulo to interlock fingers with me. He was so into our kiss that he followed my lead completely.

 

Immediately, Paulo squeezed his fingers together around mine. Again, just for a second, I left the moment and was able to observe what was going on as if I stood across the room watching. I knew Paulo was putting a lot of strength into his hands as he clamped down on mine, but I felt nothing. As Paulo moved his lips to my neck I looked to the side and saw veins popping up on his forearm, showing how much pressure he was giving, but it felt only like a small child attempting to apply resistance to me. As soon as I registered the fact that Paulo’s huge crushing hands felt like nothing against mine, a strange all-consuming electricity shot through my body. I was still slightly aware of who I was and that there was this large man in front of me, but a stronger desire took over and I was unable to control it. It felt similar to the feeling I had experienced earlier as I raced the guy on the bicycle, but it was even stronger now. I was ready to make sure Paulo knew who was master and who was slave. I could feel my heart turn cold and I was filled only with a desire to overcome the enemy – and right now that was Paulo.

 

I tensed my hands slightly and Paulo pulled his lips from mine and I could tell by the look on his face that my grasp had caused him a little pain. He smiled at me with gritting teeth.

 

“Such strength for a little man,” Paulo said jokingly and increased his grip.

 

I knew the smile that appeared on my face was full of some kind of darkness. I saw a sliver of doubt, or was it fear, in Paulo’s eyes. At this point I had no control over my body. It was being fueled by an energy that I never knew existed within me. I gave myself totally to this force and seemed to be on a high from the feeling it created. I only wanted more of the power that seemed to be growing in my body. A somewhat evil-sounding chuckle escaped my mouth.

 

“You have no idea,” is all I said and then I squeezed my fingers tighter.

 

Paulo cried out loudly and his knees buckled a little. His entire upper torso bent backwards and he faced the ceiling. The sound of his pain-filled voice only made me chuckle again. I tightened my hands even more, aware that I was not using my full strength. Paulo brought his face back toward mine and, although it was obvious that he was in pain, I could sense that he was getting off on being dominated by me. Somehow, I was aware that his cock was even harder than it had been before. Paulo wanted me to control him completely. Realizing this fact caused me to cross some imaginary line of self-awareness. I registered that I moved to a place where my body and mind acted on its own. There was enough of the old Anthony still intact for me to understand that I had moved to a dark place within me, as if I had been sucked into a black hole, but I was unable to stop myself from going there. I had been taken over by an almost all-consuming desire. The smile on my face grew wider. Paulo stared at me with a look full of lust, fear, pain, and awe. I squeezed my hands even tighter and the big man fell to his knees, crying out again, but never taking his eyes off of me.

 

“You are mine, Paulo,” I said softly, but the voice seemed to come from someone else. “I could crush your hands with no effort at all and you know it. That seems to make little Paulo very excited, doesn’t it? I’m going to make you shoot your load just by dominating you. From this moment on you’ll only think of me and my strength.” I put more pressure on his hands and he stopped breathing. His palms were level with his head and bent backwards. I knew, instinctively, that I could snap them in two if I wanted to. Paulo knew this as well. “It’s time I get my prize for dominating you, little Paulo. It’s time for you to reward me with your offering of man juice. Shoot for your master, slave, shoot!”

 

I squeezed his hands tighter and suddenly he opened his mouth wide, but no sound came out. His entire body began to shake uncontrollably at the same time. I held on to his hands because I knew his body would have fallen to the ground if I didn’t. Paulo continued to spray cum into his underwear for what seemed like ten minutes. His face turned bright red from the strain his body was going through and veins popped up all over his pretty forehead and neck. After what seemed like eternity, he drew in a huge breath and I released his hands. Paulo’s body fell to the ground and he immediately stuck all of his fingers into his mouth. He was trying to suck them hard enough to make the pain go away. He still had his eyes closed and I knew he would be on the floor in a fetal position for a while. I looked at his groin area and was flattered immediately. His pants were wet from his crotch to below his right knee. I knew his fingers wouldn’t be the only things sore for a few days.

 

“That’s a good slave. Make sure you rest before our next meeting,” were the only words I spoke as I turned to leave the room. I left the door open so others might walk by and get a glance at my work. I returned to the library and sought out Manfred. It was time for me to leave the party. I was determined to find other men that needed dominating and the night was still young. Manfred turned to me as I walked towards him. I could tell by the look in his face that he registered something different about me, but could not name what it was.

 

“Have you seen, Paulo?” he asked with an accusing tone.

 

“No, Manfred, I haven’t.” I responded coolly. “Maybe something came up.”

 

“Yes. Maybe something did, but it is not like Paulo to leave without saying goodbye.” Manfred said looking at me closely.

 

“Well, you know Manfred, sometimes we get so caught up in something else, that we forget our manners,” I answered, not moving my eyes from Manfred’s. I knew I was being cruel, but I didn’t care. This beautiful man in front of me had broken my heart and I wanted him to pay.

 

“That is true, Anthony, that is true. I just hope he is all right,” Manfred said with a face full of real concern.

 

“Something tells me he is better than all right, Manfred. I wouldn’t worry if I were you. But I came to say thank you and good night. It was a lovely party.” I spoke with the same distant voice that I had used when dominating Paulo.

 

“Are you leaving so soon, Anthony?” asked Manfred.

 

“I’m afraid so, there are many more conquests for me out there in the city,” I said laughing.

 

“What an odd choice of words,” Manfred said staring directly at me with eyes full of suspicion.

 

“I’m only kidding, Manfred. I really just want to get home and turn in for the night. I hope to get a lot more sightseeing in before I start my job and tomorrow is a full day,” I said quickly, covering up my mistake.

 

“Do not forget about our visit to Martin, Anthony. Shall we meet at his place around eleven?” Manfred asked and as soon as he spoke Martin’s name something inside of me snapped open. A tension in my body melted away. I was suddenly fully aware of my body and my surroundings. I felt slightly confused by this transition and realized that whatever had controlled my physical self earlier was instantly gone.

 

“Yes. That would be… I mean eleven is… What I meant to say Manfred is that eleven will be fine.” I stumbled around for words as I desperately tried to sort through all that had happened in the last thirty minutes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I turned quickly to leave. Manfred reached out and grabbed my arm as I started to walk away.

 

“Anthony, are you all right?” Manfred asked sincerely. As soon as his hand touched my arm a feeling of something similar to intense calmness flowed through my veins. The feeling scared me a little and I pulled my arm away from Manfred. I saw a look of confusion in his eyes.

 

“Yes, Manfred. I’m fine. I guess I had too much to drink. I think the walk home will be just the thing to clear my head. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for a great evening.” And with that I turned around and left. As soon as I was outside I could feel my body attaining some sort of equilibrium that had been missing for the last few hours. I took a few deep breaths and let the night air fill my lungs. It seemed as if I were forcing something from my body with each inhale and exhale. I started walking away from Manfred’s home. I had a vague memory of wanting to go back to the pub and find some man to…to…to what? To conquer, that’s what I had felt, but now all I wanted to do was go home. I suddenly wanted my bed desperately and knew that a good night’s sleep would help clear my head. My mind drifted to Paulo and the experience of bringing him to his knees. There was a flicker of something in my crotch area, as if a flame were attempting to ignite, but my need for rest took over. I also felt like my clothes were constricting me in some way – I wanted to get out of my shirt and pants as soon as possible. I walked to my flat in a daze and, once inside my place, I stumbled to the bedroom, discarding tight clothes as I went, and fell fast asleep as soon as I my head hit the pillow.

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 18 

August 31st, 2008


 

The Second Full Moon – Continued

 

I woke up Tuesday morning and looked at the clock beside my bed. I was shocked to see that it said nine o’clock. I had not slept so late since getting over my jet lag. I was also quite used to waking up early – and usually with a raging hard on. I was also shocked that I could not remember any dreams from the previous night. My most recent nights had been so filled with vivid images that I was surprised to find one so empty. I didn’t wake up tired, as a matter of fact I felt great and was very rested. Still, I could tell that my deep sleep had been caused by some internal fatigue that could not be explained. When I fell on the bed the night before, it was as if I had been through some huge storm – battling for my life in some way. At least that’s how my body had felt when I got into bed last night. This morning, however, things were definitely different. Even if I had been forced to explain the difference I would have been unable to. I just knew my body felt differently than it ever had before. Don’t get me wrong - it was a good feeling. No, it was a great feeling. I felt more alive in some way. It was much more than being rested. It was more like I had received some kind of energy transfusion or I had taken an entire bottle of vitamins.

 

Even with this newfound energy, I didn’t get out of bed quickly. I found myself trying to replay the evening at Manfred’s house and the moments leading up to it, but realized that large chunks of memory were very hazy. I remembered talking to Roger on the phone while sitting at Trafalgar Square and I could vividly re-live arriving at Manfred’s home. My mind wandered a short while on the furnishings and the beauty of his place, but then all focus turned to Manfred’s gorgeous face. I immediately remembered making a fool of myself by not being able to speak when I looked at him. I covered my face with my hands and moaned out loud. The moment made me self-conscious even now. The feeling of my bent arms moving into place suddenly cut my groan from embarrassment short. Every part of my upper body felt tight. It was such a strange feeling that I just lay there with my hands over my eyes and explored the sensation with just my mind.

 

My bent arms felt padded in some way. I knew I was completely nude, but it seemed like I was wearing a few layers of skin-tight lycra or something. It is difficult to explain how slight changes in something so familiar as your own body can be easily noticed. I would compare it to feeling a slightly scratchy throat as a warning that you are coming down with a cold. But this was, in no way, a feeling of discomfort or a precursor to sickness. No, the tension in my biceps, my shoulders, and my chest was definitely connected to the energetic pulse that was running through my body. Even before I removed my hands from my face I knew that my body was transformed in some way and I was sure the change was for the good. I kept my arms in the air as I opened my eyes. I gasped out loud when my sight landed on my biceps in front of me. Don’t get the idea that I had become some massive green hulkster or anything, my reaction was mainly because my arms were definitely more defined than they had ever been in my entire life. I sat up quickly and marveled at the fact that my abs and back were able to lift my body from the mattress with great ease. This sudden realization made me forget about my arms for a brief moment and I looked down at my stomach.

 

“Oh my god,” I said out loud.

 

I saw definite ridges across what used to be my narrow, but fleshy, lower torso. I instinctively tensed my stomach and my abdominals were immediately more pronounced. It was barely noticeable, but remember I have lived with this body for many years and even the slightest change caught my eye.

 

“I have abs! I’ve got fucking abs. How is that possible?” I spoke to no one in particular and to the entire world at the same time. “Damn. If someone had told me working out could affect me this way so quickly, I would have started a long time ago.”

 

A thought ran across my mind, but I pushed it away immediately. For a split second I contemplated the notion that my few work out sessions could not have caused such quick results, but then I let the joy of how my body looked overcome my doubt. It is amazing how we will sometimes ignore common sense just to celebrate a long-desired outcome. It would be weeks before I allowed myself to re-evaluate the physical progress I now achieved. For now, all I cared about was the fact that I could see the benefits of my daily runs through London and my few times at the gym. I glanced back at my raised arms and tensed my hands, which affected all that was connected. My biceps – once cute, but slightly loose because of not exercising regularly – were now tight and bunched into small mounds. I also noticed some semi-pronounced veins in my forearms. I released my tensed fists and was astounded that my arms continued to look muscular. Even relaxed, my arms seemed to be more built than before. I suddenly had an urge to go to the gym and do a bunch of curls like Quan had shown me. I wanted to see these arms in action. My dream of working my arms was only interrupted because I glanced down at my chest and what I saw actually made me scream. I couldn’t believe it – the once sunken flesh-covered pectorals that I was used to seeing were now replaced by molded, hard, faintly protruding muscle. For the first time in my life I actually had a crevice between my pecs. I brought my arms inward and squeezed the newly formed small slabs of meat together. I watched in amazement, as my dark erect nipples shot out further because of the flex. I released the tension and smiled because my chest actually stayed a chest! It dawned on me that shirts would now hang differently on my body. Instead of falling straight down and looking like some kind of poncho just held up by my shoulders, I realized that the slight shelf created by this mass of muscle would cause loose shirts to hang a little distance from my tight abs - and this would be a completely new feeling for me. For the first time in my life I wanted to own a tight white tank top that would show off the tapered look my body now possessed.

 

Its crazy how even small gains, when trying to build up your body, can fuel you on to incredible dreams of future possibilities. I lay back down on the bed and closed my eyes again. I ran my right hand over my left arm, amazed at how it felt so different and even larger than it really was. I began to imagine my muscles growing to the level of competitive bodybuilders. I flexed my left bicep and grabbed the hard skin-covered ball underneath, which in my fantasy-like-state was now the size of a mountain. I stopped flexing and moved both of my hands to my chest, squeezing what I imagined were boulder-sized piles of muscle. I was completely lost in visions of a super-sized Anthony. At some point I slipped away from reality and moved from a simple dream of what I could become to a lust-filled, totally irrational knowledge that I was slowly becoming the muscled behemoth that filled my mind. In some distant corner of my mind I fully understood that I had lost control of my senses and was letting some kind of fantasy rule my thoughts, but on another level I saw that the body I envisioned was my future. The mixture of feeling hard bumps of muscle on my body for the first time and seeing vividly that a muscle monster lived somewhere deep inside of me, caused me to ignore all rational thought and enter into the bliss of my dream completely.

 

My right hand moved instinctively down to my stomach. I felt the ripples of my new abdominals and, to me; they seemed to be deep valleys cut in stone. I let my fingers move slowly down the hills and crevices until they met the tip of my cock that was already emitting drops of pre-cum. The interruption of my muscle worship jarred me a little, because I had been so focused on my new body that I had not even realized I was fully, and painfully, hard. I let the tips of my fingers slide back and forth across the strained, pulsing slit of my cock head. Shivers of delight and anticipation of release shot through my body. My thumb was still caressing my newly discovered abs as my fingers caused more of my warm, sticky juice to leak out. I lifted my palm, laid it across my hard rod and then moved both back and forth across my stomach. Even my rigid cock could feel the slight ridges newly formed where there used to only be smooth, somewhat flabby flesh. This simple movement caused my aching balls to pull inward and my lower back came off of the mattress in a small arc because of the eruption building within me. I abruptly stopped all motion. It was obvious that moving to orgasm would bring an end to my sudden awareness of what my body could become – no, that wasn’t right – it was what my body would become. Yes, that slight change in thought resonated deeply in my soul. It was totally irrational, I know, but I was getting a glimpse of what I would develop into. Even if the present changes in my body merely took me from a non-athletic ectomorph to one that seemed to be on the path of being able to bulk up slightly, I somehow knew that I was headed for a different greatness. My body was going to change in ways that no one could imagine. My physique was headed to something that was god-like. It made no sense, but that didn’t matter. I was going to get huge and that made me very excited.

 

This last thought seemed to take over my body and caused me to wrap my hand fully around my throbbing cock. I moved to the tip of the hard pole and squeezed tight. I registered, for a second, that the top of my hand met my tensed chest. I knew this wasn’t possible because my cock, really my best friend since puberty, was not that big. I chalked the experience up to the way I must be laying on the bed and ignored the sudden surprise. I released my grip a little and began sliding down my member slowly and deliberately. At the same time that my hand gave my cock its much-needed pump, I was able to register the feeling of my thumb running down my abs. I brought my left hand up to my chest, guiding it directly to my right nipple. My forefinger and thumb clamped tightly on the protruding nub of flesh; while my other hand came back up the long pole, now getting ready to explode. I started pumping my dick quickly as I mercilessly pinched my nipple, knowing there were going to be bruises appearing later in the day. I was too “juiced up” inside to avoid shooting my load quickly. My visions of my future body, combined with the awareness of the changes that had already happened, were enough to bring me to climax alone. The stroking of my cock and the vice-like grip on my chest were used merely to intensify the impending eruption. And what a blissful moment my volcano-like orgasm was!

 

I opened my eyes as my entire body froze like a pornographic statue set in hard marble. Every inch of my body seemed to be strained as my breathing stopped, my heartbeat paused, and my sight focused solely on the gaping hole at the end of my dick. The first discharge of my cum shot out like a roman candle on the fourth of July. I was so tense that I could not even shut my eyes as milky substance shot into the air and came down hard on my face and beyond my head. My vision blurred and my eyeballs stung as semen fell in and around them. My mouth, open because of a silent scream caused by the release of pressure built up in my body, received huge globs of cum which landed on my tongue and slid down my throat. After the first ejaculation, my limbs and muscles had no time to recover. My back arched up even higher as the second wave of hurricane Anthony-juice sprayed across my body and the bed. It was hard to believe, but the force of my orgasm seemed to increase with each blast instead of decreasing. On the third splattering of cum I somehow found my vocal cords and emitted a cry that sounded like a large wounded animal. A rapid succession of jolts through my body culminated in more shots of jism onto my chest, abs, and then dripping down my still, rock-hard prick. During the last few thrusts of my cock nothing came out of its now purple colored tip. I was completely spent and there wasn’t anything remaining in my tensed body. My back fell to the mattress, my hand slid from my rod, I released my aching nipple, and I closed my eyes, falling back asleep immediately.

 

I only dozed for about fifteen minutes. I fell into a very deep sleep, though, and my mind was full of huge body parts. Every picture in my dream during that time was of pumped up, sweaty, rippling, massive muscles. It was like watching a DVD that highlighted the best parts of bodybuilders from around the world. There didn’t seem to be a point to the dream, but when I woke up I realized right away it signified that my own body was recovering from my tsunami-sized orgasm. I opened my eyes after waking and felt completely refreshed. No, I felt better than refreshed, I felt energized and ready to work out my new body.

 

I glanced at the clock and saw that I just had enough time to get showered and dressed before I left to meet Manfred at Martin’s house. I jumped out of bed quickly and, as I walked to the bathroom, I noticed, because of my improved body, that even walking felt different. I seemed to be more poised, somehow, as if I were standing more erect. I also detected a feeling that couldn’t be named. If I had been forced to put a word to what I sensed in myself it might have been ‘attitude.’ I seemed to have an awareness of myself that had not existed before. I glanced in the mirror after leaning over to start the water for my shower and I was caught off guard at how my own reflection surprised me. My first thought, after I saw myself, was how hot I looked. This was something totally new for me – an acknowledgement right-off-the-bat of how I was turning into a sexy stud.

 

A surge of energy, caused by the glance in the mirror, rocketed to my crotch and caused my resting cock to arch slightly upward. I looked down and smiled. My cock arched! It suddenly dawned on me that in order for my trusted friend to bend in this fashion it had to be longer. I realized this was impossible, but a man had the right to imagine, didn’t he! It was weird how looking at my own cock turned me on a little and then caused the arc of the tool to disappear, as it grew straighter and harder. It was like some kind of weird lust cycle where seeing my dick turned me on, which made it grow harder, which turned me on more, and then continued to send me down a path that could easily make me late for meeting Manfred.

 

I shook my head to clear the thoughts about my cock and reached over to turn off the hot water. I knew the only way I would make my appointment to visit Martin was to force myself into the proverbial tool-shriveling cold shower. I stepped into the shower, cussed out loud as cold water streamed over my new body, tried hard not to grope myself too much as I lathered up with soap, and stepped back out into the bathroom after rinsing off. I finished getting ready without looking at myself in the mirror and even chose not to shave – there was too much of a risk that I’d give in to the temptations caused by my reflection.

 

I stepped into the bedroom and chose a polo shirt from the dresser. I yanked it over my head and then tried to pull it down over my shoulders and arms. I was stunned to find that the shirt was skin tight. I pulled down hard and, when I finally managed to get the shirt over my chest, I found that it only came down to just above my belly button. I stopped to acknowledge that exercising really was helping my body, but that it was also going to cause a little pain on my bank account. I couldn’t keep buying new clothes all the time. I knew I looked like some trashy gay boy going to a rave, so I turned to the dresser to grab another shirt. The movement of my upper body was too much for the stretched shirt. I heard a ripping sound and immediately looked in the mirror above the dresser to see that the fabric had torn behind my arm where the sleeve was connected to the shoulder. I turned my body to the other side and this time I was able to watch the shirt tear as I moved. I also saw that the sleeves were very tight around my hard biceps. Both the ripping sounds and the sight of my biceps made all the blood in my body rush to my crotch area. I actually got a little light headed.

 

“Oh no you don’t, Anthony, you need to be focused,” I said out loud to make myself stay on task. I instinctively knew the shirt was ruined so I reached up to the v-neck opening, grabbed both sides, and simply ripped it off my body. Even while I was doing it, I couldn’t believe I would do such a thing. I had watched enough muscle worship videos to know that this action turned me on greatly, but I never dreamed there would come a day when I would be destroying a shirt on my own body. The fabric easily ripped from my body and I let the remnants of the shirt fall to the floor. I stood there for a few seconds waiting for my engorged member to calm down and hoping my heavy breathing would subside. Eventually, I felt like I could move without causing a wave of excitement to rush to my crotch area. I reached down and found an extra large sweatshirt that I knew would cover my upper body. I slipped it on over my head. The shirt was tight, but it wasn’t constricting. I didn’t want to ruin any of my slacks, so I just grabbed some cargo pants that fit snuggly over my quads. I was amazed to find that I had some extra room at the waist, though. This was also something new. I forced myself not to think about my body as I finished dressing. I kept my mind on Martin, who might be near death. This made me want to get to his house more quickly. I slipped on some sandals, noticing that even these were tight, grabbed my wallet and keys, left the flat, and caught the Tube to the stop near Martin’s home.

 

All the way over to Martin’s side of town my mind was only on him. I had forgotten the improved parts of my body, the wild night with Paulo, and, even, all of my strange dreams and focused only on the health of my first friend in London. I kept thinking about Martin’s zest for life and his great laugh. I could not believe someone that had been so important to my first few days in this new city was now very ill. As I walked up to Martin’s beautiful home I saw Manfred getting out of his car in the driveway.

 

“Hello Manfred,” I said to catch his attention.

 

“Hi Anthony. It is so good that you came. How are you feeling today? You left the party so abruptly last night. Oh, by the way, Paulo was fine. He called me this morning to say that he had to leave because he was clumsy and got something all over his pants. He said he was too embarrassed to come in and say goodnight.” Manfred said all of this as he pulled a bunch of “get well” balloons from his car.

 

I immediately regretted not bringing something for Martin. I also suddenly had a vivid memory of Paulo creaming in his pants because I easily overpowered him. It seemed like a far away dream, but I knew it had actually happened. All of this came to a halt as soon as Manfred stood and turned toward me. He was dressed in a dark suit with a light blue shirt and a floral tie. The sun caught his hair and his piercing eyes. I felt my stomach turn when he looked directly at me and smiled. I did not, however, become speechless. I was able to maintain some composure.

 

“I am glad Paulo is okay and, yes, I’m doing fine. I’m sorry I left so quickly; I think it was all of the alcohol. It just went to my head so fast and caused me to act in very strange ways. I’m fine today. As a matter of fact, I feel fantastic. I am worried about Martin, though.” I said as we moved towards the front door.

 

“I’m worried about him, as well,” Manfred replied and then added, “And you do look rather robust today, Anthony.”

 

This comment made me blush a little. We stopped at the front door and Manfred continued to stare at me. It made me very self-conscious. He had a puzzled look on his face.

 

“Something is different about you, Anthony. I cannot tell what it is, but something is definitely different.” He continued to look at me and I quickly turned and rang the doorbell, so I did not have to look directly at him. “It must have something to do with all that exercise you are getting,” Manfred was interrupted when John opened the front door. I was standing face to face with Martin’s employee and he still reminded me of someone else, in a very strong way. I just couldn’t think of whom.

 

“Hello, gentleman. It is so kind of you both to come,” John said stepping back to allow us to enter the large foyer. I again glanced up at the pictures that hauntingly resembled both Manfred and me. The sight of the paintings somehow lessened my anxiety about Martin. I could not understand why, but I knew, deep down, that our friend was going to be okay. I also knew there was some intense connection between Martin and myself that could not be explained. It was much more than a good friendship and, to add more to the mystery, I somehow knew it involved Manfred, as well. I stood in the large front room of Martin’s place and felt more at peace than I had in a very long time. It reminded me of one of Romeo’s speeches towards the end of Shakespeare’s play:

 

“How oft when men are at the point of death, have they been merry – which their keepers call a lightning before death.”

 

Was this feeling some kind of calmness before the passing of my good friend or was it some kind of sign that Martin was going to be fine. I could not tell and I wasn’t sure if seeing Martin was going to help to sort through my confusion. John’s demeanor made it clear that Martin was not doing well, at all. I glanced at Manfred and saw great distress in his face. My heart was full of sympathy for this gorgeous man. Because of my own sadness about Martin, I had been selfish and forgot that these two men had been friends for a very long time. The slight pain I was feeling must be nothing compared to how Manfred’s heart was breaking. I had a strong desire to put my hand on his shoulder, but couldn’t for some reason.

 

“How is he John?” Manfred asked.

 

“I am afraid even worse today. He has not been able to eat for a while and he is so very weak. The doctors have no idea what is wrong and they have just tried to make him as comfortable as they can. He is awake and waiting for you both. Let us go up quickly because he will need to rest soon.” John’s somber mood was obvious as he spoke. He turned and led us up the stairs, down a hallway, and we slowly entered the master bedroom of Manfred’s home. I was quickly amazed at how modern the room was and how Martin had every technological up-to-date gadget available. My mind was quickly taken away from all the stuff in the room when I saw Martin propped up on pillows in his bed. He looked very fragile and pale. He smiled as we entered the room, but I could tell he was in pain. He raised his hand slightly from the bed, gesturing for us to come closer. Manfred walked around to the side of the large bed where Martin lay. He grabbed the older man’s hand with both of his.

 

“So good of both of you to come. Thank you,” Martin whispered to us. I moved beside Manfred and smiled at our sick friend.

 

“Of course, Martin. Do you need anything? Is there something we can do to make you more comfortable?” Manfred asked quickly, trying to hide the sadness in his voice.

 

“No, Manfred. Thank you very much. John is taking very good care of me. I will be fine. It’s just a little virus or something.” Martin answered, but the sound of his voice made it obvious that he didn’t have just a simple virus. “Anthony, my dear friend, you look so good. Working out agrees with you. You are much bigger than before. You must continue to make yourself very strong.” Martin stared at me as he spoke and it seemed like he was warning me so I would not someday become fragile like him, but I also thought there was something more to his comments. I turned red at the compliment about my body and looked down at the floor.

 

“I will Martin,” I said looking back up to the man, “but right now we need to focus on you getting stronger, okay? You have so much more to show me in London and someone has to have pints with me at Halfway to Heaven.” This made Martin smile and, for a second, the well-known twinkle returned to his eyes.

 

“Do not worry, gentlemen, my days of drinking pints are not over,” Martin said, squeezing Manfred’s hand, and then adding, “Now promise me that no matter what happens there will be no sadness and that both of you will remain close to each other.”

 

It was clear that Martin’s words caught Manfred by surprise as much as they did me. His statement also caused tears to form in my eyes. I did not dare reach up to wipe them away, for I wanted to appear fearless for Martin. I had not been prepared to hear him even contemplate that he would not get better. Manfred took a deep breath and I knew he was also trying hard not to show he was getting emotional. This time, without even thinking about it, I placed my hand on his shoulder, squeezed it tightly, and left it there. As soon as I touched the beautiful man beside me two things happened.

 

First, there was a jolt of energy that shot through my body. No, it wasn’t energy exactly, it was something more soothing and, yet, powerful at the same time. The feeling was so incredible that I left my hand on Manfred’s shoulder just to see if it would continue, and it did. The second thing that happened, and it was almost unnoticeable, was that some color came into Martin’s face. I could not believe it. If I had not been staring at the man I would have missed it, but his cheeks actually looked healthier. I was immediately sure that Manfred missed the slight change, but our sick friend, as if to confirm it, looked directly into my eyes with a glance of shared awareness. I smiled at Martin, because I could see the elder man still hoped for a spark to ignite between Manfred and me. It made my heart full of love for him. I also left my hand on Manfred’s shoulder to help give the impression that Martin’s desired connection between the two men in front of him was still possible. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I would never be Manfred’s type. John, standing behind us, cleared his throat as a sign that he was about to speak.

 

“Gentleman, I am sorry, but I believe Martin now needs to rest.” John’s devotion to the sick man was obvious and helped Manfred and I to begin our exit. Manfred brought Martin’s hand up to his lips and kissed it softly.

 

“I will come again, tomorrow, Martin. Get some rest. Have John call me if you need anything.” Manfred’s voice was still shaky, but he covered his fear as best he could.

 

“I’ll come back, as well, Martin,” I said placing my hand on the frail man’s leg covered by the bed’s blanket.

 

“Perhaps I will be strong enough for us to have some tea together,” Martin said in a clearer voice.

 

“Perhaps,” replied Manfred smiling and laying Martin’s hand back down on the bed.

 

“That would be nice. See you tomorrow Martin,” I said removing my hand from Manfred’s shoulder, nodding my head, and then turning to leave the room. I could feel Manfred following me.

 

“Take care of each other,” Martin said as we reached the door.

 

“We will,” Manfred answered.

 

As I stepped into the hallway, tears finally found their way down my cheeks. I walked a few steps down the hall, not wanting to turn around and show Manfred I was crying. I wiped my face, took a deep breath and then turned toward him. There are moments in a man’s life where something so profound happens that the earth seems to suddenly stop spinning on its axis and all of creation is focused on one thing. As I looked back at Manfred and found him standing there silently shaking as he cried uncontrollably, my world came to such a standstill. No one and nothing mattered at this moment more than this beautiful man. I did not hesitate at all. I quickly moved the three steps between us and wrapped my arms around him. Manfred pushed his face into my shoulder and started crying harder, his voice muffled by my sweatshirt. I held him tightly as he stood there, his arms dangling and his body heaving with each sob. I started running my right hand up and down his back. I wanted to comfort this man as best I could, and I wanted him to know he was safe in my embrace. I was so concerned for Manfred that I barely noticed the intensified feeling of calmness and strength that shot through my body as we came together. It was similar to the sensation that had pulsed through me when I laid my hand on his shoulder earlier, but this time it was magnified greatly. I forced my mind not to analyze the feeling and take me away from being present for Manfred. I did, however, store the memory in order to dissect it later.

 

We stood there for a while as Manfred continued to allow his intense sadness to flow from his body. I became aware that this moment was pivotal in our friendship. It was obvious that some kind of transference of power was taking place. This beautiful man I held in my arms was allowing himself to be weak in my presence. The realization that I was supporting this man that always seemed so cool, collected, and strong made my heart swell with a feeling close to pride, but it was also something more profound. I believe the word to describe what I felt would be chivalry. I desired to not only comfort Manfred, but to also protect him. Protect him from what, I did not know, but I understood, instinctively, that holding him in my arms and taking care of his every need would give me the greatest pleasure of my life. As soon as this thought entered my mind my cock shot fully hard and my entire being opened to some sort of sixth sense. A distant memory of having this same sensation before came over me, but I also realized it was very different this time.

 

This new awareness allowed me to be present to things that went unnoticed to other mortals. I was instantly aware of the heartbeat of three people in the surrounding area. I could distinguish Martin’s heart beating stronger with each moment in the other room. John’s heartbeat was already healthy and I sensed joy from this man as he watched Martin recuperate quickly. I somehow knew that Martin was going to be fine. I knew it as well as I knew my own thoughts and desires. This connection to the people around me helped me to see them in new ways. This was most obvious in my awareness of Manfred’s heart. I could sense that the man in my arms was beginning to control his sadness and that my tight hold on him was offering a deep feeling of security.

 

Manfred allowed his entire being to surrender to my strength and my unspoken promise of protection. I knew that, for the first time in his life, Manfred was letting his guard down and revealing some unknown vulnerability. I could also clearly feel that our embrace was turning the gorgeous Manfred on, as well. This awareness didn’t come from a sixth sense, though. It came from the hardness pressing against my equally stiff cock. All other heartbeats in my head disappeared as my own heart started pumping overtime due to the joy caused by this other man’s reaction to my arms around him. I wanted Manfred at that moment in the same way a person craves air after being underwater for a long time. Every cell of my body was so focused on the man in my arms and that it almost caused me to miss the two lips now pressing against my neck. At first I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but then I felt the warm, moist lips leave my skin and then make contact again, just below my ear. I had stopped breathing, mainly because I could not believe Manfred was kissing me, and, secondly, because I was afraid a simple intake of air would make my cock spew. His lips left my neck again and then I felt them close around my earlobe. Manfred pulled slightly with his lips as his mouth sucked firmly. I had never known a sensation even close to what this simple movement caused within me. Manfred could have asked me to do anything in the world and I would have done it immediately.

 

Only the door to Martin’s bedroom opening suddenly could break the magic that was taking place in the hallway. As soon we heard the double doors swing open, Manfred and I pushed away from each other unwillingly, but also full of embarrassment. When my body no longer touched his, my mind was completely clear and I was brought back to the reality of the moment. I knew the same thing happened to Manfred. Our raging hard-on’s would be the only evidence of our hallway embrace. My boner, however, disappeared almost immediately when I saw Martin standing in the hallway, fully dressed and looking very healthy. For a brief moment I thought I was seeing a ghost. I heard a gasp escape Manfred’s mouth.

 

“Gentlemen, I have had a miraculous recovery. I am very hungry and request both of you to join me downstairs for lunch. No questions, please, just a time for rejoicing, for good food, and maybe a little wine. Come along Anthony. You too, Manfred. I have not eaten for days and I am famished.” With that, Martin stepped between us and started down the hallway. As he passed me, he reached up and pushed my gaping mouth closed. He also winked at me in a way that insinuated a shared knowledge of some kind. I was too shocked to focus on anything except how fantastic Martin looked.

 

“But Martin, how did…” Manfred began to protest.

 

“Never mind about that, Manfred,” Martin said without turning around, “we should just be thankful for my full recovery. Should we not? I must tell you, though, I actually feel better than I have for many, many years. Come along, lunch is waiting.”

 

Manfred and I turned to stare at each other in disbelief. John stepped through the doorway and had a face that seemed to say, “Isn’t this wonderful.” We all three started down the hallway barely catching up with the energetic Martin, who was already halfway down the staircase.

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 19 

September 8th, 2008


 

 

 

The Second Full Moon - Continued

 

Halfway through the lunch at Martin’s house something mysterious happened. Suddenly, both Manfred and I began to relax into the meal and forget about all that had happened that morning. Memories of Martin being in bed near death and of the erotically charged connection between Manfred and me in the hallway faded away as we were entertained by our newly energized friend. Martin was telling great stories of old London. He knew so much about the history of the city, including little unknown facts that it almost seemed like he had lived here for hundreds of years. Manfred and I found ourselves entranced, as if under some kind of spell, by Martin’s tales and we both kept saying we had not laughed that hard in a very long time. Martin was his old self, no he seemed even better than his old self, and that definitely made it hard for Manfred or me to dwell on what had happened earlier. I found my heart so full of joy and pleasure at how the three of us, along with John, could have such a good time that when I glanced at my watch I was shocked to find out it was almost four o’clock. It was not as if I had any agenda for the day or needed to be anywhere. I also found myself thinking I could have easily moved to dinner with this same group of people. Manfred finally interrupted the stories to tell Martin that he had to leave in order to make a dinner date with his family. We all pushed ourselves from the table and began to move to the foyer. John stayed behind and began to clear the lunch dishes that still remained.

 

“I wish I could drop you at home Anthony, but I am not going in that direction,” Manfred said looking at me as we said goodbye. I noticed that he truly meant it and something in him did not want to separate from me so soon. I was touched and realized that our friendship had not suffered from his momentary loss of control in the hallway earlier. Before I could answer, Martin piped in quickly.

 

“Do not worry, Manfred, we will be glad to take Anthony home. I forgot that I have some things to give you,” Martin said turning to me and then added, “Maybe we’ll even stop off at Halfway to Heaven for that pint you promised me.” Martin was smiling like some giddy schoolchild and I knew right away that I had no choice in the matter.

 

“Well I guess you will be taken care of, Anthony, so there is nothing for me to worry about.” Manfred said winking at me. “I will give you a call tomorrow, Martin, just to check in. And may I call you later Anthony to make plans to get together again soon?”

 

“That will be lovely,” Martin said, not giving me the chance to answer. All three of us laughed at Martin’s enthusiasm. I marveled at the fact that he would so blatantly push Manfred and me together. I’m sure he was aware of Manfred’s taste in men, but something inside of me wondered if he also somehow knew of our embrace in the hallway. The flicker of a thought about Martin faking his sickness ran through my head, but I ignored it. He had really been sick, that much had been obvious. Had it just been a twenty four hour bug of some kind? I didn’t think we’d ever know. Like earlier, I just said a small thank you for his healthy body now. I caught Manfred rolling his eyes dramatically and smiling.

 

“I will call you both later,” he said giving Martin a hug and then turning to me and wrapping his arms around my body to hug me, as well. This unexpected action caught me off guard and all I could do was stand there. I did not move quick enough to hug him back. I glanced at Martin and saw him smiling at me broadly, as if he had won something. I was also aware of that same rush of energetic calmness I had felt earlier and it caused all parts of my body to come alive instantly. As Manfred broke his grasp of me and stood back I could tell, from the look on his face, that the same rush overtook his body as we hugged. I became embarrassed and quiet, as if some dark secret had been revealed. “I will call tonight,” he whispered softly, requesting me to make sure I was home. My knees were a little wobbly and all I could do was shake my head. Manfred stepped down the stairs of the front landing and walked to his car. I watched him until he disappeared down the road and Martin watched me the entire time.

 

“Are you curious as to what I have gotten you, Anthony?” Martin said, finally breaking the trance caused by Manfred’s handsome presence. Martin knew I was smitten, there was no hiding it, but, in the fashion of a true gentleman, he was not going to point out even the obvious. I forced my mind to erase Manfred’s face, for the present moment, and I turned to respond to Martin.

 

“You did not have to get me anything Martin, but, yes, I am very curious,” I said looking at my friend.

 

“Well, come, I am sure John has brought them all to the study,” Martin said leading me back into the house and into the front room I remembered so well, because it was the place I had first met Manfred. Nothing, however, could have prepared me for the surprise that awaited me in that room today. There was a large collection of new clothes draped across the large sofa, the chairs and some of the end tables. I didn’t know where to look first, since there were so many to choose from. I saw jeans, slacks, a couple of suits, work-out gear, many shirts and much more. I’m sure my face did not hide my astonishment.

 

“What is this Martin?” I asked.

 

“A small gift, as you start your new job,” he replied, obviously very pleased at my reaction.

 

“Martin, thank you very much, but I can’t accept all of these. You are too kind, but…” I tried desperately to find words that would make him understand how touched I was, but also let him down gently. I looked at John, hoping he would help me, but he seemed to be as happy as Martin.

 

“Listen, Anthony, I am an old man with a lot of money,” Martin said turning serious. “I do not have a lot of time left on this earth. I am not saying that for sympathy, I am simply stating a fact. It gives me great satisfaction to make my friends happy and you are my friend, Anthony. I am also quite aware that one of the by-products of your exercising has to be that many of your clothes no longer fit. Am I right?”


“Well, yes, Martin, but…” I tried again to find a way to avoid accepting the gifts.

 

“Then that settles everything, Anthony. These clothes will help you as you begin your new job and will also make it easier to have fun during your last days of not working. Now, listen, I have bought all of these in varying larger sizes. I have a feeling you are going to continue to grow in the future, since you are so into working out now. You can always have the largest ones taken in, but I would not do that until after a few more weeks. You know, you want to make sure your growth has peaked before you change anything. I think you and I both know that your body is destined to be huge. Am I right, Anthony?” Martin was still talking, but I had stopped listening. This prevented me from hearing his last few statements. I was busy staring at the clothes and admiring many of them – no, all of them. It was obvious that Martin had impeccable taste and also knew what I liked.

 

“Are you going to help me at all with this,” I said turning to John with a pleading look.

 

“One thing I’ve learned, Anthony, is that Martin almost always gets his way,” John replied laughing.

 

“What do you mean almost always,” exclaimed Martin, “I always get my way.” This made John and me laugh out loud. This was all the sign that Martin needed. He knew he had won. I looked at him, raised my hands in a gesture of surrender, and then turned back to look at the clothes.

 

“Thank you, Martin. But you have to promise me one thing if I take these clothes,” I said as I picked up a Ted Baker shirt.

 

“What is that, Anthony?” asked Martin.

 

“That I get to pay for the pints at Halfway to Heaven for a year!” I answered forcibly.

 

“If I did that, Anthony dear, you would be a broke man. You have no idea how much I can drink. We will say that you can buy the drinks tonight,” Martin said, equaling the force of my statement. “And that, young man, will be the end of this conversation. Please choose a fabulous outfit to change into for the pub and we will be on our way. John will gather the rest of these items together and load them in the car. Hurry up, Anthony; there are pints of Stella calling your name.” Martin came over to me and started pushing me toward the clothes. I chose a shirt that would certainly bring out the color of my eyes and a pair of black jeans. “Choose another shirt, Anthony, you have not grown enough yet to fit into that one.”

 

Martin’s statement confused me until I held up the shirt against my upper torso. I immediately saw that you could have easily fit two of me into the tent-like garment. I laughed out loud and looked at the smiling elder man behind me.

 

“I don’t think I could ever work out enough to make my body fit into this thing, Martin,” I said continuing to chuckle and added, “Even if I had started lifting weights at two years old.”

 

“Do not be too sure, my good man, do not be too sure,” Martin replied looking directly at me. “I think you will be pretty close to that size after this next full moon.”

 

“What was that Martin?” I asked as I chose a smaller shirt that looked like it would fit my new body perfectly.

 

“Nothing, Anthony, nothing,” Martin said quickly, “You can change in the bathroom right off the front foyer. I just said that I bet you will grow a lot over the coming month.”

 

“I hope so, Martin,” I said stepping toward the hallway to find the bathroom he mentioned. I then added, “But I don’t think it will ever be enough for that shirt.” As I moved beyond the door I heard Martin say something that sounded like ‘wait and see, Anthony,’ but I couldn’t be sure. I was too excited about trying on my new outfit. No matter how much I tried to deny it to Martin, I was floored by his generosity and very grateful that I now didn’t have to buy a bunch of new clothes for work. I also knew the quality of the clothes Martin gave me was well beyond my bank account and that just added to the excitement.

 

I glanced in the mirror as soon as I had my new shirt on. I was astounded at how sexy I thought I looked. The shirt was beautiful and the fit was perfect, showing off my newly tapered body. When I stepped back into the study both Martin and John stared at me for a few seconds and then turned to look at each other. Some hidden message seemed to pass between them, as if they had been talking about me before I appeared and seeing me confirmed all that had been said. I did, however, like the fact that both of their faces acknowledged that I looked great. Feeling so good about the way I looked only made me want to get to Halfway to Heaven sooner so I could show off my new clothes and my improved body. Martin somehow sensed this, as he always seemed to, and hurried us along. On the drive, first to my place to drop of the clothes and then to the pub, Martin was kind enough to point out many things about the city that he thought I would find fascinating and he was right. He truly was extremely knowledgeable about London.

 

Halfway to Heaven was not as packed as it had been the evening before. This didn’t disappoint me because it made it easier to see people and be seen. Martin started to buy the first round of pints, but I quickly reminded him of our deal and he allowed me to buy what turned out to be the first of three rounds. Martin, John, and I had a great time chatting and drinking. Around eight o’clock Martin said that he must call it an evening because he was a little tired. I had completely forgotten that just that morning he had been very ill in bed. It all seemed like some unforgotten nightmare. I said goodnight to the two of them, but chose to stay on at the pub for another pint or two. As soon as I got my first pint, after being solo for the evening, my mobile rang. I was busy paying for the beer so I didn’t even look to see who was calling as I answered.

 

“Hello,” I answered as I walked back to my usual perch in the pub.

 

“Tell me you did nothing to embarrass yourself at the party last night and that you are still saving yourself for me,” said the sultry voice of Roger Wexford. I immediately smiled, feeling something very familiar in my stomach and my crotch.

 

“Hold on a minute, Roger,” I responded and then turned to the guy standing beside me - asking if he could watch my drink for a second while I stepped outside. As soon as the man looked at me I was aware of how incredibly sexy he was and I made a mental note to hurry back. He agreed and I stepped outside to take my call, glancing back as I exited, and seeing that the man’s gaze followed me out the door. I turned my attention to the other sexy man waiting on the phone. “No, Mr. Wexford, I did nothing embarrassing. Sorry to disappoint you. But I should also tell you that I am beginning to wonder if you are worth the wait.”

 

“Horny, are we, Anthony?” asked Roger laughing.

 

“Extremely, and a little lonely,” was my very honest reply.

 

“Well you must go out and have some fun, Anthony,” Roger shot back, acting like my mother or something.

 

“I am out. I’m at Halfway to Heaven right now and earlier, today, I had lunch at Martin’s place,” I said defending myself.

