It took most of my strength not to grab the guy and squeeze him so hard I’d probably had broken something. I just had this intense desire to hug him – to show him how I felt about him. He was pinching my hard nipples through the heavy shirt I was wearing and mumbling to himself quietly. I caught snippets of what he was saying – so huge, hard as hell, gonna piss on myself - and stuff like that. I could tell he was in some sort of muscle worship fantasy world and he did not want to be disturbed. That was fine with me; because not only were my nips getting pleasured roughly, I was also getting to take a closer look at the guy. It was very dark in the back room of “The Pit,” my favorite bar, but I could still see him clearly. I liked to come here because I fit in – the place was full of huge older men looking for young pups they could take care of. I was the definition of a muscle daddy. At ‘The Pit’ I was also known as the king of muscle daddies, because no one came close to matching my daddiness. I loved smaller guys that were into worshipping. I also loved a young buck that needed a wisdom figure to lead him. I didn’t care if people judged me or not, but it was good to be in a place where other guys got off on the same things I did. I had become good friends with many of the other huge older men that frequented the place. We even shared our pups, sometimes – or warned each other about dudes that weren’t worth the fuss.
The guy chatting with himself in front of me was probably twenty-five – more than half my age. He was about two hundred pounds lighter and possibly eight to ten inches shorter, too. I was in daddy heaven – taking in how small he was. He fit the bill physically and I was hoping he’d have the internal affinities to make him a proper pup. He was a little more built than I liked ‘em, but that was fine. He had a wiry body that looked beautifully knotted in all the right places. It was a gymnast’s build and that made me hope he was very flexible. He kept his hair short and neatly trimmed – something that I insisted my pups do, so he was already doing well and we hadn’t even left the gate. He dressed the part, too – a Ralph Lauren button down, some khakis, and loafers with no socks. I was such a sucker for little prep boys. In college I had plowed my way through the Sigma Epsilon frat house and I still had a thing for ‘gators.’ That was a nickname I created because of my dick-hardening lust for all things Izod. If a dude wore bright red pants and a pink shirt I could cum on the spot. I was just into little prepsters and I didn’t apologize for it.
Every now and then the little guy would squeeze my huge nubs just right and an intense thrill would shoot through my entire body. This is what made me want to crush the dude in my arms – not out of meanness, but because I wanted him so much. My big chest was like an avalanche of muscle spread out thickly wide before the guy. He’d stop his nipple play every now and then to cup his hand under one of my enormous pecs jutting behind the material of the shirt and he’d try to push up but the thing was too heavy and too stubbornly hard to move. This would make the guy squeal a little and then his mumbling would intensify. I had a feeling the kid could have played with my shelf all night long, but I had other plans. I reached down, grabbed him by his ass, and lifted his body upward. His legs wrapped around my waist instantly – a move I figured he had dreamed about all of his life. I knew I was showing off and that people in the bar were probably thinking I was acting crude, but I didn’t care. I was a big muscle daddy and making some pup almost cream in his pants because I could pick him up so easily was what I was supposed to do. I distinctly heard the dude let out an “oh god yes” as I moved him toward a stool at the bar. People parted as we moved through the crowd – some clearly jealous of my little friend. They wanted to be carried, too. I put the prepster down on the stool and then leaned his back against the bar behind him. He kept his legs locked around my waist – his feet hooked together just above my bulbous butt. His hands were still latched onto my man plugs and he was twisting even harder. I pressed my growing hardness into his balls and ass – kind of gently shoving his back against the wood of the bar. I wasn’t being abusive – it was just a natural reaction to his teasing grip on my nipples.
While I had carried him the short distance I had marveled at how huge my hands felt holding his body. He was a decent sized guy, but compared to me he’d be considered pretty small. Or maybe I’d just be thought of as freakishly big. Either way, I was wild about how my thick long fingers could hold his tight ass even in one hand if I had wanted to. A thought shot through my mind – I wondered if I would have been able to palm the dude’s butt and hold him upside down. That would have been impressive. The fella twisted my nips perfectly and this caused me to slam my giant meat into his ass, which – in turn – slammed his body against the bar. I could tell he loved it, but it did cause him some pain.
“Sorry man, but if you don’t let go of my nipples soon I’m not going to be responsible for any of the damage I cause to your body or this bar,” I threatened.