 

“Well that is very good. I hope you had fun at lunch,” Roger quickly answered.

 

“I had a great time, but the reason I went over there was really strange. I found out at Manfred’s party last night that Martin was very sick,” I said re-living the tension, “We went over there because we thought he even wouldn’t make it through the day.” I quickly added and noticed there was silence on the other end.

 

“You and Manfred went to Martin’s house together?” Roger asked after a brief, uncomfortable pause. It was quite clear that Roger was still very nervous about my feelings for Manfred. I knew I needed to tread lightly in this conversation.

 

“Yes. You see, as I was saying, Martin was very seriously ill, so we met there to check on him. When we first saw him he was extremely pale and very weak. But the weirdest thing happened while we were there; Martin miraculously recovered and invited us to stay for lunch. He’s doing fantastic. As a matter of fact, he and John just left the pub to go home. He looks and feels incredible.” As I replayed the day’s events in my mind and shared them with Roger, I realized how crazy it all sounded. There was another brief pause and I really began to get uncomfortable.

 

“Tell me, Anthony,” Roger finally said slowly, “what happened right before Martin miraculously was cured?”

 

“What?” I asked, not sure I understood the question.

 

“It is a simple question, Anthony,” Roger said a little abruptly and then added, “What were you doing right before Martin suddenly felt better?”

 

“Well, umm, Manfred and I were out in the hall talking,” I responded, not sure how it was important to the story.

 

“Were you two just talking?” Roger asked and I began to get irritated at his jealousy. I decided since he was the one that went out of town just when we started to get hot and heavy, I would make him suffer a little bit, too. I paused for a few seconds.

 

“Well, no,” I said slowly, “Manfred was quite upset so I just held him as he cried.”

 

“Damn,” said Roger a little too harshly.

 

“What’s that, Roger?” I asked because I couldn’t believe he was getting so upset.

 

“Oh, I’m frustrated because I’m about to go into a parking garage and I know I’m going to lose the connection. I’ll call you later when…” Roger’s voice ended abruptly. I stood there for a while, slightly confused. Had Roger been upset by the fact that I was with Manfred or had it really been frustration at the lost connection. I wasn’t sure. This had really been a weird day. I stepped back inside and walked over to my pint and the cute guy watching it. He was pretending to stare at the glass when I walked up and acted surprised when I stepped into his view.

 

“It did nothing while you were away. It was a very good pint,” reported cute man and he ended with a drop-dead, wholesome, but sexy smile. The protector of my drink was very handsome, in a rugged sort of way. He was probably in his mid forties, had thick salt and pepper hair, and looked amazing in a white shirt, khakis, and a nice blazer. It wasn’t the typical outfit for a pub, but the brochure for the opening of an exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery, laying on the table beside him, made it okay. It was also great, because that was my favorite place in London, well, besides Halfway to Heaven.

 

“I’m very glad to hear that. I was extremely worried that my pint would try to escape.” I said back to Mr. Cuteness. “Thank you very much for guarding it Mr. uhh…” I added and made a look as if I were asking for his name. He stood up from his stool and extended his hand.

 

“My name is Jim. Jim Revere,” He said gripping my hand firmly. “And you are…”

 

“Anthony Lance,” I answered holding his hand a little longer than I should have. I finally let go when I saw him look down at our hands. “Sorry. Sometimes I get a little over zealous.”

 

“Would that be a typical American trait?” Jim asked.

 

“No. No, that’s just a typical Anthony Lance trait,” I said quickly, looking away to hide my embarrassment. I then turned back to face the ever-so-handsome Jim. “Is it that obvious that I’m American?”

 

“Not until you talk, Anthony. Your clothes are very London,” Jim said quickly to help get rid of my embarrassment. His comment made me proud. I really did like my new clothes. “And I hope it is okay for me to add that you fill them out quite nicely.” My face shot red, again, and I was immediately glad that the pub was so dark.

 

“Oh, it is definitely fine for you to add that. As a matter of fact, today is the perfect day for you to add that. Thank you, sir.” I smiled again as I spoke and Jim seemed to appreciate my honesty, either that or he liked the fact that I said sir.

 

“Ah, a man with manners, you do not seem to find that too often these days,” Jim said as he took a sip of his beer. I raised my glass to take a drink, as well. Jim nodded to my pint and said, “So, you are a Stella man, I see. You know that it is a very strong beer, right?”

 

“So I’ve been told,” I answered and then let a little of my cockiness come through by adding, “I guess a strong guy needs a strong beer.” It didn’t sound convincing as I said it, but I think Jim appreciated my attempt to be macho, anyway.

 

“Well, I do not know about the strength, but the package looks extremely sturdy,” Jim quipped back at me as he glanced up and down my body dramatically.

 

“Are all English men so sexy and forward?” I asked loudly, because I was so caught off guard by his aggressive flirtation.

 

“Only the good ones,” Jim answered laughing. “I take it I have been beaten by someone else to the pleasure of seducing you.”

 

“Well, yes, I’ve been seduced already,” I said showing some frustration, “but the guy has yet to seal the deal.” This made Jim smile even more broadly than before.

 

“Lucky for me,” he said softly and his tone caused goose bumps all over my body. I was getting a little hot and I was afraid my crotch would begin showing how much I craved this sexy stud. I decided to change the subject.

 

“So, what does Mr. Jim do for a living?” I asked, taking a sip of beer to cool me down. Jim’s face acknowledged that the topic had been changed, but I could see in his eyes that we would return to this conversation later. He turned and grabbed the program from the table beside him and held it up.

 

“I work here,” he said tapping the words that read The National Portrait Gallery with his finger. I felt my attraction to the man increase just because of his job.

 

“That’s my favorite place in London,” I said proudly.

 

“Mine too,” he responded. “See, we already have a lot in common. You must allow me to give you a private tour sometime.

 

“I hope not just of the Portrait Gallery.” My comment was bold, but I had already decided I liked this man. I liked him a lot. And not just because of where he worked. Jim laughed sexily at my comment and then looked at me intently.

 

“Anthony, how could there possibly be a man in London that could flirt with you and then be able to not have passionate sex with you? It seems that he would either be very stupid or completely frigid.” This comment might have sounded trite to other people, but to me it was like a symphony in my ears.

 

“I know. I was asking myself the same question just today,” I responded and we both laughed. “No, the aforementioned man was called out of the country – inconveniently, I might add.”

 

“And yet, I find you out and not sitting at home alone, pining for the guy,” Jim said with that killer smile of his. “And may I then infer from your actions that you are available to be properly wooed and that time in a bed could be the just reward for the man that wins your heart?”

 

There comes a time in almost every man’s life when a decision is made solely on the basis of his hard cock. It is not necessarily a bad thing and can actually be a very powerful way to figure out the truth behind how we feel about something. This was definitely true for me at this moment. My frustration at Roger being out of the country and at Manfred for playing mind games with me had caused me to desperately want a companion with no baggage or, at least, very little baggage. It was not that I was settling for the first thing that came along, for Jim was articulate, obviously educated, funny, very handsome and extremely sexy. I also knew, however, that most of my common sense had left the building – but this in no way felt wrong. Yes, I wanted a night of passionate sex, but I also envisioned that Jim could be the ticket to something beyond just one night. I had really made up my mind to try and sleep with him as soon as he looked at me the first time, but getting to know him had just been icing on the cake. I was definitely ready to taste the icing, if you know what I mean. When I thought about being with Jim there were no weird feelings in my stomach or strange sensations pulsing through my body. I was fully aware of what I was doing. This was not true when I was around Manfred or Roger. I made a decision, which I believe was evident on my face.

 

“I’m not quite sure what you meant by all of that, Jim, but if you are asking if I want to go home with you, the answer is definitely yes.” My remark obviously pleased him very much. He leaned in closer to me.

 

“I live up by the British Museum,” he said, after taking a big gulp to finish his pint. “We could walk, but I think a taxi would get us there faster.”

 

“I live mere yards away, Jim,” I said to get him excited. “We could be at my place by the time our shirts are fully unbuttoned.” Jim reached over and undid the top button of my shirt.

 

“That is one,” he said teasingly. We both immediately stood up and I noticed that he was a few inches taller than me. I fell in lust with him all over again. He grabbed my hand and led me out of the pub. My heart was on fire with anticipation. London became my favorite place in the entire world all over again. As we walked by the Portrait Gallery I nodded to the building with my head.

 

“It really is my favorite place in London,” I said in a way that emphasized how much I meant it.

 

“I am very glad,” Jim said reaching over with his right hand to undo the next button on my shirt. “Right now, I believe your apartment is my favorite place in London.” This made me smile and glance away in feigned shyness.

 

“By the way, Mr. Revere, I’ve noticed that none of your buttons have been touched yet.” I was teasing him, but really I wanted to get a glimpse of what I thought would be a very masculine chest. Jim knew exactly what I wanted. He reached up and quickly pulled three buttons from their holes and pushed his shirt apart. I got my first partial view of two hard pecs and they were dusted with dark hair. My childhood dreams of the rugged cowboy or the manly physical education teacher flooded my mind and my cock pressed harder against the zipper of my jeans. Jim noticed the reaction in my face and I am sure he knew there was a reaction below my waist, as well.

 

“I hope, dear Anthony that you are pleased with what you see. I would hate to have worked this hard to get you and then disappoint you just by undressing,” Jim said as he reached up and grabbed the back of my neck with his hand and squeezed hard. His touch made my body shake in delight and my crotch ache even more.

 

“Even if I were blind, Jim, I would somehow know how gorgeous you are. I cannot wait to massage that fur-covered chest. Here’s my place,” I said turning on the sidewalk and feeling Jim follow me. As I was putting the key in the door Jim pressed his body into mine and pushed me up against the heavy wood. I immediately noticed that, even through our clothes, Jim’s body felt hard against my back. And something specific on his body definitely felt very hard against my ass. Jim moved his lower body back and forth causing his hard prick to move against one of my cheeks, fall into my ass crack, and then slide up and over the other cheek. He finally wedged his hard piece of meat in my inviting crevice and started sliding it up and down. I moaned out loud, left the keys in the door, and raised my hands even with my head against the wood so I could get leverage in order to press my ass into his body even harder.

 

“Yeah, Anthony, that feels nice. There is nothing like a little pressure to get a man worked up,” Jim purred into my ear. He leaned his head close to mine and was now kissing the back of my neck. I was overcome for a second by memories of a similar moment with Roger in the bathroom of his club, but I forced myself to concentrate on the feeling of the present hard cock against my ass. This night would end very differently than my evening with Roger. Tonight, by God, there would be sex! I lowered my right hand, reached behind me, and grabbed Jim’s hard right ass cheek. I pulled his body into mine and at the same time turned my head so Jim could bring his lips to mine. Both of our mouths opened invitingly and we each began to explore fiercely with our tongue. I had a feeling that we were not going to make it up to my flat before we started having sex.

 

“I beg your pardon.” A woman’s voice behind us interrupted our make out session.

 

My body froze immediately, but Jim merely pulled his face from mine and turned in the direction of the woman. He continued to thrust his cock up and down my ass crack. I was shocked at his bravado and turned on at the same time. He spoke with a deep, sexy voice.

 

“May we help you, Madame?” he asked.

 

“You certainly may. I need to get into this building.” The reply sounded impatient and I could tell by her voice the woman was slightly older.

 

“Allow us, then,” Jim said and he reached down to turn the key.

 

Without ever losing his connection with my body, he opened the door by pushing it, and me, with just his crotch. He stayed pressed up against me as the woman walked by, mumbling something under her breath about indecency and rude people. I did not turn to watch her. I looked straight at the door hoping she would not recognize me later. Once she was gone, Jim stepped back and then turned my body around to face his. He wasted no time and brought his mouth back to mine, sucking in hard when I parted my lips. It felt as if he was trying to make my toes come up out of my throat, but it was a feeling that made me very happy. I finally reached up to push his body away. I knew it would only be a while before someone else came to enter the building. I wanted to tell him we should go upstairs. I was not, however, prepared for how the feeling of his muscled, hairy pecs would feel in my hands. As soon as my hands met his chest, I instinctively squeezed the hard meat. It was Jim’s turn to moan out loud.

 

“You have found one of my weak spots, Mr. Lance,” he said staring at me intently.

 

This made me squeeze even harder, which, in turn, made Jim press his body into mine like some kind of mad man. Our two throbbing stone-like cocks met each other with a force that seemed like two bulldozers. There was a little pain, but it also felt good. I quickly found his nips and pinched them like there was no tomorrow. I could tell this sent Jim over some pleasure wall and I felt his knees buckle a little as he moaned even louder than before. I twisted the hard nubs of skin between my fingers back and forth and at the same time pulled out towards me.

 

“Oh my fucking goodness,” Jim said loudly and this only made me pull harder. Jim’s knees bent even more as he brought his forehead down against my chest. I could tell he was definitely feeling pain, but he did not want me to stop. He brought his own hands up to mine and guided them – making my hands twist his nipples even more. I could not believe how much this guy was enduring and I worried that he might black out from the pleasure - or was it pain. I jerked my fingers strongly up and down a few times and then released my intense hold on his chest. Jim remained motionless with his head propped against my upper body. I could tell he was letting the feeling of my grip on his quickly bruising nipples last as long as he could. I placed my entire hands on his meaty pecs, grabbed hard, and pulled his body back straight up. Jim had a look of joy and utter contentment on his face. I brought my lips forward and kissed him hard and deep. I then pulled my face back and looked at him.

 

“Ready to go upstairs? I can promise to spend a lot more time giving much more attention to that chest if you want me to.” I said all of this to excite him even more.

 

“Lead on, gorgeous man, lead on. I must find something to do for you to equal the pleasure you are giving me.” Jim spoke softly, but pushed my body toward the stairs.

 

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem, Mr. Jim,” I replied as I led him up the staircase in the direction of my flat.

 

Once we stepped inside my place Jim let his blazer fall to the floor and he quickly shut the door. He was definitely a man on a mission and I somehow sensed that exploring my body was the most important thing on his agenda. He let out a sound that was mixture of a growl and a call to arms. At the same time he turned me around and pushed my back up against the wall. He brought his leg between both of mine and pressed the front of his quad against my tight balls and hard cock. He started raising his leg a little and this forced me to go up on my toes. The strength of his leg was obvious as it easily held most of my full weight. I could also feel that his upper leg was hard and very muscular. It actually seemed even more built than the rest of his body. I let my ass and balls rest completely on his thigh. It was an incredible feeling that made my cock stick straight up and push against the top of my pants and my belt with tremendous force. Jim began to unbutton the rest of my shirt. When he had it completely open he pushed it over my shoulders, pulled me slightly away from the wall, and let it fall so it draped across his knee behind me. Jim stopped all movement for a second and just stared at my body.

 

“Damn, boy, you must like to work out,” he said, obviously pleased with what he saw.

 

To emphasize this point he then let out a loud whistle. It was the first time I had ever received this kind of compliment on my body and it affected me in multiple ways. I was immediately embarrassed, but that quickly gave way to a kind of pride that created a strong desire within me to get even bigger. I wanted to make this man continue to be surprised and excited by what he saw each time I took off my clothes. It was Jim’s turn to reach up and grab my pecs. The feeling this caused throughout my body was incredible. My chest felt huge and hard as he massaged it. Jim quickly clamped down on my nipples and I cried out. This made him smile and he started twisting his fingers as I had done to him earlier. I let my head fall back against the wall and I closed my eyes. After a few minutes of torture from his hands, I felt his warm mouth and wet lips come down on my right pec. Jim continued to press his leg against my balls and cock as he alternated abusing my chest with his mouth and hands. When I began to have no more feeling in my nipples, Jim brought his mouth to mine and pried my lips apart with his tongue. He inhaled deeply and my tongue was sucked into his mouth. Jim let his teeth scrape the top and bottom of it teasingly and then caught the tip right before it escaped his mouth. Jim released my tongue and then his own shot between my teeth and snaked quickly down my throat. It felt as if Jim was trying to press his lips completely through my head, but I didn’t want him to stop. Suddenly, he pulled his head back from mine and dropped his leg. I slid down the wall back onto the soles of my feet. He reached up and ran a hand through his perfect hair in a sign of sexual anticipation.

 

“Shall we move to the bedroom?” he asked looking deep into my eyes.

 

I simply pushed him back, grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him behind me as I walked toward the bedroom. I thought about my new shirt now lying on the floor, but I didn’t care. I was completely focused on undressing Jim and allowing him to undress me. When we stood in front of the bed, I let go of his belt and turned to face him. Jim caught me off guard by suddenly reaching up and shoving me backwards onto the mattress below. Before I even fully realized what had happened, Jim was down on his knees and taking off my shoes. He then pulled my socks off at the same time. I raised my head to try and see what he was going to do next and that is when I felt his nose pressed against my balls and his teeth biting through my jeans. I felt his warm face pressed between my legs. I watched as Jim brought his mouth up the outline of my cock all the way from the base to the top. I could feel the heat from his mouth through the denim. Jim reached up to undo my belt, and then he did the same with the button at the top of my pants. With his teeth he lifted the tab of my zipper and pulled it down slowly. The release of pressure on my cock was immediately noticeable and I was very grateful that my hardness was no longer constricted by the jeans. My entire body seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Again, with just his lips and teeth, Jim pulled the elastic band of my underwear over the tip of my cock. He kissed the pulsing head and then pressed the end of his tongue against the piss slit. The sensation that flooded my body caused me to dig my fingers into the mattress and grab the bedspread tightly. I watched as Jim rounded his lips into a small circle and then pushed them against my cock. The wetness of his lips caused the head to slide quickly into his warm mouth. Jim stopped the movement then and just sucked for a while as he bought his teeth lightly down to the skin. At the same time his tongue continued to massage around and in the opening at the tip. My body was completely confused because it was receiving intense feelings of pleasure, while my head continued to order it to refrain from any type of release. A man’s body is not made to prevent orgasm for a very long period, but I didn’t care. I wanted to enjoy the expert attention given by Jim’s mouth.

 

Jim was somehow able to keep his mouth firmly around just the tip of my cock as he pulled down my underwear and pants quickly and smoothly. I could feel the coolness of the room being deflected by the heat of my overworked body. Without warning, Jim opened his throat and forced his mouth fully down my hard shaft. The unexpected movement and the intense pleasure it caused in my body made me cry out as if someone had punched me in the stomach. My hands left the bedspread and grabbed the sides of his head in an automatic reflex. I wanted to hold his head still with my entire piece of hard meat forced into the tightness of his throat. I also realized that I wanted to prevent him from sliding back up my cock and then slamming back down to the base of it, because that would have certainly caused me to send a fire-hydrant-force of cum into this man. I was desperately trying to hold off from releasing the wonderful pressure that his mouth had created within me. Somehow, this incredible man was able to continue to suck on my cock even with it crammed down the back of his mouth. I thought it would have been impossible, but Jim was able to continue to make the floodwaters of my semen mount behind some imaginary, weakening wall. I could feel the walls of his throat tighten and then expand to give even more intensity to the feeling surrounding my aching pole.

 

It was obvious that Jim knew he was a “Grade A” cocksucker. I could hear him grunting in laughter at my attempts to prevent his expert performance from sending me into the inevitable orgasmic explosion. I continued to hold his head in place and not allow him to bring me to a quick finish. I was trying desperately to make my body not lose control and fall into the sexual abyss that overcomes any man as he stops just churning cum and begins to shoot like a machine gun with a stuck trigger. To help me in my desire to prolong my ejaculation, Jim opened his mouth and throat, relieving the powerful influence his mouth had on my straining piece of meat. I lessened my hold on his head and he pulled it backwards, allowing my cock to slide out of his mouth. He looked up at me and smiled. His lips looked so fucking red and full, as if he could have blown an entire army of men. He kept his eyes on me while he let his tongue return to the long shaft of my dick. He ran its tip up and down the tight skin of the pole beneath his face and my entire body shook from the excitement it caused. Jim kept his eyes on me and I could tell he loved how his oral talents pleased me. He paused when he got to the head and kissed it gently. My legs and back tightened as stiff as a board when he reached up to pull my cock off of my abs and point it straight into the air. The feelings of his fingers caused my head to fall back onto the mattress and I closed my eyes tightly. I made it clear to Jim that I was ready for him to take control.

 

As soon as his mouth closed around the head of my cock again, I let go of trying to prevent my juice from flowing and just focused on enjoying the expert job he was doing. I felt one of his hands wrap around my balls and squeeze lightly. At the same time a wet probing forefinger pushed against my tight asshole. My mind could not choose where to direct its attention. My cock felt warm and suspended in time, as if it were a rollercoaster just cresting a giant hill. My balls felt tighter than I have ever remembered and were preparing to pump hard when release came. Jim’s cupped hand was warm as it massaged my tensed pouch perfectly. I also realized that Jim had easily slipped two fingers into my ass chute – and he was turning them slowly, allowing them to rub along the walls of my anal cavity in a way that made me curl my toes in joyous anticipation. Jim suddenly stopped all motion and I mistakenly thought he was giving me another break to recover from the category five hurricane building within me. As soon as my body let its defenses down for a few seconds and all of my muscles relaxed a little, Jim pounced. He pushed his head down my upright cock and forced it all the way down his tight throat. He squeezed my ball sac hard and twisted it slightly. But the real show-stopping sensation came when he separated his fingers in my ass slightly and shoved them deeper into unsuspecting sphincter. This is all it took to release the waiting storm inside me. I screamed louder than I ever remember and then my cock shot what seemed like gallons of my love juice into the inviting throat of this beautiful man. Jim expertly swallowed all of the cum that I was spewing into his throat. I was not so overwhelmed by my orgasm that missed the incredible talent of the man sucking me off. Jim continued to work my cock as he swallowed my load. As a matter of fact, his mouth was able to continue to make me hard even as he worked diligently to not miss a drop of my precious semen. I continued to marvel at his abilities - even in the midst of my body’s explosion. I also continued to scream while it lasted and then fell into loud moans as my cock tried to return to normal - post ejaculation. It seems that sometimes you are most sensitive right after you shoot your load, as if your body was a nerve exposed after a tooth is pulled. Jim continued to move his fingers in my ass, squeeze my balls, and move his mouth up and down my cock just to make sure every ounce of cum was sucked from my body. He finally pulled his mouth from my dick and looked up at me.

 

“Mmmm. I really like Anthony juice. I might have to go back for seconds really soon.” As he said this, he pulled his fingers from my ass and let go of my balls. He moved a hand to my stomach and started running his fingers up and down my abs. “You have a light sheen all over your body, Anthony. It makes your muscles stand out more. I bet even your sweat tastes good.” With that, Jim bought his face down to my torso and ran his tongue up the center line of my abdominal muscles. Every part of my body tensed up again and my worn out cock shot semi hard. “Yeah, just like I thought, salty and sweet at the same time.”

 

My head was beginning to clear from the massive ejaculation that Jim had caused. It felt as if my soul was returning to its mortal shell after an out-of-body experience. I noticed my breathing was slowing down and I was no longer gasping for air. Jim continued to run his hand across my stomach and, occasionally, he reached up to massage my hard chest. I looked down at his hand and for a few seconds was, again, overwhelmed by the fact that my pecs actually bulged out slightly, even though I was lying down. Jim teasingly flicked my nipples with his fingers to make them perk up even more than they already were due to the intense orgasm. He crawled up between my legs, lay on top of me, rested his chin on my chest, and looked at me with a sexy grin. He licked his lips and I could tell that something slightly wicked was on his mind. He just stared at me for a short while and let the anticipation of what he was about to say - or do - build up feverishly in my mind.

 

“What?” I said, not able to take it anymore.

 

“Feel like having your ass plowed?” Jim asked in a way that made it obvious that no matter what I said he was going to do it anyway. He had nothing to worry about in the slightest; we both knew I was going to say yes. I decided to toy with him anyway.

 

“Why Mr. Jim, I’m not sure if you are the one for me and I’ve promised myself to only bend over for the man I’m going to be with for the rest of my life,” I said coyly and batted my eyes.

 

“Well then,” he said softly, playing the role of a gentleman, “how about we do not make you bend over anything. It’s fine if you just roll over onto your stomach and I mount you from behind. Or, better yet, what if you throw those strong muscled legs in the air and I’ll guide my hard locomotive into your waiting tunnel? How does that sound?”

 

“Well,” I began with a big smile, “I think I need to see the locomotive and the rest of the goods before I turn over or put my legs in the air.”

 

Jim did not wait even a second. He slid off my body and stood up at the end of the bed. I, again, propped up my head and watched as he undid the final buttons of his shirt and took it off slowly. Seeing his upper body fully exposed only added more excitement to my already fully charged body. The man had well defined muscles that were even obvious through the perfect fur that surrounded his chest, abs, and arms. This sight was enough to make me raise my legs quickly, but I forced myself to wait for the presents that waited beneath his pants. Jim started humming the well-known striptease tune as he took off his belt and began to push his unbuttoned pants down his hips. To my surprise, as well as my delight, Mr. Jim did not wear underwear. I couldn’t believe this man would go to the opening of an art exhibit with his cock and balls dangling so freely. I was turned on even more by his obvious bravery. The first thing I noticed about his piece of meat was its thickness. As the zipper went down slowly and the sides of his pants spread apart I was amazed at how I continued to only see the skin of his hard-on. The thick meat was forced by the pants to point downward. When he finally got the pants low enough to free the broad python-like dick, I actually gasped softly when the massive fist-sized head shot straight up and slapped against his lower abs. The man had a cock that reminded me more of a solid tree trunk than anything else. For a second I questioned my decision to allow him to plow me with something that seemed as wide as medium sized watermelon. The only thing that could have possibly made my fears about the substantial head and base of his cock disappear came into view when he let his pants finally drop to the floor.

 

I’ve always thought the most beautiful part of any man was big arms or a massive chest. I can’t lie, I’ve rarely looked anywhere else when I have drooled over bodybuilders in magazines or online. But the man in front of me, at this moment, caused a shift in my muscle-worshipping paradigm that would be changed forever. I instantly knew why Jim had been able to lift my body earlier just by placing one of his legs underneath my ass and balls. I also knew that my concept of muscular quads would never be the same. I was staring at two bulging thighs that, even though un-flexed, still looked like they were mounds of hardened rock that had been slammed together so hard they stayed connected. I don’t know proper words for describing a man’s muscles. I’ve heard terms like striations, valleys, crevices, and the like thrown around for years. Here’s all I really knew about what I was staring at – Jim’s legs were fucking huge. Nothing about his upper body could have prepared me for what I encountered below his belt. It made sense that such a full, broad cock would need two mammoth pillars to support it, but it looked as if these legs could support the tower that held Big Ben. No, these legs looked like that tower! Just when I thought I would be able to recover from the shock of this sight and return my gaze upward, Jim decided to tease me by flexing his quads.

 

“Fuck,” was all I could say as I stared at his pumped-up legs.

 

When Jim placed his hands on his hips and tensed his legs, the bulky meat inside, just below his large balls, flared out and forced his legs to move apart. It was a sight that made my cock shoot straight up my stomach again. Bulging muscle flared out in every direction from his thighs and I could tell that his knees, even though blocked by the bed, were pushed farther away from each other. Most men would have been extremely happy if their legs had looked like just one of the massive bulges sticking out from Jim’s quads, but this guy seemed to have absorbed the leg muscles of five big bodybuilders and molded them into his own. And to add to the shock of his unveiled muscled girders, Jim continued to tense and relax his legs to make them bulge even more. The heartless guy knew I was totally mesmerized and blown away by his surprise. He also knew how to show them off in a way that easily brought me close to a second orgasm. If I had not forced my mind to move away from his quads, I could have easily shot another load just from watching his upper legs balloon into inconceivable mounds of muscle. I ordered my eyes to leave his legs and look upward to his smiling face.

 

“It appears that you like what you see, Anthony,” Jim said relaxing his legs, but they still bulged beyond belief. “I run and bike a lot. I also do a lot of Triathlons, so I need to have some good power in my legs.”

 

“It seems that those legs have nuclear power,” I whispered, mainly because my mouth was totally dry with lust.

 

Jim laughed and then, just to tease me more, he raised one leg and placed it on the edge of the bed revealing a calf that seemed wider than my thigh. It also was sculpted in a way that made it look almost inhuman or morphed by a computer. Jim went up on his toes and tensed, causing the calf to explode into not just some tear-shaped mound, no, this was like someone had bunched numerous slabs of hard beef together to make something that barely resembled a human leg. I had to immediately turn my face back up to his so I could remain in control of my cock. Jim registered the trouble I was having, smiled knowingly, and placed his foot back on the floor. I felt a strong relief in my body because another release of cum had been averted. I wanted to wait as long as I could.

 

“So, I’ve made an independent decision, my dear Anthony,” Jim said reaching down to grab my legs. “I want to feel your entire muscled body as I fuck you, so it’s time for you to turn over on your stomach.” He then took my right leg and twisted it over my left, intending to force me to roll over. He also pushed my so body moved fully on the bed.

 

I knew, automatically, that I could have easily out strengthened Jim and prevented myself from budging even an inch, but why delay the pleasure we both were seeking. I pretended to struggle a little and then flipped over on my stomach. Jim whistled again as he took in my shoulders, back, ass, and legs. I got the same feeling of pride in my stomach knowing he was pleased with my body. In a quick flash Jim was lying on top of me. I noticed, for a brief moment, how light his body seemed to me. It was, again, apparent that my workouts were also benefiting my strength. I made a quick mental note of this fact. This awareness was interrupted by the immediate feeling of something similar to a fire hydrant pressed up against my ass crack. My heart started racing a little as I thought about trying to take all of Jim’s thick cock in my tight hole, but I knew I was ready for the challenge. He began to raise his crotch up and down, causing his thick piece of hard meat to move up and down my ass. This helped his cock to wedge itself between my cheeks. Jim was going slow, allowing me to get used to the feeling of his wide dick. For a second my mind left what was happening at my ass and I focused on the feeling of his muscled legs up against mine. I could actually make out the massive bulges that had easily caused me to get hard. I got lost in the sensation of those warm, hard-as-metal quads rubbing up against mine. I was only forced back to the present moment when I felt his fat, firm mushroom head press against my tight hole. He moved the thick tip of his cock up and down inside my ass cheeks and I could feel globs of pre-cum oiling up the opening of my chute. Jim began to press the hard tip into my tensed opening just to help loosen me up a little. I could tell that each time he pushed a little more of his dickhead pressed into my hole. I was extremely thankful that this guy seemed to leak a lot of juice when getting ready for sex – it was certainly going to help lessen the initial pain caused by such a big rod.

 

After what seemed to be about ten minutes of teasing, Jim’s mushroom head popped beyond the walls of my hole. He stopped all movement and let my ass get used to the sudden invasion. I was shocked at how little it hurt to accept such a wide tip. Jim was obviously as good at fucking as he was sucking. He began to kiss the back of my neck and my shoulders as soon as he started pressing his cock further into my body. The gentle rocking of his hips made it easy for me to accept more of him without tensing up uncontrollably. The feeling of his hard broad meat in my ass caused my cock to stay extremely hard. Before I fully realized what was happening, Jim’s pubic hair and skin was pushing up against my cheeks. It suddenly dawned on me that the guy’s huge cock was fully inside. I had a feeling of accomplishment and was overjoyed by the sounds of approval coming from the hot man on top of me. Jim began to pump his cock a little harder and a little faster. Because of his expert work leading up to this moment, my ass had already moved to the pleasure point of a good fuck. I even began to raise my own crotch pushing my ass into him as he pressed down - so it would force his meat deeper into me and increase the thrill for both of us. As Jim increased his motion, I increased mine. We easily fell into a rhythm that seemed to say we were made for each other. I could feel drops of sweat falling from Jim’s body onto mine as we doubled our efforts. It felt like someone was cramming a small car into my ass, but it also felt good. When Jim began thrusting with all of his might, he also started uttering beast-like sounds that turned me on even more. I could tell the strength of his muscled legs helped him tremendously as he plunged his thick tool completely into my ass.

 

Jim did not rush anything. I could tell he sometimes slowed the motion of his body to help prolong the much anticipated, and much needed, sexual release. Jim seemed to like the build up to orgasm as much as I did, but I knew, he also liked getting to actually shoot off as much as I did. In the midst of our sex, I again registered how light his body felt on top of mine and I was delighted to feel how easily I could raise my crotch off the mattress and lift his body at the same time. I think Jim was too focused on the pleasure my ass to notice. My body became aware that Jim’s cock was hardening even more and I could feel all of his muscles begin to tense. I knew he was about to release his load and I could sense that it was going to be a huge explosion. I lifted my ass off the bed and held it in the air easily. As Jim slammed his thick cock into me, my body didn’t budge at all and this gave Jim even more intense pleasure.

 

“Fucking . . . hell . . . Anthony,” he said in between thrusts, “My cock feels like a huge cannon! I’m going to fucking cum…”

 

And with one last intense slam into my ass, Jim held his crotch firmly against me – reaching one of his arms around my raised mid section and holding on to my stomach with one hand as he propped himself up with the other. I continued to push my ass strongly into his crotch as I felt copious amounts of jism shooting into my chute from his thick cock. Jim shouted loudly and incoherently as his body buckled against mine from the severe orgasm that rocked him. Even the force of his ejaculation did not make my sturdy frame move at all. I knew this only added to his enjoyment. When I finally sensed his body had emptied itself completely, I let my crotch drop completely back down on the bed. I realized then that Jim’s hand was under my stomach and gripped my hard cock. His breathing was very heavy and I could feel his entire body heaving against mine as he remained on top, and inside, of me. I waited because I knew he needed time to calm down. My body was not tired in the least; as a matter of fact it was energized. I knew it would be a few minutes before Jim would be able to speak. I decided to try something as I waited for his body to return to some kind of normalcy.

 

Because his body felt so light on top of mine, I took my hands and placed them, palm down against the mattress, underneath my chest. I then straightened my feet and pressed my toes into the mattress, as well. With little effort I pressed my body, and Jim’s, into the air in a perfect example of a push-up. I was thrilled at how easy it was and how powerful it made me feel. While I performed this feat of strength, I was fully aware of what was going on. I was not consumed by some hidden force or desire, as I had been when I forced Paulo to the ground with just my hands. My head was clear and I could fully feel, and acknowledge, the strength in my body. It dawned on me that I had been holding both Jim and myself up in the air for a few minutes. I could feel that Jim was still breathing hard and his entire being was still in that post-ejaculation high that came with an intense orgasm. I lowered our bodies back down, just a few inches from the mattress, and then pressed back up. I continued to do this a few more times. I could not believe how easy it was to lift Jim’s and my weight with my improved body. I actually started trying to think of a way to add more weight to see how much I could press into the air. Throughout all of these thoughts I had absent-mindedly continued to press our bodies up and down with great ease. I wasn’t even beginning to breathe hard and I was probably on my twentieth repetition.

 

“Yeah, the boy is so fucking strong,” whispered Jim into my ear and I realized he had gained control of his body enough to note what I was easily doing. “And I can tell the boy gets off on his own strength, too.”

 

Jim’s last comment made me realize that his hand remained on my cock and it was achingly hard at this moment. I was getting off, in a big way, on my own strength and the fact that I got to show it off for Jim. Jim, meanwhile, had begun to slide his fist up and down my hard shaft. This was all a new feeling for me. I moved from one sensation to the other quickly. I marveled at the fact that I was still lowering and raising our combined weight and I wasn’t even straining. At the same time I could feel in my back Jim’s heart pounding quickly again – this time because of the strength he was observing first-hand in my body. I then let my mind focus a few seconds on the pressure that was building in my cock – caused from my own lust for my strength and the wonderful hand job Jim was giving me. I glanced at my arms as I lowered us down the next time and as I pushed us up. The thrill of seeing my arms burst with bulging muscles made my cock twitch noticeably. Jim was observing me closely and saw what watching my own arms did to me.

 

“Yeah, big Anthony loves his big muscles, doesn’t he?” he asked softly. I couldn’t help myself and I nodded my head up and down giving him a yes to his question. This made Jim laugh and I felt his body shake slightly on mine. I was still pressing up and down. I had begun to feel it a little in my arms, but knew I could continue on for a long time. “Yeah, so strong. Push me up into the air like I am a feather pillow on your back. This arm, Anthony, is hard as rock. It’s fucking hot and hard as rock.” Jim had taken his hand that was not sliding up and down my dick and moved it to my left triceps. He was worshipping its bulging hard mass. Jim also started to pump my cock harder. I then felt his lips and tongue start working some magic on my muscled shoulder.

 

His admiration of my strength and my body only made me crank out more push-ups faster, but still in perfect form. I wanted this man to be pleased with me, but I also wanted to show him how my body could easily protect him. I wanted him, for some reason, to feel safe and secure when he was with me. I wanted him to know that I was going to be everything he wanted in a man. I don’t know how, but Jim sensed all of this and knew how to feed my desires.

 

“I like your strength, Anthony. I like it a lot. I like it as much as you do. It makes me feel safe.” Jim continued to kiss my shoulder intermittently between sentences. “Yeah, press us up and down like we weigh nothing. Do you want to keep this up all night, Anthony? Feel my cock getting hard again inside of you just because of your strength?”

 

My attention immediately went to my ass and I paused at the peak of my present push-up. Jim thick cock was fully hard in my tight chute again. There was not pain, though. Somehow, the strength of my body extended even to my ass hole and I was able to squeeze those muscles to also show off for Jim. He made a sound that was similar to a cat purring as I tightened the inside of my ass around his thickness. I returned to my push-ups and was stunned, anew, by how easy I could do them. Jim began to pump his cock slightly in my ass, as he continued to pump my own cock with his hand.

 

“We are both going to cum just because of your strength, Anthony.” Jim began to excite both of us even more by expressing his thoughts out loud. “This is nothing for a big guy like you. I could place a fucking London double-decker bus on top of you, Anthony, and you would be able to blast out push-ups continuously for a couple of days. Yeah, you like that thought, do you not, Anthony? I can feel it in your tight ass and your hard prick. You love being fucking strong. I cannot wait to see you show off more, sir. Feel how easy it is for you to push both of us into the air. You are probably on your hundredth rep and it seems like you are on number one. Yeah, my big strongman, impress me with these arms of yours. These same arms are going to hold me tight and make sure I am taken care of – right, Anthony? These guns that can lift a fucking bus are going to hold me and make me feel safe. There is nothing these arms cannot do. Yeah, big man, push me up in the air like I was nothing. These fucking arms are going to make me cum!”

 

I’m not really sure what made us both explode at that same moment. It could have been the fact that both of our cocks were being stroked – his by my ass and mine by his hand. It could have been what Jim was saying and how he was saying it. We both were turned on by his play-by-play commentary about what was happening. It also could have been the fact that both of us were very horny and the mere feeling of our bodies touching each other sent us over the top. I have a feeling, though; we both shot our second load during this sexual encounter merely because of the strength being shown off. I somehow knew, as soon as I felt Jim’s cock forcing large globs of cum into my ass for the second time and my own dick started spraying my chest, the bottom of my chin, and the bedspread with warm juice, that we both loved the same thing in different ways. I loved my still-surprising strength because of how I could impress and protect someone, Jim loved it because it made him feel safe and because I was able to do things that most other men could not. We both saw that what started out as a potential one-night-stand was turning into something deeper and, hopefully, long lasting.

 

My arms easily held both of our shaking bodies in the air as we spewed forth in our powerful, simultaneous orgasms. I believe that by continuing to press our bodies in the air while we came, I made our ejaculations even last longer. This in turn, wore both of us out. As soon as my cock had sent its final few spurts of cum onto the bed, I lowered our bodies back onto the mattress. Jim’s body was still shaking from the exertion of his second blast within such a short amount of time and he simply pulled his cock from my ass and slid onto the mattress beside me. His face was turned towards me and he was smiling. I lifted my head and noticed that his beautiful face and body was covered in drops of sweat. He had his left arm draped across my back and was squeezing me tightly to show his appreciation. I brought my face over to his and he brought his lips to meet mine. We kissed deeply, without closing our eyes. We kept our lips locked as we lowered our heads back to rest on the bed. We fell asleep with our bodies entwined and our lips pressed together.

 

The sound of the buzzer at the front door of my flat woke me with a start. At first I did not know where I was. Two things immediately grounded me. One was the fact that bright sunlight was streaming into my bedroom and it helped me quickly realize I was in my flat in London. Secondly, my arms were wrapped around the body of Jim Revere, as he spooned tightly with me in my bed. We had somehow ended up in this position during our sound sleep and it felt completely right. I held his warm body firmly against mine as if I were guarding him from something. I could tell that he was in a deep sleep. I pulled my hand from his body and slid backwards from the bed. He stirred a little, but did not wake up. I grabbed some shorts from my dresser as the buzzer continued to fill the flat. I pulled the cotton workout shorts up my firm legs and realized they were stretched to the max by my quads and ass. I didn’t care how I looked; I just wanted to get to the door so the noise would stop. When I opened the door to the hallway I was greeted by a younger guy with a large arrangement of flowers. The delivery man’s mouth fell wide open when he saw me. He didn’t even attempt to hide his quick glance up and down my body, or his long pause as he stared at my tight shorts and the outline of my rigid cock. I hadn’t paid any attention to my morning hard-on as I pulled the shorts up around my crotch. The guy didn’t say a word; he just continued to look at my body.

 

“Yes?” I finally said, a little annoyed. It took a few seconds for the guy to register than I had spoken. He also continued to look at my crotch as he spoke.

 

“I . . . um . . . I’ve got . . . um . . . some,” the guy fumbled around to try and make a complete sentence. He was utterly lost in a fantasy world involving my body. He continued, “I mean . . . I’ve got . . . oh hell, your body’s bloody fantastic.”

 

Even though I was slightly annoyed, I did not miss the chance to appreciate the compliment. Since these kinds of remarks were still so new, I wanted to enjoy them completely.

 

“Thanks, man. I think what you’ve brought are some flowers, right?” I asked.

 

“Yes . . . I mean, yes sir. I’ve got some flowers for,” and with this he looked at the card, “Mr. Anthony Lance.”

 

“I’m Anthony,” I replied.

 

“Hell, yes, you are,” he said quickly, before he could even think about filtering his thoughts. We just stood there for a few more minutes as his gaze went right back to my crotch.

 

“Do I need to sign something or anything like that?” I asked.

 

“Umm, no sir,” he said coming out of his trance. “Here you go. These are for you.” He held out the flowers for me to take. I took them from him and he continued to stand there staring.

 

“I’m sorry,” I said looking at him, “is there anything else?” The guy’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

 

“Yes, sir,” he said eagerly, “I umm . . . I could . . . I could take care of that for you.” He pointed to my hard-on and then looked at me with a pleading smile. I was overcome with a mixture of pride for being able to cause this kind of reaction in the kid and something akin to sympathy because he revealed his desire so blatantly.

 

“Hey, that’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ve got someone in the bedroom that might get a little jealous.” I was trying to let him down gently and I also jumped up and down on the inside because I really did have someone in the bedroom. I watched as his face shot to deep disappointment. “Maybe another time,” I added. This seemed to cheer him up somewhat.

 

“Any time, sir. Just call the number on the card and ask for Seth. I’ll make sure to order something nice to be delivered to you. Remember, ask for Seth.” He could see I was shutting the door and he wanted to make sure I knew what to do when I decided to call upon him.

 

“I will, Seth, I will,” I said and then closed the door. I walked to the kitchen area and placed the flowers on the counter of the island in the middle of the room. I reached up and pulled out the card. It read:

 

“Sorry we got disconnected. I miss you and will be home soon. R.”

 

Reading the note from Roger caused a wave of mixed emotions to crash over my body. I suddenly felt guilty for sleeping with Jim. I tried to immediately push that from my head and rationalize my actions by acknowledging that Roger and I had not decided to only date each other and he had also left town after revving up my engines without even a promised date for a good race. It also made me a little angry with him for not being there to take our foreplay to new levels of intimacy and great sex. But the worst feeling of all was one of lust for the man. Something unexplainable took over my body as I read the card and looked at the flowers. I wanted Roger, still, even after having an incredible night with Jim. Roger’s body, his voice, and his incredible sexiness made it hard for me to forget him. He held me in some kind of lust prison. I knew, on some level, that no matter what happened with Jim, when Roger returned he and I would definitely see what kind of fire we could ignite in the bedroom. I also knew that it would be much more intense than my night with Jim. These thoughts caused my dick to grow harder. Its head pushed through the top of my shorts and continued to creep up my abs.

 

I jumped a little when I felt hands wrap around my waist and find my hard tool. I had been so focused on my thoughts about Roger that I had not heard Jim walk up behind me. Without even acknowledging that he had scared me a little, he slid his hands into my shorts and grabbed my hard cock. For a second I noted that both of his big hands could grab my long shaft and I still found that so surprising. The feeling of his thick piece of meat pressing against my ass made me forget all other thoughts immediately. Even thoughts about Roger disappeared and all I concentrated on was how natural his body felt against mine.