He instantly lessened his grip on my protruding nubs – mainly from fear – but he also smiled broadly, clearly proud of the fact that he could bring me to a point of no control. He quickly spread his palms out on my chest and started massaging the mounds of muscle – mesmerized at how huge my upper body was. While he tried to see how many of his hands it could take to cover my entire pec shelf I, again, got a chance to look at the little guy. I swear if he told me his name was Biff later on I was going to gush out such a big load that he might need a life jacket. He was such the little preppy-meister. Dark wavy hair that looked like it was trimmed every week, green eyes the color of lagoons I’d swam in while visiting Hawaii, and an air about him that made it clear he was even more my type than previously thought.
Even though I was a bona fide, card-carrying, little-pup-dominating muscle daddy that didn’t mean I was a babysitter. If a dude needed me to be his everything – his source of income, his self-esteem booster, and even his ass-wiper – then he was usually only good for some throw-down time in bed for one night. Being somebody’s daddy does not mean I think for them – it only means I try to influence what they think. It’s actually more stimulating for the older, wiser alpha if his pup is someone that questions things, argues sometimes, and, yes, even challenges his elders. I did not need a wimpy dude that sat on the sofa all day eating Bonbons. No, I needed someone that was successful and confident, himself. That made being a daddy so much more interesting – more fun – and exactly what I wanted. If a well-educated, well-motivated guy submitted himself to a daddy it was the ultimate compliment. A guy that is energetic and ‘in charge’ in other parts of his life, but wants to come home and let someone else be the lead is so much more appealing than someone who doesn’t care. I did not want to get my hopes up, but signs pointed to the probability that this guy was a muscle daddy’s dream come true. He was drinking scotch that cost four times the amount of what I usually ordered and he was wearing a Movado watch – at what people would call a biker bar, no less. I decided it was time to find out a little more about this potential pup.
“What do you do?” I asked, loudly – to draw him out of his lustful trance of my chest.
“Big mature men,” he replied, looking me in the eyes.
I saw confidence in those pools of green and it made me thrust my crotch against his ass hard. He moaned a little – again loving the fact that he could make me react that way. I made a face – trying really hard to show my disapproval even though his answer had thrilled me. Well, the tone of his answer had thrilled me the most.
“Oh, you mean for work,” he said – clearly getting the fact that I was teasingly not pleased. He took an apologetic tone and added, “I own an internet company.”
He then went on to name the company and it was one I recognized. I also knew the company had recently gone public. I further knew it was reported that the owner had become a billionaire. He recognized in my eyes the fact that I knew all of this. He also quickly gathered that it satisfied me in some way. He was like a sprinter that had just made it over the first hurdle. I watched a specific shift in the man’s attitude at that moment and realized it matched the new paradigm I was moving into, as well. I was moving, for him, beyond that ‘this is just a big hot older man I’ll let fuck me for one night’ starting point. We were beginning a little muscle minuet that was certainly going to last for a while. He needed to test the waters, too.
“What do you do?” he asked.
“Little preppy men with tight asses,” I replied.
He tried to make a disapproving face at my answer, but it was kind of hard to hide how much what I said thrilled him. This time, he actually shoved his butt into my still-hardening cock and we both let out soft moans. He smiled at me, but made it clear he was going to wait until I gave an honest answer.
“I own a construction company and have multiple properties around town,” I answered and loved how this answer thrilled him. It was clear that he, like me, had always hoped to find a muscle daddy that didn’t need supporting. I went on to blow his mind by telling him the name of the company and a few of the places I owned. I didn’t mention all of them because I didn’t want him to be intimidated.
“So, the big daddy has some brains, too, I see,” he said – and I could immediately sense it was a huge compliment.
“And I see the little pup doesn’t need someone to take care of him,” I said, choosing my words carefully because I needed him to answer in a specific way.
“That, my big friend, depends on what you mean by ‘take care of.’ Do I need someone to put food on my table? No. Do I need someone to take me to the opera? No. I do, however, need someone to put me in my proper place and keep me there,” he answered – and the seriousness behind what he was saying was quite clear.
My cock was now fully hard – mainly because I was suddenly realizing that this creature in front of me, this small man I could easily toss around physically, was teetering near my ideal mate. I knew there were still hurdles to jump over – probably for me, as well – but I was beginning to sense that we understood each other on a level that was imperceptible to other people. I pulled my big arms forward – causing the dude to come off the stool. He was, again, held in my big hands – crotch against crotch and his face a half a foot below mine. I looked down into his eyes and felt an electric charge that seemed both familiar and totally new at the same time. I could see in his expression that he felt the same way, too.
“I don’t need a kid, if that’s what you mean. Let someone else change your diapers. I do however need a . . .” I paused to collect my thoughts and then continued, “I do however need a guy that I can tame, mentor, spar with, and dominate.”
The last word actually made his cock twitch hard. I could feel it next to mine. His entire body seemed to vibrate, as well, as if in unison with his stiff meat. I could have sworn the guy whispered the word ‘finally’ but it could have just been my own hopeful imagination. I could feel his ass clamping tightly together, as well. I didn’t know exactly what was causing his reaction, but I knew I liked it. Again, it took almost all of my strength not to squeeze the dude so hard that something broke. It was like I wanted his body to melt into mine. I had a need to be so close to him that a mere hug wouldn’t and couldn’t be enough to satisfy. Instead, my big paws squeezed his hard ass tightly causing the dude to wince a little, but he also gurgled something about me being ‘so big and strong.’ I knew it was best to distract myself from my intense desires of the moment, so I went back to asking questions.
“What’s you name, kid,” I said, smiling at his face.
“Bradley,” he replied.
It wasn’t Biff, but it was close. He definitely looked like a Bradley and I bet he was a ‘the second’ or better yet ‘the third.’ That would make things even more complete. Hearing his name made me want to flex my guns, so I tensed my arms as I held his body at my waist. His eyes shot exactly where I hoped they would when my biceps swelled thicker. He mouthed some words but it wasn’t hard to see they were ‘fuck yeah.’ This high-powered businessman, this preppy ‘I come from old money’ dude clearly got off on things more powerful than him. I bet he owned a fast car. I bet he employed a trainer that looked like a trainer should – huge, hot, and virile. I bet he loved to skydive. The guy probably loved being near things that reminded him of his own mortality – his limits. I was pretty sure he loved anything that could subdue him. That’s why my arms easily caught and kept all of his attention. He could feel the power of my guns, since they were easily holding him in the air, but looking at their power – taking in their hugeness and beauty along with knowing what they could do – that’s what turned him on even more. It was like he was some kind of tactile learner, who needed to see and experience things to believe them. But he definitely loved it when things looked powerful. I could again feel his cock twitching for joy as he gazed at my tensed arms.
There’s something special that happens to a mature muscle man when he figures out some young thing is attracted to his daddy strength and size. It’s hard to explain, but there’s a switch that goes on inside the big man’s head and he instantly intuits what will make the other guy happy. I’m pretty sure it comes with age and not just from being big. I’ve seen some big men in my life that had no idea how to please little fellas. But give a muscleman some years and a whole lot of experience and the wisdom flows as easily as a posing routine. My dick registered the little pup’s reaction to my tensed arms way before my brain did. It’s like the synapses from what my hands were feeling and all that my eyes were witnessing decided to go south first, alerting my cock to potential pleasure before it did the same for my brain. The pup’s expression as he gaped upon my massive biceps signified another hurdle had been leapt over in this little muscle tango he and I were doing. I was passing some test, moving to the next round, and being moved to the front of the class in this guy’s opinion – and that was just as important as him getting to new levels in my estimation. In order for a young small buck to want to be controlled, subdued, or dominated he needs to trust his master completely. He’s got to want his master completely. I learned a long time ago there are guys out there that say they love big men, but I quickly realized they knew nothing about true muscle worship. Let me give all my big muscled brothers a little word of advice – if you come across small dudes who think that worshipping your big bod is only about them touching or you flexing please turn around and run. For one thing, the verbal ascent to worship needs to be intense and should almost equal the final explosion. A true worshipper is not afraid to talk about your huge muscles or their thirst for said mounds of beef. A sure sign of a lousy worshipper is a silent worshipper.