 

“Who is my competition?” he asked as he began to squeeze my cock and move his dick up and down my ass crack.

 

“What?” I asked, half hearing his question. I was too focused on what how his movements affected my body.

 

“Who sent you flowers?” Jim asked a little more directly.

 

“Oh. Roger… the guy who left the country just as we started to see each other.” I said truthfully.

 

“Lucky for me, no?” Jim asked. I forced my body to turn around, causing him to remove his hands from my cock. I was a little shocked to find him totally nude. We both wrapped our arms around each other and grabbed each other’s ass. Our hard cocks pressed against one another teasingly. Each of us started to move our hips side to side to increase the feeling in our stiff poles.

 

“No,” I said softly and his face went somewhat sad, “lucky for both of us.” I brought my lips to his and kissed him. My tongue parted his teeth and explored his mouth roughly. He moaned slightly and pulled his face from mine.

 

“Last night was great,” he said. I nodded my head and smiled. “All of it was great, but I think you know I loved the pushups the most.” He looked at me intently and his smile seemed to turn slightly devilish. “I think you liked it the most too.”

 

I said nothing. I simply turned our bodies around slowly, so his back was now up against the counter of the kitchen island. I pulled our bodies slightly away from the marble top and then placed my hands at his hips. I grabbed him tightly and then slowly lifted. Jim’s body came off the floor easily. His eyes shot big as saucers and his mouth fell open. I didn’t bend at the waist, I didn’t strain at all, and I didn’t move quickly. I simply lifted his entire body as if he were a child’s stuffed animal. I kept my eyes on his and had to tilt my head backwards as he rose in the air. When I had his ass slightly higher than the countertop I stopped lifting and held him in steady the air. Jim took his eyes from mine, briefly, so he could look down at my bent arms holding him in the air as if it were nothing. He quickly placed his palms on my hard biceps and this made his cock twitch between us. It thumped against my chest twice. He returned his gaze to mine and we both smiled. After a minute or two of just holding him there - so he could get a good sense of just how easy I found this task - I lifted his body higher into the air. This forced him to move his hands to my hard shoulders. I lifted until his balls were even with my face. I licked them teasingly and Jim dug his fingers into my shoulders. After I had given his balls a thorough tongue bath, I pulled my head back and looked up at his face. He was watching me closely, but his eyes were barely open because of the feeling of pleasure I was giving. I pushed his legs back against the countertop and lowered his ass onto the marble. I figured it was cold, but the heat I was causing in his body probably prevented him from noticing. I forced my body between his muscular legs. I moved my hands from his hips and rested them on his massive quads. It was my turn to be impressed. Jim obviously hoped that his bulging thigh muscles would somehow repay me for the pleasure my strength had given him. He didn’t know, however, how right he was.

 

My hands began to explore every bulge in Jim’s monstrous quads. He flexed them just to emphasize their hardness. I bent over and let my tongue run over and around the mounds of muscle that seemed to stick out in every direction. My cock seemed to get even more rigid as Jim would relax his legs and then catch my tongue in some groove by tensing them again. His legs were beautiful. I let my tongue leave his quad and move over to the base of his thick cock. I dragged my warm, wet tongue up his shaft and then opened wide to take the head into my mouth. I sucked with all my might and even clenched my teeth down lightly on his cock. I then tried to open my throat as much as I could and pushed my head down on his hardness. I knew there was no way my throat could take all of him, but I did a pretty good job trying. I started sliding my mouth up and down on his hard cock and, by the grunts of pleasure he was making, I knew I was doing a good job. Without warning my mouth was filled with his warm cum.

 

Jim’s body didn’t give any indication that he was about to shoot. I realized, that by easily lifting him into the air, I had taken him so close to the edge of release that my just-okay skills at sucking such a large piece of meat could easily finish him off. I knew this information would come in handy many more times. I tried to swallow all of the juice his cock was sending down my throat, but there was just too much. Many drops landed in the dark hair around the base of his dick and on t

he counter. I made a mental note to lick it up after I lifted him back down to the ground. When he was done shooting, I lifted my head to look at him. Jim was resting on his outstretched arms behind him and had his head was pushed back in ecstasy. He finally recovered and looked at me. We both smiled.

 

“Well,” I said, “I’ve had breakfast. Can I fix you something?”

 

“I think I need caffeine first,” he said, revealing how dazed his orgasm had left him. “Your little strength shows are going to be the death of me.”

 

“Coffee coming right up,” I said laughing. I handed him a roll of paper towels to clean himself off. “Leave the drops on the counter. I’ll clean them up myself.” Jim laughed because he understood I wouldn’t be using the paper towels. I started preparing the coffee, but kept a close eye on Jim. When he started to slide off the island I quickly moved in front of him. “No, no, no sir. Here, let me help you.” I grabbed him at the waist, again, and lifted him straight up, into the air. I held him higher than before and ran my tongue across his quads. Jim’s cock shot hard again as soon as I lifted him.

 

“You got to give me time to recover, Anthony,” he cried. “Put me down so I can rest.”

 

“How do we ask?” I said teasingly.

 

“Please?” he replied.

 

“Please what?” I said.

 

“Please, sir,” Jim responded, happy when he found that he had answered correctly and I lowered him so his feet touched the ground.

 

I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him hard on the lips. Jim responded by grabbing my ass with both hands, pulling my cheeks apart, and sliding a finger quickly into my tight hole. I jumped slightly, forcing him to withdraw his finger, but we never stopped our kiss. I finally pushed him away and returned to the coffee. Jim turned to look at Roger’s flowers. I tried to figure out a way to ask a burning question I had as delicately as I could.

 

“Jim, do you think you could do me a favor?” I asked.

 

“What’s that,” he replied looking at me.

 

“I know it’s a lot to ask, especially since we just met, but . . . do you think you could,” I could feel myself chickening out. “Oh never mind.”

 

“Anthony, please. We are not teenagers. Just ask.” Jim looked at me with a face clearly open to whatever the favor was.

 

“Do you think you could . . . um . . . call your boss and tell him you’re sick.” I could not believe I had actually asked. It was just that I really wanted to spend more time with him. I didn’t want the magic to end. Jim burst into laughter and, for a second, I felt like I had asked too much.

 

“Well, no, I cannot do that Anthony,” he said and then closely watched as my face went sad. He then added, “For you see, I do not have a boss to call. I am the Executive Director of the National Portrait Gallery. I would be calling myself. And, for the record, I have already given myself the day off. For, you see there is a guy that I have met and he is really cute. I want to show him some of my favorite places in London. I also plan on having sex with him a few more times. I hope that is fine with you, Anthony.” Jim had moved closer to me and reached down to grab my cock through my shorts. He had noticed it grew as he was speaking. Jim squeezed hard and then leaned over to kiss me on the forehead.

 

“Yes,” I said softly, because it felt as if I were in a dream, “yes that would be fine with me.” At that exact moment the buzzer of the door to my flat rang again. I jumped at the sound and then said, “How are all these people getting through the front door of the building?”

 

“Maybe we broke it last night,” Jim answered quickly. “We were pushing on it pretty hard.” For a few seconds I panicked that he might be right. “I think I will step into the bedroom.” I watched Jim’s beautiful ass and legs as he walked away. I moved to the door, making sure to try and adjust my hard cock so it wasn’t as obscene as earlier.

 

I opened the door and there stood Manfred. In a similar fashion as the deliveryman, earlier, Manfred’s face completely changed as he took in my undressed body. His mouth fell slightly open as he glanced up and down my torso, stopping for a few seconds at my crotch. I was immediately embarrassed that I had greeted him this way, but I was also somewhat pleased that he was getting such a close-up look at my improved body. I was suddenly overcome with a desire, a desire I couldn’t name, but I knew it had to do with Manfred. I didn’t have time to sort it all out, but I wanted to win him over in some way. Just as with the flowers from Roger, for a few seconds I totally forgot about Jim and how last night had made me feel. At this precise moment all I thought about was tensing my body slightly to make Manfred hard. That was it! I wanted Manfred to desire me. I knew there was more, but I didn’t have time to finish analyzing the situation.

 

“Is this the way you always open the door?” Manfred asked. I turned red and I know he noticed. “There are some workmen trying to fix the door down stairs, so I just decided to come on up. Sorry that I didn’t call.”

 

“No, that’s fine Manfred. Don’t worry. I’m sorry I’m not dressed. It’s been a busy morning,” I said, focusing for a few seconds only on the front door situation and trying to figure out if Jim and I broke it.

 

“I can see that,” Manfred said smiling. He also looked my body up and down, again. This time I saw a hint of something similar to desire in his eyes and it affected me in a huge way. I immediately stood straighter. I forgot about my hard cock and actually thrust my chest out a little. Yes, me, little Anthony Lance, actually puffed up my chest like some macho stud. It didn’t feel completely natural, but I could see that it caused some kind of change in Manfred. I didn’t know what exactly, but there was a change. “You also obviously did not have time to wipe away all of your toothpaste.” He pointed to the corner of his mouth to show me where I had missed. I turned a darker shade of red because I knew it wasn’t toothpaste. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I saw that Manfred’s gaze went immediately to my bicep. I thought I also noticed some movement at his crotch with my peripheral vision.

 

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, Manfred, but what can I do for you,” I said a little too quickly, for I could tell that he immediately knew I was trying to end our conversation as soon as possible. He surely knew that someone else was there.

 

“I was hoping we might have a late breakfast, but, if you are busy Anthony, perhaps another time.” He was being the perfect gentleman and allowing me to get out of an awkward situation.

 

“Yes, Manfred. Another day would be great. I have a few things planned for today. How about tomorrow or the next day?” I asked. “Do either of those work for you?”

 

“Yes,” Manfred said, “I think I could make one of those work. I will call you later, Anthony, after you have had time to see which will work best for you. Please ignore the two messages I left on your mobile.” I started to ask when he had called, but now I remembered hearing the phone ring a few times last night while Jim and I were having fun. I also think it rang a few times this morning, but that could have been a dream.

 

“Am I free to come out now?” asked Jim as he walked into the living room. He had, thank goodness, put on a pair of my shorts and a t-shirt. He stopped in his tracks when he saw us. “I am so sorry. I thought I heard the door shut. Excuse me.” He turned to leave the room. I was suddenly filled with a bravery that I had never known before.

 

“No, it’s fine Jim. Come, come meet my friend Manfred.” I motioned him back into the room.

 

“We actually know each other, Anthony,” said Manfred. “Hello, Jim.”

 

“Hiya Manfred,” said Jim extending his hand as he walked over to us. I watched them shake hands and I know I had a shocked look on my face. Jim noticed my surprise. “Manfred and his family are major donors to the Portrait Gallery.” It was a brief explanation, but it was all that was needed.

 

“Well, gentleman, I must go,” Manfred said breaking an awkward pause. “Jim, it was great to see you. Anthony, please call me later. You two have a great day.” And with that, he turned and walked down the hall.

 

“Bye Manfred,” Jim called. I stepped into the hallway.

 

“I’ll call you later, Manfred.” I said and he raised his hand in the air as he walked away to say that that would be fine. I could tell that he was hurt in some way, but I did not, for the life of me, know why. I stepped back inside and shut the door.

 

“I’m so sorry, Anthony.” Jim said.

 

I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to what Jim was saying because I was still trying to figure out Manfred.

 

“What? Oh, don’t be silly, Jim. Manfred and I are just friends,” I said and then realized that I had been too hasty. Jim had not meant he was sorry about stepping out in front of Manfred, he was sorry he had stepped out period. I saw in his eyes a flash of awareness.

 

“Oh no,” he said, “I see that there are two competitors now. I must rally the troops and strengthen my offense!”

 

I didn’t respond. I just looked at him and smiled. I knew to deny that I felt anything for Manfred would be useless now. It had been written all over my face. I was beginning to realize I was confused beyond belief!

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 20 

May 15th, 2011


 

Jim could sense he had hit a sore spot when he mentioned that Manfred seemed to be a competitor for my affections. I don’t think, however, he knew how deep my confusion about and my desire for Manfred ran. It had been obvious that Manfred left upset, but what did he have to be upset about? He had made it quite clear to me the first night we met that he was attracted to, and only dated, huge bodybuilders. Yes, I had grown a little, but I was not huge by his or anyone’s standards. He definitely noticed my improved body when I answered the door in just my cotton shorts, but I was not even close to having the build he confessed to liking. I could not, for the life of me, figure out why he had seemed hurt when he left my flat. Was it because I was dating someone he knew? Did he have a thing for Jim Revere? That was hard to believe, since Jim’s body was not gigantic either – well, except for his legs. Jim definitely had the legs of a natural bodybuilder, but the rest of him was simply well-built. I think Jim was keenly aware that I was confounded by Manfred’s quick departure.

 

“We used to date,” he said as a way of explaining Manfred’s behavior. “It did not end well. I broke up with him and I do not think he has ever forgiven me.”

 

Jim’s statement brought me out of my reflective mood quickly. I turned to face him and I know my face showed my surprise.

 

“You broke up with him? Why?” I asked and it was obvious that I found it hard to believe someone would not stick with Manfred for life.

 

“Oh, Anthony, I do not really know. We were younger then and neither of us was sure about what we wanted. I believe Manfred wanted me to be some kind of father-figure for him, but only years later did I find out that was really the last thing he desired. Manfred is not a man of many words and he does not find it easy to share his feelings. I became impatient and started looking elsewhere for strong emotional relationships. I met a guy that not only liked me very much, but he was open about his feelings and had no problem communicating. I did what every healthy man in his sexual prime would do – I left Manfred for the other guy. Looking back, I realize my actions were not very honorable, but I really just wanted a partner that I could connect with.” Jim paused and looked at me with a face that pleaded for understanding. I walked over to him and put my hands around his waist.

 

“I cannot hold that against you, Jim. And, trust me, the more I get know Manfred the more I understand what you’re saying. The man can be very confusing. It would be a lie to say that I don’t have feelings for him. I mean, come on, the man is very handsome. But, please know, I have first-hand knowledge about what the guy likes and I do not fit the bill.” I brought my lips forward and kissed Jim as I finished.

 

“I, too, know his type, Anthony,” Jim said pulling his mouth from mine. “I have a strange feeling that Manfred is re-thinking his requirements for a boyfriend because of you. I also believe that you might actually end up being exactly his type some day - and maybe soon. I know this will sound strange, but you actually appear bigger today. I am sure it is just my imagination, but holding you this morning feels very different than it did last night. You seem taller.”

 

Something in what Jim was saying registered within me as correct - on some deep level. I could not tell what the feeling meant or why it existed, I just knew that it was not Jim’s imagination. I actually felt bigger. My pecs felt heavier, as if there was more meat making them push out further. My arms seemed to have more bulk, as well. I knew it would be wrong, in some way, to acknowledge what Jim had noticed, so I simply smiled at him and decided to change the subject.

 

“How about some coffee?” I asked. “I’m sure it is ready by now.”

 

“You are certainly a man that likes to change the subject, Mr. Lance,” he said smiling and I knew, from the look on his face, he would not return to the subject of my gained size. This made me very happy. “Well, what should we do today? I only have one thing on my agenda and that involves us having more mind-blowing sex at some point. Do you find that on your schedule, as well?”

 

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I said smiling while I poured a cup of coffee for Jim. “Isn’t that a great coincidence?”

 

As soon as I handed Jim the cup of coffee he took a sip and then placed it on the counter beside him. He reached over and placed his hand behind my head, pulling my face close to his. He then pressed his warm moist lips against mine and pushed hard. At the same time he slid his other hand beyond the elastic band of my shorts and grabbed my growing cock. He moaned as soon as his fingers wrapped around my hardening meat. His tongue slid in between my lips and teeth and began moving in the same rhythm as his hand did while it stroked my rod. I reached up and placed my hands on his chest, pushing his body away from mine. He held on to my cock, pulling it from my shorts and causing my crotch to jerk forward in his direction.

 

“You, my friend,” I said smiling at him, “are the devil in disguise. I think it is time we took a shower and got some breakfast. I would say we should stay in and I’d cook for us, but I don’t think I’d be able to make it through scrambling some eggs before you threw me down on this counter and had your way with me. Shall we move to the shower with our coffee?”

 

Jim said nothing. He reached down, undid the button on the pair of shorts he was wearing and let them drop to the floor. At the same time he pulled his shirt over his head. He stood there, before me, with a semi-hard prick and his body all aglow with anticipation. He stepped away from his shorts, grabbed his coffee cup and started toward the shower.

 

“Last one in has to bend over to get the soap,” he yelled back at me.

 

I purposely took my time. I didn’t mind being the one to bend over. I grabbed a cup of coffee and joined him in the bathroom.

 

Jim and I were actually able to make it through the shower without jumping each other’s bones. I don’t know how we did it, but I believe it had something to do with our awareness that we had all day for sex. We were both horny as hell, but we also wanted to get to know the other person on a more intimate level. Once we were clean and dressed, Jim easily fitting into some of my old clothes and me fitting into some of the larger sizes that Martin gave me as a gift, we decided on a plan for our day. It had not even been fifteen hours since I had met Jim, but it already felt like we were a couple.

 

If I was asked to name all the things we did that day, in detail, I would not be able to do so. The main thing I remembered was Jim, Jim, Jim. I know he took me to many of his favorite places in London – restaurants, little-known museums, and a visit to the top of some tower (I can’t remember the name) that gave us a great view of the city. It was a perfect day. The weather was fantastic and the company was magical. We were only interrupted by a few work-related phone calls for Jim, but that didn’t bother either of us. We were lost in the thrill of getting to know one another.

 

We stopped late afternoon at his flat, so he could show it off. Jim had re-done the top floor of a three-story warehouse near the British Museum and it was a great place. The space was mainly one large open room with a few different leveled platforms that housed a bedroom, an office, and a den. During the entire tour of his place I tried to entice Jim into some afternoon delight, either on the kitchen counter or in the bed, but he stayed focused on showing me his place and then insisted we grab some pints at Halfway to Heaven. Jim needed to go into work for a short time that evening to check on some final details for the exhibit that had just opened. I immediately asked if he could come by my place after he finished work, and he said he had hoped I would ask. He grabbed a few items that would enable him to spend the night with me, we took a taxi so we could drop the stuff off at my place, and we entered the pub for our pints not even twenty-four hours since we had met. It seemed, however, that we had known each other for years.

 

During our day together I had quickly noticed that Jim has an incredible ability to make another person feel like nothing else in the world mattered. He seemed focused only on me. A few times, throughout our short time together, I saw men and women glance at him with a longing in their eyes – I’m sure it was the same look that appeared on my face. This caused no jealousy, but actually made me proud to be with the man. By the time we had settled on our stools at the pub I had almost erased all thoughts of any other man in London, that’s how “attached” I had become to Jim. I got the sense he felt the same way.

 

“So, here we are,” he said, taking a sip of his pint, “right back where we started.”

 

“It’s all so very cyclical, don’t you think?” I asked, smiling.

 

“Yes, but it is not, I dare say, repetitive. I have a feeling it will be a very long time, or even never, before anything between us seems boring or like it has already been done.” Jim was smiling back as he flirted.

 

“I know what you mean,” I replied, “I don’t think anything we do will ever be boring.”

 

“I will remind you of that, Mr. Lance, when you grow tired of me,” Jim shot back.

 

“That could never happen,” I quickly answered. I reached over and squeezed his thigh. The tips of my fingers brushed up against the growing piece of meat between his legs.

 

Suddenly, my body was overcome with a now familiar feeling of danger. The sensation was still hard to describe, but my skin began to tingle and all of my senses seemed to go into overload. The closest thing I had to describe my reaction was the way a cat becomes defensive when it senses a predator. If it had been possible, I believe my hair would have stood up and I would have hunched up my back and bared my teeth. That’s what my body felt like. I glanced around the bar, trying hard to not show Jim what I was feeling. I saw nothing out of the ordinary. There were some of the regulars I had come to know hanging out and a few tourists standing here and there. I could tell the feeling was growing stronger and my muscles even began to tense up to the point of hurting. I had a strong urge to put my arm around Jim, as if to protect him from something – so I did. I reached up and wrapped my arm around his shoulders pulling him into my body. I tilted my head in and kissed his lips to make the move as nonchalant as possible. I glanced over his shoulder as we pulled away from our kiss. And as suddenly as it had begun, the sensation that had consumed my body came to a screeching halt. It was as if some immediate threat had disappeared – the tornado had by-passed this house or the out-of-control car had stopped a few inches before hitting its victim. Jim simply smiled at me – his generous response to my kiss. It was clear he had not experienced any of the heightened awareness that had overcome my body. I smiled back and we sat there for a few seconds – in silence.

 

“It’s been a great day,” Jim finally said and then sipped his beer.

 

“A great day,” I replied, glancing over his shoulder and casually surveying the street beyond the window of the pub.

 

The sight of an extremely tall figure across the street, next to the gate of St. Martin in the Fields, immediately brought the tenseness back to my entire body. I knew who it was without even seeing his face. My heightened state of awareness was clearly attached to the appearance of Atol. Without even thinking about it too much I decided it was time to confront the man. I was filled with a defensiveness that gave me courage beyond anything I had ever felt before – I actually felt stronger than before, like I could defeat the giant easily. This inner knowledge moved me into action quickly.

 

“Excuse me for one second, Jim. I’ll be right back. There’s someone outside that I need to deal with,” I said as I slid off my stool. I did not wait for a response. I moved toward the door.

 

By the time I reached the sidewalk outside the pub, the tall man had disappeared. I glanced up and down the street, looking for the broad shoulders that would surely stick out way above other people’s heads. Atol was nowhere to be found. I could feel the disappointment in my body – specifically my muscles – as if I was somehow denied the pleasure of pounding the big guy. This thought made me laugh, because of the stupidity in my bravery. Atol was twice the size of me and probably ten times as strong. And yet, there was something within my gut that told me I could have easily won in hand-to-hand combat. I pushed those thoughts away, realizing how stupid they really were. I had simply been caught up in my anger. I pulled the mobile from my pocket and hit redial on a recent call.

 

“Hiya,” answered an obvious groggy voice on the other end.

 

“Don’t you dare ‘hiya’ me, Roger,” I spat into the phone. “I want you to call off your henchman. Why in the hell is he following me?”

 

“Do you know that it is two o’clock in the morning here, Anthony?” Roger asked.

 

“I don’t care,” I quickly replied. “Why is Atol following me?”

 

“I just asked him to keep tabs on you,” Roger answered. “To take care of you.”

 

“I can take care of myself.” I said angrily.

 

“I know,” answered Roger, “Jim Revere is a nice guy.”

 

This statement caused my body to tense up even more and I didn’t say a word for a few seconds. My anger was intensified and I knew I should not speak before counting to ten and thinking clearly about what I wanted to say.

 

“Yes, he is . . . and you’re stalking me,” I said calmly. “You don’t control me, Roger.”

 

“No, no I do not,” he answered and then added, “I doubt anyone could.”

 

“What does that mean?” I shot back.

 

“Nothing . . . nothing,” he responded. “I hope you enjoy being with Jim. He really is a nice guy. And so much better for you than Manfred.”

 

“Will you forget about Manfred!” I exclaimed. “He’s not even in the picture.”

 

“I hope not,” Roger replied. “I can handle the competition from Jim – he will be pretty easy to defeat – but trying to win your affections from Manfred would be a different story.”

 

“What are you talking about, Roger?” I asked in a voice full of confusion and exasperation.

 

“Nothing, Anthony, nothing,” he said with a sigh. “I will tell Atol to back off. I promise.”

 

“Not just back off,” I added, “tell him to disappear.”

 

“Yes, yes, I will,” answered Roger.

 

“Thank you,” I said, trying to salvage the conversation a little. I still had feelings for the man. “And now, I must get back to my date.”

 

“Just one quick thing, Anthony, if you do not mind. It is work related.” Roger said, trying to prevent me from hanging up. “Can we push your start date back a few weeks? I’ll be home by then and will be able to help you get situated in your new position. I also need to finish some things here in the States before we finalize new operations. We will certainly start paying you before then, but I believe it will be better for you and the company if I am in town when you begin. We can work out a beginning date soon.”

 

“That’s fine, Roger. Just let me know my new start date when you have it,” I answered.

 

“Great. That is splendid. Thank you,” he said with a voice full of manly charm. “Have a good night, Anthony. I hope you dream of me.”

 

“Good night Roger,” I replied, trying to ignore how sexy he sounded.

 

“You mean, good morning,” he responded with a slight chuckle.

 

“Whatever,” I added and then hung up.

 

Suddenly, I realized I had a raging hard-on and I was dumbfounded by my body’s reaction to Roger’s voice. Or was I hard because of the intense adrenaline that was still pumping through my body. Either way, I was confused and angry at my inability to control some basic sexual desire within me – it was like my need for physical gratification was slowly taking over my entire psyche. This thought made all noise in my head come to a complete stop. I realized that my earlier drive to confront Atol in some kind of battle was intricately connected to my strong sexual desires. They were almost the same – and seemed to cause the same reaction below my waist and throughout the rest of my frame. This awareness confused me and soothed me at the same time. I also admitted to myself that I was still deeply attracted to Roger, even after a blissful day with Jim. The draw towards both men was similar, but also vastly different. Roger somehow unleashed a beast within me, while the nearness of Jim caused me to become protective and domineering. When I was with Roger I found myself wanting to wrestle or have the kind of sex that knocked over lamps and caused all the bed sheets to come undone from the mattress. With Jim, however, I felt the need to hold him lovingly and to keep his body near mine – as if I was shielding him from the evil in the world. All of these revelations consumed me to the point that I didn’t notice Jim was now standing beside me. I turned to face him.

 

“That call seemed intense,” he said, wrapping his hand around mine. We instinctively started walking toward the National Portrait Gallery.

 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I replied and offered no other explanation.

 

“It did not cause me to lose any of my standing to a competitor, did it?” he asked.

 

“Not at all,” I lied. “You are definitely still ahead the rest of the pack.”

 

“Oh, now there is a pack, I see,” he replied, laughing.

 

“You know what I meant,” I answered. It was a strange choice of words, but somehow it seemed to fit. I would have never admitted that to Jim, but something rang true when I contemplated the idea of a ‘pack of men.’ I had no idea what it meant, but it was instantly familiar.

 

“I have to get to work, but I’ll be at your place in a couple of hours. Shall I pick up some dinner on my way?” Jim asked as he squeezed my hand. We were standing outside the gallery.

 

“That sounds nice.” I answered.

 

The beautiful man leaned in and kissed my cheek. He then released his grip and turned to go inside. He glanced back at me and smiled when he noticed I was adjusting the hardness at my crotch. He teasingly licked his lips and then disappeared through the door. I turned in the direction of my flat. I knew I should go home, but I had an overwhelming craving to either fuck someone senseless or start a fistfight with a bigger man. Both desires were completely new to me and I had no idea where they came from. I forced myself to walk home. I needed a cold shower and a stiff drink – to prevent me from doing things I would regret immediately and to calm myself down before Jim arrived. The thought of being alone with the man in my present condition scared the hell out of me. I worried I might not be able to control myself. I found myself wishing it were Roger coming to my house in a couple of hours. I somehow knew he would be able to match the beast that was being set free within me. With Roger, I would not have to hold back. I shook my head and tried to focus on Jim, but my throbbing cock made it very difficult.

 

 

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 21 

Oct 1st, 2012


 

 

The fresh air from my walk home, a nice long cold shower, and a couple shots of good Irish whiskey helped to cool my super-charged engines, which had gone into overdrive during my intense conversation with Roger and my conveniently missed battle with Atol, the giant. I was also still stoked from my time with the handsome James. I had finally settled down – even below my waist – and waited for Jim to arrive at my flat with dinner. He had said he’d only be at work for a couple of hours, so I was eagerly awaiting his arrival with promised take-away. I was sitting on my sofa flipping through a guidebook for London, hoping to find some other fun things that my new friend and I could do in the coming weeks. I was very happy that Roger had postponed my start date at work, enabling me to have some more one-on-one time with Jim. I found myself nodding off as I waited – obviously tired from the day of sightseeing with Jim and from the adrenaline rush that had enveloped my body earlier when I saw Atol. My thoughts of the moment I gazed upon the lurking giant began to make my body tense-up, so I quickly focused on thinking about Jim and the sexual fun we would have later that night. This seemed to soothe my edginess and I became, once again, dozing.

 

Suddenly, I became aware that the air around me had become freezing. I could actually see my breath when I exhaled. I looked up and realized I was no longer in my living room – I had returned to the place of my previous dreams, only this time I was not in the middle of the field. Instead, I was somewhere above the large open space looking down. I tried to move my arms and feet and that’s when I realized I was actually attached to something unmovable. I looked down and saw that I was completely nude, my body glistening in the moonlight and rippling with muscles beyond my wildest dreams. I looked huge and it felt as if I weighed a ton. I glanced at my wrists and leaned forward to peer at my ankles. Thick chains were tightly wrapped around these parts of my body and then embedded deeply into a huge stone slab that was part of a cliff next to the field. Just then, a long bright flash of lightning filled the sky and I looked out on the open space below.

 

There, facing each other, were what seemed to be two giant armies. On one side were the huge muscled studs of my first dream – sitting on horses. And on the other side were the dark hooded figures from one of my later dreams. It was clear that both groups were preparing for a massive battle. I could sense that I was somehow connected to the fight, but it wasn’t clear my involvement. I could sense that I was not fully a member of one side, per se, but I did have a deep investment in the conflict. In a second flash of lightning I saw two lone horsemen ride to the center of the field and engage in conversation. The feeling this sight evoked was extremely ominous. Suddenly the bright moonlight streamed onto the field, the full orb having moved beyond clouds. I watched helplessly as both riders returned to their armies. Without any warning and with little preparation the silence of the night was interrupted by the collective battle cries of both sets of warriors. The two masses immediately started heading towards each other at full speed and when they met in the center a huge battle began. A dark cloud of dust or smoke rose from the field and caught my attention, as it slowly turned into a gigantic cloaked figure – clearly dangerous and powerful. I strained even harder to try and free my naked body from the stone, but to no avail. I watched in terror as the giant figured, formed by the dust, turned its focus on me and started moving slowly in my direction. It was no longer just a cloud of smoke – it was a huge creature intent on doing me damage; that was for sure. I started to yell, but no sound came out of my mouth. Instead I heard the melodic sounds of a cell phone.

 

In an instant, I was fully awake and back in my living room, sitting on the sofa. I realized my phone was ringing from its place on the coffee table. It was the tone I had chosen for Jim and immediately I smiled and forgot about the disturbing dream. I grabbed the phone and said hello.

 

“Hiya, Anthony. What are you doing? More importantly, what are you wearing?” came the now familiar sexy voice.

 

“I was dozing and dreaming of you, so I’m totally nude.” I lied. “When will you get here? I have a big hard present waiting.”

 

“I am afraid I have a bit of bad news, sweetie,” he replied and my heart sank. “I must stay here for a lot longer than anticipated. There are some problems with the new installment and I will probably have to work through the night. It is like someone hijacked the security system or something.”

 

“Well, can I come there and keep you company?” I asked teasingly.

 

“I am afraid not, good sir,” he answered, laughing. “You, my friend, would be a huge distraction – and I emphasize the word huge. I know I ruined our plans for the evening. I am very sorry. There is a fun party down at a club called Compton’s tonight. You should go check it out. It will be another part of your introduction to our great city.”

 

“Are you trying to push me off on another man already?” I quickly asked, trying to sound dejected.

 

“Not if my life depended on it, sir,” Jim answered quickly. “I just do not want your evening to be a complete and utter loss – since we had such a great day.”

 

“Maybe I’ll just stay in and dream about you some more,” I replied, trying to turn the conversation back to flirtation.

 

“If that is what you wish, Anthony, I will not try to stop you,” Jim answered and I could tell he was smiling. “But, if you choose to go out please know that I do not mind. You only have a few more weeks of non-work time and I would like for you to have a lot of fun. Of course, I would definitely like it to be with me, but that is not in the cards for tonight, I am afraid. You do forgive me, do you not?”

 

“Well, I can think of a few ways you can make up for it, Mr. Jim,” I shot back quickly, “if you know what I mean.”

 

“I think I know exactly what you mean, my dear man,” he answered, “and I will not at all mind being reprimanded fully. I will call you tomorrow, sweetie. Go out and have a fun night.”

 

“It’s not possible without you,” I whispered. “Have a good night, yourself. Don’t work too hard.”

 

As soon as we hung up, the silence in the room depressed me. I had so looked forward to cuddling with the fun guy that evening. I had already gotten very used to having Jim around. I didn’t hold any grudge about the cancellation; I was just very disappointed at how the evening turned out. I also realized I was kind of horny. I got up and moved to the kitchen, scouring my fridge and cupboards for something to eat. I put together a makeshift meal and then made the decision to go to Compton’s. I quickly looked up the address for the place, changed clothes, and left for a runner-up evening to the one I had expected.

 

Compton’s was crowded and filled-to-the-brim with good-looking men. I walked in and immediately my spirits mysteriously went from depressed to excited and then to over-stimulated. There was so much eye-candy at the place I didn’t know where to let my gaze land for longer than a few seconds. After a bit of walking around with my pint of beer I had already forgotten about Jim not being able to be with me for the evening and I parked myself at the end of the long hand-carved bar. I didn’t realize it, at first, but I had started to act like I was on the prowl. My cock was starting to harden – mainly because some really hot guys were actually checking me out, but there was some unknown force influencing me below the waist, as well. I started to sense being overwhelmed by the same power that had consumed me when I had raced the bicyclist a few days earlier and when I had easily overpowered Paulo at the dinner party. I felt inches taller than my real height and somehow bigger – like I was more muscular or somehow more powerful.

 

It was an intoxicating feeling – even though, by this point, I had only taken a few sips of my beer. It seemed like I was high on adrenaline or something similar. I also felt like I was among men that recognized me as. . . I don’t know . . . their comrade, their leader, or was it their competitor. The true feeling wasn’t clear, but something was taking control of my psyche – and it felt really good. A flash of my dream from the brief nap earlier that evening crossed my mind and I looked out into the crowd half-expecting to see a large hooded figure coming at me. Instead, I saw many beautiful men blatantly staring at me, trying to catch my gaze and all the others were sneaking glances when their partners weren’t looking. The realization that handsome guys were staring at me, with faces clearly full of lust, made something in my mind snap. I changed so quickly that I didn’t even realize how much I viewed things differently. A big smile crept across my face and I instantly spread my legs a little wider and reached up to undo a couple of buttons on my shirt. I was still conscious of everything I did, but I was no longer in control – mainly because I loved how all that was happening made me feel. I leaned against the bar behind me and allowed my crotch to thrust forward a little, clearly showing off my raging hard-on.

 

“Come to papa, boys,” I whispered to no one in particular.

 

If anyone had been analyzing my actions at this point they would have surely said, ‘the man has gone into hunt mode.’ My entire body suddenly wanted one thing and one thing only – to show off and to dominate. I could tell I was acting differently, but the pleasure this new attitude caused in my body made me forget any semblance of modesty or self-reflection. It was like my libido had taken over every fiber of my being and I had suddenly realized, for the first time, that I could have any man in the place. And I meant ‘have’ in every sense of the word. I was on fire with confidence and actually felt the need to crush or punch something with my hands. I started clenching my fists tightly, holding it for a few beats, and then releasing the tension. I could tell this caused my body to pump up slightly and that awareness made my cock twitch wildly in my pants. I watched a few guys sitting at a table across from me as they stared, transfixed by the action at my crotch – clearly pleased and a little frightened. I knew I was sending off some kind of vibe or pheromone that both excited and intimidated other men. I could intuit that the smile on my face had turned to something a little sinister, and I loved it.

 

“Anthony needs to fuck,” I again whispered, as I looked around the room.

 

My gaze fell on two healthy young lads that were standing against the wall to my left – whispering to each other as they watched my every move. The thought of having two guys to play with suddenly pleased me very much. Why did I have to settle for just one, especially when I had two aching nipples – one for each of them! I also had two cum-filled balls that were begging to be kissed and licked. And then there was the exciting thought of me getting off when I took turns slamming my cock into each man’s hard ass. I came off the bar with a swagger that seemed so natural and intensely cocky at the same time. As I neared the two twenty-something old men they became like giddy schoolgirls being approached by the campus stud. I stood in front of them and just let them stare at my magnificence. I could see intense desire in their eyes. They were both slightly bigger than me – even though I had grown recently. Their body language, though, made them appear smaller. They were waiting for me to speak, as if there was an instinctive sense that I was automatically the alpha in the situation. The two men stood beside each other in a way that made it clear they were a couple, which only intensified my need to have them. I was obviously so desirable that they were willing to put aside their feelings for each other and focus on pleasing me. This showed me what good boys they were and I was surely ready to reward. By this point my blood was boiling and my cock was achingly fully hard.

 

“You boys clearly like what you see,” I said loudly and noticed that other guys in the bar were instantly disappointed since I had obviously made my choice.

 

“Yes . . . yes, we do,” replied the slightly thinner guy of the two, a young lad with sandy blonde hair and a gorgeous tan.

 

“You’re American?” asked the larger one, a dark haired beauty with a scruffy three-day growth.

 

“I’m from Texas, where everything is bigger,” I answered boastfully.

 

“We’re . . . um . . . from New York. We’re here for a vacation,” the blonde one stammered.

 

“How about I accompany you two back to your hotel and both of you let me fuck you silly,” I growled, as I leaned in toward both men.

 

“Um . . . yes, yes, that would be nice,” the dark haired one said and then added, “I mean, we’d like that very much . . . sir.”

 

I’d never seen two guys move so quickly. They almost stumbled over each other trying to get to the door. I laughed out loud and followed them slowly, knowing that I now controlled everything. They would wait for me outside as long as it took me to exit, but I was ready for some action. I stepped out into the cool evening air, which immediately made my excitement and cockiness dip a little – as if the bar had created the persona that was now leading my actions. I quickly moved in between the two guys and threw my arms around their shoulders. When my body made contact with theirs, I became like a powerful battery that had been recharged in mere seconds. I noted, again, that I was slightly smaller than both men, but my attitude and my dominance made me seem bigger – especially to them. I squeezed my arms and pulled their heads toward me as we walked.

 

“I’m Anthony, fellas, and what lucky hotel gets to be filled with your screams when I plow your ass?” I asked, with a slight chuckle that made both men shake with delight.

 

“We’re staying at the Savoy, Anthony,” replied the one with the three-day growth. “My name is Robert and this is Trent.”

 

“That’s some high class living Trent and Robert,” I responded, “I’m duly impressed.”

 

“Robert got us a suite for our two year anniversary,” Trent added proudly.

 

“Aw, happy anniversary, guys. Either of you ever have a three way?” I teased as we walked down the street, many people were staring at us – but I quickly noted it wasn’t in disgust, guys were still staring at me with lust in their eyes.

 

“Um, no, and we really weren’t planning on it tonight,” Robert said quickly.

 

“But then you got one look at me and couldn’t help yourselves, could you?” I said as I got even more excited about their uncontrollable devotion to me.

 

“Yes. We feel so honored that you chose us and we don’t even know why,” Trent added innocently.

 

“Gentlemen, in about an hour I guarantee you’ll know why. I promise to make this an anniversary you’ll never forget.” I spoke with such authority that Trent cooed loudly and Robert brushed his cheek against my forearm in appreciation.

 

Minutes later we were in their huge four-room suite and none of us had on a stitch of clothing. Both men were down on their knees and each had their faces shoved up underneath my hard cock, sucking on one of my big balls. I was purring out loud like some wild animal in heat and had my hands intertwined in both men’s hair and was holding them tightly in place. As soon as I had grabbed both of them in the room and easily forced them to their knees I felt a surge of power overcome me that seemed to emanate from the very place they now worshipped. With each slight tug on one of my melon-like balls I felt cum bubble up further in my huge shaft. I finally pulled their heads away from my gonads and used their hair to yank them to their feet. As soon as they were standing I placed one of my hands on each nicely developed chest and shoved them both against the wall behind. It was such a powerful looking move and I did it with such ease, that they gasped in appreciation. The two men didn’t know what had hit them and it took a few minutes for them both to get their breath back.

 

“My nipples demand a little attention, fellas.” I ordered, wrapping my hands around their heads and pulling them into my chest as I also stepped forward.

 

They both started sucking immediately, like twins that were going to town at their mother’s breasts. The suction at my nipples caused a jolt of pleasure to shoot through my already charged body and it sent me over the top. I moaned loud enough to wake the entire floor and clamped my hands around the back of their necks hard, but they did not notice. They had one, and only one desire – to please me completely. This caused them to ignore the pain I brought to their necks and to not even notice when I moved my hands around to the front and squeezed them teasingly. I loved how fragile this part of their body felt in the crook of my hands. I toyed with them, closing my hands slightly and then adding more pressure. They merely continued to suck on my reddened tender nipples. My hand squeezed their necks a little more tightly and there was a surge of power that rippled through my body. I knew I could easily crush their windpipes if I chose to. There was a great urge welling in me to do damage to these two men – because it would show off my strength and my dominance, and they’d love it for a while. I wanted to manhandle them not for mere destruction, but to learn more about this incredible energy that was building within me. I suddenly squeezed in a grip of iron and shoved both men against the wall with great ease. The look on their faces was priceless – there was surprise, but there was also intense lust. I loved how they thought I was just playing. I heard them both begin to gasp for air, but the sound only fueled me on. I lifted my hands slowly and growled loudly in delight when I could feel their feet leave the ground. I was easily sliding their squirming bodies upward as they desperately tried to inhale. Each man grabbed my hand at their neck and struggled to break my grip – but it was useless. By this time my power was fueled by my need to see them fight. The more panicked they became the more pleasure it gave. I could not wait to see their bodies become lifeless. I had entered into the darkness of my dreams that now completely surrounded me.

 

“Please . . . no,” one of the guys spat out softly, with what little breath that remained.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An American Muscleman in London - Part 22 

December 27th, 2019


 

[Please don’t expect a quick finish to this story. I have a long way to go. I’m trying to get back to it.]

 

The Second Full Moon – Continued

 

Instantly, a picture of Manfred flashed through my mind. It was the guy’s beautiful smiling face. I have no idea where it came from and why it impacted me in the way it did, but suddenly the darkness that surrounded me evaporated. I was brought back to the room with such an intense clarity that it frightened me. I comprehended immediately what I had intended to do to the two men and I released my grip and let their bodies fall to the ground before me. My shock at what I had been doing was so great that I panicked. After noticing that both men were moving slowly and loudly sucking in needed air, I gathered my clothes quickly and dressed as I ran from the hotel room.

 

I was fully dressed by the time I exited the hotel. I started running down the street, wanting to be home more than anything in the world. I didn’t allow any other thoughts to enter into my mind. It was too difficult to think about what I had just done. I wanted to stay focused on getting to my flat. I took a few wrong turns and ended up on some unfamiliar quiet street. I finally stopped because I knew, in my present state I’d never find my way home. I needed to calm myself down. I leaned against the wall and noticed I was breathing deeply. I forced my thoughts to return to Manfred, having realized that his face helped me to focus. My body started to fully recover from its trip into dominance-ville as soon as I thought of Manfred. My breathing slowly became normal and my heartbeat slowed. I no longer felt the urge to cause intense pain or destroy something.

 

I stood back up and looked around, hoping to see something familiar. It was only then that I heard the footsteps – slow heavy thuds from somewhere quite close. At first I simply thought someone was coming down the dark street, but then I sensed something sinister and harmful. That now familiar uncontrollable reaction where my body moved into defense mode based on some unconscious awareness returned and my muscles tensed up as if readying for a fight. The fear of what had just happened in the hotel room was still too fresh in my mind for me to clearly distinguish safe feelings from desires for showing off some new intense inner power. I decided quickly that I did not want to meet whoever or whatever was moving methodically towards me. I promptly began to run in what I hoped was the opposite direction. My mind was now a lot clearer and I let my instincts guide me – listening for sounds, looking for lights, and following cars.

 

Soon I was on a busy familiar street and knew the way home. I continued to look behind me to see if I could catch a glimpse of the person that had been pursuing me, but I saw no one that seemed to be watching me. As soon as I reached my building I quickly entered my flat, doubled locked my door, undressed as I moved to the bedroom and fell into bed – somehow re-energized and drained at the same time. I looked at the clock and saw that it was beyond three in the morning. I soon fell asleep and for the first time in a while my night was not filled with dreams. It was clear that my body needed time to fully recover from the trauma of the evening. 

 

At first I thought the buzzing noise was the soundtrack to a developing dream. It took me a few minutes to realize someone was at the front door of my building trying to come up to see me. I instinctively jumped out of bed and ran to the intercom system by the front door. It took me a few seconds to fully realize what I was doing. I pressed the appropriate buttons to release the door, not even caring to find out who was visiting. I then waited for the knock on the door of my flat. When I opened it, Jim was standing there with a bouquet of beautiful flowers.