Another way of weeding out unsuccessful worshippers is listening close to their terminology. If a small dude can only say ‘I love your fucking huge arms’ and ‘Wow, what a giant chest,’ it’s more than likely you have only a muscle whore on your hands. Don’t get me wrong – there’s a place for muscle whores in every big man’s life, but they aren’t meant to be long term. They’re good when you want to just get a superficial boost to your ego. These guys are what I call the lightweights. They usually shoot their loads before you even get fully charged – mainly because they just love bulges – and not what has gone into making those bulges. These shallow dudes will squirt all over the place as soon as you flex a little or let them touch your body. Rarely are they concerned about you getting off and the thought of you being a little rough makes them go nelly screaming out of your apartment. Like I said before, there’s a place for such guys in the world – but I’ve grown wise in my old age and I’ve learned to look for something much more substantial – something a lot deeper.
A true muscle daddy worshipper appreciates your wisdom as much as he appreciates your size. He’s into your bulges – I guarantee that – but he’s just as excited about seeing how those muscles influence your daddy psyche, as well. The guys that turn out to be keepers need their big man to be three-dimensional. A good little pup’s says about his muscle daddy, “He, of course, needs to have the body from hell, but he better have the attitude from hell, too.” I’m not talking about being some ax murderer or psychopath – I mean the muscled dude has to have a cockiness that enables him to squeeze his pup’s neck hard for a greeting or can make flirts back away from his pup with just a low growl or an intense stare. If a young stud is a real worshipper he’ll be looking for the daddies that have the third aspect of a complete package – the big man has to have experience. This is why most young men can’t reach true muscle daddy-dom. They don’t have the years that make them fantastic kissers, charming beyond your wildest dreams, pro sexual athletes, and – most importantly – men with a sixth sense about exactly what will make their pup happy.
It’s, of course, rare that such specific and powerfully-charge individuals can find each other, but it does happen. I knew many couples that were living in daddy-pup bliss and had been for years. Unfortunately, that special prize had eluded me for all of my life. I had been with some fantastic guys – but most of them had merely turned out to be muscle whores. They were into my hard beef, but could not have cared less about my thoughts, my wisdom, or my need to truly dominate a guy. Let’s stop and get one thing straight – the word dominate has gotten a bad rap in recent years. Everyone views it as something negative or demeaning. I think the great work in the area of spousal abuse had really brought the wrong kind of attention to the type of domination I’m referring to. In the muscle daddy world – to dominate means there first had to be an invitation. It’s like the big man is standing on the side of the ballroom and he only enters the dance if some young pup walks up to him and asks. That’s why most of my evenings with so-called muscle worshippers merely ended in them getting off on my massiveness. That’s all they wanted. But it can be so much more – it can be so much more empowering to be dominated. It’s when that special someone trusts you so completely and needs you so completely that they actually request you to become something special for them – something more powerful. That’s when the true magic happens. That’s when lives change. And what’s crazy – what you might not fully understand – is that the dominator is subdued, as well. He becomes a slave to his pup. There’s no way for you to fully understand until it happens to you, but let’s just say that you give up all rational thought when you become somebody’s full fledge muscle daddy. You become their protector, their trainer, their disciplinarian, and so much more – but you also become tied to them in a way that all the fucking strength in your body could not undo no matter how hard you try. You become theirs as much as they become yours.
So, you can see how thrilling it could be to pass certain hurdles in this dance the young pup and I were doing. I could feel my own heart swelling with hope – with anticipation over what the next few hours could bring. I had been on the precipice many times before – only to be a solo jumper, the would-be pup preferring the safety of the ledge instead of joyously falling into the abyss of true muscle worship. My fantasies of what might be had taken me to some other place and the pup had finally torn his eyes away from my bulging arms to notice (another sign of a true worshipper – caring about what was happening with the daddy). He wanted to bring me back into the glorious here and now.
“And what’s your name, sir?” he asked, clearly knowing full well what the word at the end of his sentence would do to me.
To a muscle daddy – a good one – hearing the word ‘sir’ sends a jolt to his balls that equals the electricity it takes to light up a small town. My mother always made me use the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to show that I was raised right and I think it is a very similar situation when pup’s say ‘sir.’ This dude was sending me a message with a simple three-letter word. He wanted me to know that he was raised right when it came to respect and adoration of elders. He also wanted me to know that he had some basic knowledge in the world of submission. Since gay men were now allowed to live such open lives the new ‘in the closet’ was when it came to fetishes. Gay men today had learned to talk in code to make clear what they were into – or what they weren’t into. The word ‘sir’ was definitely part of the muscle daddy worshipping scene – and it was used frequently to help others know if they could proceed with their flirting or not. The pup was clearly inviting me to move to the next level of our ever-evolving understanding of each other. We were peeling back the layers of the onion until we got to the core – the place where we both would be free to assume the roles we both desperately wanted. Each of us, however, knew to take it slowly. One false step could ruin the entire dance and we were definitely far too engaged in the glorious ball to let that foolishly happen.