 

“Hiya, sexy. Do you always greet people at the door totally nude,” he asked with a teasing smile.

 

It was only at that moment that I realized I had nothing on. I was still a little dazed from being awakened so early. I merely moaned out loud and quickly made my way back to the bedroom and slid back into bed. I heard Jim close the front door and follow me. I lay on my stomach and closed my eyes as soon as I had the covers back over my legs and butt. I felt Jim’s warm, clothed body sit on the bed beside me. He started running one of his hands up and down my back.

 

“I think someone must have had a fun night. Is Mr. Anthony a little hung over?” he asked in a jovial spirit. 

 

“A little,” I mumbled back, “and it’s too early to get up!”

 

“Too early?” Jim questioned and then added, “It is two in the afternoon, my dear friend.”

 

I glanced at the clock on the side of the bed to confirm what Jim had said. I then turned to look at him, instantly reminded of his manly beauty and gorgeous smile. An inner warmth spread through my body to match the nice feeling his big hand was causing as he gently caressed my back. I stared at him for a few minutes and watched his eyes follow his hand as it roamed slowly over my body. He pushed the sheets and blanket down and allowed his hand to grab my firm ass cheeks. My cock was slowly coming awake and responded to his fondling by beginning to harden. 

 

“I do not see how it is possible Anthony, but your back seems to be more muscled than just two days ago,” Jim purred appreciatively.

 

“I think it’s just tightened a little harder since you arrived – like other things that are getting hard between my legs,” I replied softly. 

 

“Maybe,” Jim responded, “but I do believe you are actually bigger than before.”

 

“I . . . um, did something last night . . . that . . . uh . . . I’m not too proud of,” I changed the subject – without even really knowing why. I think I just needed to tell someone about my scary evening.

 

“No need,” Jim said as he placed a finger against my lips. “There are no rings on our fingers, Anthony. I told you to go out and have a good time. Let us not muddy what we have with confessions or regrets. I know a growing boy like you needs to go out and sow some wild oats every now and then. It is fine for you to let off a little steam or exert a little youthful power – for now.”

 

I smiled at Jim’s choice of words. If only he realized how much power I had actually exerted less than twelve hours before. The memory of how good it felt to tighten my grip around the necks of those two men and lift them off the ground shot through my body for a split second, but then it turned to fear as I thought about their faces beginning to turn blue as they gasped for air. I slid my hand across the bed and let it move to Jim’s crotch. Feeling his hard-on through the fabric of his pants made my need for confession and my fears disappear. I squeezed his stiffness and loved how it made the man emit a low masculine moan that made my toes curl. For a surprising brief moment the image of Manfred’s face materialized in my mind. This confused me terribly and I desperately wanted to force myself to focus only on Jim. I immediately came up with a plan. I lifted my upper body off the mattress with my other hand and unzipped his pants at the same time. With the quickness of what could have been a well-seasoned hustler I had his large hard cock freed and sticking straight up in the air.

 

“Ummm, a little meat before my coffee,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off of his pulsing dick.

 

As soon as my warm mouth and tongue welcomed the head of Jim’s fullness, the man’s body tightened everywhere. I could sense that his ass cheeks tensed with an intensity that gave the man wonderful pleasure. His left hand quickly came up to my head and he grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling slightly in response to the stimulation. I immediately tasted his sweetness as a gob of pre-cum spurted from the slit of his dick head. I opened my throat fully and welcomed his shaft completely, allowing my nose to be buried in the fur beyond the fabric of his pants. 

 

“Bloody hell, Anthony,” Jim groaned, “Slow down or I am going to explode.”

 

I suddenly had a burning desire to please the man – to submit myself to him. I knew it was somehow tied to an opposite feeling from the night before. I had wanted to dominate the two men at the hotel completely – to even cause them pain. It had stemmed from my insatiable need to how off an awakening power within me. At this moment I felt a strong urge to suppress that power by letting Jim lead me. I wanted to somehow fight against the part of me that almost crushed windpipes and easily lifted two grown men off the ground. I wanted to do something to make up for the sins of the night before – to cleanse my conscious of all guilt, even though I knew that was impossible. I thought if I served this man by giving him pleasure it would balance out the horrible need to dominate from earlier. This also caused me to not care about Jim’s plea for me to slow down. I quickly pulled my head back up and then slammed it down, causing his rod to be buried deep in my throat a second time. The man was again filled with pleasure and he moaned uncontrollably in response. This only fueled me on even more. Soon I was sucking like a trained expert and burying my face deeper into his crotch each time. With only about eight head bobs back and forth on his hard meat I sent him into orgasmic ecstasy. I had no warning about the gusher he would produce, except for the loud joyful cry that escaped his mouth just before he unloaded a ton of his juice down my throat. I quickly swallowed like my life depended on it and didn’t miss a drop. I think I knew instinctively not to get his suit pants stained. I kept his cock deep in my throat even after his body stopped convulsing. I loved how he felt inside of me and I knew the warm wetness of my mouth pleased him, too. After a few minutes his hand released my hair and returned to stroking my back lovingly. I pulled my mouth from his cock and blew on it as it deflated – to help dry it off before I stuffed it back into his pants and zipped him back up. I looked up at his smiling face.

 

“This is turning into the best lunch break I have ever experienced,” Jim cooed.

 

“I certainly got filled up,” I replied.

 

“Being around you, my good sir just seems to cause my body to produce an abundance of thick semen,” Jim added, with a definite twinkle in his eye.

 

“I’m flattered,” I answered, smiling in return. “Can you come back later?”

 

“Wild horses could not keep me away, dear Anthony,” he quickly responded and that image made my body tingle because of my reoccurring dreams. “It seems I owe you some take-away from last night and then for dessert I think I will repay you for your gracious afternoon delight. How does that sound?”

 

“It sounds so good that when you return I think I’ll take the dessert before the meal,” I teasingly replied.

 

“Well, you have been a good boy, Anthony,” Jim said. ”Except for whatever it was from last night that caused you to stay in bed until two. But, as I said before, I will overlook that and gladly offer my services as dessert upon my arrival in a few hours. For now, though, I must be going.”

 

Jim leaned down and kissed me on the forehead, checked to make sure his zipper was completely closed, and then slid from the bed. He reached out and gave my ass a heavy whack, which caused me to arch up in joyous response, and then he left the room. I heard the front door shut behind him and the memory of his presence lingered along with his manly muskiness. I felt a joy and security that had not existed in my body for almost over twenty-four hours. I ran my hand over the space where Jim had lay and loved how it was still warm from his hot body. I stared at my hand as I moved it along the sheet and slowly the memory of what it had done the night before crept back into my mind. I looked at the V between my thumb and forefinger and remembered how the man’s neck had felt so fragile as I squeezed. I balled up my fist and marveled at how big and beautiful my hand was becoming. My flaccid cock became fully engorged quickly and a familiar feeling of power started to take over my thoughts. I looked at my forearm and loved how it seemed so muscular. I began move my crotch up and down, causing my hard pole to rub against the bed – sending shivers of pleasure up my spine and deep into my ass. My breathing became heavy and I started to wish I had someone in bed to force into submission. The only thing that saved me from spiraling down into the darkness of the night before was hearing the front door open again. Thoughts of Jim immediately brought me out of my masturbatory revelry. 

 

“Are you back for seconds?” I yelled out, hoping that Jim might come and relieve the pressure of my raging hard-on.

 

There was no answer and I quickly became alarmed. Memories of the footsteps in the dark street the night before came streaming into my head, causing my cock to deflate instantly. I heard noise in the living room and still there was no answer. I jumped out of bed and didn’t even stop to grab clothes. Before I stepped into the other room I heard the front door slam loudly. I moved with more speed now and after glancing around to find no one in the flat I opened the front door and looked down the hallway in both directions, carefully hiding my naked body. There was no sight of anyone. I shut the door and double locked it. I took a second look around the open space of my flat to make sure no one was hiding. It was then I noticed that the Lancelot glove was gone from my mantelpiece. At first I found this incredibly odd and looked around to see if it were just misplaced, but quickly saw that it was, indeed, gone. The person that had entered my apartment after Jim left had come for one thing – the glove. It crossed my mind that it had been some common thief that had grabbed the first thing he saw as soon as he heard my voice, but then I realized so many other things had been available – my laptop, my wallet on the dining room table, and many other items – that it became clear they had taken what they had come for. I was baffled beyond belief and that suppressed even my anger or fear at what had just happened. I thought about calling the police, but realized the glove had been a gift and I had no receipt or anything else to show them. The sudden ringing of my phone caused me to jump and I had to retrieve the thing from my pants in the middle of the floor. 

 

“Hello,” I answered, without even glancing to see who it was.

 

“Anthony, my dear,” came Martin’s joyful voice, “How are you?”

 

“Um . . . fine Martin,” I replied, forcing myself to focus on the caller. “How are you doing?”

 

“Splendid, my boy, splendid,” he answered joyfully. “Listen, I only have a few seconds, but I wanted to make sure you could come to my place for dinner on the twentieth. I am going to have a little gathering of friends and, of course, you must be there.”

 

“Of course Martin,” I responded without even thinking since my mind was still elsewhere. “I’d love to come. Is it for a special occasion?”

 

“Nothing momentous, my dear fellow, only this month’s full moon,” came the reply, and as before, I was baffled by this infatuation with this specific celebration.

 

“Well I know how happy that seems to make you, Martin, so I’ll look forward to it. Can I bring anything?” I asked.

 

“No, no, no – that is very kind of you, my boy, but there is no need,” Martin quickly responded.

 

“Oh, do you mind if I bring someone?” I added, hopefully.

 

“Yes, feel free to bring that dear sweet Jim. It will be good to see him,” Martin said and I was instantly excited about bringing a date to his party.

 

“Thank you, Martin,” I replied and then added, “Hey you won’t believe what just happened. Someone came into my place and took the glove I got at that antique store you sent me to. Isn’t that bizarre? They didn’t take anything else. And to think I was just in the other room!”

 

“You mean they took Lancelot’s glove, Anthony?” Martin asked.

 

“Yes. Is that not the craziest thing?” I answered.

 

“It is indeed,” He said. “But not to worry, my good man, the glove has already served its purpose,” he answered. “Well, I must go. I will see you on the twentieth, Anthony, if our paths do not cross at Halfway to Heaven before then.”

 

“Thank you, again, Martin,” I responded. “I hope I see you before the party.”

 

As soon as I hung up my mind became crowded with puzzling thoughts. Had I told Martin that I was dating Jim? Did Martin already know Jim? It was possible he met Jim through Manfred. And what in the hell had Martin meant when he said the glove had already served its purpose? I was about to drive myself crazy with all these thoughts when the phone rang again. This time I looked down and saw that it was Manfred – my heart leapt with joy and I answered quickly.

 

“Hello, Manfred.” I sounded a little too eager.

 

“Hello Anthony. How are you,” he asked, in that voice that mysteriously made me giddy with pleasure. 

 

“I’m great,” I replied, trying to calm myself. “What’s up?”

 

“I just wanted to call and say I am sorry for leaving so abruptly the other morning,” he answered, and it surprised me he was being so honest. “I was caught off guard by, um, you and Jim being together and I did not know how to react. It was rude of me and I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

 

“That’s very nice of you, Manfred,” I said, trying to hide my excitement at his words. “I didn’t think about it a second time. I’m glad to hear from you. I hope nothing prevents us from being friends – me dating Jim or anything else.”

 

“I feel . . . um . . . the same way, Anthony,” he added quickly.

 

There was something about the tone in Manfred’s voice and the call itself that made my heart beat faster than it did before he called. I felt a certain amount of frustration that the man could still cause this kind of feeling in me and, yet, there was some mysterious connection that made me desire him. I tried to make myself focus all thoughts on Jim, but Manfred’s face dominated my mind. His voice also caused an unfamiliar energy to well up inside me, but extremely positive and pleasurable. I found it impossible to block the man out of my mind completely. 

 

“I was also calling to see if you might be available for lunch one day,” he asked cheerfully. “I know we’ll probably see each other at Martin’s party in a couple of weeks, but it would be fun to connect before then.”

 

“Um, of course. That sounds great,” I replied hesitantly. “I’ll just need to . . . you know . . .”

 

“Check with Jim first?” Manfred questioned.

 

“Well . . . yes . . . yes, I think I should.” I answered and suddenly everything felt very awkward.

 

“That’s fine,” Manfred said and I could hear slight disappointment in his voice. “You check with him and then just get back to me, okay? I’ll look forward to it, Anthony. I hope you have a great evening.”

 

“You too, Manfred,” I replied and then he quickly hung up. 

 

The different emotions running through my head caused everything of the last twenty-four hours to temporarily be pushed to the side – my brazen dominance of the two guys the night before, the mystery thief that took the glove, Martin’s comments about the glove, and so much more. I found myself constantly returning to Manfred for some unknown reason. I showered and fixed something to eat – and then tried to focus on my upcoming evening with Jim, but the discomforting conversation with Manfred and the feeling he caused within me kept nagging at me all afternoon. 

 

Jim arrived around six with Chinese food. I gave him a long kiss when he arrived that turned into an hour-long snogging session on the couch, which culminated with him returning the favor of the earlier blowjob I had given him. We were lying there with our bodies entangled in post-coital bliss when I broached the subject that I really wanted to avoid.

 

“Manfred called this afternoon,” I said softly, as stroked the back of Jim’s head resting on my chest.

 

“Did he?” he asked and I heard all sorts of hidden emotions in those two words.

 

“He wanted to know if I’d go to lunch,” I added hesitantly.

 

“And what did you say?” Jim pushed further.

 

“That I would have to check with you first . . . well, actually he figured it out and said it before I could,” I replied.

 

Jim turned to look up into my face. He was smiling. My cock began to come to life again as I gazed into his eyes and re-connected with his masculine beauty. My answer pleased him and that energized me. I knew there was still a slight panging in my heart for Manfred, but I was working hard to make my desire for Jim to overcome it completely. Here was a man that wanted me and Manfred had rejected me . . . saying I wasn’t his type. I knew I was slowly turning into what Manfred liked, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing part of me still pined for him. I lifted my head off the sofa cushion and kissed Jim’s forehead. 

 

“Jim, one. Manfred, zero. I like the score so far,” he said softly.

 

“I told you, it’s not a competition. I am not Manfred’s type,” I emphasized back.

 

“And I told you I have a feeling you are becoming his type,” Jim answered. 

 

“I think we should eat now,” I responded – changing the subject on purpose.

 

“Good idea,” Jim said, getting up from the couch after he quickly licked the nipple near his face. “And for the record, its fine for you to have lunch with anyone you want. As I said to you yesterday, there are no rings on our fingers. Let’s just take this one day at a time and enjoy the journey. We’re in no rush.”

 

“Such a wise man,” I answered and took a swipe at his ass, loving how the loud smack echoed in the large room. 

 

We ate our dinner at the dining room table totally nude. It was very erotic and I loved how the big windows of the room probably put us on display for many neighbors. The enhancements brought on by my workouts were helping me to be comfortable with my body. Jim fondled my cock throughout the entire meal and said his goal was to keep me hard for hours. It was definitely working. Later, as I cleaned off the table, Jim went to floss and brush his teeth like a good little boy. He came into the kitchen later holing a small piece of paper. 

 

“What does this mean, Anthony? ‘Beware full moon midnight powers unleashed.’ I found it in the medicine cabinet,” Jim said looking at the paper.

 

“What do you mean?” I asked.

 

“Well I was brushing my teeth and I pulled out this paper. When I leaned down to spit I saw the reflection in the mirror and noticed what the letters say when read backwards,” Jim added as he took a pen and some paper from the counter and reworked the letters and phrasing in reverse order. 

 

I looked at the words and marveled that I hadn’t noticed something so simple before. It still didn’t make much sense, but I loved how Jim had figured out the mystery so easily. I then explained to Jim how I had found the note inside the glove I had purchased at an antique shop on Maiden Lane. I then told Jim about how the glove had been taken from the apartment just that afternoon.

 

“That is an incredible story, Anthony. I cannot believe someone was in the flat after I left today. I think maybe I need a key so I can lock the door behind me,” Jim added with a devilish smile on his face. “The shop, though, must be somewhere else. I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand and there is not an antique store on Maiden Lane.”

 

His words brought back my conversation with Martin and my frustration at not being able to find the shop a second time. I brushed it off by saying I probably got the name wrong and we went back to discussing the piece of paper – deciding it was some fun note that had been placed in there one night when someone wore the entire armor outfit for a costume party. We then continued to make up other fun scenarios – involving espionage and secret codes, secret love letters between two people, and other fun stories. None of these ideas, however, eased a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that had appeared as soon as Jim pointed out what the note actually said. I returned it to the medicine cabinet later that night and forgot about it as soon as Jim and I began an intense lovemaking session before bed.

 

The next two weeks seemed to fly by – mainly because of my time with Jim, my workouts at the gym, continued sightseeing, and occasional phone conversations with Roger, still in the states. Manfred and I never found a day to meet for lunch – mysteriously, Jim seemed to be able to take a longer lunch break each day and we usually met at my place for some mid-day delights, both in bed and in the kitchen. The sex seemed to improve every time we met and I started to believe it had a little to do with the improvements happening to my body in response to my workouts. I was starting to fill out many of the clothes that Martin had bought me as a gift, but most of what was called the ‘second phase’ wardrobe were still too big. I looked forward to the day when I was able to say those outfits were starting to feel tight. I, however, was still very excited about my changes. Jim loved my new size almost as much as I did. He often found ways for me to show off my budding strength – repeating the feat of push-ups with him on my back, doing pull-ups with him hanging on to my waist, and one night allowing me to press his body into the air a couple of times when I was lying on the bed. 

 

The morning of Martin’s party Jim had to leave for work early. He had started staying at my place most nights, since I lived so near his office. We were able to get in some quality crotch rubbing before he jumped out of bed to shower. I loved watching him walk towards the bathroom – mainly because of his gorgeous ass, but also because of his tree trunk quads. I was slowly beginning to think this was the man that I might spend the rest of my life, even though every time I had that thought there was a certain pull on my heart in an opposite direction. It was unclear to me as to wear that tugging came from, but I knew it was there. Jim stepped into the bedroom immaculately dressed in a Ted Baker suit – and it was one of my favorites.

 

“You’re wearing that suit to work so you’ll have it on for the party, aren’t you?” I asked teasingly.

 

“Well, my competition will be there, remember,” he said, straightening his tie as he looked in the mirror and then glanced at my reflection to see my how I reacted.

 

“You have no competitors,” I screamed after placing one of the pillows over my head.

 

“You say his name sometimes in your sleep, Anthony,” Jim replied with a very serious voice.

 

I took the pillow away and looked at him with a face that I was sure showed my surprise. Jim had never mentioned this before. So many thoughts ran through my head – why on earth would I say Manfred’s name in my sleep, did I dream of the man and not remember, why wasn’t I calling out Jim’s name, and so much more. I was embarrassed, confused, and ashamed. I sat up and held out my arms to the man.

 

“I don’t know why I do that,” I said with a voice that equaled his seriousness. “I really like this, Jim. I really want this. I did have a thing for Manfred but it seems like such a long time ago, now. As a matter of fact, it seems like eons ago. Please don’t view him as competition. How can I convince you that he and I are not going to happen? I promise you.”

 

“It does not bother me, Anthony,” Jim said as he chuckled. “I just like to watch you squirm.”

 

I tossed the pillow at him and immediately acted like I was sulking. He came around to my side of the bed and bent down to kiss my forehead. I reached out and grabbed his cock through the fabric of his pants and squeezed hard. He tried to back away but I held on.

 

“Ow, Anthony, that really hurts,” he yelled.

 

“Good,” I replied. “You deserve it.”

 

I let go of him and he reached down to straighten his pants and to hopefully ease the pain I had caused. He walked to the dresser and began to gather his keys, his name badge, and other items.

 

“I am sorry, Anthony, that we have to meet up at, but I am afraid I will be cutting it close on getting there on time,” he said as he stuffed his phone in his coat pocket. “I have a meeting near Martin’s place late this afternoon, so I think I’ll be there by the time you all finish cocktails. I do hope I will not arrive and find you and Manfred snogging in one of the bedrooms.”

 

“Out, out, damn spot,” I yelled and pointed to the doorway. 

 

“Oh, I see we are channeling Lady Macbeth, now, are we?” he quickly added as he laughed. “I always knew there was a drag queen inside you just screaming to be released.”

 

I struggled briefly to throw off the sheet and covers as I got out of bed. This gave Jim enough of a head start to run out of the room and get the front door opened as I entered the living room. He turned towards me at once in the hallway and blew me a kiss before he moved away quickly.

 

“Do not forget to lock the door behind me, good sir. See you tonight!” he yelled as he disappeared. 

 

I didn’t follow him into the hallway – mainly because I wasn’t wearing anything. I heard the coffee maker giving off noises that said it was finishing brewing. I smiled to myself when I realized that Jim had once again thought of me and prepared the machine before we went to bed. He was always so thoughtful that way. I opened my laptop and sat at the dining room table sipping a cup of coffee as I read the morning news. My mind kept drifting to Jim and then it landed on the fact that I called Manfred’s name out in my sleep. I spent a few minutes wondering what my actions meant, but then I realized it was almost time for my session with Quan at the gym. I quickly changed clothes, tamed my hair, and jogged to the place.

 

“What the hell are you eating, Anthony?” Quan asked as we took measurements.

 

“What do you mean?” I asked.

 

“I mean you keeping adding pounds, mate, and none of it seems to be fat,” he replied. “I want to know your secret.”

 

“Well, I do tend to eat a lot of fish and chips,” I answered truthfully.

 

“I do not think that is it,” he responded, “since that usually gives a guy a spare tire around the waist. You have actually added some muscle to every part of your body. I swear, looking at the chart and where you began you would think I was either incorrect when I first inputted your information or you are officially the first genetic miracle man that responds to lifting weights with the kind of gains most men dream of. I just do not understand what is going on. And your strength is off the charts abnormal for a man your size, and especially for a guy that just started working with weights.”

 

“I think it might just be because I have the most awesome trainer, ever,” I shot back with a smile.

 

“I may be good, but I am definitely not this good,” Quan said, scratching his head and then writing something on the chart.

 

“It’s funny you would bring all of this up today, Quan,” I added with a slight whisper. “I’ve felt weird all day – like there’s some kind of power surge racing through my body every now and then. While we were lifting I started to actually feel like a new batch of incredible gains are going to happen soon. And the feeling was . . . um . . . it was kind of…”

 

“Trust me, I understand, Anthony,” he replied. “A certain part of you hasn’t softened since you came in.”

 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I said, turning red. “There’s just something about working out that gets me all excited. It’s really embarrassing.”

 

“As I have told you before, mate, it happens to the best of us,” Quan added and returned to his chart, shaking his head back and forth as he looked at the numbers. “I am actually scared to see what you are going to look like when you come next week.”

 

“Only time will tell, sir,” I said as we shook hands. “Only time will tell. Have a great day and I’ll see you then.”

 

“You, too, Anthony,” he called out as I walked away.

 

I ate a late lunch, did a few errands, texted some obscene comments to Jim – just to get him riled up at work, cleaned my flat, and then readied myself for the party at Martin’s. I was bummed that Jim had to come to the party late – I had hoped we could go together. I hopped on the Tube and was at Martin’s place right on time. It had been a while since I visited his place and I was instantly reminded of what a great house it was – old, majestic, and almost magically castle-looking. It was exactly what I thought a big London place should look like. There were actually quite a few men at the house when I arrived. I knew some of them from the last party at Martin’s house and some had been at Manfred’s dinner party, as well. I was ushered into the den, where everyone had gathered for drinks. Suddenly Manfred was standing in front of me.

londonboy

[Please don't expect a quick finish to this story.  I have a long way to go.  I'm trying to get back to it.]

 

The Second Full Moon (continued)

Instantly, a picture of Manfred flashed through my mind.  It was the guy’s beautiful smiling face.  I have no idea where it came from and why it impacted me in the way it did, but suddenly the darkness that surrounded me evaporated.  I was brought back to the room with such an intense clarity that it frightened me.  I comprehended immediately what I had intended to do to the two men and I released my grip and let their bodies fall to the ground before me.  My shock at what I had been doing was so great that I panicked.  After noticing that both men were moving slowly and loudly sucking in needed air, I gathered my clothes quickly and dressed as I ran from the hotel room.

 

I was fully dressed by the time I exited the hotel.  I started running down the street, wanting to be home more than anything in the world.  I didn’t allow any other thoughts to enter into my mind.  It was too difficult to think about what I had just done.  I wanted to stay focused on getting to my flat.  I took a few wrong turns and ended up on some unfamiliar quiet street.  I finally stopped because I knew, in my present state, I’d never find my way home.  I needed to calm myself down.  I leaned against the wall and noticed I was breathing deeply.  I forced my thoughts to return to Manfred, having realized that his face helped me to focus.  My body started to fully recover from its trip into dominance-ville as soon as I thought of Manfred.  My breathing slowly became normal and my heartbeat slowed.  I no longer felt the urge to cause intense pain or destroy something.  I stood back up and looked around, hoping to see something familiar.  It was only then that I heard the footsteps – slow heavy thuds from somewhere quite close.  At first I simply thought someone was coming down the dark street, but then I sensed something sinister and harmful.  That now familiar uncontrollable reaction where my body moved into defense mode based on some unconscious awareness returned and my muscles tensed up as if readying for a fight.  The fear of what had just happened in the hotel room was still too fresh in my mind for me to clearly distinguish safe feelings from desires for showing off some new intense inner power.  I decided quickly that I did not want to meet whoever or whatever was moving methodically towards me.  I promptly began to run in what I hoped was the opposite direction.  My mind was now a lot clearer and I let my instincts guide me – listening for sounds, looking for lights, and following cars.  Soon I was on a busy familiar street and knew the way home.  I continued to look behind me to see if I could catch a glimpse of the person that had been pursuing me, but I saw no one that seemed to be watching me.  As soon as I reached my building I quickly entered my flat, doubled locked my door, undressed as I moved to the bedroom and fell into bed – somehow re-energized and drained at the same time.  I looked at the clock and saw that it was beyond three in the morning.  I soon fell asleep and for the first time in a while my night was not filled with dreams.  It was clear that my body needed time to fully recover from the trauma of the evening. 

 

At first I thought the buzzing noise was the soundtrack to a developing dream. It took me a few minutes to realize someone was at the front door of my building trying to come up to see me.  I instinctively jumped out of bed and ran to the intercom system by the front door.  It took me a few seconds to fully realize what I was doing.  I pressed the appropriate buttons to release the door, not even caring to find out who was visiting.  I then waited for the knock on the door of my flat.  When I opened it, Jim was standing there with a bouquet of beautiful flowers.

 

“Hiya, sexy.  Do you always greet people at the door totally nude,” he asked with a teasing smile.

 

It was only at that moment that I realized I had nothing on.  I was still a little dazed from being awakened so early.  I merely moaned out loud and quickly made my way back to the bedroom and slid back into bed.  I heard Jim close the front door and follow me.  I lay on my stomach and closed my eyes as soon as I had the covers back over my legs and butt.  I felt Jim’s warm, clothed body sit on the bed beside me.  He started running one of his hands up and down my back.

 

“I think someone must have had a fun night.  Is Mr. Anthony a little hung over?” he asked in a jovial spirit. 

 

“A little,” I mumbled back, “and it’s too early to get up!”

 

“Too early?” Jim questioned and then added, “It is two in the afternoon, my dear friend.”

 

I glanced at the clock on the side of the bed to confirm what Jim had said.  I then turned to look at him, instantly reminded of his manly beauty and gorgeous smile.  An inner warmth spread through my body to match the nice feeling his big hand was causing as he gently caressed my back.  I stared at him for a few minutes and watched his eyes follow his hand as it roamed slowly over my body.  He pushed the sheets and blanket down and allowed his hand to grab my firm ass cheeks.  My cock was slowly coming awake and responded to his fondling by beginning to harden. 

 

“I do not see how it is possible Anthony, but your back seems to be more muscled than just two days ago,” Jim purred appreciatively.

 

“I think it’s just tightened a little harder since you arrived – like other things that are getting hard between my legs,” I replied softly. 

 

“Maybe,” Jim responded, “but I do believe you are actually bigger than before.”

 

“I . . . um, did something last night . . . that . . . uh . . . I’m not too proud of,” I changed the subject – without even really knowing why.  I think I just needed to tell someone about my scary evening.

 

“No need,” Jim said as he placed a finger against my lips.  “There are no rings on our fingers, Anthony.  I told you to go out and have a good time.  Let us not muddy what we have with confessions or regrets.  I know a growing boy like you needs to go out and sow some wild oats every now and then.  It is fine for you to let off a little steam or exert a little youthful power – for now.”

 

I smiled at Jim’s choice of words.  If only he realized how much power I had actually exerted less than twelve hours before.  The memory of how good it felt to tighten my grip around the necks of those two men and lift them off the ground shot through my body for a split second, but then it turned to fear as I thought about their faces beginning to turn blue as they gasped for air.  I slid my hand across the bed and let it move to Jim’s crotch.  Feeling his hard-on through the fabric of his pants made my need for confession and my fears disappear.  I squeezed his stiffness and loved how it made the man emit a low masculine moan that made my toes curl.  For a surprising brief moment the image of Manfred’s face materialized in my mind.  This confused me terribly and I desperately wanted to force myself to focus only on Jim.  I immediately came up with a plan.  I lifted my upper body off the mattress with my other hand and unzipped his pants at the same time.  With the quickness of what could have been a well-seasoned hustler I had his large hard cock freed and sticking straight up in the air.

 

“Ummm, a little meat before my coffee,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off of his pulsing dick.

 

As soon as my warm mouth and tongue welcomed the head of Jim’s fullness, the man’s body tightened everywhere.  I could sense that his ass cheeks tensed with an intensity that gave the man wonderful pleasure.  His left hand quickly came up to my head and he grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling slightly in response to the stimulation.  I immediately tasted his sweetness as a gob of pre-cum spurted from the slit of his dick head.  I opened my throat fully and welcomed his shaft completely, allowing my nose to be buried in the fur beyond the fabric of his pants. 

 

“Bloody hell, Anthony,” Jim groaned, “Slow down or I am going to explode.”

 

I suddenly had a burning desire to please the man – to submit myself to him.  I knew it was somehow tied to an opposite feeling from the night before.  I had wanted to dominate the two men at the hotel completely – to even cause them pain.  It had stemmed from my insatiable need to how off an awakening power within me.  At this moment I felt a strong urge to suppress that power by letting Jim lead me.  I wanted to somehow fight against the part of me that almost crushed windpipes and easily lifted two grown men off the ground.  I wanted to do something to make up for the sins of the night before – to cleanse my conscious of all guilt, even though I knew that was impossible.  I thought if I served this man by giving him pleasure it would balance out the horrible need to dominate from earlier.  This also caused me to not care about Jim’s plea for me to slow down.  I quickly pulled my head back up and then slammed it down, causing his rod to be buried deep in my throat a second time.  The man was again filled with pleasure and he moaned uncontrollably in response.  This only fueled me on even more.  Soon I was sucking like a trained expert and burying my face deeper into his crotch each time.  With only about eight head bobs back and forth on his hard meat I sent him into orgasmic ecstasy.  I had no warning about the gusher he would produce, except for the loud joyful cry that escaped his mouth just before he unloaded a ton of his juice down my throat.  I quickly swallowed like my life depended on it and didn’t miss a drop.  I think I knew instinctively not to get his suit pants stained.  I kept his cock deep in my throat even after his body stopped convulsing.  I loved how he felt inside of me and I knew the warm wetness of my mouth pleased him, too.  After a few minutes his hand released my hair and returned to stroking my back lovingly.  I pulled my mouth from his cock and blew on it as it deflated – to help dry it off before I stuffed it back into this pants and zipped him back up.  I looked up at his smiling face.

 

“This is turning into the best lunch break I have ever experienced,” Jim cooed.

 

“I certainly got filled up,” I replied.

 

“Being around you, my good sir, just seems to cause my body to produce an abundance of thick semen,” Jim added, with a definite twinkle in his eye.

 

“I’m flattered,” I answered, smiling in return.  “Can you come back later?”

 

“Wild horses could not keep me away, dear Anthony,” he quickly responded and that image made my body tingle because of my reoccurring dreams.  “It seems I owe you some take-away from last night and then for dessert I think I will repay you for your gracious afternoon delight.  How does that sound?”

 

“It sounds so good that when you return I think I’ll take the dessert before the meal,” I teasingly replied.

 

“Well, you have been a good boy, Anthony,” Jim said.  “Except for whatever it was from last night that caused you to stay in bed until two.  But, as I said before, I will overlook that and gladly offer my services as dessert upon my arrival in a few hours.  For now, though, I must be going.”

 

Jim leaned down and kissed me on the forehead, checked to make sure his zipper was completely closed, and then slid from the bed.  He reached out and gave my ass a heavy whack, which caused me to arch up in joyous response, and then he left the room.  I heard the front door shut behind him and the memory of his presence lingered along with his manly muskiness.  I felt a joy and security that had not existed in my body for almost over twenty-four hours.  I ran my hand over the space where Jim had lay and loved how it was still warm from his hot body.  I stared at my hand as I moved it along the sheet and slowly the memory of what it had done the night before crept back into my mind.  I looked at the v between my thumb and forefinger and remembered how the man’s neck had felt so fragile as I squeezed.  I balled up my fist and marveled at how big and beautiful my hand was becoming.  My flaccid cock became fully engorged quickly and a familiar feeling of power started to take over my thoughts.  I looked at my forearm and loved how it seemed so muscular.  I began move my crotch up and down, causing my hard pole to rub against the bed – sending shivers of pleasure up my spine and deep into my ass.  My breathing became heavy and I started to wish I had someone in bed to force into submission.  The only thing that saved me from spiraling down into the darkness of the night before was hearing the front door open again.  Thoughts of Jim immediately brought me out of my masturbatory revelry. 

 

“Are you back for seconds?” I yelled out, hoping that Jim might come and relieve the pressure of my raging hard-on.

 

There was no answer and I quickly became alarmed.  Memories of the footsteps in the dark street the night before came streaming into my head, causing my cock to deflate instantly.  I heard noise in the living room and still there was no answer.  I jumped out of bed and didn’t even stop to grab clothes.  Before I stepped into the other room I heard the front door slam loudly.  I moved with more speed now and after glancing around to find no one in the flat I opened the front door and looked down the hallway in both directions, carefully hiding my naked body.  There was no sight of anyone.  I shut the door and double locked it.  I took a second look around the open space of my flat to make sure no one was hiding.  It was then I noticed that the Lancelot glove was gone from my mantelpiece.  At first I found this incredibly odd and looked around to see if it were just misplaced, but quickly saw that it was, indeed, gone.  The person that had entered my apartment after Jim left had come for one thing – the glove.  It crossed my mind that it had been some common thief that had grabbed the first thing he saw as soon as he heard my voice, but then I realized so many other things had been available – my laptop, my wallet on the dining room table, and many other items – that it became clear they had taken what they had come for.  I was baffled beyond belief and that suppressed even my anger or fear at what had just happened.  I thought about calling the police, but realized the glove had been a gift and I had no receipt or anything else to show them.  The sudden ringing of my phone caused me to jump and I had to retrieve the thing from my pants in the middle of the floor. 

 

“Hello,” I answered, without even glancing to see who it was.

 

“Anthony, my dear,” came Martin’s joyful voice, “How are you?”

 

“Um . . . fine Martin,” I replied, forcing myself to focus on the caller.  “How are you doing?”

 

“Splendid, my boy, splendid,” he answered joyfully.  “Listen, I only have a few seconds, but I wanted to make sure you could come to my place for dinner on the twentieth.  I am going to have a little gathering of friends and, of course, you must be there.”

 

“Of course Martin,” I responded without even thinking since my mind was still elsewhere.  “I’d love to come.  Is it for a special occasion?”

 

“Nothing momentous, my dear fellow, only this month’s full moon,” came the reply, and as before, I was baffled by this infatuation with this specific celebration.

 

“Well I know how happy that seems to make you, Martin, so I’ll look forward to it.  Can I bring anything?” I asked.

 

“No, no, no – that is very kind of you, my boy, but there is no need,” Martin quickly responded.

 

“Oh, do you mind if I bring someone?” I added, hopefully.

 

“Yes, feel free to bring that dear sweet Jim.  It will be good to see him,” Martin said and I was instantly excited about bringing a date to his party.

 

“Thank you, Martin,” I replied and then added, “Hey, you won’t believe what just happened.  Someone came into my place and took the glove I got at that antique store you sent me to.  Isn’t that bizarre?  They didn’t take anything else.  And to think I was just in the other room!”

 

“You mean they took Lancelot’s glove, Anthony?” Martin asked.

 

“Yes.  Is that not the craziest thing?”  I answered.

 

“It is indeed,” He said.  “But not to worry, my good man, the glove has already served its purpose,” he answered.  “Well, I must go.  I will see you on the twentieth, Anthony, if our paths do not cross at Halfway to Heaven before then.”

 

“Thank you, again, Martin,” I responded.  “I hope I see you before the party.”

 

As soon as I hung up my mind became crowded with puzzling thoughts.  Had I told Martin that I was dating Jim?  Did Martin already know Jim?  It was possible he met Jim through Manfred.  And what in the hell had Martin meant when he said the glove had already served its purpose?  I was about to drive myself crazy with all these thoughts when the phone rang again.  This time I looked down and saw that it was Manfred – my heart leapt with joy and I answered quickly.

 

“Hello, Manfred.” I sounded a little too eager.

 

“Hello Anthony.  How are you,” he asked, in that voice that mysteriously made me giddy with pleasure. 

 

“I’m great,” I replied, trying to calm myself.  “What’s up?”

 

“I just wanted to call and say I am sorry for leaving so abruptly the other morning,” he answered, and it surprised me he was being so honest.  “I was caught off guard by, um, you and Jim being together and I did not know how to react.  It was rude of me and I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

 

“That’s very nice of you, Manfred,” I said, trying to hide my excitement at his words.  “I didn’t think about it a second time.  I’m glad to hear from you.  I hope nothing prevents us from being friends – me dating Jim or anything else.”

 

“I feel . . . um . . . the same way, Anthony,” he added quickly.

 

There was something about the tone in Manfred’s voice and the call itself that made my heart beat faster than it did before he called.  I felt a certain amount of frustration that the man could still cause this kind of feeling in me and, yet, there was some mysterious connection that made me desire him.  I tried to make myself focus all thoughts on Jim, but Manfred’s face dominated my mind.  His voice also caused an unfamiliar energy to well up inside me, but extremely positive and pleasurable.  I found it impossible to block the man out of my mind completely. 

 

“I was also calling to see if you might be available for lunch one day,” he asked cheerfully.  “I know we’ll probably see each other at Martin’s party in a couple of weeks, but it would be fun to connect before then.”

 

“Um, of course.  That sounds great,” I replied hesitantly.  “I’ll just need to . . . you know . . .”

 

“Check with Jim first?” Manfred questioned.

 

“Well . . . yes . . . yes, I think I should.” I answered and suddenly everything felt very awkward.

 

“That’s fine,” Manfred said and I could hear slight disappointment in his voice.  “You check with him and then just get back to me, okay?  I’ll look forward to it, Anthony.  I hope you have a great evening.”

 

“You too, Manfred,” I replied and then he quickly hung up. 

 

The different emotions running through my head caused everything of the last twenty-four hours to temporarily be pushed to the side – my brazen dominance of the two guys the night before, the mystery thief that took the glove, Martin’s comments about the glove, and so much more.  I found myself constantly returning to Manfred for some unknown reason.  I showered and fixed something to eat – and then tried to focus on my upcoming evening with Jim, but the discomforting conversation with Manfred and the feeling he caused within me kept nagging at me all afternoon. 

 

Jim arrived around six with Chinese food.  I gave him a long kiss when he arrived that turned into an hour-long snogging session on the couch, which culminated with him returning the favor of the earlier blowjob I had given him.  We were lying there with our bodies entangled in post-coital bliss when I broached the subject that I really wanted to avoid.

 

“Manfred called this afternoon,” I said softly, as stroked the back of Jim’s head resting on my chest.

 

“Did he?” he asked and I heard all sorts of hidden emotions in those two words.

 

“He wanted to know if I’d go to lunch,” I added hesitantly.

 

“And what did you say?” Jim pushed further.

 

“That I would have to check with you first . . . well, actually he figured it out and said it before I could,” I replied.

 

Jim turned to look up into my face.  He was smiling.  My cock began to come to life again as I gazed into his eyes and re-connected with his masculine beauty.  My answer pleased him and that energized me.  I knew there was still a slight panging in my heart for Manfred, but I was working hard to make my desire for Jim to overcome it completely.  Here was a man that wanted me and Manfred had rejected me . . . saying I wasn’t his type.  I knew I was slowly turning into what Manfred liked, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing part of me still pined for him.  I lifted my head off the sofa cushion and kissed Jim’s forehead. 

 

“Jim, one.  Manfred, zero.  I like the score so far,” he said softly.

 

“I told you, it’s not a competition.  I am not Manfred’s type,” I emphasized back.

 

“And I told you I have a feeling you are becoming his type,” Jim answered. 

 

“I think we should eat now,” I responded – changing the subject on purpose.

 

“Good idea,” Jim said, getting up from the couch after he quickly licked the nipple near his face.  “And for the record, it’s fine for you to have lunch with anyone you want.  As I said to you yesterday, there are no rings on our fingers.  Let’s just take this one day at a time and enjoy the journey.  We’re in no rush.”

 

“Such a wise man,” I answered and took a swipe at his ass, loving how the loud smack echoed in the large room. 

 

We ate our dinner at the dining room table totally nude.  It was very erotic and I loved how the big windows of the room probably put us on display for many neighbors.  The enhancements brought on by my workouts were helping me to be comfortable with my body.  Jim fondled my cock throughout the entire meal and said his goal was to keep me hard for hours.  It was definitely working.  Later, as I cleaned off the table, Jim went to floss and brush his teeth like a good little boy.  He came into the kitchen later holing a small piece of paper. 

 

“What does this mean, Anthony? ‘Beware full moon midnight powers unleashed.’ I found it in the medicine cabinet,” Jim said looking at the paper.

 

“What do you mean?” I asked.

 

“Well I was brushing my teeth and I pulled out this paper.  When I leaned down to spit I saw the reflection in the mirror and noticed what the letters say when read backwards,” Jim added as he took a pen and some paper from the counter and reworked the letters and phrasing in reverse order. 

 

I looked at the words and marveled that I hadn’t noticed something so simple before.  It still didn’t make much sense, but I loved how Jim had figured out the mystery so easily.  I then explained to Jim how I had found the note inside the glove I had purchased at an antique shop on Maiden Lane.  I then told Jim about how the glove had been taken from the apartment just that afternoon.

 

“That is an incredible story, Anthony.  I cannot believe someone was in the flat after I left today.  I think maybe I need a key so I can lock the door behind me,” Jim added with a devilish smile on his face.  “The shop, though, must be somewhere else.  I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand and there is not an antique store on Maiden Lane.”

 

His words brought back my conversation with Martin and my frustration at not being able to find the shop a second time.  I brushed it off by saying I probably got the name wrong and we went back to discussing the piece of paper – deciding it was some fun note that had been placed in there one night when someone wore the entire armor outfit for a costume party.  We then continued to make up other fun scenarios – involving espionage and secret codes, secret love letters between two people, and other fun stories.  None of these ideas, however, eased a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that had appeared as soon as Jim pointed out what the note actually said.  I returned it to the medicine cabinet later that night and forgot about it as soon as Jim and I began an intense lovemaking session before bed.

 

The next two weeks seemed to fly by – mainly because of my time with Jim, my workouts at the gym, continued sightseeing, and occasional phone conversations with Roger, still in the states.  Manfred and I never found a day to meet for lunch – mysteriously, Jim seemed to be able to take a longer lunch break each day and we usually met at my place for some mid-day delights, both in bed and in the kitchen.  The sex seemed to improve every time we met and I started to believe it had a little to do with the improvements happening to my body in response to my workouts.  I was starting to fill out many of the clothes that Martin had bought me as a gift, but most of what was called the ‘second phase’ wardrobe were still too big.  I looked forward to the day when I was able to say those outfits were starting to feel tight.  I, however, was still very excited about my changes.  Jim loved my new size almost as much as I did.  He often found ways for me to show off my budding strength – repeating the feat of push-ups with him on my back, doing pull-ups with him hanging on to my waist, and one night allowing me to press his body into the air a couple of times when I was lying on the bed. 

 

The morning of Martin’s party Jim had to leave for work early.  He had started staying at my place most nights, since I lived so near his office.  We were able to get in some quality crotch rubbing before he jumped out of bed to shower.  I loved watching him walk towards the bathroom – mainly because of his gorgeous ass, but also because of his tree trunk quads.  I was slowly beginning to think this was the man that I might spend the rest of my life, even though every time I had that thought there was a certain pull on my heart in an opposite direction.  It was unclear to me as to wear that tugging came from, but I knew it was there.  Jim stepped into the bedroom immaculately dressed in a Ted Baker suit – and it was one of my favorites.