“People call me Butch,” I replied.
“Of course they do,” he said seriously. “I’m glad to know your name, but I think I’ll just call you ‘sir’ if that’s okay with you.”
There was that word again. My cock thumped against his hard-on. He felt it – I could tell by the smile that sprang to his face. My body had betrayed me. It gave away in a clear and precise way what that word did to me. I could see that he was overjoyed to recognize that fact. I got the feeling my little pup was checking off some list in his head as he got to know me better in the same way I was doing it for him. This seemed to solidify our connection even more. He, of course wasn’t going to be a total gentleman and let my body’s involuntary jolt of pleasure go without being alluded to.
“You deserve the respect, sir,” he said, emphasizing the last word on purpose – and smiling even more when my cock again throbbed noticeably.
“I know I do,” I shot back – my cock was uncontrollably reacting to this guy’s tone of respect, but that didn’t mean he was in charge. Cockiness was one of the three supports of being a muscle daddy and I could call on that reservoir of confidence whenever I wanted. I truly knew how incredible I was – and not only did it make me sure of myself, it also helped me to shower that same feeling on others. “I get the feeling you can be the perfect respectful pup.”
I had anticipated his lust for that certain word correctly. His entire body shook with revealing pleasure – a response similar to mine. We both realized another hurdle had been easily sailed over. I loved the fact that he had to close his eyes – until the joyous jolt of worshipper euphoria passed. I wondered briefly if he was also saying a silent prayer to the muscle gods in hopes the beefy older dude holding him might be the real deal. I added my own plea to Mount Olympus or wherever for the same thing. I was beginning to worry that I was moving beyond a point of return. I was so hopeful about this pup I was beginning to worry that I might be projecting a lot of his reactions. I tried to be reasonable and realistic, but it was hard when all the signs pointed to your desired end.
A true pup knows he is never a slave. He can walk away from the relationship at any time. That’s part of the intense thrill between a daddy and his young mate. If the big dude is a true muscle daddy then he’s like this huge pup-magnet that pulls on the smaller dude with such a force that the smaller dude never even contemplates leaving his master’s side. It’s the most natural and comfortable relationship ever created – pup needing security and daddy needing adoration. The more your love grows for an admiring young thing the more you want to protect him, mentor him, and even grow him. Yeah, part of being a good muscle daddy is knowing that you should always be working to create your replacement. Big guys are a dime a dozen but true muscle gods – the kind that can truly breed others are very rare. Of course, it takes two to tango. You have to have the perfect pup to train. If you get a good one then half your work is already done. I was lucky – being a pup builder was now in my DNA. I had been formed by one of the best. The day he had set me free to go and find my own little men had been one of the hardest in my life, but I had realized how important it was. I was carrying on a tradition – one that had been around since the beginning of time. I needed to go plow my DNA into some little worshipper that, in turn, would someday grow big enough and strong enough to train other pups into becoming muscle daddies. It was the evolution of huge men.
“Butch, sir, I’m looking for something,” the pup said, pulling me back into the moment. “Well, actually I’m looking for someone. But not just anyone. I’m looking for someone powerful, because I’m looking to be tamed and it’s going to take someone very, very strong to accomplish that.”
More beautiful words had never been spoken. What Bradley was basically doing was giving me permission to be myself – completely. He was taking a chance and letting me know that he wanted to be dominated. Again, he was speaking in code – testing the water to see if I might be exactly what he was looking for. A pretty muscle boy would simply just flex and say, “I’ve got the body you need.” That’s not what Bradley wanted, though. He could probably get any handsome big man he’d ever laid eyes on. That was a simple catch for a guy like him. But to find a guy that saw the situation in its totality was very hard. Bradley wanted a guy that had the muscles, the inner strength, the patience, the attitude, the intelligence, the wisdom, and all that comes with being a true daddy. It wasn’t about getting laid – it was about being able to submit yourself completely to another man. I also had a feeling Bradley was powerful as shit in the business world. I had a feeling he had people jumping at his every word all the time. He was looking for someone that would make him jump. He was looking for a guy that would laugh at him if he uttered a command. I had a feeling I was Bradley’s man, but I knew there were some more tests before we found out if we were “made” for each other. I thought it was important, however, that I answer his latest question in a way that he’d never forget. I placed the little guy back down on the barstool. I then leaned down and flexed my big gun right beside his head. I then placed my face against his – pushing his cheek, ear, and head into my hard bulging biceps. My mouth was next to his ear. The guy moaned slightly from the feeling of being surrounded by muscle and a scruffy beard.
“I can be as powerful as you want me to be . . . and then some,” I whispered softly, flexing my arm even harder to emphasize my point.
The dude sucked in air and I’m sure he got kind of dizzy. His body was in reaction overload. I could hear him whispering as he counted to ten over and over – clearly trying to prevent himself from spewing. I had answered him in almost the exact way of his fantasies – I’m sure. I could tell his brain was battling between thinking I was too good to be true and the fact that he wanted to submit to me completely right then and there. Bradley was a sharp businessman, though. I could tell. He knew not to blow his wad – forgive the pun – on an unproven entity, but everything in his body was confirming I was a muscle daddy beyond compare. I decided to drive home my point.
“Need something broken, Bradley? I can break it for you,” I said. “Need someone punished? I can punish ‘em and I can be as brutal as you want me to be. Need to be pounded dude? I’m the best pounder you’ll ever meet. Need protection? Nothing’s ever going to get through me. Need something big to hold onto? Well, I think you’ve already realized that’s not a problem, either.”
“Sir, if you don’t be quiet – even just for a minute – I’m going to pass out,” he said putting a hand to my mouth.
“If you want something massive to be flexed, I’ve got lots of big things to tense,” I said out of the side of my mouth, just to tease him more.
He turned his hand sideways so it would cover my lips completely. I took the chance to kiss his palm gently. He opened his eyes, which had been closed so he wouldn’t spurt out a big load, and gazed at my face. His look said so much. There was a deep pleading that almost choked me up. The dude was clearly desperate for me to be the one – for me to be real. I understood this, because I felt the same way about him. Earthquakes, hurricanes, and tornadoes would not have moved me from this man at that moment. Something incredibly magical was happening. Two souls were meeting on a plane that was only perceptible to them. No one else in the room would have understood or even felt what we were feeling. He bit his upper lip and forced his breathing to not be so hard. He had been on the brink of ejaculation, but something much more intimate was taking over.
“I really need this to be real,” he said – and I knew it would be the most heartfelt thing I’d ever hear in my entire life. “I know it’s been less than a few hours, but my body had never been this fucking sure. My head says yes. My gut says yes. My heart says yes. And my cock screams yes. Hell, I even think my small toe says yes. But don’t take me down this road, big man, unless you’re sure, too. I could get lost in you. I could get very lost. You could break my bones and I’d finally heal, but I’m pretty sure if you broke my spirit, I’d never trust anyone ever again. So walk away now, if this isn’t right for you, too.”
I leaned in and kissed him. I realized – at that particular moment – no words would be sufficient. I knew that I needed to show him how I felt – instead of trying to prove it with weak sentences. He needed the kind of confirmation that only strong lips and a prying tongue could give. Our kiss turned ravenous instantly. He grabbed the side of my face and pulled my head into his with a force that even impressed a big guy like me. His tongue actually gave mine a run for its money and we battled powerfully as we traded spit. I, of course, would prove something different at a later time. We both were moaning a little and I could sense that people were staring. I didn’t care. This little fucker knew how to lip-lock like a pro. I was tensing every muscle in my body trying not to explode because of his incredible oral skills. I finally had to pull my face from his – fearful that I might orgasm at any second.
“Holy shit, little man, where’d you learn to do that?” I asked, reaching up to fan my face.
“Just now, sir. I needed you to know how much I cared.” he replied.
“Well it worked,” I shot back. “That’s like a secret weapon, dude.”
“Did I find the big man’s kryptonite?” he asked.
“Hell no, just the opposite. Kisses like that can make me take on the world,” I answered.
“Something I’d love to watch,” he teasingly said.
“You need a big knight in shining armor, little man?” I asked, deciding to toy with him, too.
“I’d prefer a muscle daddy in leather, sir,” he replied.