 

“You’re wearing that suit to work so you’ll have it on for the party, aren’t you?” I asked teasingly.

 

“Well, my competition will be there, remember,” he said, straightening his tie as he looked in the mirror and then glanced at my reflection to see my how I reacted.

 

“You have no competitors,” I screamed after placing one of the pillows over my head.

 

“You say his name sometimes in your sleep, Anthony,” Jim replied with a very serious voice.

 

I took the pillow away and looked at him with a face that I was sure showed my surprise.  Jim had never mentioned this before.  So many thoughts ran through my head – why on earth would I say Manfred’s name in my sleep, did I dream of the man and not remember, why wasn’t I calling Jim’s name out, and so much more.  I was embarrassed, confused, and ashamed.  I sat up and held out my arms to the man.

 

“I don’t know why I do that,” I said with a voice that equaled his seriousness.  “I really like this, Jim.  I really want this.  I did have a thing for Manfred but it seems like such a long time ago, now.  As a matter of fact, it seems like eons ago.  Please don’t view him as competition.  How can I convince you that he and I are not going to happen?  I promise you.”

 

“It does not bother me, Anthony,” Jim said as he chuckled.  “I just like to watch you squirm.”

 

I tossed the pillow at him and immediately acted like I was sulking.  He came around to my side of the bed and bent down to kiss my forehead.  I reached out and grabbed his cock through the fabric of his pants and squeezed hard.  He tried to back away but I held on.

 

“Ow, Anthony,” he yelled, “that really hurts.”

 

“Good,” I replied.  “You deserve it.”

 

I let go of him and he reached down to straighten his pants and to hopefully ease the pain I had caused.  He walked to the dresser and began to gather his keys, his name badge, and other items.

 

“I am sorry, Anthony, that we have to meet up at Martin’s place, but I am afraid I will be cutting it close on getting there on time,” he said as he stuffed his phone in his coat pocket.  I have a meeting near there late this afternoon, so I think I’ll be there by the time you all finish cocktails.  I do hope I will not arrive and find you and Manfred snogging in one of the bedrooms.”

 

“Out, out, damn spot,” I yelled and pointed to the doorway. 

 

“Oh, I see we are channeling Lady MacBeth, now, are we?” he quickly added as he laughed.  “I always knew there was a drag queen inside you just screaming to be released.”

 

I struggled briefly to throw off the sheet and covers as I got out of bed.  This gave Jim enough of a head start to run out of the room and get the front door opened as I entered the living room.  He turned towards me at once in the hallway and blew me a kiss before he moved away quickly.

 

“Do not forget to lock the door behind me, good sir.  See you tonight!” he yelled as he disappeared. 

 

I didn’t follow him into the hallway – mainly because I wasn’t wearing anything.  I heard the coffee maker giving off noises that said it was finishing brewing.  I smiled to myself when I realized that Jim had once again thought of me and prepared the machine before we went to bed.  He was always so thoughtful that way.  I opened my laptop and sat at the dining room table sipping a cup of coffee as I read the morning news.  My mind kept drifting to Jim and then it landed on the fact that I called Manfred’s name out in my sleep.  I spent a few minutes wondering what my actions meant, but then I realized it was almost time for my session with Quan at the gym.  I quickly changed clothes, tamed my hair, and jogged to the place.

 

“What the hell are you eating, Anthony?” Quan asked as we took measurements.

 

“What do you mean?” I asked.

 

“I mean you keeping adding pounds, mate, and none of it seems to be fat,” he replied.  “I want to know your secret.”

 

“Well, I do tend to eat a lot of fish and chips,” I answered truthfully.

 

“I do not think that is it,” he responded, “since that usually gives a guy a spare tire around the waist.  You have actually added some to every part of your body.  I swear, looking at the chart and where you began you would think I was either incorrect when I first inputted your information or you are officially the first genetic miracle man that responds to lifting weights with the kind of gains most men dream of.  I just do not understand what is going on.  And your strength is off the charts abnormal for a man your size, and especially for a guy that just started working with weights.”

 

“I think it might just be because I have the most awesome trainer, ever,” I shot back with a smile.

 

“I may be good, but I am definitely not this good,” Quan said, scratching his head and then writing something on the chart.

 

“It’s funny you would bring all of this up today, Quan,” I added with a slight whisper.  “I’ve felt weird all day – like there’s some kind of power surge racing through my body every now and then.  While we were lifting I started to actually feel like a new batch of incredible gains are going to happen soon.  And the feeling was . . . um . . . it was kind of…”

 

“Trust me, I understand, Anthony,” he replied.  “A certain part of you hasn’t softened since you came in.”

 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I said, turning red.  “There’s just something about working out that gets me all excited.  It’s really embarrassing.”

 

“As I have told you before, mate, it happens to the best of us,” Quan added and returned to his chart, shaking his head back and forth as he looked at the numbers.  “I am actually scared to see what you are going to look like when you come next week.”

 

“Only time will tell, sir,” I said as we shook hands.  “Only time will tell.  Have a great day and I’ll see you then.”

 

“You, too, Anthony,” he called out as I walked away.

 

I ate a late lunch, did a few errands, texted some obscene comments to Jim – just to get him riled up at work, cleaned my flat, and then readied myself for the party at Martin’s.  I was bummed that Jim had to come to the party late – I had hoped we could go together.  I hopped on the Tube and was at Martin’s place right on time.  It had been a while since I visited his place and I was instantly reminded of what a great house it was – old, majestic, and almost magically castle-looking.  It was exactly what I thought a big London place should look like.  There were actually quite a few men at the house when I arrived.  I knew some of them from the last party at Martin’s house and some had been at Manfred’s dinner party, as well.  I was ushered into the den, where everyone had gathered for drinks.  Suddenly Manfred was standing in front of me.          

londonboy

Turn Around

1176663884_turnaround.jpg.efc6b9987bbbb684a1c549872bff5325.jpg

Turn around.  Fucking nice ass, man.  Bend over.  Aw, hell yeah.  What a sweet bubble butt.  Look how easily you can grab your ankles.  Good to know.  Turn back around.  Slide those tight jeans off boy.  Yeah, that’s it, nice and slow.  Did you wear the same jock you worked out in, like I told you, too?

 

Yes sir.

 

That’s a good boy.  Fucking hell, look at that sweat-stained, full pouch.  I bet that smells just like you, man – stanky bad and borderline sour.  Grab your pouch boy – lift it up in your hand.  Wow, look how big that thing is.  Big balls, thick cock, all furry – wanting to just burst from that jock.  Squeeze your balls, man.  Yeah, that’s nice.  Makes me want to play with my big meaty pecs while I watch.  Smell your hand.  Tell me what it smells like.

 

A locker room.  Sweat.  Musky.  Faint piss smell.  My balls.

 

Fucking nice.  Lick ‘em.  Yeah, all the way in that nice throat of yours.  Turn around.  Nice and slow.  I can’t take all of that ass at one time.  Oh Jesus, wait.  I gotta calm down.  Hold on.  Dead kittens.  Dead kittens.  Drowned kittens.  Okay, slow.  God, that ass makes my pecs swell and my nips ache.  Sweet mother of all things sexy – that is one fine piece of perfect manhood.  Reach around and grab your cheeks.  Squeeze hard.  Fuck, that’s nice.  How’s it feel?

 

Big.  Full.  Round.  Hard.  Fuckable.

 

Damn, man, you know how to rock my world.  You’re being such a good boy I’ll undo one button so you can see a little more of my huge chest.  Don’t you dare bend over.  I’m not ready to see that puckered hole, yet.  That would make me spew like Old Faithful.  Keep those cheeks together for now, man.  Squeeze that ass, show me how rock-hard you can make it.  Yeah, that’s real nice.  Now turn around and take that jock off – slow, now, so I can enjoy your cock being revealed to me.  Yeah, my tight blue shirt has you rock hard, doesn’t it, boy.  Look at you, snaking across that thigh.  Let that beast out, man.  Oh, dayum, that mushroom head of yours is perfect.  Look how it flares out – made for offering pleasure, huh?  Long hard rod underneath and then those two, fucking orange-sized, low-hanging balls.  Sweet fucking hell, those things look like something I should be swinging around to knock out the bad guys.  Your dick makes me want to unbutton my tight jeans and play with myself.  Toss me your jock, man.  I want to smell it.  Think of me as a cock sommelier – I can tell everything I need to know by just one sniff and a little taste of your jock.  That’s heaven, right there, man, that’s what that is.  Oh fuck, you smell nice.  I get a whiff of some hard wood, a lot of fruitiness, and some big-ass balls.  Damn, my nose is good.  Gotta rub my hard cock now, man.  Look at you, I can tell you like my fucking huge arms in this blue shirt, boy.  You can’t take your eyes off of them.

 

Yes sir.  They’re so huge.

 

They’re all for you, man.  For you and that awesome sweet ass of yours.  Let me take another big inhale of your sweetness on this jock while you turn around and bend over.  Holy fucking hell, there’s that perfect ass again.  That thing could give a big man heart failure.  Gonna have to have my face up in all of that later on.  Need to give the inside of your cheeks some fur-burn as you squeeze my face.  Gonna have to undo another button on my shirt for that ass view, dude.  Yeah, glance back and get a pig’s view of my big chest, boy.  Show me your hole, now, man.  I’m ready.  Bend over slowly.  Fuck, fuck, FUCK!  Look at those ass lips puckering for some attention.  That’s the entrance to your man heaven.  That deep hole can take me to my happy place quicker than anything else in the world.  Look how tight that fuck hole is.  Looks like it’s all been locked up for a long time.  It better be nice and tight, man.  Remember, you don’t let anyone go to that sweet heaven – just this big man right here.  That’s my hole, dude.  No one else’s.  You’ve been a good boy, right.  Saving that chute for your big man, right?

 

It’s only ever been opened by you, sir.

 

That’s because this big man has the only key, right.  My big muscles holding you and my big cock filling you up is the only pleasure you’ll ever need.  Look how that thing is begging me to open it up right now.  That beautiful hole deserves to see me without my shirt on.  Let’s give you a grand view of all my hugeness.  Ah, hell yeah, now I can play with my big plugs while I look at that fucking nice ass and that even hotter puckering man hole.  Back that thing up here, boy.  I need my face in there.  Yeah, let’s get that thing nice and wet before I play with it.  Man, I can still taste your workout.  It was intense, wasn’t it.  My spit’s getting that hole nice and lubed.  Ready for my finger.  Listen to the pig moan as I enter him.  Yeah, I can tell that hole is nice and tight.  You’ve been saving it for me, haven’t you, boy?
 

Yes . . . unh . . . sir. . . unhhhh.

 

Damn, really tight.  I have to use a lot of force to enter that sweet temple of yours.  Yeah, try and resist me, man. That’s so hot.  Me forcing my finger into you while you try with all your might to prevent it.  It’s crazy how much you want it, but your body just naturally knows to put up a fight to make it even more pleasurable.  For both of us.  My big arm is just too powerful for that nice ass, isn’t it?  Yeah, the pig’s really moaning, now that I’m in.  It feels nice and warm inside of you, man.  Oh fuck, yeah, push that ass back and forth on my finger – show me what you really want.  I can feel you loosening up, babe.  You’ll be ready for a second massive finger in no time.  Just getting you ready for the main event later on.  Yowza, just the idea of that makes your ass tighten.  God, I love feeling your nice, big, firm cheeks as I finger fuck you.  I love using these big things as my pillow when I sleep.  How in the hell do you fit these things in those tight jeans?  It’s like trying to squeeze a gorilla into baby clothes.  Those gurgling sounds your making mean you’re ready for the second finger invasion.  We need to open you up even more before you take that big thing snaking down my huge thigh.  You know how hard it is to muscle that cock of mine into your hole the first time.  It’s like trying to cram an elephant through a keyhole.  Yeah, that’s it, baby, fight that second finger.  Act like your ass might win, even though we both know it won’t.  Remember, my cock head is much fatter than these two enormous fingers.  Yeah, slam that ass into my knuckles to get all of those thick fingers.  My pig loves it rough, doesn’t he? 

 

Yes . . . sir.  Please . . . sir.  More fingers . . . please sir.

 

Fucking hell, ass man.  I’m going to open you up so you’ll plop down on my massive sausage in one swift squat.  Gonna fill you up to the brim, mister.  You’re going to be screaming and squirming like the pig you are.  There’s that third finger for you, Mr. Tight.  You’ve got me rubbing myself like a crazy man.  I’m breathing so hard I would have burst out of my shirt if I had kept it on.  My free hand can’t decide it if wants to shove down hard on my crotch or pinch the hell out of my thick nips.  Damn, your man hole is so warm and wet, dude.  It’s begging for something bigger, isn’t it?  Gonna slam you with my thick rod, dude.  Gonna make those beautiful eyes of yours roll back into that pretty little head.  Your big beefy giant can’t get enough of you, man.  I feel like hugging you so tight you explode.  I’m going to pull out now, boy, so you can get up on this sofa, straddle my big body and lower that fucking sweet ass of yours onto my face.  First, I need to undo my belt and open up my pants for easy access to my giant tool.  You’ve got me leaking like some kind of fucking broken faucet, dude.  I’m cranking out so much juice, even my big body can’t contain it all.  Yeah, look how fast you jump up on this couch.  You wanna feel my furry cheeks up in that ass of yours, don’t you?  Let’s give you some beard burn, baby.  Let me lap up that nice, sweet, ready hole of yours.  Gonna wrap my big hands around your strong thigs and pull that bubble ass into my face.  Tell me what it feels like, dude.

 

Aw fuck, sir.  Even your tongue is powerful.  You force it into me as if I was nothing.  Aw . . . yeah . . . sweet fucking hell . . . more sir . . . please . . . more. 

 

Damn, dude, that ass of yours taste like candy.  It’s like slurping up ice cream.  Getting that tight thing nice and wet for my giant manhood, boy.  Gonna take you to cock-filled heaven.  You’re going to think a railroad tie has been rammed up inside of you.  You’ve got me harder than ever, man.  Every time feels like the first time.  Fucking hell, I can’t get enough of you.  Tell me what you want, boy.

 

Fuck me hard, sir!  Now!

 

Yeah, got my pretty boy begging for it now, don’t I?  Your big man wants you just as much, dude.  I’m feeling more powerful than Superman, right now.  I’m thinking I could plow through concrete or something even stronger.  Gonna conquer your ass, dude, and make you the happiest little pig on earth.  Look how stiff that cock of yours is.  I’m gonna make you shoot like a cannon in no time at all.  Fuck, licking your ass is the nicest thing on earth – besides plowing it hard.  God, I needed a good face fuck, today.  I’ve been thinking about your ass ever since you left this morning.  Fucking you in the shower this morning seems like so long ago.  I wish I could go through the day with you riding my cock all the time.  How does that sound, boy?  Wanna be plugged by my big old donkey dong all day long?

 

Yes sir.  Please fuck me, sir.

 

Listen to you whine, dude.  You’ll be crying big crocodile tears any moment now.  I rammed you hard against the shower wall forever this morning, but here you are begging for more.  That ass of yours just can’t get enough of my massive meat, can it?  No need to answer, dude, the way your asshole puckers all juicy when I talk about slamming into you is all the answer I need.  That ass of yours is almost as powerful as my huge body, isn’t it, son.  When I’m in the gym and my body seems like it couldn’t do another rep to save my life, all I have to do is think about your sweet fucking huge bubble butt and I crank out ten more without any problem.  You fuel my growth, man.  That beautiful ass of yours is why I’m a muscle monster now.  Guys at the gym are jealous of me and always want to know who’s my muse for my workouts.  When I point to you and say it’s your gorgeous ass, they nod quickly and tell me how lucky I am.  I usually flex a big gun and tell them you are off limits – unless they want to feel my full power.  I’d rip a guy apart if he even tried to touch you.  You want any other guy touching you, boy?

 

No sir.  I only want you.  Please fuck me, sir.

 

That’s the right answer, dude.  You’ve been a good boy.  You deserve a nice pounding.  Hop down off this sofa and help your big man get his jeans down off of his thick thighs.  Once I’m naked we can decide how you’re going to offer me release tonight.  Is it going to be a bulging-arms while I hold you for a powerful air fucking, a slamming you against the wall fucking, or do you want to ride your big man like a bucking bronco on the bed fucking?  You get to choose, boy – cause I’m going to love it no matter what.  I’m going to blast off like a rocket simply because I’m inside you, so you get to please yourself by choosing how this big daddy is going to plow you.  Then we’re going to order dinner in, eat totally nude, and I’ll probably give you another intense pounding before we fall asleep for a good night’s rest – exhausted and happy.  What’s my baby’s pleasure tonight?

 

Air fucking, please sir.

 

The favorite way for both of us!  It’s a win-win.  Holy fucking hell, I’m squirting gobs of pre-cum just thinking about how that ass chute of yours is going to feel on my big rod.  You’re going to be my big manscicle, dude.  Yeah, I’m gonna slide my long stick way up in you.  That’s it man, tug hard on those jeans.  My massive legs just stretch this material so tight, it takes a lot of work to remove them.  Yeah, now that my big cock is freed, you can see how excited I am about that ass of yours.  Turn around again, dude.  Grab those ankles.  I want to rub my dickhead in that crack of yours.  Oh fuck, that feels nice.   Teasing that hole of yours gets me so worked up I could tear down an entire house with my bare hands.  Oh fuck, I can tell that hole of yours is going to be so damn tight.  You’ve been waiting for your big man to plow you again, haven’t you?  Yeah, boy, that ass of yours is all mine.  I’m not sharing it with anyone . . . and I know you’re a good boy – only offering your tight shrine to this muscle god.  Right, boy?

 

Yes sir.  Only you, sir.

 

That’s it, my little angel, push back on this big man’s hard cock.  Tease me, boy.  Aw fucking hell, you’ve got me so hot and bothered.  My cock aches from wanting that ass of yours.  Let’s let that wide tip of mine goad that hole, boy.  Yeah, that’s it, tighten that cherry for me.  You just can’t help yourself, can you?  The thought of all this meat inside you turns you on, but it makes your ass nervous, too.  That initial thrust is almost too much, isn’t it?  But then, soon after, you start feeling pleasure like you’ve never known before.  My plowing fills you and pleases you, doesn’t it, little man?  No need to answer, those moans of joy tell me all I need to know.  You can’t wait to be dangling in the air off of my big rod.  I’m too horned up to tease you anymore, dude.  I need the prize right now.  I gotta be inside you or I’m going to become like a wild man and destroy something.  Let’s get you up in the air, my little fuck toy.  Yeah, turn around so this big man can pick you up.  God, you’re so light.  You float up in the air like a little angel with wings.  Your feet dangling in the air as I hold you like you were nothing.  Yeah, that’s it . . . wrap those legs around my strong mid-section, boy.  You can squeeze all you want.  I’m not going to feel a thing, but you’re about to feel pleasure beyond what you’ve ever imagined.    

londonboy

Cum Loaded

 

cumgrowth.jpg.d2d394eaa76bfc70eadfa3ff48cb7e61.jpg

 

I swallowed quickly, gagging slightly a couple of times.  Damn, this dude had a lot of juice and that got me real excited.  I wiped my mouth with the hem of my yellow shirt as I stood up and looked at the guy, still leaning against the brick wall, trying to get his breath back.  He was smiling, so I knew he’d be fine.  He was pretty handsome for an alleyway lunchbreak quickie.  I could already feel his sweet nectar bubbling down in my stomach – churning into fuel that would soon be sent throughout my body.  I moaned a little and flexed my left arm, staring at the decent sized biceps.  Suddenly small glistening bumps – almost like blisters covered the tensed muscle.  It burned a little, but it also made my cock rock-hard.

 

“What the hell,” the handsome guy in the suit said and I turned to see him staring at my arm.

 

“I’m growing.  You didn’t believe me, did you, dude?  You were so fucking full of cum, it’s going to be really noticeable.”

 

We both turned our gaze back to the still blistering biceps.  The bumps started to multiply more quickly and then they started bunching together, becoming something solid and adding more hard meat to my muscle.  It already looked like I had added about half an inch to my bulge.  I hadn’t expected that much growth, but I was thankful for it.  The difference in my arm was definitely quite noticeable.  The wide eyes and open mouth of my quickie confirmed that it had been amazing.  I flexed the arm even harder, to show off the much bigger peak and low ballooning triceps.  Man, I loved growing.

 

“How the hell does that happen?”

 

“Don’t know, bud.  There just something about another mans’ cum that makes me grow.  Well, a specific kind of fella.  It’s all based on the amount the guy’s able to produce, too.  Like I said, you’re a big-time gusher, so I knew this was going to be good.  I had trouble keeping up.”

 

My arm still wasn’t finished getting bigger.  I could feel the muscle multiplying beneath the skin and that made me so dog-gone excited.  I lost awareness of my onlooker for a while, I was so into my own growth.  The thing looked so much bigger – harder – more muscled.  Even the peak was highlighted so it looked like hardness the size of a softball beneath the skin.  The triceps was huge and separated, as well.  Fuck, it felt so bloated with power.  My new, thicker forearm was rocking it, too. 

 

“That thing looks so powerful,” the quickie said, with lust in his voice.

 

“It is, dude.  Let me show you.  It looks like I’ve made you ready for round two, anyway.  Another swallow won’t make me grow, but it will taste just as good.”

 

The dude’s cock was stiff again, poking out from his undone suit pants.  I grabbed him at his hips and lifted him up against the wall – so his crotch was at mouth level.  I held him there as my lips caught his throbbing piece of meat and I took the entire thing in my warm mouth in one big gulp.  He cried out and braced his hands against my shoulders as his feet scrunched downward from the pleasure.  He jerked his ass from the wall, forcing his cock to go deeper into my throat, which only made him moan even louder.  He then started rocking his crotch back and forth, fucking my throat like a madman.  I was sucking hard and squeezing the muscles in the back of my mouth in a way that was going to bring him back to orgasm-mode quickly.  I could still feel my biceps pulsating with new growth and power.  Holding him off the ground only enhanced the pleasure for both of us.  I was so disappointed to learn that a second round of swallowing a man’s load would not make me grow again.  It made it impossible to be in a monogamous relationship – especially because I wanted to keep growing.  I didn’t see how it was possible, but the dude shot an even more substantial load the second time.  I guess seeing my biceps grow was just too much of a turn-on for him.  When I placed him back down on the ground, I could tell he was worn out, but very, very happy.  He looked up at me.

 

“I love to be lifted.  Hey, you grew taller, too!  We were eye to eye before you sucked me off.”

 

“Damn, you’re right, dude.  I hadn’t noticed that before.  All of this is still so new.  It’s only right that if I’m bigger I should be taller, too.”

 

“I’ve got to get back to work,” he said, looking at me, hopefully – he wanted to meet up again.

 

“And I’ve got to get to the gym.”

 

“Gym?  Aren’t you worn out?” he asked, shocked I was going to work out.

 

“Naw, dude, the growth empowers me.  I’ve got to go lift some heavy weight just to calm down, now.  My body will be pumping with adrenaline for hours.  And you dumped a bucket load of cum down my throat, so I have a feeling I’m going to be like the Engergizer Bunny for the entire two hours of lifting.  Listen, I can see it in your eyes – you’d like to see me again.  That’s cool, man, but you know – because of my particular gift for changing cum into muscle – I’m not a one-man kind of guy.  You’re nice, hot, and clearly into the growth as much as me, but I gotta keep finding older fit men to suck off so I’ll get monstrous.  For some reason, this change only happens if the guy is over forty, nicely built, and masculine.  You’d be amazed how hard it is to find that kind of guy.”

 

“Maybe I could help.  I have a lot of friends just like me – older, fit, and full of masculine juice.  I’m having a dinner party on Saturday.  You could have a cum buffet and leave the party a hell of a lot bigger than you came.  Just a thought.”

“Damn, dude,” I replied, “that would be awesome.  Especially, if the guests are like you.”

 

“Most of them are even bigger than me.”

londonboy

Becoming a Muscle Daddy

muscledaddy.jpg

Becoming a Muscle Daddy

 

It was when I knew I’d be turning forty in exactly eighteen months that the decision was made.  I did not want to be that pudgy, cocktail-sipping, older man standing on the side of the dance floor at clubs ogling the young boys and being ignored by everyone because they felt sorry for the poor pathetic old man.  I decided I wanted to be a Grade A muscle daddy by the time I turned that magical age that people crazily called the ‘new thirty.’  Don’t get me wrong, my thirties had been spectacular, but I wanted to own my forties.  I wanted to act my age.  I had a nice home, I had a great career, I had two dogs who were adorable babe magnets – so why shouldn’t I be a babe magnet, too.   I looked in the mirror one morning – overweight, big bags under my eyes from staying at the bar too late in hopes someone would choose me, no facial hair to speak of, and glasses that yelled ‘nerd’ from twenty feet away.  I knew there had to be changes. 

 

First, I started working on the body.  I decided to start with the hardest.  I was as tight with my money as I was with my ass, so I forced myself – with much inner turmoil – to hire a personal trainer.  Scott was a straight, trophy-winning young bodybuilder who took a liking to me immediately.  I’m sure the amount of money I was offering had nothing to do with his friendliness – and even if it did, I did not care.  I wanted to get in shape.  I told him to make me a muscle daddy the first time we met.  I said it needed it to happen by my fortieth birthday.  The dude brought a calendar to our next session – one that lasted for twenty-four months, so he could mark the day of my total transformation.  Fire Island, eighteen months to the day, is the place where I would reveal my new fabulousness.  He had done his homework.  He said there was a special ‘Come Meet Your New Daddy’ party on the island that particular weekend, which included the Muscle Daddy Fire Island Contest.  I lost control and laughed hard at the preposterous idea, but his serious face and calm demeanor made it clear he was meant it.  He even said he’d be there to watch me win.  He asked me how much I wanted this and I told him I was willing to do anything.  He then told me he would work me so hard I would hate him, but that one day I’d be thanking him.  I told him I was ready.  I was so naïve. 

 

It’s one thing to have a coach and it’s another thing to have someone dominate you as if you were his toy.  Scott took his job as if it were a matter of life and death.  He insisted on a key to my apartment, so if I texted to say I needed to skip a session he could come in and drag my ass out of bed.  He got the numbers of all my friends, so he could check up on my eating habits, alcohol consumption, drug use, and even my sexual adventures (claiming that morning sex would make me weaker for workouts).  I was definitely paying Scott a boatload of money, but I think the job actually consumed him – he acted like he wanted me to reach my goals even more than I did.  I was a good and faithful servant.  Those first three weeks I would drag my ass to the gym every morning at 5:30am even when I was so sore I had to slide down the steps instead of painful walking.  I cried the second day when Scott took my Venti coffee cup and told me from that day forward I had to get myself moving without the help of caffeine.  I didn’t do anything the first four weeks but workout in the early morning, go to work, and then go home to collapse on my bed – a pile of total pain and utter exhaustion.  Five weeks into the training I was allowed to weigh myself.  I was shattered when the scale said I had lost one pound.  Scott laughed at my despondent face and told me to flex my arm as I looked into the mirror.  I did as he said – just as I always did. 

 

He pointed to a little tiny bump in my still slightly pudgy arm and told me I wasn’t losing weight because I was changing it into muscle.  That little bump . . . miniscule when I think back on it now – was life changing.  You would have thought I had turned into the phenomenal Mike Mentzer overnight from the way I reacted.  That ant hill of a bump inspired me more than anything I had ever experienced in my life.  I suddenly felt less pain, ate correctly without bitching, walked taller and more confident at work, and attacked my workouts like a maniac.  Scott told me he had never seen a man as crazy for muscle as I was.  Three months in the bump had gotten bigger – many bumps all over my body, actually – and Scott talked me into something else that would inspire me.  He said I needed a tattoo.  I told him I was not getting one – mainly because I was so scared of the needle.  He brought out a drawing of a lion that was both spectacular and erotic at the same time.  He told me I was getting this on m left pec and he had set up the appointment for that day after I got off work.  I started to argue, but then he just put his big hand on my shoulder and started to squeeze hard.  I went down on one knee because of the pain.  He told me there would come a day in the near future when I would not yield to his grip.  I would be able to stand there and smile at him no matter how hard he squeezed.  He then told me the tattoo would help.  I sat in a chair for hours, enduring pain that I could not even imagine before that afternoon, but when the awesome artist allowed me to look in the mirror at his amazing work it was like someone had injected a few vials of testosterone into my body.  The guy told me to flex and when I did I almost creamed in my pants.  It was like the lion tilted his head back in a giant roar.

 

Scott was impressed as hell by the tattoo – and by the fact that I had done it.  He actually won a bet with one of the other trainers who had said I would chicken out at the last minute and not do it.  Scott was kind and I got to avoid doing chest for five days – he said it was to let the lion heal.  I was thankful, for the first day we actually worked out my chest, the lion ached very much.  Midway through the eighteen months I had to buy new clothes – bigger shirts and pants with slimmer waists.  Scott praised my work and told me I was going to be even hotter than I had ever imagined.  One morning he asked if work cared if I grew facial hair.  I told him I was the boss and he told me to not shave until he said I could.  I started to argue but then he put a hand on my shoulder and I shut up quickly.  I was not ready for a knee bending shoulder squeeze again.  I actually threw out every razor in my place – just to make sure I didn’t give in to the need to get rid of scruff.  I had also gotten so used to eating right and drinking protein shakes that I sometimes turned down invitations to dinner parties or eating out at restaurants just so I could keep the transformation on track.  Scott asked me to meet him at a coffee shop halfway through the tenth month.  He said we needed to talk about something serious.  I worried that I had done something wrong or that he was going to drop me as a client.  Nothing could have prepared me for what the meeting was really about. 

 

He told me my progress was so incredible that I was going to surpass his vision of what he originally thought I was capable of in about a month.  He also told me that guys were going to start commenting on my build and even coming on to me, but that I needed to resist the urge to think I had reached the finish line.  He told me he thought I could achieve muscle daddy fame beyond my wildest dreams if I stayed the course and worked hard.  I told him he was crazy, but then the cute-as-hell barista came around the counter to personally hand me my drink and show me that he had written his number on the side of the cup.  He said he would move heaven and hell to have one night with a daddy like me.  I was flabbergasted beyond belief and thankful Scott was there to help me through the situation.  As soon as I was done with the coffee, he crumpled up the cup – making sure the barista saw, so the dude would think Scott and I were an item – and then threw it in the trash.  I wanted badly to retrieve the number, since the barista was adorable, but my commitment to Scott and his plan for me was much more important.  I changed coffee shops just so I wouldn’t be tempted.

 

Fifteen weeks into the transformation, Scott took me to his salon.  I was totally confused as to what was happening.  I had not shaved – just as he had asked – and I looked like a rugged older Paul Bunyan.  He sat me down in front of a blonde girl who had been blessed beyond reason in the breasts department.  I got the distinct feeling that Scott’s face had been buried in those tits many, many times.  She kept looking at the guy the same way a submissive in the gay community looks at his dominator.  I had a feeling Scott serviced her in a way that went way beyond just good sex.  Scott told her to make me into a sexy muscle daddy.  The big chested woman got all excited and started to work.  She told me the bushy beard had to go.  It was great if I wanted to be a bear, but a muscle daddy would definitely have a goatee.  She shaved away and when I saw how chiseled my face had become I almost cried.  She then said a short haircut with some spikiness would be just what the boys wanted.  She was not wrong.  I was even turned on a little by my new look when she was done.  But the fun was not over.  Scott said he had two gifts for me.  I opened the wrapped boxes he gave me and one had a giant watch in it.  Scott said a big man always needs a big watch.  I then opened the second one and it was a pair of cool Rayban sunglasses.  When I put them on I felt like a changed man.  I looked in the mirror and just smiled. 

 

For the next three weeks, Scott made me cut back on the calories so I’d get super ripped.  He wasn’t letting me lose any muscle and I was actually getting stronger every day, but he said I’d look super-hot if everything was massively defined and symmetrical.  One day, close to the end of my transformation, a neighbor asked if I would help him move a marble-topped table from one room to another in his house.  I went over to help and while he was fussing around in another room I just walked up, grabbed the table at the edges, and lifted it easily.  I just knew I’d be able to do it.  When I walked into the designated room you would have thought the guy had seen a ghost.  He told me it had taken two guys struggling hard to move the table into his place.  I just told him it was pretty light and not a problem for me.  I had on a work shirt so my body was basically hidden, although he said the thing did nothing to hide my new developments.  He also asked to feel my arms and had swooned a little when he touched them.  This had made me very happy and I doubled down on my last few days of prep for the show.  Scott came to my house a few nights to work on some poses for me.  He explained that the Muscle Daddy Fire Island Contest had a part where all the contestants stood on stage and showed off their wares for the audience.  He thought it would be good for me to flex for the fellas.  I thought it a good idea, too.  I had refrained from looking in any mirror for many weeks.  I wanted the show to be the moment that my new body was revealed to me, as well.  Scott said he’d bring his professional camera to get some good shots. 

 

That night he also asked if I had noticed any changes to my attitude during the transformation.  I laughed and told him I had.  In the past, I had always over tipped waiters in order to get them to like me – a really stupid thing, but it was just something I did.  Now, I wore tight shirts and it got me a hell of a lot more attention than the extra tip ever did.  It seemed that many fellas were looking for a daddy.  Co-workers not only noticed a difference in my body, but noticed a new confidence that made me do things like shake hands too tightly, grab friends by the neck and squeeze hard enough to make a big guy wince, and they said I invaded personal space a lot more – as if I wanted to get my muscles as close to other people as I could.  And then there was the flexing – but not in front of a mirror, not yet.  I told Scott that I just loved raising my arms and flexing my biceps as much as I could – they just popped up so completely bigger now that it was a major turn-on.  Scott said he had a theory and he reached up and grabbed my shoulder – as he had all those months ago.  He squeezed slowly and with as much power as he could muster.  I certainly felt it, but I didn’t wince or buckle at all.  I merely stood there, smiling and flexing my big traps muscle under his hand.  Scott said it was just as he thought – the transformation was complete.  I reached up and squeezed his shoulder.  He responded with an ‘ouch’ and jerked his body away.  He said I was definitely ready for the contest.  He gave me a white tank-top and said to save it for the day. 

 

The night before the contest Scott and I were having some wine in the house we rented for the long weekend.  It was right on the water and near all the activity.  I cooked us a fabulous meal and said no to going out.  I wanted my body to be revealed at the contest and at the parties to follow.  Before we went to bed, Scott asked if he could ask me a personal question, but then he told me to forget it, it was nothing.  I found that a little puzzling, but I could tell he didn’t want me to press the issue. 

 

The contest was around 2pm the next day.  We got there a little early, registered, and then had a couple of drinks.  When I gathered backstage with the other fifteen contestants I became pretty nervous – there were some definite daddy-hunks competing.  No one spoke to me, which I found a little disconcerting.  I tried to make conversation, but guys would smile and then kind of slink off.  Scott came back to wish me luck and when I told him I was being shunned he laughed and said it was because they knew I was going to win.  He said all of these hot dudes were now just trying to figure out who could get second or third.  They didn’t want to mess with the alpha muscle daddy.  I was floored, but the knowledge definitely released a heavy dose of cockiness into my body.  When I was introduced the crowd went wild.  I was not prepared for that kind of reaction and it got me going even more.  I strutted on stage, flirting with the audience and flexing like I had done this all of my life.  Each pose caused the crowd to erupt in cheers.  They started chanting for me to take my clothes off, so, of course, I peeled off my tank and flexed so my lion would roar to the crowd.  I wasn’t surprised when my name was called out as someone who’d be moving to the final round.  During the part where the five finalists were on stage I kept my body tense, just so I would stand out.  I had my sunglasses on and my big watch on my wrist.  When the guns went up, the cheers came flooding up on stage.  I could feel the guys around me already acting defeated.  I wasn’t going to bully them, but I did love finally reaching true muscle daddy status.  When my name was announced as winner, I shook the hand of the runner- up and then stepped forward to give the crowd one more shot of my muscled goodness.  Scott got that shot and it’s still one of my favorite photos.  I was in heaven.

 

To say my dance card was full that evening at the parties was an understatement.   I had never had my muscles groped so much, received so many phone numbers, or had my crotch and ass grabbed as much.  I lost track of Scott at some point, but when I returned home around two in the morning he was still up, waiting for me on the sofa.  When I came in – a little buzzed – I grabbed him in a big hug and told him thank you for making my dream come true.  He said it was his pleasure and then he said something I didn’t quite understand.  I was a little drunk, yes, but not so gone as to misinterpret him.  I stood back from him and asked what he had said.  He told me he wanted to suck me off.  My mouth dropped open wide and I fumbled for words. I said I thought he was straight.  He told me he had always had feelings for guys, but no one had ever triggered them as much as I had.  He said my transformation had bowled him over and it caught him off guard how attracted he was to me.  The next thing I knew he had his hands all over my hard arms as we kissed like two teenagers in love for the first time.  We took turns lifting each other in bear hugs, never taking our mouths away from each other.  I couldn’t believe our hard cocks were banging into each other as we bumped and grinded like we were on the dance floor.  Suddenly, Scott was on his knees, I had my hand squeezing his hefty traps hard, and his surprisingly expert mouth was around my cock, which had been freed from the tight blue-jean cutoffs I had worn all day.  Then, the big man suddenly started pulling his face back and calling me muscle daddy in between sucks.  It was ‘oh yeah, muscle daddy has a big fucking cock,’ and ‘fuck my mouth hard, muscle daddy.’  The dude had clearly been into me for a while, but I hadn’t noticed.  He had helped me transform into not only what I wanted, but what he had wanted, as well.  This knowledge empowered me beyond my wildest dreams.  I fully became a muscle daddy at that moment.  I grabbed his hair and face fucked him hard. 

 

When I came, I shot my load all over his smiling, happy face – drenching his cheeks, mouth, and chin.  I then pulled off my white tank and used it to clean his face.  I pulled him to his feet, hugged him hard, and rubbed my crotch against his like a pro.  The dude screamed like a banshee when he exploded – he hadn’t even removed his clothes.  I was able to make him shoot just by squeezing his body with the arms he had helped to create, crotch pounding him hard, and talking to him as his muscle daddy.  I told him he was my boy, now, and that I was his boss.  I told him how good he was and I even talked about his beautiful body in a way that made it very clear I had noticed it for a long time.  Two orgasms later – for each of us – the sun was coming up and we had moved to the bed.  I told him all of this had been unexpected and he said it was the same for him.  He explained that the night I had resisted his shoulder squeeze and then given him a strong one back had sealed the deal.  He had been smitten before that, but said that particular night he went home and beat off three times thinking about me and my body.  I pulled his body close to mine and said he had been looking for a daddy.  He corrected me by saying he had been looking for Muscle Daddy Fire Island.   

londonboy

Brawn Takes a Man

 

Brawn.thumb.jpg.7fc1a5ecd211e70b54f2e1216203fd31.jpg

The first time we met was at a bar.  I was looking particularly hot that night – having taken extra time to choose my clothes, style my hair, and get a pre-club beer buzz going.  I walked into the place feeling confident, happy, and definitely horny.  Soon, I was cemented in a group of four potential suitors – all of them friends and all of them content to try and win me as their prize.  I wasn’t even paying attention to anything else happening in the place, because trying to decide which hottie in the group would be in my bed that night was too much fun.  I wasn’t having to pay for any drinks and the flirting was getting pretty intense.  That’s when this tall, well-built guy with a shaved head stepped into the middle of our group, bent down to kiss me on the lips and then looked every other guy in the eyes before speaking.

 

“He’s taken, fellas.”

 

And like ants speedily scattering away after a spritz of insecticide, the group dispersed to other parts of the bar – clearly giving up the competition since there was a new player.  A large new player that obviously went ‘all in’ from the get go and had the kind of poker hand that was going to win the entire pot.  I looked up at his scruffy smiling face – he hadn’t moved back when the group disappeared.  He remained close to me – his barreled chest poking out at me like muscle in 3D. 

 

“That took some balls,” I said, smiling.

 

“I’ve got big ones,” he replied, handing me a beer – even though I had been drinking a vodka tonic.

 

“They’re not the only thing big on you,” I replied – making him raise one eyebrow and break into a lopsided sexy grin.

 

“I figure it’s best to go in strong – you know shock and awe, or something like that.”

 

“I doubt you could do anything other than going in strong . . . from the looks of you.”

 

“I like gyms.”

 

“They clearly like you, too.”

 

“Working out is a confidence builder.”

 

“I would then say you’re probably cocky as hell – from the looks of you.”

 

“I can hold my own.”

 

“I’d rather you held mine.”

 

It was time for both of us to sip some beer.  I took advantage of the moment to stare at his thick neck – muscled in a way that said everything below it was thick, hard, and bulging, too.  It was unbelievable how a neck could give away so much information.  The scruffy jawline screamed masculinity the same way powerlifters grunt loudly when lifting tremendous weight.  There was nothing pretty-boy-ish about this man – he was handsome because of his size, his confident attitude, and because his brutish face matched the rest of him so perfectly.  His arms, alone, gave off a powerful vibe of ‘I usually get what I want.’

 

“I’m getting a neck cramp from having to tilt back to see all of the mountain,” I said and he took a couple of small steps back.

 

“Better?”

 

“Much.  I can take in the whole thing, now.”

 

“I like it when you say you can take the whole thing,” he said, sounding cute and nasty at the same time.

 

“What’s the mountain’s name.”

 

“Brawn.”

 

“How perfectly appropriate.  Clearly, you decided your body needed to match its moniker.” 

 

“Something like that.  What’s the mountain climber’s name?”

 

“Quinn.”

 

“Cute name for a cute guy.”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“I’m sorry that I scared away your boyfriends,” he said, taking another sip of his beer.

 

“No, you’re not,” I replied.

 

“No, I’m not.  You’re right.”

 

“Besides,” I added, “you’re so big it’s like I’m still talking four guys, anyway.”

 

“Is my size intimidating?” Brawn asked.

 

“No, your size is stimulating,” I answered.  “Big things don’t scare me.  They turn me on.”

 

“My motto is there’s no reason to be big unless it turns someone on.  I lift to impress.”

 

“I’m impressed.”

 

“What do you do, mountain climbing Quinn?”

 

“You mean besides big men?  I’m an architect.  And what does the mountain do?”

 

“You mean besides small guys?  I’m a fireman.”

 

“Holy crap – you’re like trying to wrap up every man’s fantasies all in one package, aren’t you?  I bet you have a dog.”

 

“Two golden retrievers – Paris and Zane.”

 

“Named for Bob Paris and Frank Zane, I’m sure.”

 

“No one I’ve met has ever figured that out before.”

 

“Maybe you’ve never met a guy so into symmetry before.  The male physique is something I like to admire.  I design big buildings – so, it’s only natural, I guess, that I’d like guys that design big bodies.

 

“Could I have another kiss,” Brawn asked.

 

“I’d rather you not ask – just take one when you want to.”

 

The mountain moved closer – making me tilt my head back.  His muscled neck brought his face to me.  His scruff rubbed against my cheek and chin as he pressed his lips powerfully into mine.  I brought a hand up to his hard pectoral and pushed lightly against what felt like stone.  My forefinger found his nipple – easily – and made it turn hard in response to my pinching.  He pulled his head back and retreated a little.  My hand dropped back to my side. 

 

“When did you get so big?”

 

“I was bullied in junior high because I took ballet, so I decided to start working out while I continued dance lessons.  I got big quickly – my dancer’s body just kind of turned into . . . well, something bigger.”

 

“I’d say.  I’m pretty sure you don’t get bullied now.”

 

“No, I don’t, but I still get teased a lot because my love for ballet has never gone away.  Season tickets and some of the best seats in the theatre.  You should come with me sometime.”

 

“Is that an invitation.”

 

“No, it’s an order,” Brawn answered.

 

“Man, I love it when you’re butch.”

 

“Do you like to be dominated.”

 

“It depends.  I like to wrestle – to make a guy work for my affections.  Being subdued can be very empowering.  A bully doesn’t turn me on, though.  Cockiness can be very sexy, but meanness is definitely a turn-off.”

 

“As I said earlier – muscles are definitely a confidence booster.  They help me to bust through doors as a fireman and, in the same way, they help me go for things I like . . . things that interest me.”

 

“And they help chase off the competition without even doing anything.”

 

“I blame tight t-shirts for that,” Brawn said, flexing his arms ever so slightly, just to make my gaze shift to there.  “Guys like you make being big worth it.  If I know someone cute is watching me I usually have a much better workout.  I work extra hard just to impress him.  I owe most of my size to the lustful looks of numerous men.”

 

“I’d certainly like to continue that trend and help you get even bigger.  The thought of you growing turns me on.”

 

“Something’s growing bigger with everything you say,” Brawn replied – that nasty sweet boy coming out again. 

 

“Ah, the mountain likes to hear me talk about his body.”

 

“What can I say?  I’m vain.  I got big to please others, but I like to hear about how much all of this pleases someone.  Is that weird?”

 

“Not to me.  I consider all of this a lovely exciting cycle.  You turn me on and then I turn you on and it keeps on going until there’s a big finish – only to start all over again after a brief rest.  It’s like a lovely banter between two handsome dudes.”

 

“I do like to banter.  And you banter like a pro, Quinn.”

 

“Bantering is not the only thing I am good at, Mr. Mountain.”

 

It was time for more sips of beer.  We were like two giant waves bashing against the shore and then retreating back out into the ocean to gain even more power for the next time.  Brawn tightened his right biceps and looked down at it, knowing my gaze would follow.  We both stared as he turned his wrist and tightened his fist to make the arm muscle bulge and almost sparkle.  A vein covered the large intoxicating split peak and I found myself licking my lips.  Brawn dropped his arm and returned his gaze to me.  I continued to look at his arm – even un-flexed.

 

“When I lift I get so turned on.  It’s always been that way.  I pump my arms hard and big doing some curls and another part of my body responds in the same way.”

 

“Pumping harder and bigger.”

 

“Yeah.  I just love how the weights make my muscles work so much.  I love feeling my body strain so that I know it’s growing.  I love the idea of wearing it down to build it up.  Muscle building can be a difficult thing – it’s not just about going around and lifting heavy things.”

 

“Although that helps.”

 

“Of course, but you – being an architect – should realize that most of your success comes from good planning, thinking ahead, and making sure you keep dedicated.  And then I’m like an architect going to the worksite quite often to check on the progress.  I like to make sure I do a thorough evaluation of my growth as often as I can.  Measuring is often part of that check-in, as well.”

 

“I’m awfully good at measuring.”

 

“That’s what I was hoping,” Brawn said, with a bigger smile than before.

 

“Tell me what else you like about the gym, my big mountain.”

 

“Finding myself suddenly drenched in sweat and red-faced from an intense set of repetitions calls for a quick glance in the mirror.  The way my body glistens to highlight all of the big tight mounds and deep valley-like indentions makes me slide into some pose before I even realize what I’m doing.  I just need to see myself flexing.  I need to catch someone glancing at me as I flex.  The pungent musk of my big, worn-out body only makes me more excited and I start to think about servicing myself or finding a service provider as quickly as possible so I don’t lose any of my tremendous pump or horniness.  Then, I realize I’m only halfway through my workout and that only turns me on more.  I keep looking at myself in the mirror trying to imagine – in detail – how another dude sees me.  Thinking about what would turn him on.  Pretending I’m seeing myself for the first time and noticing what turns me on.”

 

“What does turn you on?”

 

“The ridges that pop up all around my mid-section when I flex my biceps.  The way my abs look so strong.  How my lats flare out in support of my big arms and shoulders.  My biceps peaking with a hardness that can stop people in their tracks.  The way my forearms blast out with thick veins.  You know, stuff like that.”

 

“If you’re trying to get me hard, you’ve succeeded.”

 

“I thought it only fair, since I’m already there, myself.  What turns you on, Quinn – specifically?”

 

“Big strong nipples poking out in a way that makes a t-shirt look fragile.  Shirtsleeves that are clearly worn out from trying to stay tight around arms that keep growing.  Bull necks that have more muscle than my entire body.  A guy watching himself flex.  Rubbing my fully clothed crotch against some guy’s strong bumpy abs until I bust a big one.  Shaved heads that make a guy’s ears stick out a little.  Fists big enough you’d know they’d cause a big hole wherever they punched.  Licking deep muscled pits after a bodybuilder has been working out for hours.  Saving my ass for so long that a big man finally begs for it like he was asking for water after being in the desert for days.  Edging a mountain for so long that his balls are blue and aching so much he can’t walk right.  Kissing plump muscled lips surrounded by stubble hard enough to be considered sand paper.  Finding a huge guy that knows what he likes and isn’t afraid to show it.  I guess nothing too specific, huh?”

 

Clearly, I had made Brawn even more excited than he had been before, which was my intention.  He leaned in to kiss me again – this time not wasting time to ask.  He then pulled back and slowly brought his right arm up into a flex – making the split biceps bulge thick and powerful.  He looked at his own arm, again, knowing I’d be watching him admiring his big gun.  He knew just how to wreck my world.

 

“Yeah, so fucking huge,” Brawn growled as he twisted his forearm and made the biceps dance.

 

“Aw, dude, you’re wrecking me, here,” I moaned and, thankfully, the mountain dropped his arm.  “You can’t just up and do that any time you want.”

 

“Sure, I can.  It pleases the masses.”

 

“You could give a guy a heart attack!  By the way, those sleeves are about to give up.”

 

“I spend a lot of money on t-shirts.  They don’t seem to last that long.”

 

“Relentless growth can cause that.”

 

“It can cause a lot of things,” Brawn said.  “Wearing out men is another one of my specialties.  But, unlike a destroyed shirt, a guy can bounce back.”

 

“Your t-shirt does nothing to hide the fact that you have pits as deep as giant caves.  I’d like to be lost in those things for a few days.”

 

“With a little head crushing every now and then?”

 

“Now, you’re just being mean.  Teasing a guy when he in such a fragile state.”

 

“Quinn,” he said, suddenly turning serious, “please to god tell me you’re someone who’d sleep with a guy on the first date.”

 

“Oh, this is a date?”

 

“Hey, I’m the gladiator who just slew all of the competitors vying for the emperor’s affection to the joyous praise of the crowd.  That has to count as a date, doesn’t it?”

 

“Hold on, I’m too busy envisioning your body in a gladiator costume.”

 

“Ooooo, into role-playing, are we?”

 

“Yes, if it always includes you and your roles require you to wear as little clothing as possible.”

 

“Like a gladiator,” Brawn said.

 

“Like a gladiator.”

 

“Or Tarzan.”

 

“Oh, yes please.”

 

“Or the Hulk.”

 

“Oh my, yes.  Ripped clothes are the best.”

 

“Or a bodybuilder who’s just won first place in a contest and is still in his posers.”

 

“Mmmmm hmmmm!”

 

“Or a go-go dancer you’ve booked for a private dance.”

 

“It just keeps on getting better.”

 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Quinn.”

 

“Mr. Mountain, here’s the deal.  I don’t get hung up on labels.  I’m not a slut if I sleep with someone the same night I meet them.  I’m also not a prude or tease if I choose to wait.  I go with the moment.  I listen closely to what my head, heart, gut, and my crotch are telling me.  If all of them are in sync – I’ve learned they never lie.  I trust myself.  I also trust you.  If I want to let those big strong arms of yours guide me into this evening I’m pretty sure they’re going to do what’s best for both of us.  I’m pretty sure those monstrous shoulders of yours can handle any burden or labor that might come our way, as well, so I’m not too worried about what’s to come.  Let’s just let everything happen naturally.”

 

“The word labor reminds me of another role play I forgot.  Hercules.”

 

“Oh, my favorite.”

 

This time, to add more to his intentionally unrequested kiss, Brawn bent forward, wrapped his arm around my mid-section, and lifted me off the floor.  He then brought his lips to mine and brushed against them teasingly a few times, before attacking my mouth with his luscious, warm tongue.  Feet dangling in the air, sucking face hard, and my right hand exploring his massive pec and humongous arm – what more could a man ask for.  The huge Brawn, meanwhile, was kissing me in the same way his neck bulged – manly, aggressively, and powerfully.  I swear his lips, alone, would make you know you’re dealing with a guy that was monstrously muscled.  He kissed the same way a bulldozer would plow through a building and it was such a turn on.  Meanwhile, my fingers and palm confirmed that his biceps were bigger than my head.  Even if one of the things wasn’t flexed.  Men, in general turned me on and I rarely thought about bodybuilder-types differently than super smart men or hilariously funny men, but this guy . . . this mountain . . . did something to me that was almost magical or other-worldly.  Confidence oozed out of him as if it had been a cologne that he had bathed in.  His masculine aroma was enough to make me get a major stiffy.  As his tongue ravaged my mouth he growled softly, like a giant bear attacking honeycomb.  I was still off the ground, squeezed tightly by his one huge arm.  He finally pulled his head back and looked into my eyes.

 

“Damn, you’re so adorable.”

 

“Right back at you, Mr. Mountain, though you’re adorably huge, too.”

 

“I’m planning on making you wish I was a smaller and weaker man, later on.  That’s how much I’m intending to wear you out.”

 

“Or maybe I’ll be wishing you were bigger and stronger because I’ll wear you out, Brawn.”

 

“Damn, mister, I need to let you go around the bar and flirt with some more competitors that I can then slay.  I’m feeling particularly powerful right now.”

 

“Powerfully horny, right?”

 

“Well, yes, that too.”

 

“How often do you work out?”

 

“Three hundred and sixty-three days a year.  I take Christmas and my birthday off.”

 

“You feel like granite.”

 

“Part of me is harder than granite, right now.”

 

“My toes are going numb, Mr. Mountain.”

 

“Oh damn, my bad.  I forgot I had you in the air.  I wondered why I didn’t have to look down.”

 

He lessened the squeeze and let my body slide down his until my feet were on the ground.  It was an intentional move – to let me feel more of his body, especially the fully-loaded cannon at his crotch.  My face showed my approval and my pleasant surprise.

 

“Big men have their big toys,” Brawn said, smiling.

 

“I do like playing with big things,” I replied.  “Speaking of big things, how about taking off that puny threadbare shirt of yours and letting all those huge muscles come out to play.”

 

His face lit up like a Christmas tree.  It was like I had taken the leash off a big dog to let him run free at the ocean.  I’d never seen a man so eager to show off – specifically for me.  He pulled the bottom of his tight t-shit free from his jeans and then slowly peeled it upward over his humongous V-shaped torso.  It was like the curtain going up on the most lavish set design ever to hit a theatre.  It was like beholding the Northern Lights for the first time.  It was like Dorothy finally making it to Emerald City.  I gasped loudly when the shirt was completely off and his upper body popped out all over with the kind of muscles reserved for a very few percent of humans on this earth.  I realized the entire bar was staring, but he was only looking at me.  Watching my reaction.  I whistled loudly and smiled.

 

“That, my friend, is a mighty fine enormous body.”

 

“I’m so glad it pleases you,” Brawn said, taking advantage of the fact the bartender was staring and holding up two fingers to order another round. 

 

“Bet you five dollars these beers will be on the house,” I quickly said.

 

“Why’s that?” Brawn asked.

 

“Because you took your shirt off . . . because of all of that,” I said, motioning to his magnificent body.

 

“You’re on,” Brawn said, holding out his hand to shake.    

 

As anticipated, as soon as my skin touched his, a jolt of pleasure shot through my entire body.  It was partly because I was taking in one of the hottest looking mass of muscles I had ever beheld, but it was also because there was something phenomenal happening between us.  His nipples popped out quickly, signifying that his body felt the same kind of shock as mine had.  I saw little bumps ripple across his broad chest, which was also turning slightly red.  It was like we both had some kind of lustful fever hit our bodies as soon as our hands met.  I didn’t let go of his hand and, turning it slightly I brought it up to my face and kissed its back.  I saw his legs wobble a little.  He wasn’t the only gladiator who could slay the competitor.  I let go, but his hand did not drop.  The big mountain just stood there for a few seconds, trying to refrain from giving into urges that were strong enough to shake this powerful beast.  At that moment, the bartender held up two beers and Brawn forced his legs to work and went to get the drinks – reaching his big arms over the heads of the crowd before him.  I saw the guy behind the bar tell Brawn there was no charge and then he added that the big man taking off his shirt instantly increased the need for liquid refreshment in the entire establishment.  Even if my eyes had been closed I could have told you the giant mass had returned beside me – you just couldn’t not register something so big and so hot.  He handed me my beer and took in my victorious grin.

 

“I don’t feel too much like a winner,” I said, “I’m sure it happens a lot.  Especially if you’re shirtless.”

 

“A big boy never flexes and tells,” Brawn responded, clearly loving how I kept stealing glances at his now uncovered torso.

 

“I bet you never wear a shirt when you are at home, do you?”

 

“No since I was in high school – and that’s only because my parents made me.”

 

“God, your nipples are gorgeous.”

 

“And quite tasty, I’m told,” Brawn replied, reaching up to pinch one.  “They’re also pretty sensitive.  Just thought I’d let you know that . . . you know, for future reference.”

 

“Anything else I should know is super sensitive – you know, for future reference.”

 

“Well, I’ve been known to squeeze a guy too hard if he’s sucking on my earlobes.  My neck responds to kisses by sending messages to another part of my body telling it to explode.  And the insides of my thighs can become like a car compacter if provoked by a tongue.”

 

“Superman has his numerous kryptonite’s.”

 

“No, my kryptonite is my ass.  That’s why that specific part of me is only saved for special people.”

 

“I have memorized all of these for, you know, future reference.”

 

“And you, Mr. Quinn.  What should I be memorizing for you?”

 

“Well, I’m extremely versatile – loving to give and receive, equally.  Kisses at the small of my back will basically make me do whatever you ask.  I’m a big sucker for stubble, so feel free to ‘five o’clock shadow’ rub my entire body.  And, oddly enough, I like my balls to be manhandled.”

 

“I did not see that one coming.”

 

“I get that.  Most guys don’t.  And said guys are always amazed at how much power they can use on said balls.”

 

“Well, a lot of power is one thing I’ve got,” Brawn said, grinning like a proud schoolboy.

 

“Among many other humongous things, I might add.”

 

“Mind if I flex?”

 

“Who, here, would be able to stop you even if we wanted to,” I answered.

 

The mountain was showing off.  He was ready to seal the deal.  It wasn’t time to leave, but he wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting – completely.  He wanted to show me some of his best assets to help me make wise life decisions.  He also wanted to make the entire bar disappointed by the fact that he had chosen me over them.  He was also marking his territory – warning people to stay clear of me.  I was his.  I could tell he was very proud of his body – not in a cocky ‘take that, you wimps’ kind of way, though.  It was more about pride in his dedication, his accomplishments, and his sculpting.  Parts of him bulged that I didn’t even know could.  I swear I didn’t realize arms could be developed to the size and definition of what he now flexed in front of me.  Even without looking around I knew that almost all motion in the bar ceased for a moment.  All of us were gazing upon perfection.  It was like someone had had taken huge chunks of marble, embedded some thick veins on top of it, and then chipped and smoothed it into perfect, muscled, powerful-looking mounds.  His neck turned even thicker as he flexed his arms – sending me into a lustful frenzy.  His lats flared wide and beautiful, as if he were some kind of half-nude angel.  And so many sets of dense ridges sprung up around his stomach I immediately compared it to an intersection of numerous cobblestoned streets. 

 

“Perfection,” I said, trying to take in as much of his body as I possibly could before he stopped the flex.

 

“I’m glad you like it,” Brawn said, without lessening his tensed muscles at all. 

 

“At ease, Mr. Mountain, before you cause the patrons of this place to erupt into a spontaneous orgy – although, that might be fun.”

 

“It wouldn’t be fun if it meant I had to share you,” Brawn said, finally lowering his arms and giving my completely wrecked body some much-needed rest.

 

“Aw, you must be the nicest muscleman ever.  Why the flex, Mr. Brawn.”

 

“You know why,” he replied, grabbing his beer, which he had placed on a nearby table.

 

“Probably, but I think I’d like to hear you say it, anyway.”

 

“I know you like me, Quinn.  You’ve made that clear – stealing glances, sexy kisses, lovely groping, and wonderful compliments – but I just wanted to make sure you understood that I really like you, too.  I wanted to show you what I bring to the table in these sexual negotiations.  I didn’t show all of my cards, what good poker player does that, but I did want to show you two of the best things I have to offer.”

 

“And biggest things, I might add.”

 

“And biggest . . . thank you for noticing.”

 

“Your arms block out most of the room when you flex, how could I not notice?”

 

He stepped in towards me and leaned down to kiss me, again.  This one was soft, slow, deliberately sexy, and more passionate than anything I had ever experienced before.  He brushed his gorgeous nose against mine a few times, and rested his forehead against my brow.  He was staring deeply into my eyes as if he were trying to hypnotize me, even though I was already his. 

 

“You make having big muscles worth it,” Brawn said softly, without separating his forehead from mine. 

 

“Well, they are pretty incredible, Mr. Mountain.  It’s kind of like having a not angry, not green, very intelligent Hulk kissing you.  Who wouldn’t love that?”

 

“Hulk horny!” the man grunted, all beastlike.

 

“Oh dear, does being turned on make my Hulk grow?”

 

“Hulk penis grows!” he said, causing us both to laugh and he pulled his head away from mine so we both could take a long ‘calm us down’ sip of beer.  “You know, of course, that not coming home with me is now not an option, unless you want to see me go crazy and destroy things.”

 

“Oooo, are you trying to get me to say no?  Seeing you destroy things might be fun.”

 

“Seriously, do I get to have you in my bed tonight?” Brawn asked, with a definite pleading look on his face.

 

“Wild horses, an army of men, and monster trucks couldn’t keep me away.”

 

“I’d take them all on and win, anyway.”

 

“Tis true, Mister Mountain.  Truer words have never been spoken.”

 

“Damn, you have made coming out tonight the wisest decision of my entire life.  I can’t imagine what life would have been like if I had missed this opportunity,” Brawn said as he gazed into my eyes. 

 

“I feel the same way.  And can I just add that you have the sexiest neck I have ever seen.  I cannot keep my eyes off of it.”

 

He flexed the thing and it thickened into something resembling a tree trunk.  His gold chain looked so flimsy and weak in comparison.  I imagined his neck snapping the thing easily.  I reached up and felt how solid and indestructible this part of his body felt.  He smiled at me.  I went up on my toes to kiss him – even as I continued to caress his hard-as-rock neck.

 

“Promise me you won’t put your shirt back on.  Riding the subway back to your place is going to be so much fun.”

 

“Look at you, wanting to show your Mr. Mountain off to everyone.  You know I’ll be more than happy to make that promise and keep it.  Hell, I’ll take off my jeans and head home with you in just my underwear if you want me to.”

 

“Oh no, let’s not get crazy.  We don’t need you turning on the world even more than you already do.”

 

“I only care about turning you on,” Brawn replied. 

 

“That, you do, Mr. Mountain, that you surely do.  Shall we go?”

 

“Shall I carry you?”

 

“No, I’m fine.  We’ll save pleasures like that for when we get to your place.”

 

londonboy

The Proposition from Pops

Pops.jpg

“You’ll be training with Pops.  He’s one of our best.  We call him that because he’s probably the oldest guy working here, but mainly we do it because he’s the biggest,” said my new boss as he took me through the massive workshop. 

 

I liked the sound of that – the biggest. Of course, he could have been talking about the guy’s waist size – which wouldn’t have bothered me – but something in the way my boss spoke reverently and respectfully told me Pops must be really tall.  Man, how I loved giant guys.  We walked around one of the rows of many machines and I quickly noticed my mistake.  I was instantly reminded of the sides of beef that hung from hooks in my uncle’s butcher shop back in my hometown.  It sometimes took two guys to carry just one of those big things.  Pops had sides of beef hanging down from his neck – highlighted beautifully by the fact that he sported a sleeveless green shirt.  I could have been standing at the other end of the huge expansive workspace and could have easily picked out the guy.  He was definitely the biggest man around.  His muscles had a light sheen to them as he worked the big machine and I immediately thanked the gods for making this a warm day.  When my boss called out his nickname and the guy turned to me I almost melted into a puddle of helpless mush.  The man’s butch, half-smile lit up the room the same way a spotlight can illuminate an actor on stage.  His raised eyebrow immediately told me he figured out I was his new trainee.  I could feel him sizing me up in the seconds it took for us to reach him.  He showed no sign of approval or disdain – a slight upturn of one side of his mouth was all I got.  My new boss introduced me and when Pops took my hand it felt like I had slammed my fingers in a truck door.  I forced myself to not scream in pain and tried unsuccessfully to squeeze back equally as hard.  He clearly felt nothing.  Again, I detected Pops making decisions about me based solely on my handshake.

 

“Well, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Pops.  Come by my office at the end of the day.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” I said, nodding, and Pops laughed at my choice of words – I immediately got the feeling that Pops was the only one in this place that usually received such respect.

 

“Know anything about these machines, kid?” Pops asked and I was immediately offended by his choice of words – but also slightly turned on because of the way he said it and the fact that he sounded like a southern, muscled, super-masculine Barry White.

 

“A little,” I replied – telling my first lie, since I instantly wanted Pops to spend a lot of time with me – so I didn’t tell him I probably had run similar machines all of my working life.     

 

Sex dripped off of this guy in amounts that equaled dew drops on every leaf of a giant willow tree in the wee hours of the morning.  He rolled his eyes telling me he was bummed he’d have to spend a lot of time getting me up to speed.  I figured I’d act like I was catching on fast, so he’d think I was a really smart student.  He reached up to scratch his left pec and I’m pretty sure he caught me glancing down at the big rock-hard thing while he did it.  There was a flicker of a smile and then he immediately started telling me about the machine in front of us.  It was one I knew well, but I acted like I was listening intently and when he stopped and asked me to go through and reenact what he had just shown me, I did it without missing a beat and even showed off by doing the shortcuts he had barely mentioned.  I could tell he was impressed.  I also detected – in his eyes - a little spark of something beginning in the back of his brain.  Maybe I was acting too smart – I decided to back off a little.  This time, I was sure he caught me looking at his beefy arms.  The rest of the morning was taken up with four different machines – all ones I was familiar with. 

 

“Time for grub,” Pops said and I was surprised to look at my watch and see the morning had flown by. 

 

The big man then just walked off – and I could tell he expected me to follow him.  I just instinctively knew he assumed I was like his shadow today.  I hurried to catch up with him.  He grabbed one of those large black lunch pails, which look like a mailbox, from a huge fridge in the large break room.  I grabbed my tuna fish sandwich in a brown bag, bought a soda and turned to see where he had chosen to sit.  He seemed to know everybody – smiling, saying hello, and slapping guys on the back – but he had chosen a table over in the corner all by himself.  He pushed out a chair beside him as I walked up.  The silence that followed was kind of nerve-wracking.  I could tell he was watching me closely as he unloaded large quantities of food from his packed box.  The big man clearly had a big appetite.

 

“Why do I feel like I’m being hustled,” he said, finally, staring at me.

 

“I’m sorry?” I replied.

 

“You know these machines.  That’s quite obvious,” he answered – still staring at me.

 

“I . . . um . . . wanted to impress you.”

 

“Well, tick that one off your list, kid.  You did.  But don’t ever lie to me, again.  Understand.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

And instantly, I could see he was finished with the slight reprimand.  Suddenly, his demeanor changed and I could tell he had forgiven me.  His beefy body didn’t seem as knotted up as before and he even smiled at me.  I felt like a puppy that had just been given a treat after getting in trouble by its master.  I seriously sensed my body celebrating the fact that I had somehow pleased this big man. 

 

“You into brewskies, kid?”

 

“Yes sir, I drink beer.”

 

“A few of the guys meet up at a place called ‘Joe’s’ after work – to hammer back a few, shoot the breeze, and not think about machines for a few hours.  It’s always open invitation and a good way to get on the guys’ good side.  Trust me, you want these fellas to have your back – both in here and outside the workplace.  Buying one round will get you a place at the adult table, kid.”

 

“That sounds cool,” I said, trying desperately to come across as manly, in-the-know, hip, and part of the team all at the same time.

 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling at my words, “it’s cool, kid.  Cool.  You youngsters.”

 

I had no idea if he was making fun of me or complimenting me.  I had a feeling you were never quite sure of anything around Pops.  He didn’t reveal much – either in his speech or his actions.  I could tell he was a private person and he watched everything happening around him as if he worked for the CIA and needed to recall details at the drop of a hat.  That afternoon went smoothly, except for the bandana incident.  It had gotten a lot warmer in the big shop and both of us were sweating over this particularly difficult job.  Pops kept wiping his face, neck, and huge arms with this blue bandana he carried in his back pocket.  I just wiped the sweat off with the back of my shirt sleeve.  At one point, late in the day, Pops said he was going to hit the john and he dropped his bandana on the keyboard console of the machine doing the job we had punched in.  I swear it looked like he left the bandana on purpose, looking at me to make sure I noticed what he was doing before he left.  I figured I was just wishing, but as soon as he walked away I became obsessed with the thing and kept stealing glances around to see if anyone was nearby.  The piece of material was soaked with his sweat and I longed to smell and taste it.  I felt like I was addicted to chocolate and someone had left an opened Snickers package in front of me.  God, how I wanted to pick up that bandana.  Finally, after making sure the machine was still doing its job, and glancing around one more time, I picked up the bandana and first put it to my upper lip, so I could inhale the aroma of big Pops.  It was just as I expected – a heavy masculine musk that made me think of a dense forest of tall trees, huge lumberjacks, and man-on-man action that ended with eruptions coupled with uncontrollable screams of passion.  When my tongue darted out and got its first ever taste of Pops’ all-natural, thick, salty, he-man juice, you could have pushed me over with a feather.  I’d never, in my entire life, tasted something that seemed so full of testosterone – so completely male.  My crotch responded with a Pops-induced salute that was so hard I feared I’d pass out from the pressure.  That’s when the corner of my eye noticed something massive and green in the distance.  I quickly wiped my now totally crimson face with the bandana to cover up my lustful action, but it was quite clear by the look in Pops’ eyes when he arrived he had seen me trying to soak up all his manliness.  I held out the bandana to him with a forced look of thanks.

 

“Keep it, kid.  I’ve got others.  Consider it a ‘welcome to your new job’ present.”

 

“Um . . . thanks,” I said, turning a darker shade of red and quickly stuffing the think into my back pocket and then turning to look at the work of the machine in front of us – feeling the man continue to stare at me, smiling.

 

A few hours later I was sitting drinking a cold one at this hole-in-the-wall bar called ‘Joe’s.’  I instantly liked the place because it was full of more manly men than a gay sauna on a holiday weekend.  I quickly did the statistical math and figured out I was probably the only gay man at the place – not that I came across as anything other than one of the men from the big shop down the road.  It was quite clear to the other patrons that I was the new kid on the block – having ordered the second round of beers for the seven guys from our team gathered that afternoon and instantly being asked to join in games of darts, pool, and arm wrestling matches as the number of empty beer bottles increased a lot.  I’m a decent-sized guy, so I held my own when it came to the arm-wrestling, impressing my co-workers in a way that made it clear I had been accepted.  I noticed Pops only participated in darts and pool.  I thought this odd, so my slightly buzzed mouth spoke without thinking.

 

“Why doesn’t Pops arm wrestle?” I said a little too loudly and this made the big man look at me, a grin creeping across his face.

 

“Just look at his fucking arms and you’ll figure that out, kid,” said a more-than-slightly inebriated co-worker standing in our small circle.  “He beats all our asses all the time.  We’ve given up trying.  He even takes two of us on at the same time and still wins.  The monster curls the back of his jeep when we beg him to show off, so there’s no way any of us will ever be able to beat those big guns.”

 

I caught Pops watching my face, closely.  My eyes uncontrollably got wider when I heard about him lifting the back of his jeep.  My crotch also twitched uncontrollably, but I was behind a bar chair, so it was hidden.  He was watching my reaction and patiently waiting for me to make some kind of move after the information sank in.  I got the feeling that my next step would clinch some kind of deal with the man one way or the other.  I let the numerous beers I’d inhaled guide me.  I smiled at the group standing around.    

 

 “I’ll take a shot at beating him,” I said with the kind of bravado usually saved for a superhero in comic books.

 

You would have thought I was a mere mortal challenging the power of Zeus by the loud response of the guys around us.  An approving smile crept across the face of the big man and it was followed by the kind of pec roll usually saved for gay muscle worship videos I constantly watched online.  There was suddenly so much cockiness in Pops’ gaze I was thrust back to the feeling when I tasted him in the damp bandana.  In a move that required the help of a guy standing next to him, the elder muscleman pulled his shirt off of his big body.  My mouth dropped open without shame as I beheld his mammoth, lightly fur-covered, thickly-nippled chest for the first time.  Two guys had been forcibly removed from their chairs and a table had been cleared by the crowd as soon as the shirt had been removed.  I registered comments like ‘don’t break the kid’s arm’ and ‘fifty bucks he doesn’t last ten seconds’ being thrown out around me, but I only watched as the bare chested gorgeous mountain swung his leg over the back of a chair to sit down and then placed his right elbow on the table.  He tightened his fist making the already big arm balloon to the kind of size that filled my orgasm-inducing fantasies.  I knew there was no way I was going to win this battle – but I wasn’t arm-wrestling him for a victory and, somehow, I realized he fully knew this.  My substantial sized manly arm was going to look like a twig next to his, but that didn’t matter.  I was proving something – and I didn’t even know what it was – by taking on the elder god. 

 

“I’m not one to show mercy, kid,” Pops said as I sat down.

 

“I’m not one to give up easily, old man” I said, trying to equal his confidence, which made the sparkle in his eye flash even more. 

 

I then did something unplanned and so out of character for me I would probably analyze the decision for the rest of my life and still not understand it.  I took the big man’s bandana out of my back pocket, brought it up to my face, pressed it against my mouth and nose, and then inhaled deeply.  The move clearly caught my huge opponent off guard, his fist unclenched, his biceps deflated a little, and the cocky smile disappeared.  I saw a glimpse of vulnerability and shock.  Pops wasn’t used to someone being this bold – this open.  I pushed the envelope even further.

 

“Just getting an extra shot of strength, sir.  I got this from a big strong mountain of a man who radiates cockiness without even trying.”

 

It was like when boxers are being photographed before a battle and they try to psyche out their opponent with a stare down, a surprise kiss, or even a creepy smile.  My words and actions made Pops briefly lose his foundation – shook his core a little, just as I had hoped.  That was also when I grabbed his big beefy hand and the guy leading the match, steadied our arms, and counted off for us to begin.  It took a while for Pops to gain control of himself, as I knew it would - as had been my intention when I took out the bandana.  On the word go I pushed my arm with all of my might – getting a head start on the still-startled Pops.  I was no match for the big arm before me, but I took advantage of him being distracted.  Instantly, his arm was pushed back and looked like it might hit the table.  This caused the crowd around us to erupt in shocked cheers.  The unimagined was about to happen.  I felt powerful and hot as hell.  The cheering from the crowd spurred me on, but it also brought Pops out of his temporary fog.  The back of his hand stopped so close to the wooden top you wouldn’t have been able to fit a magazine between the two.  For the first time ever, in my entire life, I got a glimpse of what real power felt like.  My arm – decently sized for a man of my age and stature was halted in a way that could make wild beasts cower in fear.   The green, golden-flecked eyes of Pops had instantly gained all of their confidence back and more.  He had stopped my journey to a surprise victory with a fraction of his total strength and that fact instantly registered to my unmoving arm.  His fingers gripped so hard that I had a feeling some of my bones would be rearranged.  Pops surprised me – and everyone else – with an uncharacteristic deep growl as he started to methodically and devilishly raise his hand and mine slowly with what I could tell was little effort.

 

“I specialize in putting young bucks in their place,” Pops said, whispering in a way that made it quite clear I was giving his hand no resistance. 

 

“That’s been obvious all day, Pops.  I just needed to gain some respect by challenging you and shocking people with an almost victory.”

 

Pops definitely didn’t like the idea that I even thought for a second I could have potentially defeated him.  He was not a man who took to being challenged and, as a matter of fact, I guessed it almost never happened.  Some kind of primal, I’m the stronger animal instinct suddenly overwhelmed the man and he quickly brought our hands through the arc to slam the back of mine into the table.  A little bit of pain shot through my arm, but it was clear the big man’s fingers had taken – and not even registered – most of the blow.  It was quite obvious that Pops needed a decisive and powerful victory.  He had not liked the fact that his hand had dropped so low to the table.  He held my wrist down – like a wrestler waiting for the count.  He was the winner, but I had scored some points with the crowd . . . and, hopefully, with the big man, as well.  There was a tight squeeze of my fingers before Pops released my hand.

 

“You owe me a beer,” he said, swinging his leg over the back of his chair as he stood up, like he was dismounting a horse. 

 

I watched as he turned and was engulfed by a crowd that slapped him on the back and congratulated him.  The last thing I saw before he was completely blocked from view was a tightly flexed bulging triceps and I could tell it was a gift offered specifically to me.  I was also congratulated by onlookers and swept to my feet by a crowd that took me to the bar.  Two, three, or maybe four more rounds were bought for me in the next hour or so.  I couldn’t remember the exact number, since I was still high-as-a-kite from the euphoria of arm-wrestling Pops and feeling that brief squeeze of my hand at the end.  I glanced around and couldn’t see the big man anywhere, feeling disappointed that he had left without saying goodbye or allowing me to give him the obligatory victor’s beer.  I turned back toward the bar, a little sad.  Suddenly, the now memorized massive gun of the older man was beside me as he rested his forearm on the wood in front of us.  He was close enough for me to feel the heat of his body, but not close enough to be touching.

 

“I’ll take that mug now, kid.  The table in the corner at the back,” came his deep, sexy voice and then he was gone. 

 

He smiled at me when I walked up with two mugs and a pitcher.  I intended on making this moment last as long as I could.  I was pretty sure he understood that and maybe even wanted the same thing.  I had luckily started my new job on a Friday, so there was nowhere I needed to be any time soon and I hoped the same was true for the big man.  He took the pitcher from my hands and wrapped his hand around the thing – where I had been using the handle – and poured two mugs, making it clear that I did the buying, but he was in charge.  He watched me, silently, as I took a sip from the frosted glass.  To my disappointment, he had put his shirt back on.  It still showed off his big arms, however.  I just missed the massive salt-and-peppered furry chest.

 

“You don’t play fair,” he said, taking a sip of his own beer and never letting his gaze drop from mine.

 

“Look at those enormous arms of yours and then look at mine and tell me who doesn’t play fair,” I boldly said, not even blinking.

 

“You challenged me, remember.”

 

“And damn nearly beat you.”

 

“Is that what you think?” he asked, smiling.

 

“It’s what I’m going to tell myself.”

 

“You probably still think the tooth fairy, Santa Claus, and the Easter rabbit are real, too, don’t you?  Because those are more likely than someone beating me.”

 

I knew the truth in his statement.  I had felt it when the motion of my hand had been stopped so abruptly and easily.  It suddenly dawned on me that he had probably allowed me to get his hand so far down on purpose – to orchestrate me being cheered on and befriended by co-workers and other patrons.  Suddenly, there seemed to be less air in my self-congratulatory balloon.  He picked up on the change within me and understood my disappointment and my gratitude at the same time.  He needed to offer some kind of runner’s up prize.

 

“The bandana really did catch me by surprise . . . both times,” he said and I swallowed hard.  “The first time was a . . . um . . . pleasant and unexpected surprise.”

 

We stared at each other – neither of us even breathing – for a good half a minute.  He had caught me earlier than afternoon sniffing and licking his bandana.  I was definitely excited beyond belief, but I was also very cautious.  I knew nothing about this man, really, and my expert ‘gaydar’ didn’t even register a speck of closeted homosexuality in him.  There might not be any hidden agenda in anything he was saying – even though I desperately wanted there to be.  I got the feeling Pops was just a really nice guy and I’m sure he’d met tons of fellas over the years that found him stunning.  He was simply trying to welcome the new kid – the guy who desperately wanted to make a first good impression.  I relaxed into the moment even more and took another deep sip of my beer.  He picked up the pitcher – again by just wrapping his hand around it in a macho sort of way – and topped off my drink. 

 

“I’ve never slept with a man.”

 

“Excuse me?” I said, choking on my beer.

 

“I’ve never been in bed with a man.”

 

I didn’t comprehend what he was saying, at first, and then I worried that I had just imagined it – wished it was something he would say.  I looked up and saw that there was a world of emotion in his beautiful manly eyes.  There was fear – as if he was worried he had misread me, somehow.  Had he misinterpreted my long stares and bandana tasting?  There was doubt – as if he was questioning a lot of his own feelings and thoughts.  And there was something akin to hope – as if he anticipated the next few minutes to change his life forever.  My mind finally accepted, as fact, the words he had said and I was glad that sometimes our mouths work faster than our brains.  I responded without even processing what I was going to say.

 

“Have you ever wanted to sleep with a man?” I asked, staring into his beautiful green eyes.

 

“Not until today . . . not until you,” he quickly replied.

londonboy

Cousin Enzo's Arms.jpg

 

“Cut it out Enzo,” I said trying to push by him.

 

“Come on, Antonio.  You’re the only gay guy I know.  Just answer my question,” he said as his body made it quite clear I would be unable to pass.

 

“This is not funny, Enzo.”

 

“Listen, do you think gay guys would be attracted to my big guns?  I mean, I know the ladies are – trust me, I know the ladies are.  These big things have gotten me laid more times that I can count.  But I’m trying to put myself out there as a caring, open-minded metrosexual and someone told me that meant I had to be nice to the faggots . . . oh damn, that’s not a nice word . . . I meant to say the gay guys.  I’m sorry, Antonio.”

 

I was floored.  Not because of what he was saying, but because he actually apologized and changed the term every man in the extended DiMarco family to describe people like me ever since before I was even born.  It made me stop and actually look my cousin right in his pleading eyes.  He smiled, showing me that his apology had been sincere.  The big ape was actually trying.  That floored me.

       

“Geez, thanks Enzo.  I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a DiMarco boy correct himself.  For the record, though, faggot doesn’t bother me.  I view it like a term of endearment.”

 

“A term of what?” Enzo asked and, immediately, we were back to the Neanderthal stage.  “I was told that this shirt would be hot if I wore it to gay clubs…”

 

“Wait.  What?  Did you just say that you are going to go to a gay club?  Why?”

 

“For the chicks, Antonio, for the chicks.  Hot women love gay bars.  I figure I’d finally go with some co-workers who’ve been asking me to join them for a while.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You know . . . to meet new people.  Open up my horizontals.”

 

“Horizons.”

 

“What?”

 

“To open up your horizons.  Horizons . . . never mind, Enzo.  What’s the real reason you want to go?”

 

“Fuck, are all gay guys mind readers?  You always know when I’m not telling the whole story.  It’s like when we were in junior high together and I told you I was joining the drama club to learn to talk better and you asked me what girl I liked.  I bet you even knew it was Iris Loftus, but you were too shocked I liked an Irish girl to say her name.”

 

“Who’s the girl this time, Enzo?”

 

“See, that’s what I’m talking about.  I hadn’t even mentioned a girl and you already knew it.  No wonder you graduated Harvard with those things called honors.”

 

“Who’s the girl, Enzo?”

 

“Why does there always have to be a girl, Antonio?”

 

“Because it’s you, Enzo.”

 

“Okay, okay.  It’s Carla Luigi.”

 

“The singer from down at the club?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Enzo, your taste is improving.  It’s like you’ve gone from zero to ninety in mere seconds.  I’m impressed.  Careful now, she’s an out and proud liberal.”

 

“I know, Antonio!  That’s why I’ve got to change.  I can’t be calling guys fag . . . um, names, anymore.  I need to know about dressing right, where to get my hair cut, and about wine that doesn’t come in a box.  You’re my only connection to class, Tony.  Help me, please.  We’re going to some place called ‘Beefeaters’ tonight and I gotta seem cool – and I ain’t ever worried about being cool before.  So, help a poor guy out, cousin.  Will the gays like my big arms?  I got this shirt specially for tonight.”

 

I looked at my cousin and felt the same stirring at my crotch whenever I gazed at Enzo.  He was one good looking guy.  Granted, his hair could be improved, his wardrobe lacked a little class, and the guy really needed to go back and finish high school – but none of that mattered when you gazed upon his dark brooding eyes, his thigh-quivering stubble, and what he always used to call his ‘gigantic bazookas.’  The man had the kind of arms that made you suddenly feel puny and weak whenever he was around.  They didn’t just scream power – they yelled it from the highest mountain nearby.  He had the kind of body that most men worked all of their life for and never achieved.  The crazy thing was Enzo wasn’t a gym rat or powerlifting fiend – he just responded well to the workout he got at his construction job in addition to frequent use of the set of free weights he’d had since he had been in eighth grade.  It was like some muscle fairy godfather had blessed him with a body that grew just from lifting the milk carton.  I came home each Christmas specifically to get a lift-you-off-the-floor hug from those monstrous arms – both when I arrived and when I was leaving.  Enzo used to protect me in school.  No one dared bully Antonio DiMarco or they’d have to answer to the ‘gigantic bazookas.’  A visit from those arms usually meant you’d be dangling by some pipe the back of your pants was attached to after being lifted off the ground or, worse, literally being stuffed into a locker.  The first part of my senior year was hell because Enzo, only a junior, decided to drop out of school.  My protector was no longer there.  After he heard I was having some problems, Enzo dropped by the school to say hi and remind the bullies I was off limits.  The silent threat worked. 

 

“Enzo, there’s not a breathing homosexual on this planet that wouldn’t find those arms stellar.”

 

“Cool.  Stellar is good, right?”

 

“Very good.  Now listen, I have a few other pointers that I think will help you a lot tonight, if you care to hear.”

 

The man seemed like I had just handed him the keys to paradise.  He broke into a huge smile, grabbed two beers from the fridge, and ushered me into the dining room so we could sit and talk without being interrupted.  I could tell he was all ears.  I was impressed he didn’t take out some paper and a pen – he always made lists of things he wanted to do, but then promptly lost the list.  He was actually going to listen and remember what I said.  This was, indeed, a new Enzo.  He looked at me like an eager puppy ready to please.

 

“First of all, gay clubs are a lot different than those places you call a bar.  And most of the gay men you are hoping to impress – along with your girl, Carla – are not like the guys, and even, forgive me, the girls you know.  With your regular group of friends, it’s fine for you to act like a bull in a china shop.”

 

“A bull where?”

 

“Um, it’s fine for you to come on strong – really strong.  I’ve been out with you and you’ve flexed your arms more in one night than all the guys in the Mr. Olympia contest put together.  It’s like you’re some power-hungry mafia guy that busts into a place wielding heavy artillery.”

 

“Very cool analogy, Antonio.”

 

“When did you start using words like analogy.”

 

“Since Carla started talking to me.”

 

“Remind me to thank Carla.  Anyway, in a gay bar like ‘Beefeaters’ you want to be really subtle . . . um…”

 

“I know what subtle means, dude.”

 

“Of course,” I said and I could feel my face turn red – causing the big man to cup my cheek with his big hand to show me all was okay.  “So, you want to be subtle.  Let those monstrous arms…”

 

“You’ve always been into my guns, haven’t you, Antonio?”

 

We stared at each other for a few seconds in total silence.  This was all new territory for me.   There wasn’t a DiMarco family member that had ever discussed anything personal with me, except my mom and that was always limited to ‘have you met a nice doctor’ or ‘Mrs. So and So needs some decorating advice.’  This was someone actually calling me out on what I was into.  I knew, however, that the new Enzo was ready for honest answers. 

 

“Yes.  I think they are stunning.  And so will everyone at the bar tonight if you just let them do their thing naturally.  There’s no need to announce them loudly like a foghorn on a cloudy night.  Their size will let them speak for themselves, when you are taking a sip of beer, waving to a friend, or scratching the back of your head – which, by the way, I would suggest doing quite regularly.”

 

“That’s kind of funny, since that’s what I do when I don’t understand something and I have a feeling I’ll be doing that a lot tonight.”

 

This kind of self-awareness in a DiMarco man was unheard of.  I suddenly felt a surge of love for this big dude that had never existed before.  Evolution had never really been a thing I thought about, but I had a feeling Enzo’s growth as a human was going to make me read some books about it.  He could tell I was impressed by something he said and this made him sit up taller – which made him look even more huge.

 

“You want people stealing glances at your arms all night long.  Trust me, if you don’t make a big deal about them from the get go, they’re going to be what everyone in the group is talking about when you go to the bathroom.  Now, forgive me – I know you’re a changed man, but I feel I need to also say – no loud burping, no sliding your fingers down the front of your pants while resting, no spread eagle adjusting of your family jewels, and do not – this is huge – be the first to take your shirt off on the dance floor.  Let other people convince you to take it off.  I’m pretty sure some of your co-workers will be tugging on that tight thing and pulling out your shirttail pretty early on.  Let the anticipation build.  Let there be lots of other guys that have their shirts off before you unveil that body of yours.  I have a feeling lots of shirts will immediately be put back on when yours comes off and that’s what you want.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me all these things I’ve done for years weren’t cool.”

 

“Enzo!  They were cool for your group of friends.  Do not be ashamed of who you are.  Remember, you hugged me and said those exact words to me when I came out to you.  It was one of the most moving moments of my life.  You’re simply doing something most DiMarco’s don’t do – you’re going out to experience a different culture.  And when you’re in a different culture you need to strive and learn their customs, their preferred way of living.  Now, have you thought about what you’re going to do if some guy hits on you?”