I had anticipated him to continue the playful banter, but – instead – he went for honesty. A big surge of juice shot from my balls when I heard his answer. The little guy was so spontaneous and such a mystery. He could be so cheeky and joking at one moment and then he’d surprise me with a comment I knew revealed corners of his soul. I’m sure part of what made a good businessman was to always keep them guessing – and he was doing that quite well with me. I was still being tested. He was making sure I had the ability to keep up with him – to banter with him when he needed to play and to turn serious when it was time to – even if only briefly – open up. I’d seen his type before – but no one had ever been this deliciously honest before. Most guys could volley a cute conversation for a while but usually they’d become distracted by my body or quickly become bored. It seemed like this guy was a pro – but I still treaded lightly. Neither of us wanted to be hurt – and we both knew it could still happen.
“I’ve got a drawer full of fun leather apparel. Maybe you’d like to see me model it sometime?” I said, noting how his crotch twitched at the statement.
“I plan on it, sir,” he replied – and his tone told me something that solidified this guy as a major contender for my next long-term relationship – maybe he’d even be the ‘one.’
“It’s not going to be tonight, though, is it?” I asked, crossing my fingers in my mind, hoping for the right answer.
“We both know the answer to that already, sir,” he replied, smiling broadly. “If I came home with you tonight I’d be just one of them. You’d be the same for me. Either one of us can easily find distractions, but I have the feeling that you’re actually looking for the same thing I am. You’re looking for honesty, dedication, adoration, and someone who needs you desperately. Someone that needs all the things you can offer and all the things you can do. You’ve been testing me all night long – just like I have you. Sure, we can go get our rocks off at your place if we wanted to. That would be nice, I’m sure – but we can do that any night of the week. What’s been happening to both of us during these last few hours only happens once or twice in a lifetime. I’m going to wine and dine you, my friend. I’m going to show you off as much as I can. I want to see how you do outside of this bar – which is clearly your domain. I’m simply a visitor in the kingdom of muscle daddies. I have a feeling there’s no test I could give you that you won’t ace easily, but when it comes to protecting my heart I have no problem sticking to a game plan. I’m sure all of this makes sense, doesn’t it.”
“Most of it makes perfect sense. You seem to have one part wrong, though,” I said – leaning in to emphasize my point.
“Oh,” he said, looking a little disappointed that I might say something wrong, “What’s that?”
“If someone’s going to be leading the wining and dining it’s going to be me,” I said, oozing so much confidence my own words even turned me on a little.
The man stopped breathing. I had usurped his authority – his leadership abilities – without him even seeing it coming. This didn’t distress him – no, it actually did the opposite. It thrilled him. He had forgotten one of the golden rules of being with a muscle daddy – the big guy’s always in control. I had assured my dominance in just one sentence and he loved it.
“Of course, sir,” he said, quietly.
I grabbed his chin softly with my big hand and again brought my face into his. This time, he was ready for me from the start. His lips, tongue, and mouth took over the kiss in a way that made my toes curl tightly in my boots. I also squeezed his chin harder which made him moan with happiness. The guy shot a hand up to my biceps, copping a feel of my muscle mountain. I could tell by the way he latched on to my gun that he was falling for me, big time. I was feeling the same way about him. I pushed his face back a little, just so I could remind him of who was boss.
“Did you forget your proper place, little stud,” I asked, smiling so he’d know I was teasing.
“Yes sir,” he sheepishly replied.
“Don’t let it happen again,” I said, pulling his face back into a passionate kiss and then letting him go.
Bradley let go of my big biceps and made a fist with his hand. He started punching my big mound of muscle and then moaned a little when the hard thing didn’t give at all. I tensed it even more and he put a little more power behind his punch, marveling at how the thing still didn’t budge when he smacked it with his clenched hand. He kept pounding it harder and harder – which, in turn, made my cock get harder and harder. He finally stopped – probably because his fingers had started to hurt. He pulled back and looked up into my face.
“Hard enough for you?” I asked.
“I don’t know, sir, you’re not inside me, yet,” he quickly replied and I almost fell over from the thrill his words gave me.
“Aw, little man, you can’t come out of nowhere with comments like that. You have no idea what that does to me,” I said, closing my eyes briefly to calm my dick down.
“You see, that’s the problem,” he shot back, “I know exactly what it does to you . . . sir.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to handle what you’ve started here, little fella? I can be wilder than a herd of stampeding buffalo when I get a little excited,” I warned him.