 

“I thought I’d tell him I was flattered, but that he wasn’t my type.”

 

“Who told you to say that?”

 

“No one, I came up with it myself.”

 

“Our little boy is growing up,” I said, grabbing both of his cheeks and squeezing.  “The old Enzo would have lifted the guy and shook him like a rag doll or back-handed him across the room.  I’m impressed with your new plan of attack.  And, trust me, it will impress Carla, as well.  I think you’re going to have a successful night.”

 

“I know I am,” Enzo replied.  “With you as my wing-man how can I fail.”

 

“What?  Oh no, buddy boy, I’m not Beefeaters’ material.  That place likes their boys chiseled and gorgeous.  I’d feel so out of place.”

 

“Why do you say that, Antonio, you’re very handsome.”

 

His sincere words moved me.  I looked for any sign of the normal DiMarco sarcasm in his statement, but it didn’t exist.  He again cupped my face and brought his close to mine.

 

“Everyone says you’re the best looking DiMarco.”

 

“Thank you, but I’m still not going.”

 

“Yes, you are, cousin.  You owe me, Antonio DiMarco.”

 

“Owe you?  For what?”

 

“Junior high and high school protection!”

 

And with that, he leaned in closer and kissed me hard on the lips.  The kiss lasted a lot longer than was acceptable between two Italian guys.  I knew he was giving me a gift.  I knew he realized I had dreamed of kissing him for years.  His hand, at the same time, reached over and grabbed my crotch.  His hand quickly found my hard meat and he squeezed.  He pulled his head away and shook it in dismay.

 

“The most handsome Dimarco and with the biggest sausage in the family.  Life is just not fair.”

 

Enzo got up from the table and walked away – sure of the fact that I would be heading to ‘Beefeaters’ later on.  I knew the crotch grab meant nothing.  Ever since childhood the DiMarco boys had compared their endowments like you might show off a new car.  I didn’t partake of the custom until around age twenty when five of us were down by the river drinking one night and my cousins drunkenly held me down and pulled down my pants so I’d finally be part of the crazy club.  The shocked faces and total silence when my piece had been unveiled, plus the way they quickly let me go and returned to their beers, made me realize my assumption that all DiMarco men were huge below the belt was not true.  From that moment on I had been treated with a lot more respect than ever before at family gatherings. 

 

“Yeah, well you’ve got the biggest arms,” I yelled at him as he passed through to the other rooms.

 

“That’s for damn sure.  We’re leaving at ten!” he shouted back.   

 

(To be continued…)     

 

 

londonboy

Meeting the Professor.jpg

I could see his hulking topless form from across campus.  His body seemed to reflect the sun, like the wet rocky face of a rain-soaked mountain.  It was like light sought out and emphasized every muscled bulge and tensed ripple.  For an entire semester, I had obsessed over what his body might look like under his clothes and now I was going to find out.  He saw me walking up and he smiled – more sunlight was deflected towards me.  He was sitting on the back of my car, obviously waiting for me.  It was clear he knew I couldn’t avoid him if he surprised me this way.  I walked hesitantly toward him, forcing myself to not look at his body. 

 

“Hiya, Professor.”

 

“Good afternoon, Oliver.  Um . . . you’re on my car.”

 

“I this your car?  Wow, who would have guessed?”

 

“Is there something I can do for you?  Something that you want?”

 

His smile turned a little mischievous.  It was a subtle change, but his eyes signaled the change, as well.  My heart started to race and its beat pounded in my ears.  A little sprinkling of sweat appeared at the back of my neck.  I felt at that moment – with profound certainty – that the handsome young man gazing back at me knew me better than anyone else in the entire world.  I felt the urge to turn and walk away quickly, but the warmth from the sun he emitted enveloped me like a heavy blanket on a cold night.  I was trapped, but I knew I didn’t really mind. 

 

“Come on, Professor, we both knew this is where I’d be on this particular day, at this particular time, dressed in this particular way.”

 

“We did?  I usually have all appointments with students carefully marked in my calendar, Oliver.  I don’t recall setting up this particular meeting.”

 

“I’m twenty-three, the semester officially ended about an hour ago, I’ve already met all the requirements for graduation, and this so-called appointment has been booked since the first day I walked into your class.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“A biceps-hugging light blue t-shirt and butt-hugging jeans with holes at the knees.  Don’t say you don’t remember, Professor.”

 

My god, what guy with blood pumping through his veins and air in his lungs could possibly forget the sight Oliver described?  It was etched in my psyche for eternity.  It had been the fodder for enough dark night, self-satisfying seed spilling I couldn’t have erased it from my mind if my life had depended on it.  He had walked into the large crowded lecture hall of almost one-hundred and fifty students and it had been like a spotlight hit him at the doorway, followed him to his seat, and highlighted him for the entire class . . . well, actually, the entire semester.  Today, the sun was his spotlight.  I cleared my throat – in hopes that it might help me to dismiss a growing excitement in a specific region in my body. 

 

“I was actually a little bummed that I couldn’t go shirtless in your class, Professor.  I know that would have pleased you a lot.” 

 

“Oliver, I’m not so sure we should be having this conversation…”

 

“Professor Michaels, every time we had a meeting in your office your hands shook, beads of sweat formed on your forehead, and the most eloquent teacher at the university fumbled for words for the entire session.  Trust me, I’ve learned to read the signs from guys I turn on.  I also think about you every time I lift some heavy weight in the gym and during other not-to-be-mentioned activities, as well.  You pretty much dominate my mind every waking hour.  You can’t honestly tell me that you thought the attraction was only one way, now can you?”

 

He was completely right – I had noticed his lingering around after class, his volunteering to be on any class committee that had to meet with me, and the way his clothes had become tighter every time he showed up for class.  I’d even noticed he wrote my name a few times in the margin of a book he borrowed – obviously forgetting it was there when he returned it.  The adorable, juvenile, love-sick action had confirmed my suspicions and fueled masturbatory sessions for many weeks.  The book of Rilke’s poetry with his handwriting still had a place of honor on my bedside table. 

 

“Oliver, I don’t know…”

 

“Professor, don’t.  Please don’t disregard me as if this were some kind of childlike crush.  I’ve added twenty pounds of muscle mass this semester, simply because working out helped me to survive the torment of not being able to talk to you – honestly and openly.  It’s been hell and heaven at the same time for me.  I’m thinking it’s been the same for you.  Please, let’s not waste time pretending there’s nothing going on here – between us.  As sure as I am that the sun will rise tomorrow, I’m even more certain that this kind of connection doesn’t come around that often.  Technically, I’m no longer a student at the university.  As we both know, walking across that stage in a few days is just pomp and circumstance.  It’s all for show.  Treat me like an adult, please.  Don’t patronize me.”

 

You would have thought a huge boulder had just been lifted from my shoulders – that’s the kind of relief I felt.  Briefly, I imagined the beefy stud in front of me holding that big boulder above his head, my very own Hercules rescuing me, but then I quickly dismissed those thoughts.  It was a force of habit.  The freedom his words caused, however, was undeniable.  My body was suddenly no longer tense and the dizziness in my head disappeared instantly.  I signaled for him to move over and slid up on the back of my car beside him.  I put my satchel across my lap, not wanting my body’s reaction to his huge muscles and his loving words to reveal my inner thoughts even more at that particular moment.  I paused to give us both a moment to calm down. 

 

“Twenty pounds, huh?”

 

“Of pure muscle.”

 

“Impressive.”

 

“Not nearly as impressive as the ninety-nine I worked my ass off to get in your class.”

 

“You did work very hard.  Do you know how hard it was for me to not give you a perfect score on your final paper?”

 

“Even though I felt bummed, Professor, I was actually impressed that you didn’t give it to me.  I tend to get things I don’t deserve, sometimes.  I guess people like to reward the work I’ve done with my body.  I know you’re into all of this, but you didn’t let that sway you on my grade.  That’s showed a lot of integrity.”

 

“What makes you think I’m into your body?”

 

“Look under your bag for the answer, Professor.”

 

I turned to look at his beaming face.  ‘Touché,’ I thought and smiled back.  We held each other’s eyes for a few seconds.  His dark skin, perfect teeth, broad nose and humongous traps made me stop breathing.  It felt similar to the first time I had ever seen the ocean or the moment I noticed gay undercurrents in the poetry of Walt Whitman for the first time.  You realized a seismic shift was happening even in the simplicity of the moment.  I let my smaller clothed shoulder brush up against his beefy arm.  Even though it was not a skin-to-skin touch, it sent off lightning-like jolts in both of our bodies.  The young man actually sucked in air and I could tell his abs tensed inward hard.  My toes cramped badly from being instantly scrunched in my shoes.  We didn’t stop looking at each other.  It was simultaneously the most comfortable and awkward moment of my life.  I was lost and didn’t know how to move forward.  I did what I always did in those situations.  I turned to poetry.

 

“when I fall,

i don’t just fall in love.

clumsily, i stumble

down and then I land”

 

To my utter surprise, Oliver recognized the poem by Cnè and continued.

 

“awkwardly and graceless,

stuttering utterly at the foot

of a handsome man”

 

Silence surrounded us as we drank in the intoxicating vastness of the moment.  He was simply gorgeous.  In that miniscule moment in the scheme of the world, I felt the weakest and most powerful I had ever felt in my life.  I was shocked that two opposing feelings could exist so vividly at the same moment.  I knew the muscled man before me felt the same way.  I wondered if it was bizarre for such a strong body to suddenly feel defenseless and small.  I had a feeling Oliver was experiencing the ‘weak at the knees’ syndrome for the first time.  Or maybe not.  I experienced it every time he was around. 

 

“I came one time when you read poetry in class.”

 

You could have knocked me over with a feather.  At first, I thought he was joking, but the look on his face assured me he was not.  My face revealed my shock.

 

“It was the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me.  It was also the most exquisite orgasm I’d ever had.  You’d be amazed to know the strength it takes to not jerk about wildly or scream in ecstasy while you ejaculate profusely in such a public place.  Luckily, it was at the end of class and I was able to dart out the door before the aroma of semen permeated the lecture hall.  I couldn’t go to any of my afternoon classes that day.  I was too spent.”

 

“I’ll have to read that particular poem to you in a more private setting one day.”

 

You would have thought he had just won the Mr. Olympia contest from the look on his face.  He had rightly noticed the promise of an intimate rendezvous in the future.  He tensed his chest and arms in joyous celebration and my eyes were drawn to the flex like a moth to a flame.  It was his gift to me in response to my revelation.  I had a feeling my satchel rose a few inches – my response to his tightened body was instant and uncontrollable.  He let his hand drop between our legs and stroked my thigh lovingly with a big strong forefinger.

 

“I’m much more than just muscle, Professor.”

 

“I know that, Oliver.  It would be easy for me to ignore you if you were just a pretty body.  Don’t get me wrong, your muscles are what made me notice you.  I’m a sucker for big bulges.  But it was your mind, your talent, and your sensitivity – laid out in your poems, papers, and other work that made me fall in love with you.”

 

There it was.  The miraculously most honest thing I had ever said in my entire existence and it came out so easily.  No poem came close to matching the emotion in that moment.  My words were like the big bang that had created the universe.  Oliver’s massive chest heaved upward as he let out a slight gasp.  His eyes instantly filled with tears, as did mine, and it seemed like we were in a race to see who had the first drop to slide down a cheek.  It actually happened at the same exact moment – surely that was some kind of sign.    

 

“This kind of joy usually makes me want to flex.  I like to pose when I’m happy.”

 

“Then I’ll need to make sure you are happy a lot.  I know we’re out in a public area and all, but surely a quick biceps flex would be acceptable.”

 

“Would that please you, Professor?”

 

“You have no idea how much, Oliver.”

 

The young man lifted his right arm slowly, never taking his eyes away from me.  He clearly wanted to soak up my reaction.  My gaze, however, was only on the massive biceps that was being tensed into a hard, bulging, mighty mass.  It was my time to gasp.  I worried that the underside of my satchel might end up getting very sticky.  What I beheld wasn’t just an arm – it was a mountain of thick, solid, blood-pumping, vein-covered muscle that made the gorgeous Oliver like a god, in my opinion.  I’d seen those big things straining the sleeves of so many shirts I could have sketched them perfectly upon request.  But seeing his right gun flexed powerfully just for me was thrilling beyond what I ever could have imagined.  I knew my eyes had popped open wider and my chin had fallen downward – making my mouth into a gaping hole.   How could a man carve such beauty simply by lifting heavy weight?  I found it hard to even fathom the hours upon hours Oliver had spent in the gym molding that perfect mound of manly brawn.  Here was a work of art that would never become old or unimpressive to my eyes.  I was simply overwhelmed at the thought of Oliver possessing hard muscles and power beyond that of normal men.  He was a Greek god to me and I was so ready to worship.

 

“I dream about you touching my arms all the time, Professor.”

 

“Funny . . . I dream about the same thing.  I think it’s time you start calling me, Phillip, don’t you?”

 

The bulging biceps ballooned bigger and harder in response.  I had clearly granted a secret wish that had existed for a while.  I was pleased my given name could bring him so much pleasure.  Oliver lowered his arm.  It was as if he knew, like I did, that continued posing could lead us into territory not appropriate for a parking lot in the middle of campus.  I immediately missed the engorged hard biceps, but was happy that my gaze could return to his handsome, smiling face.  He continued to stroke the side of my thigh with his finger. 

 

“My roommate has thankfully never figured out why I sometimes say your name loudly in my sleep.”

 

“Maybe he thinks you have a thing for Phil Smith, that junior who is captain of the swim team.  He is hot, after all.”

 

“What?  No way.  He’s too young for me and wouldn’t know a good poem if it slapped him across the face.  You think he’s hot, huh?  Should I be jealous of his tight swimmer’s build?”

 

“We both know you were aware of the answer to your question before you even asked it.  My dreams are never filled with a swimmer’s body.”

 

“What are they filled with, Phillip?”

 

The satisfaction he received from saying my name for the first time was so obvious that the joy was infectious.  I smiled at the sound of it rolling out of his beautiful mouth.  He said it again, just to make me smile more.  Oh, how I longed to kiss those perfect lips and feel his strong tongue invade my mouth. 

 

“Mostly by what you just flexed, Oliver.”

 

“That little thing?”

 

“Yes, your little arm that dwarfs mine by about five times.  Those arms that make your shirtsleeves look like they are constantly struggling.  Those mountains that often keep me up late at night.”

 

“No pun intended.”

 

“Hah, yes, no pun intended.”

 

“It took me a while to figure out you were into muscle.”

 

“I’m ‘into’ a lot of things, Oliver.  A man’s physical form just happens to be one of them.  Especially if the form is very well developed, as yours is.  I’m afraid there is part of your dear old Professor that is very shallow and somewhat improper.”

 

“I’ve always hoped so.  I’ve wanted you to do improper things to me for a very long time.”

 

“Oliver, I’m almost twice your age and less than half your size.  You should be looking to meet some hot guy that spends his time in the gym and not the library like I do.”

 

He gave me a serious look, then closed his eyes, and began to speak beautifully. 

 

“They are so moving in
their sadness, gentleness and longing –

all the sad old men who once

were all the sad young men.

 

How can you not be moved

by their loneliness and desolation –

their faint dreams and hopes

of love, a new love, a friendship?

 

…When I was younger and better-looking

I always offered myself to old men.

I had young men too, sometimes, but

with the old I felt a special love…”

 

A young huge bodybuilder slipping so easily into a James Kirkup poem had to be one of the sexiest things I had ever experienced.  The idea of listening to him speak this way for the rest of my life seemed like the gift of some miraculous cure for a terminal disease.  It was as if I were truly, just now, feeling the sun for the first time – and, again, that star’s warmth reached me because it radiated from the celestial being that sat beside me.  I suddenly thought ‘to hell with what anybody thinks’ and leaned in to kiss the muscled angel whose eyes immediately welled with tears, again, when he realized what I was going to do.  I never doubted that a kiss from those delicious lips would be more pleasing than childhood cotton candy, Nutella on toast, or, even, heaven itself.  The softness of those tools of love juxtaposed with the incredible huge hardness of his body made me feel like I was the first person to ever combine the taste of bleu cheese and honey or mint and chocolate.  This beautiful behemoth let me come to him – let me lead the entire kiss.  It was as if he forfeited all of his natural alpha-ness just to please me . . . or maybe it pleased him more than I could know.  No tongues parted teeth in that first kiss – clearly both of us just wanted to brush lightly against that holy chasm filled with lust, which we knew we would finally dive into at a later time.  For now, a simple peck would seal an engagement that had been planned by the universe that first day of the semester.  I pulled my head back and smiled as he kept silent with his eyes closed for a while, as if he were memorizing all the feelings of the moment for a lifetime of looking back on that first time.  He finally spoke after about a minute.

 

“I know this is highly inappropriate, Phillip, and it will totally ruin the moment, but I will always want to be completely honest with you.  I have never longed to throw my legs over a man’s shoulders and be plowed hard as much as I do right now.  It’s like if we don’t have sex soon I am going to self-combust and take out half the planet with me.”

 

“That sounds a little painful.”

 

“You have no idea how long and hard I have ached for you.”

 

“I beg to differ.  I understand and have felt similar pain.”

 

“Ha, fair enough.  I guess you do understand.  Um . . . what happens now?”

 

“I haven’t the faintest idea, Oliver.  I vote the biggest guy has to decide.”

 

“And I vote the oldest guy has to decide.”

 

“I’ll make you a deal.  We’ll ask the first person that happens to come by and we’ll do whatever they say.”

 

The doubtful look on Oliver’s face made it clear that he was worried someone might find our relationship totally inappropriate and tell us to go our separate ways.  Like me, he would not be able to bear that answer.  My somewhat slightly evil smile made him clue into what I already knew.  He glanced around and saw Professor Harry Gilmer – one of my oldest friends at the school – walking toward the parking lot.  With some trepidation, but also with total trust in me, Oliver answered.

 

“Deal.”

 

“Hey Harry.  Do you have a minute?”

 

Harry Gilmer was loved by everyone on campus.  He was a seventy-five-year-old gay man, who pulled no punches and never apologized for being completely himself.  He had noticed us long before he was within hearing distance.  By the sly look on his weathered face he had surmised what was going on even before we had called out to him.  Luckily, his car was just two spots over so we weren’t inconveniencing him too much.  I was touched deeply when Oliver slid off the back of the car to greet the elder professor.

 

“My dear Phillip and if it isn’t one of our finest soon-to-be graduates, Oliver Gold.”

 

“Hello, Professor Gilmer.”

 

“You’re looking particularly bronzed and protuberant this afternoon, Oliver.  Could it be that our young man, here, is all aglow because he is experiencing, as the Greeks would say, multiple kinds of wondrous love at the same time – perhaps Philia, Agape, Ludus, and Eros all wrapped up together?  What do you think, Phillip?”

 

“Um . . . you forgot Pragma, Professor Gilmer.”

 

“Oh goodness me, Oliver.  Pragma – longstanding love.  Well then, this is very serious, indeed.  No wonder you look as if you had swallowed the sun.”

 

Dear old Harry noticed the way our planet’s source of energy seemed to be favoring Oliver, today.  Harry also noticed the look in my eyes and realized a world of information all at once.  It was as if he were looking into my soul.  He smiled at me and gave me a ‘you dirty little rascal’ wink.  I turned bright red. 

 

“How might I help you two gentlemen on this fine amorous afternoon?”

 

“Well, to be perfectly honest, Harry, it seems that for an entire semester a formidable bond has been developing between Oliver and myself.  Our true feelings have been only recently revealed and now that we are fully aware of this information . . . this desire, we are at a loss as to how to move forward.  We made a pact with each other that we would ask the next person that walked by and, to our great fortune, that turned out to be you.  So, we’d like for you to impart your wisdom upon us and know of our intended promise to do whatever you suggest.”

 

The desperate look on Oliver’s face was priceless.  It was almost as if he thought his pleading eyes could somehow sway the elder professor’s decision.  The absolute joy and enthusiasm in Harry’s face made me smile.  I had only made the deal with the gorgeous muscled stud because I had seen Harry coming.  Legally, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Oliver and I getting together.  Even the young man’s logic about him being technically out of school was spot on and would prevent me from getting in trouble even with the most conservative members of the administration.  Our eventual entanglement was guaranteed – that had been apparent to me for a while, but how to move on from sitting and chatting on the back of a car truly did baffle me.  It seemed like rushing off to some bed would be demeaning to this beautiful romance.  I knew it had been building for an entire semester, so it wasn’t exactly new, but I did want to move cautiously to the next step.  I wanted to honor the incredible connection that had already been established.  I wasn’t ready to move immediately into sticky sheets or any disappointments the golden, broad-shouldered, young man may experience after our first sexual encounter.  Basically, I was nervous that, for him, reality might not live up to his dream.  Prolonging that sad fact somehow guaranteed a few more hours of my blissful joy.  At the same time, I longed to get my hands all over Oliver’s bulging body. 

 

“Well, you give me a very important task, gentlemen.  This duty cannot be taken lightly, not when such pure hearts are at stake.  I feel like St. Peter at the gates, able to bless you with an eternity of happiness or send you into a darkness beyond measure.  I think some more information is needed before a judgement can be handed down.”

 

I sensed Oliver’s humongous body suddenly relax and realized, without even turning to him, he had figured out what was going on.  He was, of course, a very smart young man.  In mere seconds he realized I was truly not sure of how to proceed and that our present time with Professor Gilmer was purely artificial – except that the elder teacher would certainly give us some good advice on how to move forward.  The young man probably figured out that Harry Gilmer had been in this exact predicament many times over the years.  His words of wisdom, while guaranteed to give the blessing Oliver so desired, would also be beneficial in many other ways.

 

“Tell me, Phillip, in a few words what is it exactly that you would bring to this happy union.”

 

I chose to turn and look at Oliver.  His face had a relaxed smile, again, and there was a knowing look in his eyes.     

 

“Total and utter devotion.”

 

“Well that sounds promising, albeit perhaps a bit smothering.  And you, young and strapping Oliver, what would you offer this blessed accord?”

 

Oliver remained looking at Harry – but had a huge playful grin.

 

“Isn’t that obvious, Professor Gilmer.”

 

“Possibly, my dear boy, but please illuminate us.”

 

“Powerful stability.”

 

As he spoke these words, the young man threw his arms up into what could only be described as one of the most jaw-dropping double biceps poses that either Harry or I had ever seen.  Poor Harry stumbled a few steps backward because he had not been prepared for such a sight.  Oliver’s arms were amazing – huge veiny mounds that screamed of manliness and strength.  I suddenly felt small and frail, but it wasn’t a bad feeling since I had such a virile stud who wanted me.  Both Harry and I stared for what seemed like an eternity at the giant arms in front of us.  Oliver clearly loved the fact that he could make us both speechless.  He finally dropped his arms, having no need to continue proving his point.  It took us a few more seconds to gain control of our bodies and our tongues.

 

“Well said, mighty Oliver.  You make your point most emphatically and no man, in his right mind, would attempt any kind of rebuttal.  Some things are just too powerful to contradict.  Gentlemen, I am now ready to impart my totally unbiased and heartfelt opinion on the matter you have placed before me.  I also want you to know that I was in no way swayed by the thought of what kind of damage Oliver’s huge armaments could impose.  The size of what I believe young people today call his ‘guns’ did nothing to influence my forthcoming judgement.  Those gigantic instruments of power, which could…”

 

“Okay, Harry, we get your point.  What’s your advice?”

 

“Assuming Oliver has some kind of tent-sized top he could put on over his vast torso, I would advise an afternoon of martinis or whatever libation one gives to young beefcake these days and then an early supper.  I always find that a good buzz and a full stomach usually do more to help one find answers to life-altering situations like yours more than anything else.  I suggest very dry vodka martinis with either a twist of lemon or delicious cocktail onions.  Those have always helped me make the best decisions.  And now, gentlemen, I must depart.  Oliver’s little display has reminded me of some video tapes I hid away some years ago.  I must go retrieve those and make sure they are still as wonderful as I remember.  But before I go, as payment for the wisdom I have so unselfishly bestowed, might I be so bold as to request one little fondle of that gargantuan mound of muscle Oliver calls an arm?”

 

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Gilmer.  Grope away.”

 

“Oliver, my boy, a gentleman never gropes.  Heavens.  I will simply massage that elephantine arm of yours for a few seconds and then be on my way.”

 

From the proud look on Oliver’s face you would have thought he was bringing food to an impoverished village in some remote developing country instead of allowing an old queen to simply cop a feel of his huge muscled arm.  The big young man took a step toward Professor Gilmer as he raised his massive biceps into the air again.  Harry’s hand looked tiny when it pressed up against the side of Oliver’s flexed arm.  Immediately, the older man started rubbing his fingers and palm all around the undentable bulging mound of muscle.  None of us said a word.  The only sound was Harry’s appreciative heavy breathing.  Oliver looked over at me and smiled – conveying how happy he would be when it was me feeling his body.  Harry dropped his hand and looked Oliver in the eyes.

 

“Thank you, my boy.”

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

“Phillip, let’s have tea tomorrow.  I expect you’ll have a lot to tell me.”

 

Harry had started moving toward his car as he nodded his head at me, but then he stopped and looked at Oliver again – drinking in his huge upper unclothed torso.

 

“On second thought, dear boy, let’s make that tea sometime next week.  I think you’re going to be busy for a few days.  Ciao, gentlemen.”

 

And just like that the adored Professor Gilmer got in his car, started the thing, gave a little wave, and drove away.  I imagined Harry drinking his martini that afternoon completely nude, watching ancient porno videos, and happily remembering how Oliver’s hard biceps had felt like stone.  Suddenly, the big young man of my dreams was standing right in front of me.  I noticed we were basically the same height but his size made it seem like he was a giant. 

 

“A buzz and some food with you does sound nice, Phillip.  We can think of it as an appetizer.”

 

“Or we could skip to the main course.”

 

“Neither of us really want to do that.  We want to continue this foreplay on as long as we can.  Giving into our base desires so quickly kind of makes the unrequited love thing of the last semester seem pointless.  I’d like to save you for dessert.”

 

“On one condition, Oliver.”

 

“What’s that, Professor?”

 

“You don’t put on your shirt until we get to the restaurant.”

 

“Done.  I have a request, too.”

 

“As it should be.  What is it?”

 

“Let’s honor Professor Gilmer.  Take me to a place where the two of you would normally eat and introduce me to vodka martinis.”

 

“Um, those are really strong drinks, Oliver.”

 

“I think this big bod will be able to handle it, Professor.”

 

Striations popped out all over his chest as he tensed his pecs.  I looked from one to the other and then on to his tensed enormous arms.  Truer words had never been spoken. 

londonboy

Boyfriend Material

(This picture has been hot on the forum recently.  I just wanted to honor it in some way.)

 

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The fanny pack should have made me keep on walking.  The gold chain should have made me not take a second look.  The zip-up shirt with its hand warming pockets on the sides should have made me turn around and run.  Then, there was the almost unibrow that was a sure sign of someone that was not aware.  There were so many reasons to not notice the guy.  It’s like he was writing a manual for all the things a gay man should not do.  The dinner party was full of good-looking men – classy men - who would be what all my friends would call a ‘perfect catch.’  So, why did my gaze – as well as my thoughts – keep returning to the Neanderthal-like man that kept staring at me for all of the pre-dinner drinks part of the party.  And now the dude was walking over to me.  I had been talking to two beautiful specimens who both decided to get another drink at the same time, leaving me alone and open season for anyone.  I panicked as I saw the guy most people at the party were shunning set his sights on me.  It was too late, however.  I couldn’t have gotten away without making it rude.

 

“Solomon,” he said, holding out an ape-like hand.

 

“I’m sorry?” I responded.

 

“Solomon,” he said, again.

 

I stared at him, baffled.

 

“It’s my name,” he answered, laughing.  

 

“Oh yes, I see,” I replied.  Pause. 

 

“And your name?” he asked.

 

“Oh goodness.  Sorry.  I’m Paul,” I said, extremely embarrassed.  A longer pause.

 

“This is nice,” Solomon said. 

 

“What is?” I asked, glancing around to see if there was anyone who could save me from this awkward conversation.

 

“This,” he said, waving his beer bottle (at a dinner party!) at the crowd and room around us. 

 

“Oh yes.  It is.  They always throw nice parties,” I answered and then took a long sip of my vodka soda in order to freshen my buzz and maybe prevent him from saying anything else.

 

“I’m a powerlifter,” Solomon added, dashing my hopes for silence.

 

“I’m sorry,” I said, again, after swallowing the alcohol.

 

“I’m a powerlifter,” he repeated.

 

“I don’t understand,” I responded.

 

“It’s what I do.  I compete as a powerlifter,” he explained.

 

“What does that mean . . . exactly?” I questioned, knowing instantly that the nerd factor was about to shoot off the charts.  Oh, how I longed to be saved from this misery. 

 

“It means I go to competitions and lift heavy things.  Trying to lift more than anyone else,” he said, smiling.

 

“You mean like those big round stones and cars without wheels.  Things like that?” I asked, remembering briefly stopping on some sports station to see such a thing when I was channel surfing late one night. 

 

“Yep.  Stuff like that,” he said.

 

“Oh.  It . . . um . . . looks . . . heavy,” I stumbled, looking for something to say – which made him laugh.

 

“It is,” he replied.  “What do you do, Paul?”

 

“I’m a professor at a university,” I answered, slightly proud of some imagined status this job gave me.

 

“Is that heavy work, too?” Solomon asked, but I missed the joke.

 

“What?  No.  I teach,” I answered.

 

“It was a joke, Paul,” he said.  “I guess not a very good one, though.”

 

“Oh yes, I see.  Sorry,” I responded quickly, feeling like a fool.  “How do you know Stewart and Barry?”

 

This was the couple hosting the party.  I was hoping to find a way out of this conversation and thought bringing up their names might miraculously make one of them appear to steal me away or something like that.  Solomon either didn’t notice my discomfort or ignored it.  He took another sip of his beer.  I still couldn’t believe he was drinking from a bottle and a catered affair.

 

“They call me sometimes for in-house visits,” Solomon said, with a smile that seemed naughty and innocent at the same time.

 

“What does that mean?” I asked – completely missing the subtlety of his answer.

 

“Well, they sometimes invite me over to do shows,” he answered.

 

“What kind of shows?” I continued, now fully focused on our conversation.  This seemed like some kind of juicy gossip. 

 

“Well, Barry likes feats of strength and Stewart likes to wrestle,” Solomon replied – as if this kind of information was normal or nothing more than something you’d describe like a Tupperware party.

 

“You mean you’re a hustler?” I whispered, amazed at my own brashness.  “I didn’t realize they were into three-ways.”

 

“No, no you misunderstand,” Solomon said, laughing a little.  “It’s not that at all.  There’s no sex involved . . . well, there probably is after I leave.  Stewart and Barry have a strength fetish and I’m really strong.  I come over and help them live out some of their fantasies.”

 

“You mean like role playing?” I whispered even softer, making what we were talking about seem very wrong and pornographic.

 

“Not usually, but I guess it could,” Solomon said, and it looked like he made a mental note to check on that idea with the two men at a later date.  “Let’s do this a different way.  When you fantasize sexually, Paul, what do you think about.”

 

“That seems like a personal question,” I snapped back.

 

“Only if you’re hung up on stuff like that.  I think we all fantasize – especially men.  It’s how we rein in our urges and control our libido.  I’m personally into middle-aged guys with dad bods and receding hairlines.  Can’t tell you why – it’s just what turns me on.  So, what about you, Paul?”

 

“I don’t know . . . I guess I’ve always been into macho men with mustaches that look like they’re from the seventies.  When I was young I had a thing for the swimmer Mark Spitz,” I answered truthfully, without even thinking about it. 

 

“Well there you go.  Barry and Stewart are into strength.  I lift heavy things to excite Barry and Stewart and I get down on the floor, oil up, and wrestle like the Greeks – only we’re not nude.  How do you know them?” Solomon continued as if all of this was just a normal conversation.

 

“Um . . . I went to college with them.  Somehow, that seems like a really boring answer,” I said.  “They met when they were freshmen.”

 

“That’s cool,” Solomon said and took another swig of his beer.  Another long pause, but this time it was because I was thinking. 

 

“Have you won many strength competitions?” I asked, amazed that I was now falling into a comfortable conversation with this man.

 

“Almost all I have entered,” Solomon said and took a slight step closer to me.  Another pause. 

 

“Um . . . what kind of strength feats does . . . um . . . Barry like?” I asked, suddenly noticing the room was getting warmer.

 

“Lots.  But he likes it most when I lift him over my head – like he’s my barbell,” Solomon answered, staring into my eyes.  “Stewart loves it when I pin him to the ground and don’t let him move.”

 

Some seismic shift happened within me.  It was humongous and simple at the same time. I spoke, but it barely registered that it was me trying to say the words. 

 

“I . . . uh . . . I think…” I couldn’t finish my thought so I just took another long gulp of my drink.

 

Solomon didn’t take his eyes from mine.  The man’s size was just now becoming a reality for me.  He had the kind of chest that made me think of couch cushions or gigantic pillows – only his massive things were clearly not soft.  His gut protruded out with a solidity that was intoxicating – like a thick concrete wall.  His torso seemed so much denser than regular human beings.  His arms were like veiny bowling balls.  It was like I was seeing Solomon for the first time.  His body was a magnificent work of muscled art.  The man couldn’t have been better built even if Michelangelo had carved him from a perfect piece of marble. 

 

“You were going to say something, Paul” Solomon said softly.

 

“I . . . think . . .” I stammered, but that was all I could get out.

 

I stared at his handsome face.  A strong wide nose that somehow made him look even more muscular.  Dark brown eyes covered with furry eyebrows and thick lashes.  And a beard that made me think of Samson, Hercules, or even a younger Zeus.  God, his shoulders were so wide and thick and his neck was like a stone column.  His eyes beamed with something akin to sunshine or pure joy.  He somehow made me completely comfortable even though I was having so many crazy feelings for the first time. 

 

“I think . . . um . . . that I would . . . uh . . . like to be . . . you know . . . lifted . . . by you,” I said and sounded like a junior high kid on his first date.  I had lost control of my own body – it simply knew what it desired and was asking for it. 

 

The pause that followed was excruciating.  I panicked that I had crossed some line or said something wrong.  Come to find out, the big guy was just letting the intensity of the moment build. 

 

“I’d definitely like to lift you, Paul.  I’d like to show you what I’m capable of,” Solomon said and it seemed like he was a snake charmer and I was the cobra.  “You wouldn’t be any struggle for me at all.”

 

“Oh . . . my . . . oh fuck,” was the gibberish that came out of my mouth in response – fully realizing he could easily lift my heavy frame.

 

Solomon moved closer to me and it felt like a mountain was advancing.  I found myself staring at his arms and thinking about how they would easily lift my forty-seven-year-old, normal, slightly overweight body high above his head.  The feelings that thought caused to shoot through my body were new and unexplored territory – I was a little dizzy with excitement.  That’s when I suddenly remembered him saying he was turned on by middle aged guys with dad bods and receding hairlines.  He had been describing me.  My eyes widened.  He quickly figured out what had shot into my head.

 

“I think you’re really hot,” Solomon said, smiling in a way that made my knees almost buckle.  “And I have to say that I hope lifting you will lead to us having sex.”

 

It took me a while to focus.  My body and mind needed time to calm down from what he had said.

 

“I . . . uh . . . never knew I had this . . . um . . . fetish before,” I said sheepishly.

 

“You had never met me before,” Solomon replied, smiling a devilish grin.

 

He was still the guy with the multiple zippered fanny pack.  He was still the guy what could be viewed as having one eyebrow snaking across his forehead.  He was still the guy wearing a gold chain as if he were part of the Italian mafia.  And he was still the guy with the pocketed, zippered super tight 70’s disco shirt.  But none of that mattered.  He was huge, strong, and gorgeous.  And he was also going to lift me – a thought that gave me a bigger thrill than I ever would have expected or even known before I met him.  Barry and Stewart had a photographer walking around the party taking random shots of everyone – mementos we could take home.  The guy came up to the two of us right at that moment.

 

“Hey, you two love-birds, how about a picture?” the man asked.

 

“Oh, we’re not a…” Solomon began, but I interrupted him.

 

“We’d love one,” I said loudly as I slid my hand into Solomon’s.  My move caught the big guy off guard – something that made me smile even more.  He gazed at me with eyes that were suddenly a little watery.  He tightened his big hand around mine.  We both looked at the photographer, smiled, and he snapped the picture.  That was five years ago and that exact photo still sits on my desk at work.  Students often ask who’s the hot guy in the picture with me and I proudly tell them he’s my husband.  A few of the jocks from my classes have even recognized him as a world-class powerlifter.  They have commented on how strong he is and how he can lift amazing amounts of weight.  I always confirm what they say is true and then secretly think about what he likes to lift the most.

 

londonboy

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Listen, I know I’m being a little forward and maybe coming on too strong, but I caught you watching me as I worked out and . . . well, it kind of turns me on.  I’m really an exhibitionist at heart.  I crave attention.  I guess you could say that’s why I work out.  I want to get these muscles bulging so people will notice me . . . blatantly stare at me.  I can see the desire in your eyes, man.  Even now, you keep stealing glances down at my arms.  I got ‘em nice and pumped for you, didn’t I?  No need to answer, man, your open mouth is all the reply I need.  Arms maketh the man, as they say . . . right?  Look at you squirming.  I’m making you nervous, aren’t I?  What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?  No biggie, dude, your body is speaking volumes.  Each time I tense my arms, like this, your body quivers a little – like you got a chill or something.  It’s really cute.  And those nylon basketball shorts ain’t hiding a thing, man.  You’re sporting a mighty fine slab of sausage, too – that’s clear to see.  Something must be rocking your world.  Muscles do it for you, man?  Cause showing off all my bulging mass for a guy gets me stiffer than a Redwood.  Wow, cue the heavy breathing.  I could give you a show right here, right now if you’d like, man.  It would be no problem.  I don’t care if anybody walks in.  Hell, they can enjoy the performance, too.  The more the merrier is always my motto.  I bet you like the way hard muscle feels, don’t you man?  I bet you’re a groper.  Cupping softball-sized biceps, kneading stone-like pecs, or strumming a solid six-pack.  I’m thinking all of that makes you as weak as a wet noodle.  Dude, you might as well just take a good long stare at my arms – quit with the furtive glances.  I’m telling you I don’t mind.  Yeah, that’s it, take a long gulping drink of my bulging guns.  And now we have some major tent action in your shorts.  The body never lies, bud.  That rod of yours has just ratted you out as a verified Grade A muscle-pig.  Just as I suspected.  Nothing wrong with that dude, so quit your blushing.  I pack on muscle to make guys like you happy.  Sure, there’s a messy financial side of what’s taking place between us right now, but let’s not rush into anything just yet.  I’m enjoying our little one-sided chat.  Almost as much as I’m enjoying you turning into a blob of drooling blubber.  Oh dayum, I just realized I must be your first time.  Am I right, man?  Another red face confirms it.  You mean it’s possible that a guy as cute as you has never been approached before.  Oh fuck, make my day and tell me you’re also a muscle worshipping virgin.  Bingo!  I’ve hit the jackpot.  You look to be about twenty-six or seven.  There must be so much pent-up sexual frustration in that body of yours you’ll be like Mount Vesuvius when you finally erupt.  My hard chest is just dying to be the city of Pompeii and be covered by your hot man-lava.  Oh bummer, gray shorts don’t hide leakage very well, do they?  Sorry about that, man.  Listen, I had a killer workout today and the endorphins that are kicking around in my body have me higher than a kite.  That, in turn, makes me feel very generous.  Very generous, indeed.  How about I give you an introductory worshipping session for free?  Consider it an early Christmas, birthday, or Hanukah gift.  No, don’t go feeling guilty or non-deserving.  Just take it in the spirit it is given.  Trust me, I’m going to make sure I have some fun, as well.  So, I take that bouncing crotch of yours as a positive response.  I only have one request, dude.  You fix me dinner when we’re done.  You look like someone who’d be a good cook and I haven’t had a homemade meal in a while.  Most guys into muscle just want to take me to fancy restaurants so they can show off their trophy.  I don’t mind, but it would be kind of nice to drink my beer from a bottle, go shirtless at the dinner table, and stroke your hardness with my bare foot as we eat.  Wait ‘til you see these puppies flexed, dude.  You’re going to think you’ve died and gone to muscle heaven.  I know I’ve kind of insinuated myself into your plans for the evening, but I’m thinking you don’t mind.  I’m thinking I’m about to unleash a major muscle-loving whore that’s been buried inside of you for a long time.  Let’s go do some groping, stud. 

londonboy

Willing to Submit

 

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You just don’t get it, do you?” he said, turning to me as we sat in the warm car. 

 

To be completely honest, I was having trouble focusing on what he was saying – not because I didn’t think the conversation was important, I knew it was – but because I couldn’t stop myself from staring at his freakish forearms.  They were bigger than my thighs and covered in rope-thick veins that popped out in that way that screamed power and dominance.  The sleeves of his shirt looked like they were in agony – wishing someone would put them out of their stretched-to-the-max misery and slice them open with a pair of scissors.  I was thinking it would be better if he just ripped them open by flexing his Popeye-freakish-sized lower arms while we both stared.  The sound of the folded cuffs tearing up the seams would probably make me spew quicker than a gushing soda bottle that had been thoroughly shaken before opening on a hot summer’s day.  He had his serious face on and was trying to get me to understand that what he was saying was profound and much more important than me getting off on his muscles.  We had been arguing . . . no, not arguing, we never argued.  We had been debating . . . no, that wasn’t it, either.  He had been trying to convince me of something.  Yes, that was it.  He was trying to get me to see things from his perspective and make a change to our relationship.  I tore my eyes away from his forearms, his massive biceps, the magnificent pec visible through his unbuttoned shirt, and even away from the manly stubble gorgeously defying his razor from that morning and already proving he was full of testosterone by shooting out along his diamond-cut jawline.  He could tell I was back with him – alert and undistracted.

 

“I get it, big guy.  I just don’t understand it,” I replied – forcing myself to not look back down at the bulging forearm.     

 

“It’s just that I don’t want us to fit into any mold . . . or represent any stereotypes,” he said, rolling his chest underneath his pink shirt without even realizing he was doing it.  “The world says big guys have to be this or act like that and I’m just tired of all that bullshit.  There’s this guy inside of me screaming to be unleashed and I’m ready to let him out.  You’ve helped me to reach this point.  It’s only because of you that I’m even willing to talk about this . . . to even consider it.  Being with you has empowered me to embrace who I really am.”

 

“Yeah, but that also means there’s a lot of responsibility on me, too.  Maybe I won’t be able to handle this new role,” I replied, stealing a glance at his flexed biceps as he ran a hand across his short hair.  “Sweet Jesus, you’re bulging today.”

 

“I made sure everything was tight for you,” he replied, smiling like a proud schoolboy who’d done his homework.  “That’s what I want to do for the rest of my life, every day – please you.”

 

“Licking those veins right now would please me a lot,” I quickly shot back.

 

“Not until we settle this . . . once and for all.  I mean it.  I’m not threatening to break up or anything, but it would really mean a lot to me if you gave it a go.  Tried it my way for a while just to see,” he said, imploringly.   

 

“Okay, okay,” I responded, holding my palms toward him to show that I was ready to try and getting a little hard because of the broad smile that shot across his beautiful, manly face.  “You’re going to have to help me, though.  Let’s start talking specifics . . . how is this new way of being lived out?”

 

“Oh shit!  Do you mean it, honey?” he shouted, excitedly.  “Really?”

 

“Yes . . . yes,” I answered.  “Come on, give me some things I should start doing.”

 

“Hot damn, this is wonderful,” he exclaimed and I gave him a serious look.  “Okay . . . first of all, you’re always the one in charge.”

 

“What do you mean?” I asked.

 

“It’s like you’re always the one holding the leash and I’m always going to be the one being led . . . you know, the one with the dog collar on.  I basically become your boy-toy, my only desire every second of the day is to please you.  You say jump and I ask how high?  You say lift and I say how much.  You say flex and I keep going until you tell me I can stop.  I open doors for you.  I fetch things for you.  I simply let you become my boss,” he said, rambling on so quickly I was having trouble keeping up.  “God, I’ve always wanted to submit to someone . . . you know, have them rule me in every way possible.  Can we start now?  Order me to flex something for you.  Come on, that would thrill me more than I could ever explain.”

 

Suddenly, the idea of having a muscle slave did not seem irrational or obscene, like it had before.  The thought that I could order him to flex for me – whenever I wanted him to - made me stiffen a little more below the waist.  Maybe I could get used to this new lifestyle he was proposing.  Perhaps it wouldn’t be as uneven as I assumed it would be.  Clearly, he was getting very excited about playing the submissive role.  It had never dawned on me that he would be getting something out of this kind of relationship.  It seemed so degrading, but here he was like a kid in the candy store – totally stoked to do my bidding.  His eager beaming face made something inside of me turn on like a light switch.  This enormous muscled man truly wanted to be bossed around – told what to do – ordered by a master.  Even though it completely did not compute to me that this would ever remotely be possible with a guy like him, I accepted it on the spot and decided I was, indeed, the right man for the job.  He trusted me.  He knew I could and would take care of him in return for his devotion.  In mere seconds I started to become the alpha in our relationship and I knew neither of us would question it ever again. 

 

“Forearms. Bulging.  Now,” I ordered in a firm voice. 

 

His face returned to something akin to seriousness, but it was more like obedience mixed with pure joy.  The guy grabbed the front of his seat with his left hand and the armrest between us with his right hand.  This was just to give his arms an extra pump as he tensed and gripped tightly at the same time.  His fucking forearms ballooned to the size of my midsection and popped out a roadmap of veins.  Normally, I would have gasped at the sight and actually thrust my hand down to my cock, but this time I remained in charge and never lost sight of my new role. 

 

“Bigger.  Harder,” I commanded and this made the big guy gasp with excitement. 

 

“Oh, dude, you sound so hot…” he began to gush, but I was having none of that.

 

“I said flex harder, boy!” I said in a gruff, displeased manner.

 

You would have thought I had banged a cast-iron frying pan against his forehead from the speed of his reaction.  He quickly snapped back into the obedient puppy he longed to be – duly chastised and immediately ready to make me happy.  I could tell he doubled his efforts, not only from the intense grunts he gave from tensing his arms so much – but also by the way his forearm muscles now bulged bigger and harder.  Their size was freakish and now dwarfed every part of my body.  My own forearms looked like toothpicks in comparison.  The big man stared at me . . . with a clear longing for approval, a reward of some kind, even just a smile.  I looked at him sternly.

 

“You don’t call me dude anymore, boy, understand?  From now I’m only ‘sir’ when you address me.  Do I make myself clear,” I said, making sure I emphasized every word.

 

“Yes sir,” he replied, dropping his eyes in embarrassment at the mistake, but not lessening the flex of his forearms at all.

 

I reached out and ran my hand along the massive bulge nearest me – marveling at the veiny speed-bumps that streaked everywhere across the intensely hard muscle.  It was like touching the side of a rocky cliff.  I let out an affirming moan – just to give the guy a little support.  He responded by tensing even harder, causing even more veins to pop.  It was clear that his shirtsleeves were on the verge of giving up the battle of trying to cover the monstrosities within.  How I longed to see tears begin in that material and hear the sound of ripping as muscled beef burst through.  My fingers followed one of the largest veins and I could feel the blood pumping strongly through his body.  There was so much power there – so much raw masculine brawn.  His arm was shaking a little from the strain of flexing so hard.

 

“You can relax, boy,” I said – not removing my hand and marveling at how incredibly hard his arm stayed even after he exhaled loudly and stopped tensing.  “Forearms of steel, kid.  That makes your master proud.  Big fuckers, aren’t they?”

 

“Yes sir,” he replied obediently, accepting his new role as naturally as he breathed. 

I could sense the big guy silently pleading for another task to perform.  He was in hog heaven now that I had switched into the role of the alpha.  I basically had a monstrous muscled puppy begging me to play fetch or bark out orders to sit, shake, or roll over.  He continued to look down, not daring to look me in the eye – that’s not what a subservient was supposed to do.  I could tell that his heart was beating super-fast from the excitement of an upcoming directive from me.  I could quickly see how this was going to become super addictive for me – having a chiseled monstrosity of a man at my beck and call day and night.  Was there anything better?  I could not think of a single thing.  I was tempted to keep him waiting, but deeper desires took over me.       

 

“Feed me your huge man-tit, now,” I commanded in a low, well-paced, domineering voice. 

 

He wasted no time.  He grabbed his shirt in the front, sliding his fingers inside.  He pulled hard and instantly buttons popped off and sailed across the inside of the car, hitting against the windshield.  A hard, perfectly-molded-by-heavy-weights pec revealed itself.  My mouth instantly watered – I was like Pavlov’s dog responding to what it longed for.  Muscle that’s been compacted over the years from being broken down by insane, agonizing lifting and then rebuilt into something dense, solid, and swollen cannot adequately be described – it must be experienced.  I briefly imagined all the mornings my pup had barely been able to move because of the intense pain from the prior day’s work out and marveled at his impeccable sculpted humongous mound of beef he now brought toward my face.  He was the ultimate artist, having cast his body into something spectacular.  I was happy to be his patron, his sponsor, his mentor.  There are no words that can express what it feels like to have your face gloriously flattened by tough, warm, blood-pumping flesh and instantly feel a muscleman’s heartbeat pounding into you like a pornographic massage.  My mouth had been open with anticipation and I instantly started to suck on the lightly salted seemingly indestructible surface.  The big man moved his pec slightly so his oversized nipple surrounded by its large darkened areola could plop into my mouth.  I latched on to the thing with the suction force of a crazy man-turbine.  I had a feeling people a few miles away heard the moan that erupted from his throat because of my expert oral work.  His big left arm shot out toward the dashboard and he grabbed it hard to steady himself.  I pulled my head back briefly.

 

“Yeah, that’ it, boy, let me hear how much you love my mouth,” I said and then latched back onto his chest with double the effort.

 

This caused the big guy’s expansive back to arch from the pleasure.  The entire car shook violently from his sudden jerking motion, but my mouth stayed suctioned onto his big pec.  I sounded like a pig at his trough as I sucked on his marble-like meat – feeling like I’d won some kind of jackpot endless buffet.  My face was smashed against a wall of muscle and I couldn’t have been happier.  I had learned early on in our relationship that scraping my teeth along his jutting plug could make his body tense and shudder at the same time.  It was quite impressive to feel all of his fucking huge body turn to stone.  I not only teased his nipple with my molars, but I also bit down on the nub – causing the kind of intense build-up that was usually saved for newly active volcanoes.  I knew my oral skills could easily make the muscle god spurt – that’s how sensitive his pecs were, but I was not ready for him to erupt.  I had a new boy-toy and I found that I truly liked it.  The role of the small, dominating alpha fit me like a glove and I was ready to test my boy’s devotion.  He was my new Hercules and I was ready to give him twelve labors every day for the rest of our lives – even more if he proved worthy.  It’s amazing how many magnificent ideas can pop into your head when your face is plastered against stunning immense pectoral muscle and your hands are busy groping veiny, concrete-like forearms.  My muscle boy pined terribly for a master and I was going to grant him his wish.  It seemed like I was going to get the better part of our new deal, but – then again – I had never seen this huge man assume a mindset so quickly.  It was like when he got lost in some ‘other world’ while he was lifting – his body took over and automatically did what it needed to so it would get bigger and harder.  Watching his face become subservient and feeling how his body reacted when I gave him an order or called him ‘boy’ told me this was much more than just role-playing for him.  He clearly needed to be my muscle plaything in the same way he needed to lift – it was just an innate titanic desire that I was allowing to finally be released.  He was coming out of the ‘himbo’ closet and becoming a mountain of muscle that simply lived and breathed to please his master.  That knowledge instantly made me the cockiest guy on the planet – not to mention the luckiest.  I had a massive footrest any time I needed it.  I could ask to be carried whenever I was tired.  I could gaze at his muscular radiance any time I wanted.  And I could have his hard-bulging body pressed against mine twenty-four-seven if I so desired.  I was king of the world.  I, again, pulled my face away from the delicious mass of solidity I was presently sampling.

 

“Time for us to rest, boy.  The windows are all steamed up and it’s a hot-as-hell summer day out there.  We’ve simply made it much more blistering in here – even with the air-conditioning on full blast,” I said and the big mountain of muscle immediately sat back – face down and clearly pleased with my chest gnawing.  “I guess you can sense that I’m liking my new role, can’t you, pup?”

 

“Yes,’ he answered – his breathing quickened a little as soon as he heard one of my new names for him. 

 

“Yes what, boy?” I hammered.

 

“Yes sir.  Sorry sir,” he quickly responded – both embarrassed that he forgot and pleased that I had not. 

 

“No need to be sorry, big guy.  You’re still learning.  You’re still growing – so to speak.  Don’t worry, I’ll whip you into shape.  I’ll have you acting like a Grade A boy-toy before you know it.  But you’ve got to be sure this is what you want.  I’m feeling things I never imagined existed inside of me.  You’ve opened Pandora’s box and I need to hear that this is all good before we travel down this path.  I get the feeling that once I’ve started I won’t be able to quit being your alpha – the idea of having all of your massiveness at my beck and call boils my juices in a way I never imagined.  I need you to look me in the eye and convince me that this monumental shift in our relationship is what you want,” I spoke firmly, honestly, and pleadingly at the same time.

 

“It’s what I’ve wanted ever since I got big in college, sir,” he said, raising his eyes to mine and gazing with a look that was intense and sincere.  “I can’t explain it.  I know it must seem illogical to some people, but who can explain what makes a person tick.  Why are you so into muscle, sir?”

 

“Well, it’s complicated,” I started.

 

“Exactly, sir,” he quickly interjected.  “My need to be led . . . dominated . . . obedient is complicated, too.  I’m sure the desire existed before I got huge muscles, but the bigger I became this inner need within me became stronger.  I daydream about not having to think all the time anymore.  I know I’m smart and all, but I want to just lift, get more swole, and live to please you.  To be released from having to worry about bills, making lists, coming up with chit-chat at dinner parties, and all things inane would make me the happiest guy in the world.  I’ve never met anyone I trusted more than you.  It was clear from our first date that you had my best interests at heart, as well as yours.  I know you’d be a steady and good compass for me.  I’m not looking to be babied or lazy, sir.  I’ll still do all the heavy lifting and intimidate others with my size – but now I’d do it all only when you told me to.  I could stop worrying about trivial stuff and focus only on things that truly matter to me.  I want someone else to tell me what to wear, when to speak, how to act.  It would be the most freeing moment of my life to become your boy, sir.  And if it’s not being over-confident, master, I believe I could please you a lot.”

 

To have a mountain of muscle call you master does something to a man.  It doesn’t matter who you are.  Even my tiniest toe swelled with sudden awareness of pure pride – of an unending yearning to control something so clearly powerful as the man before me.  I was fully mindful of my inherent prerequisite that this be something my big friend desired beyond a shadow of a doubt – but, at the same time, I realized I had come to want it just as much as he obviously did.  My cock hardened when I saw tears slowly slide down the chiseled cheeks of the muscled heap in the seat across from me.  I suddenly felt like some big fairy godfather that could easily grant this Cinderfella his most heartfelt wish.  At the same time, I would get a handsome slab of muscle that would – upon my request – bring me coffee in bed, offer up his ass in public toilets, or lift me as his human barbell, all with equal measure.  I would release him from worldly worries – he would empower me with mind-blowing alpha-ness.  I sensed deeply how good I would be at being his master – firm, confident, patient, and sternly kind.  He would want for nothing and never have to worry about necessities.  I would never have to lift anything heavy again or need to look at porn on the computer another day in my life.  I’d have my own Hulk to boss around lovingly.  Intense bear hugs before we went to bed would be a nightly request.  Morning muscle worship would even come before coffee.  Sitting on his waist and playing with his nipples while he bench-pressed heavy weight could be my evening appetizer. 

 

“I can be demanding, boy,” I said softly.

 

“I hope so, sir,” he replied – and it was obvious he sensed we were about to seal the deal so his body radiated excitement while tears continued to fall. 

 

“You’ll never have to worry about a thing,” I added.

 

“Except if I am pleasing you enough, sir,” he answered.

 

And my heart opened to pure bliss. 

londonboy

The Catch

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There’s a generous pop to my noticeable boner when the guy finally senses that I’m staring at him. It’s something like an elephant just climbed into a Prius and sat beside you.  Something big and covered in muscles can’t go unnoticed for very long. The dude quickly looks around to make sure there’s no one near him that might be attracting my focus.  A wink from me makes him freeze and actually quiver with excitement.  He’s shocked to find out that the mountain of bulges is flirting with him.  That’s when a pec bounce can cause a mouth to drop open wide and an already racing heart to skip a beat.  I smile to make his knees go weak.  A chiseled face with a two-day growth is like a neon sign pointing towards the scrumptious hard mounds of flesh popping out everywhere below.  The delicious fur upholstering all of my hardness is clearly visible through my form-hugging white t-shirt.  I realize I’m too hot for him to believe all of this is real – but it’s my smile that causes all of his doubt to disappear.  I reach up to scratch one of my voluminous pecs – knowing the bent arm takes his kettle to the boiling point quicker than even an open fire could.  

 

Here’s where I get to make an important decision – realizing it will set the tone for the rest of the night. I can saunter over to him – thick-as-hell thighs causing me to waddle more than walk.  This will almost make him piss himself, the mountain coming to him. Or I can stand there and wait – giving him time to calm the raging storm I’ve caused in his body and allowing him to prepare whatever adorable introductory remarks he has for his dream muscle daddy. I choose to wait – forcing him to cross that wasteland of disappointed souls who have realized I’ve already made my pick for the night.  I come up off the stool I’m leaning on to let my full height and size cast an imposing shadow on him, blocking out all of the light from above.  His Adams apple bounces strongly from the gulp caused by my towering presence.  It’s like a kid standing before a New York skyscraper for the first time.  

 

I hold out my hand, intentionally letting its hugeness force him to break out in a sweat as he contemplates its power and the fact that it’s a precursor to something equally as large lurking down below in my pants.  He’s confused – should he reach out to shake my big mitt or should he turn around and run, avoiding any displeasure foreshadowed by such an obvious difference in size.  I’m reminded of my immensity and power when I grip his small, defenseless hand, quickly calculating enough pressure to thrill, but not crush.  The jolt my light squeeze causes in his body is so perceptible I’m momentarily fearful he may pass out.  It makes me instantly wonder if I unintentionally clasped too hard.  I continue holding on, just so he can use my big hand for support.  At any moment I might need to help him stay upright.  

 

I watch as my voice literally rattles his insides when I tell him my name.  He’s expected it to be deep and manly, but the actual sound is much more impressive than even what he imagined.  I’m still holding on to his small hand and he doesn’t even realize he’s been squeezing with all his might, hoping to try and emphasize his own manliness this close to my huge testosterone oozing body.  I clamped down a little harder on his fingers just to make his eyes bulge out a little and his voice to go up an octave or two as he tells me his name. It’s surprising that his first words aren’t the expected ‘fuck, you’re so big’ or ‘wow, you have a lot of muscles.’ He actually asks where I’m from and what I do for a living.  Intelligent questions from a guy working hard to not wince from my grip and forcing his gaze to stay glued to my eyes and not travel down to my mountainous chest or bulging arms.  I’m starting to realize I chose well out of the sea of muscle whores ogling me at the bar. I let go of his hand, noticing the relief in his face, and let my big paw travel up his arm to land with a heavy plop on his demure shoulder.  He tilts a little to that side.  My thumb and fingers easily straddle his deltoid muscle and we both realize at the same time his small hand wouldn’t come close to doing the same thing to my immense shoulder.

 

I get another joyful zing to my crotch as I recognize a fellow comparison junkie in my newfound friend. His mind has uncontrollably moved to thoughts of tiny biceps flexed next to gigantic ones and even grown-man thighs being dwarfed by relaxed, get-a-bigger-tape-measure guns.  I smile broader when he finally cannot take it any longer and has to steal a glance at my upper torso.  I let him take a long gander, knowing the front of his pants just got a lot tighter.  I grasp harder with my hand, instantly making his gaze return to mine.  He’s afraid I might continue squeezing harder and doesn’t fully understand why his brain hopes so.  I pull my arm in a little, just to temporarily marvel at how easily I can make his body do as I please.  I contemplate palming his head and seeing if I could lift him off the floor, but I realize that would definitely scare him off or cause him to have a messy accident. 

 

Suddenly, I become aware he’s asking me what I call the ‘gym-bo’ questions.  Where do I work out?  How much can I bench?  What exercises do I do to get certain muscles so big?  I debate for a second whether or not to tell him about the cute muscle bear gay couple I plowed in the sauna at my gym a few hours earlier, but decide it’s better if he thinks he’s my first fuck of the day.  It’s always important to make a guy feel special.  I pull his body even closer, loving how my one hand easily drags him a few inches.  I can tell his questions are intended to be a subliminal message for me to ask him if he’d like to feel my muscles, but I decide to wait and finally make him say the request out loud and clear.  I also don’t want to rush the evening.  I want to have more fun with my puppet-man before I fulfill his long hidden fantasy for a domineering muscle daddy that toys with him into the wee hours in the morning. 

 

He’s now chattering away uncontrollably.  His lust for ‘all things muscle’ has gotten the best of him and he can’t stop himself. I do what I know will shut him up the quickest.  I tense my big arm at my side, bending it slightly to make the biceps bulge with intimidation.  He stops mid-sentence, with his lips apart and then his tongue darts out like a panting dog.  He somehow controls his body enough to whisper the words ‘can I feel it’ and I tighten my grip on his shoulder a little, pull him even closer to me, and say ‘have at it, kid.’  You would have thought I was the general of some awe-inspiring mega army giving the signal for attack by the way he pounced on my arm.  His trembling fingers seemed to get some kind of electrical shock as soon as they touched my hard skin.  He let out a childlike yelp of glee and started running his hands around my big gun as if he were trying to memorize every vein, indention, and bulge for future masturbatory moments.  I told him to ‘slow down, tiger’ since the big thing wasn’t going anywhere any time soon and when it did go it would probably be carrying him out of the place. You would have thought I had just told him he had won a billion dollar lottery – the way he responded to the idea of me carrying him.  So the little man had a lift and carry fetish, as well.  That was good to know, since there were few things that thrilled me more than tossing some guy around the bedroom.  I was so turned on by that thought I actually squeezed his shoulder a little too tight and he screamed slightly, but never stopped his intense caressing of my arm.  

 

I had to apologize to the guy and explain that lifting him later on would be the best foreplay I could think of.  This seemed to please the little fella to no end.  He pulled his body forward and brought his lips down to my biceps, pressing into my skin hard enough to bend his nose downward.  He stayed that way for a good minute, as if he had frozen to my gun.  Finally, he pulled back and stopped his lustful massage of my arm.  I let the tensed thing relax.  He then looked up at me and, laughing, asked if I was a top or a bottom.  I smiled and said ‘what do you think?’  He said he thought all of my muscle could probably plow a mountain and I told him that was a nice compliment.  With my free hand I grabbed his and guided it to my crotch, pressing his palm and fingers into the muscle I worked out the most.  

 

There it was, that look of shock I had come to love so much.  He thought my man-tits were huge.  He thought my arms were enormous.  He thought my legs were swollen beyond measure.  He was, however, not prepared to know that the size of my love muscle matched the rest of me.  I kept my hand on his, so he couldn’t jerk his away in fear.  When his fingers finally started groping with exploratory excitement I pulled away.  His squeezing stopped momentarily when I mentioned I wasn’t fully hard – the idea that my substantial tool could get bigger and harder almost terrified him, if he hadn’t been so turned on.  When a guy openly fondles your enormous cock in the middle of a bar is when you know he’s completely yours.  This dude had brought his other hand over to my crotch so he could do some double fisted groping.  My response to his kind work was making him a little worried because he was actually beginning to realize just how massive my plowing machine would grow.  I told him I hoped he was ready for a sore jaw and ass tomorrow and he said the pleasure would be all his.  I guaranteed him that not all of it would be his.  

 

I sealed the deal and finalized the catch by pulling him into my hard body, forcing him to turn his head upward to look me in the eyes.  I brought my face down to his and gave him a kiss.  When we stopped he was smiling and I asked him what he was thinking about.  He told me he was imagining what I would look like in the morning with no shirt on.  I suggested I carry him out of the place so he could go see.  

londonboy

Daddy Whore

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“Look at you boning up just because I took off my shirt.  You are a daddy whore aren’t you, kid.”

 

“I’m not really a kid, I’m twenty-nine years old, sir.”

 

“You’re a kid if I call you one, kid.  Don’t forget I can toss you across this room if I want to.  That makes me the grown up and you the kid.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“Drop your drawers, kid.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Lose the trousers.  I want to see that hard cock of yours poking out the material of your briefs.”

 

I undid my belt and let my pants fall to the ground.  

 

“That’s a circus tent right there, kid.  It’s a pretty thick pole, too.  This old man’s rod is twice as thick, though, and a hell of a lot longer.  Stroke yourself through your underwear.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said stroke yourself, son.  Take a gander at this hard muscle daddy body of mine and stroke yourself.  Remember, you’re here for my enjoyment.”

 

I reached around my hardness and pulled back and forth – taking the cotton briefs with the motion my hand.  

 

“That’s a good little daddy whore, kid.  Look at my fucking arm, son.  Makes your juices boil, doesn’t it?”

 

“Yes sir, it does.”

 

He flexed his right arm on the back of the chair and looked at his own bulging gun.  I swear his own body turned him on as much as it did me – maybe even more.  We gazed in silence as he squeezed his fist a few times to make the biceps dance a little. It was mesmerizing.  

 

“Fucking big daddy guns. So huge.  This body was made for pleasing, son.  Turn around.  I want to see your ass.

 

I did as I was told. He let out a loud whistle as soon as I turned around.  

 

“Oh hell yeah, that’s a nice little package for me to open up later on.  I bet you’re as tight as shit, aren’t you, squirt.”

 

“I hope so, sir.”

 

“Hope so?  Man, grow some balls.  A good bottom always knows if he’s tight or not.  Be proud of that ass of yours.  It’s damn hot.  It was made to make big men like me happy.  So, is that ass of yours tight as shit, boy?”

 

“Yes sir, it’s very tight.”

 

“Yeah, it looks tight. That’s a mighty fine bubble butt. Back up so I can get a handful of that, son.”

 

Again, I did as I was told. His big hand roughly grabbed some of my ass meat and he squeezed hard enough to make me have tears in my eyes, but it felt good, too.  He kneaded my ass and emitted approving grunts for a few minutes.  I looked back and he had his other hand down his undone shorts, clearly stroking himself in appreciation of my ass.

 

“Fucking hell, I’m going to pound that sweet thing so hard later on.  First, we’re going to continue our little conversation and play some more, but later on I’m going to have you screaming with pleasure, squirt.  I can guarantee you that.  Does that sound good, boy?”

 

“Yes sir, very good.”

 

“Sit in my lap so I can grind my hard dick against that ass of yours.”

 

I plopped down hard, knowing it would give him a thrill.  He instantly started rocking his pole into my ass.

 

“I’m so fucking horny we might just have to skip to the plowing a lot sooner than I anticipated, there, squirt.  My big muscle daddy body has so much testosterone kicking around in it, I can’t seem to wait longer than two to three hours before needing to yank on my meat or plow the nearest ass or mouth.  Play with my tits, boy.  They deserve some attention.”

 

I turned my body to face him, making sure I pressed down hard against his cock as I twisted my butt around. I knelt in the chair, my knees on either side of his waist.  He continued to dry hump my ass from below.  I grabbed hold of his jutting nipples and squeezed with all my might, which caused him to only mutter ‘fuck yeah’ under his breath.  My full strength only brought pleasure to his pecs, my tight squeezing didn’t hurt him in any way.

 

“Yeah, my muscle daddy tits love your abuse, son.   You’re using all of your strength, aren’t you?  Aged beef can be so tough, kid.  Let’s see what that mouth of yours can do.”

 

One of his huge hands grabbed the back of my head and pulled my face into his stone like muscled pec. I immediately started sucking.  I could feel the incredible power he had in just one arm as he held my face plastered to his chest.   

 

“Yeah, that’s a good little muscle pig.  Feast on that chest, boy.  Make that cock under your ass pulse with excitement.  That’s some mighty fine slurping.”

 

A finger had made its way beyond the waistband of my underwear and was now teasing my tight hole mercilessly.  This big man had large thick fingers and he knew how to use them to make my ass pucker with anticipation.  Meanwhile, my nose was starting to ache from being smashed into his hard muscle.  

 

“How ‘bout you clean this daddy’s pits, boy.  I was lifting earlier today and they’re pretty rank.  They could both use a good tongue scrubbing.”

 

The big older man lifted his left arm into a monstrous biceps flex and I immediately moved my face into the furry cavern under his bulging gun.  What he called rank smelled like heaven to me and it tasted like man honey. I lapped salty masculine sweat up with my tongue in the same way a dog drinks water after a long run.  

 

“Damn, kid, you’re one of the best daddy whores I’ve ever met.  You’ve got a Hoover for a mouth, don’t you?  We’ll have to put that to good use in a little while.  I’ll give you something big enough to suck on it will bring tears to your eyes, not to mention a little stretching to your throat. You’re gonna soon have that manly pit cleaner than it’s ever been before.”

 

His finger suddenly popped into my chute and that made me lurch forward, slamming my face harder into the muscle-surrounded pit.  I was basically now a finger puppet he was controlling completely.  I never stopped my lapping, though.  I was too focused on trying to suck down some of his cocky daddy-ness into my body.  I had a feeling I’d be walking a little more erect and confident in about an hour because I was soaking up so much of his senior muscle testosterone.  I also go the feeling he could easily send an entire junior high school through puberty by just walking into the place.  My ass cheeks squeezed tightly as his finger seemed to be widening my hole for something much bigger later on.  

 

“Yeah, that surely is a fucking tight hole, you sweet thing.  You’re gonna think I’m trying to stick a silo up your ass when I finally plow you.  Good thing this big body has a lot of power, cause I think entering that hole of yours is going to be harder than trying to get into Fort Knox.  Don’t you worry your pretty little head, son, cause this big man can thrust with the power of a bull.  You’re going to still feel me inside of you for weeks to come, boy. I’m a daddy that knows how to please.”        

 

I was now beyond excited. The manly aroma, the finger invasion of my ass, the flexed biceps near my face, and the sex talk by this muscle master was getting to be too much to handle.  I was scared I was going to either self-combust or pass out from being turned on so much.  The big man could tell he was becoming hotter than I could handle.  He pulled his finger out of my hole with a loud pop, lowered his flexed gun, and moved my face back to one of his jutting nipples.

 

“Suck on that for a while, boy.  We need to calm you down a little.  That engine of yours isn’t used to running on muscle daddy overdrive for so long.  God, you’re a cute little fucker, though. Gonna squeeze that pretty head of yours with my big gun, boy. I just gotta do it.  Yeah, feel that daddy power, son.  Feels like I could crush that skull of yours if I wanted to, doesn’t it?”

 

I didn’t answer him – for two reasons, really.  One, he was kind of just talking to himself, getting off on his own muscles.  And, two, I was gone – in some kind of la-la land sucking on his big chest and feeling his huge gun and forearm squeezing the shit out of my head.  I was lost in his daddy power and he knew it.  

 

“That mouth of yours is so fucking hot, boy.  My nip feels like some turbo jet engine is trying to suck it off of me.  I think it’s time you met my friend, Giant Pete. You’re gonna like him.  I think you’ll soon see that the name fits.  I also think you’ll be able to make Giant Pete very, very happy.”

 

The elder muscleman easily lifted my body away from his.  My mouth sounded like a suction cup being removed from glass as he roughly pulled me away.  He stood me in front of him.  God, he had the sexiest buzz cut and two of the hottest ears I’d ever seen in my entire life.  And he had a fucking hard body that just could not stop glowing because of his huge muscles.  

 

“Pull off my shorts, boy . . . slowly, real slow.  Let’s introduce you to Giant Pete.”

 

I was on my knees immediately, tugging his shorts and underwear down at the same time.  The guy’s gaze was glued to my face.  He was waiting to get a ringside view of my reaction. I had learned early on that when it came to pleasing muscle daddies, I had actually been endowed with super powers – so to speak.  I could swallow cock like you would not believe.  Those super powers, however, did not prepare me for the King Dong that was unveiled as I pulled down the big man’s pants.  Giant Pete was not only incredibly long; he was – indeed – twice as thick as my own manly tool.  I could feel my throat gag a little just from the sight of the monstrosity.  It looked like something I could swing to hit a baseball. And Giant Pete looked as hard and muscular as the rest of the big man.  My face hid none of my surprise and none of my fear.  He sat back down on the chair.  

 

“Didn’t see that monstrous thing coming, did you, kid?  This muscle daddy has quite a few surprises, doesn’t he?  No other surprise comes close to being as huge as Giant Pete, though. It’s my secret weapon, my massive plowing machine.  Careful, there, you might start drooling – now that the initial shock has worn off. That tool right there has brought more men to their knees than a church filled to the brim on Christmas.  And no one’s ever said no to worshipping the thing, either.  Show me what that mouth of yours can really do, boy.”

 

Seeing the muscle daddy completely nude – all massive with his hard bulges – and taking in that huge gorgeous cock got my motor running more than anything else had up to that point. I was instantly fully charged for the task at hand.  I surprised the hell out of the older stud by gulping his hard redwood-like tool into my mouth with one deep swallow.  This had clearly never happened before and he was nowhere near ready for the jolt of pleasure my action would give.  He grabbed the arms of the chair and his butt shot forward off of the seat, forcing his cock even deeper into my throat.  He let out a loud deep moan, which made him sound the pornographic foghorn of an ocean liner.  I instantly regained my abilities to please a muscle daddy in mysterious ways.  

 

“Fucking hell, kid, where did that come from.  You’re a Grade A cocksucker, aren’t you?  Hell, that almost put me over the edge.  You’ve got some talent with that . . . whoa, kid . . . slow down, now.  I’m losing control.  You’re going to make me explode.  Wait . . . boy . . . daddy’s losing . . . no, no, NOOO . . . unhhhhhhhh!!!!”

 

This is what I had really wanted from the start, to show him what I was capable of.  I was younger and smaller, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have some skills.  He shot the kind of daddy load into my mouth that I had come to love so much – hot, thick, and tons of it.  Damn, he was a virile man.  His crotch was thrusting like a well-lubed piston and my mouth was receiving him like a kid getting the Christmas gift he’s always dreamed of.  I swallowed fast and hard, accepting every drop he offered and making him cum even more than he ever thought he could.  My big old daddy man was yelling like some kind of animal that’s been wounded.  I guess in a way he had, not wanting the orgasm to come and all.  I knew he’d be defenseless against my mouth.  I had taken on rougher and tougher men, but no one had ever been the size of his Giant Pete.  As I sucked that giant monster dry I knew I was sealing the deal on a long-term relationship.  I could tell the muscle daddy squirting forever down my throat was getting a new perspective of the little man he thought he’d picked up for just one night. I knew I’d be able to ask for diamonds or pearls once this man quit shooting.  

 

“Fuck . . . fuck . . . fuck . . . I’m still coming!  How can you . . . unh . . . unh . . . do that . . . unh, kid?”

 

I continued to squeeze his long pole with my throat and it continued to offer me its sweet prize. Finally, the big daddy’s ass fell back down on the chair, but my mouth traveled with Giant Pete and kept on sucking. The elder muscleman let go of his death grip on the arms of the chair, took a deep breath, and physically pushed my head away from his cock.  There was a loud pop as Giant Pete escaped from my lips.  That gorgeous huge daddy chest was heaving up and down and the man had his eyes closed as he tried desperately to calm his body down, having to take breaths between some words as he spoke.    

 

“That’s a . . . weapon of . . . mass destruction.  That’s . . . what . . . that . . . mouth is.  Damn, boy . . . I’ve never had that . . . kind of explosion before.   You’re not . . . human.”

 

I knelt in front of him licking my lips and beaming at his compliments.  His entire tone – his entire way of interacting with me had changed. He rubbed his hands up and down on his face, as if he were trying to make sure all of this was real – that it had truly happened.  He finally looked right at me, his body was sort of under control by this point, and smiled.  That’s when I decided to wreck him again.

 

“My ass is more talented than my mouth.”

 

“Fucking hell that makes me the happiest man on the planet.  If I had an engagement ring on me right now I’d be down on one knee. Wait, I think I have a cock ring in the drawer of my beside table.  I can slap that thing on you as my pledge of devotion.  Come here, you sweet bundle of goodness, you.  I need to kiss that golden mouth.  No one has ever made Giant Pete so happy or ejaculate so hard.”

 

The big man easily lifted my body onto his.  He sat me on his lap, but this time it was welcoming and soothing.  His hands massaging my body as he brought his hot mouth against mine.  The kiss was full of passion, not dominance.  My oral skills had obviously won over a new fan.  His tongue explored my mouth lovingly, while his hands continued to caress me.  When we came up for air he spoke completely different than he had earlier.  

 

“Need anything, baby doll? Need me to do anything?”  

 

“Just hold me with those big daddy muscles.”

 

“Oh baby, I’ll hold you real tight.  I’ll squeeze you, too.  I’ll do whatever you want me to, cute man.”

 

In my mind I thought about how the tide had changed.  I had this big man wrapped around my little finger.  It made me smile.  Now, who was the daddy whore?

londonboy

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“Did you just order for me?”

 

“I did.  The menu’s in French, so I thought it would just be easier.”

 

“Did you forget about these?”

 

He was pointing to his veiny big biceps that bulged huge in his tight shirt.  I stopped for a second to admire his gorgeous, hard, muscular arms. 

 

“How could I ever forget something that squeezes me until I almost pass out?”

 

“These big powerful things don’t need you ordering for me.  Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I need to be taken care of. Our waiter may be French, but he speaks the language of huge arms.  Trust me – he stared long enough to count all the veins.”

 

“I doubt it.  New ones appear every day.”

 

“These are not the arms of a child is all I’m saying.  I’m pretty sure anyone with good eyesight could easily tell who’s the top in this relationship.  These arms make me the man.”

 

“And what does that make me?”

 

“My pet.”

 

“Well, Mr. Man, this conversation is pretty childish.  I ordered for you to be nice, not to make you feel inferior.”

 

“Inferior?  Again, I’ll point to my big arm.  I don’t think there’s ever going to be a time when I feel inferior.  When I’m holding your body against the wall with one hand and you can’t break free I’m pretty sure I’m not the one who’s inferior.”

 

“God, that turns me on. Me squirming like hell and you just holding me there with no effort at all.”

 

“It’s the arms, dude.”

 

“I am not a dude.  I wish you wouldn’t say that.  It makes you sound so jock-ish.”

 

“I am a jock, dude. Just look at the arms.”

 

“I look at them all the time.”

 

“Yeah, you do.  What did you order for me, anyway.”

 

“Well, if you’re the man, why don’t you ask the waiter yourself?”

 

A big smile crept across his face.  He raised his right arm like a school kid asking a question.  The biceps bulged nicely beside his head.  At the same time he raised his left arm into a biceps flex – making the muscle bunch up hard and huge.  He didn’t take his eyes from mine.  Instantly, there were two waiters there, racing to help him.  He chose the guy who had taken our order, to the more than obvious disappointment of the other waiter.  He lowered his raised hand, but kept the other arm flexed as he spoke.  He turned and smiled at the guy.  

 

“May I help you, sir?”

 

“Notice the arm gets a ‘sir.’  I’m so sorry to bother you, but could you tell me what this dude ordered for me. He can’t remember.”

 

“Of course, sir.  For you, he ordered two egg, cheese, and ham croissants and a low fat cappuccino.  Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

 

“No, thank you. You’ve been most kind.  Would you like to feel it?”

 

“Yes sir.  May I please, sir?”

 

The waiter was so excited the last part of this came out in French.  It didn’t matter, however, the muscled younger man knew the answer was an enthusiastic yes.  The waiter nervously reached out his small manicured hand and placed it on the huge arm flexed in front of him.  The guy let out a few French expletives as he rubbed his fingers slowly across the hard, giant thing.  He then let out a quick yelp, jerked his hand back, and took off for the back of the café. The flexed arm was lowered as the two men watched the waiter hurry away.

 

“I hope he makes it to the urinal in time.”

 

“It sounded like he didn’t. 

 

“They say Marilyn Monroe used to be able to go down the street and not get noticed if she wanted to. But if she wanted attention, she could take off her sunglasses, let down her hair, and swing her ass in a certain way to make people recognize her immediately.  My arms are something like that.  People certainly notice them all the time, but if I flex them – that’s when I get undivided attention.  Arms always get the most votes for favorite big muscle.  I think they show off a bodybuilder’s power and hard gains before anything else.  One flex is all it takes.  As I said, the arms make the man.”

 

“They were certainly what I noticed first.”

 

“Mainly because I was flexing one of the huge things in your face.”  

 

“There was that.  I had also noticed you earlier on the dance floor.”

 

“I noticed you, as well, drinking your dignified glass of champagne in a hot sweaty late night dance club.  I figured you were in search of some huge, strong, big-as-fuck arms to take care of you.”

 

“Watch the language, we’re not at home.”

 

“Sorry.  I forget.  Anyway, I thought I’d let my arm be my pick up line, so I just walked up and flexed a big gun in your face and said hello.  You actually dribbled a little champagne down your chin.”

 

“Proving just how dignified I truly am.  And you, my big muscled young friend impressed me to no end when I asked what your bulging arm would like to drink and you said a Bud Light.”

 

“Hey, not fair.  I was only twenty-one and had not been introduced to other kinds of beer . . . well, I did know about Corona, but I didn’t like it.”

 

“A knowledge of beer is not needed when you have enormous arms of steel.  I believe that’s the point you’ve been trying to make ever since I thought I was being kind by ordering your favorite breakfast in French . . . at a French café . . . in Paris.”

 

“Well, when you put it that way, it was kind of nice, wasn’t it?  I just don’t want you to think I need babying.”

 

“My huge young man, every night you pick me up in your arms and easily carry me to bed like a toddler, why on earth would you feel that way.  It should be me giving you grief about babying.”

 

“I do like curling you as we walk up the stairs.”

 

The younger man pointed to his big muscles again and mouthed ‘the arms make the man.’  The older gentleman took a sip of the coffee that had been delivered and crossed his legs to conceal the growth at his crotch.  His young muscle boy knew exactly how to taunt him. The morning light coming through the nearby window made his tanned hard skin glisten and highlighted all the massive bulges in a very inviting way.  One of the big arms reached down for what seemed like a small coffee cup in this particular hand but was actually a wide, tall cappuccino cup.  This was a drink that the older man had introduced to his big friend.  The man felt some pride in that fact.  

 

“You’ve got that superior look on your face again.”

 

“I do not.”

 

“Do I need to point at my arm?”

 

“No.  Please don’t.  I’m trying to calm down.”

 

“That’s impossible when these big guys are around.”

 

The two massive arms went up into a double biceps pose – bulging into the air like the Alps.  A waiter, standing nearby, actually gasped out loud and many patrons of the café turned to look at the flexed arms. Marilyn Monroe had needed to be noticed. The guy’s arms were truly magnificent. They showed off years of dedication in the gym and the kind of power usually reserved for giant bulldozers or killer whales.  

 

“What have I told you about flexing in public?”

 

“Your mouth always says not to do it, but your crotch is always saying something else.  Besides, the size of my arms should say I make the rules.”

 

“And not the size of my bank account?”

 

“Point well taken.”

 

The bulging biceps came down and the younger man took another sip of his cappuccino.  The café sort of went back to business as normal. All motion had previously frozen for a few seconds.  The monstrous man did not look defeated in any way; he just knew the importance of financial stability.  

 

“Why are you suddenly so obsessed about being ‘the man’ in our relationship?”

 

  “I just want to make sure I’m carrying my weight in this romance.”

 

“My dear boy, with arms like those you could carry all the weight in this and every other relationship in here.”

 

“See, I recognize that what you just said was a compliment, but then there’s the fact that you called me your ‘dear boy.’  That feels condescending.”

 

“It’s a term of endearment! And why on earth would I say something condescending to a man that can hold me in the air with one arm.”

 

“Yeah, see what you did there.  When you talk about the strength of my arm you call me a man.  That’s my point.”

 

The older man stopped and thought about this for a moment.  His lover had a point.  It was when the big muscular arm was holding him in the air that he felt the most submissive – totally defenseless.  Being dominated by the young stud could turn him on faster than anything.  It had been that way since that first night meeting at the nightclub.  The older man always asked to be manhandled as foreplay.  

 

“As you have already said, point well taken.  I do, however, want to make some things very, very clear.  I call you boy because I love you and not to be derogatory in any way. I call you man because I view you as an equal in some ways and far superior when it comes to muscles and strength. I call you honey, babe, giant, freak, and monster because you usually deserve whichever one I happen to choose. And I call you ‘sir’ when I’m feeling submissive.”

 

“That’s usually my favorite one.”

 

“Mine, too.  But let’s not forget that you have many different names you call me depending on the mood you’re in.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“If you want something monetarily, you call me ‘pops.’  If you want to cuddle, you call me ‘sweetie.’  When you want to dominate me, you call me your ‘little pet.’  And when you want hard, nasty, sweaty sex, you call me your ‘muscle pig.’  So, you see, all of your names are not so flattering, either.”

 

“You always seem to like them at the time.”

 

“I could say the same about you.”

 

The breakfast had been delivered and consumed.  The second cup of coffee and second cappuccino had disappeared, as well.  The big guy was rubbing his right biceps teasingly with his left hand, flexing the hard gun as his fingers caressed it.  There was a devilish smile across his face. The older man still had his legs crossed, because there was still a passionate fire at his crotch.  

 

“What would you like to do today, sir?”

 

“Go back to the room and curl you with these big arms, my little muscle pig.” 

londonboy

Stronger Than Coach

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“What’re you trembling for, Coach?” the oversized college freshman asked, chuckling at the older man’s shaking body.  “Is it because I just easily curled with one arm the weight you were using to do squats? Is that what’s got you so nervous? Or is it excitement?”

 

“How?” the mustached smaller man asked.

 

“I never skipped my vegetables,” the giant stud said, laughing.  “Naw, truthfully, it’s the cum of older men that seems to make me grow bigger and stronger.  Stumbled upon this interesting phenomenon about a year ago when I met this older dude in the park one day and I sucked him off in his car.  Right there and then, my body started growing.  I had been chaste up to that point – blame it on religion – but I’d always been drawn to older men.  Thankfully, I gave into my desires and now, about a thousand men later, I have this huge muscled body you see in front of you and enough strength to punch an SUV into the next county if I chose to.  The really strange thing is that I don’t grow if it’s a guy under fifty. It must be similar to liking only aged wine, I respond best to the sweet juice of older men.

 

“No one can be that strong,” the unbelieving Coach whispered.

 

“You mean this strong?” teased the young enormous muscled student.

 

He picked up two Olympic plates and slapped them together hard.  Big strong hands then started squeezing the edges of the iron plates together – the way a child might manipulate two pieces modeling clay. There was a light muffled crunching sound as the boy’s super strong fingers flattened iron together – making it become one compressed thing edge.

 

“You have no idea how hot this feels, Coach,” the smiling behemoth said, taking a step closer to the older man.  “Compacting iron like it’s cookie dough.  Makes my balls ache for release when I do stuff like this.  Makes me want to suck some old muscular man dry and fuel my hulking out even more.  Hairy dudes seem to stoke my growth double, too.  I guess it must be the extra testosterone zipping around the dude’s body making him fur-covered goodness.  I’ve seen your hairy pecs, Coach.  And your super furry arms and legs.  I bet you got a forest around that cock of yours, too, don’t you old man.”

 

“Jason, I’m not sure this . . .” the older man began, but was interrupted.

 

“Oh, you know my name, Coach?” Jason asked.  “I guess you’ve noticed me before.   I mean, how could you not, right?  But something tells me you also liked what you saw, Coach.  Yeah, I think you liked all these big muscles a lot.”

 

The rims of the two plates had been smashed together completely by this point.   The muscle kid had made them into one plate, simply using the strength of only his fingers.  The Coach could not even begin to wrap his head around what kind of power was in the young man’s body.  He watched as the bigger man laid the newly made double plate on a bench and picked up an empty bar from a rack.  The kid placed his fore finger and thumb about a foot down on the bar and squeezed. He pulled at the same time and the shorter end came screeching away as easily as someone might pull apart warm taffy. He then pressed his pinkie into the ripped end of the bar and pressed down in the center; making the two sides stick up like the arms of a football goal.  The guy picked up the now doubled plates and put the thick end of the bar through the holes.  He used the heel of his hand to easily smash the end to flatten it so it couldn’t slide back through the hole - ever again.  Now there were two huge plates permanently secured to this short pole with two nubs at the other end.  

 

“My nipples are super sensitive, Coach,” the giant said looking over at the older man, but still working on his project.  “I think it’s a side effect of my growth or something.  I have to find ways to soothe the raging beasts.”

 

The Coach gasped out loud as he watched the guy raise the two thin ends of the ripped bar, move the spaghetti strap of his tank with a thumb, and then squeezed them tightly into the jutting nub of his left pec.  When he dropped his monstrous arms the weight stayed attached to his nipple. The Coach noticed that nothing sagged even slightly – neither nipple nor pectoral muscle – as soon as the full weight dangled from there.  There was a p