“I hope you’re more than just a little excited, sir,” he said with an impish smile. “I’m feeling like I may go ‘all in’ for this thing happening between us, so I’d like to know that I’m turning you on something fierce.”
“We’ve got to slow down, little man or I’m going to either explode or rip you apart,” I said, quickly putting an end to our little teasing session. “I hope that explains how fierce I am.”
I meant it, too. I had gotten jacked to the point where I could have easily gone beyond the point of no return. I wanted the little guy so much that my body was screaming for me to attack. That’s the thing about finding a true worshipper, though – he’s worth the wait. You force yourself to not give into your basic urges, just so you can be with the ideal mate. Even though I was a pro muscle daddy, I still didn’t trust myself when it came to preventing myself from giving in to my need for pleasure. The bigger a man is the bigger his desire. I was aching for my new buddy so much that all I could think about was him being speared on my hard rod. But that needed to wait. I was still convinced that he could be so much more than just a good fuck. I moved away from him so the heat between us could cool a little.
“God, you’re so tiny,” I said and he could tell it was a compliment.
“You like that?” he asked.
“You know I do. Need a big man to protect that small body?” I continued.
“Ummm, yes, but I also need you to play with me, too. And you know without even asking that I like it when a big guy plays rough,” he replied, squeezing my nipples hard.
“Aw fuck, I want to squirt so badly,” I said, pushing his body up against the bar. “This common decency crap is overrated. I’d like to have my way with you right here, right now.”
“I have a feeling nothing . . . or no one . . . could stop you, sir,” he replied – clearly loving the fact that I was so close to being out of control.
“Wild horses couldn’t stop me when I get going, Bradley. I’m like a gray-haired Hercules defeating an arena full of competitors one by one and not even breaking a sweat. If you’re the prize, little man, I’m going to destroy anything that challenges me,” I said, in a deep rumbling voice that emphasized the words in a way that seemed god-like.
A true muscle daddy exudes power in everything he does. Taking a swig of beer or even doing something as mundane as folding laundry is naturally done in a way that emphasizes the man’s size and strength. The daddy doesn’t even need to try and be something – he just automatically is . . . huge, intimidating, and jaw-droppingly impressive. It’s like there’s an aura of hardness and mass that surrounds him and envelopes anyone and anything that comes near him. I knew I made the world around me seem smaller – rooms, furniture, men. This had been a fact for so long I had become oblivious to it by this point. It was only when little men became tongue-tied or frozen in awe that I was reminded of how intense it could be to meet me for the first time. Or when I accidently broke something, because I used too much power – that was always a reminder, as well. I put out so much muscle daddy heat that Bradley was starting to perspire a little. The dude couldn’t drink in enough of my body or attitude to satisfy him even for a few minutes. It was like he was scared I was a mirage that was going to disappear any second. I was so turned on by my preppy friend I had become a little love-drunk. I leaned down to whisper in his ear.
“I want to hold your body against the ceiling with one hand,” I said, letting the intimacy of the moment emphasize my point and keeping my bearded chin lightly against his neck.
How the little man kept from spurting out a major load was beyond me. I knew, instinctively, that my comment was going to release something primal in the guy. I was this elder giant emphasizing all of my daddiness in one little statement. First, there was the fact that I’d be lifting him with one hand – that was almost too much by itself. Second, he would be completely defenseless and I’d barely be using even half of my true power. Third, I was more than twice his age and I’d be easily reminding him how simply he could be manhandled. Lastly, everyone in the bar would instantly know how inferior they all were and, at the same time, wish they were in Bradley’s place. There was certainly power in my biceps – power beyond Bradley’s imagination – but there was even more strength in my words . . . in my attitude. I let my warm breath caress the side of his face and neck as he swallowed hard and let my words sink in. The little man was desperately trying to conceive what it would feel like to be pressed in the air by one of my massive arms. He was letting his backside dream about being smashed against the wood above him. At the same time, however, I knew he wanted to force these visions from his head so he would not explode in some muscle daddy induced eruption. If he hadn’t been mine before that moment, I now knew Bradley submitted to me completely. He wanted to give up all control and let the daddy beast in front of him lead in all things – sexual and beyond. I decided to not play fair.
“And while I easily hold you in place, I’d flex my other big arm so you’d have something monstrous to gaze upon from way up there,” I whispered.
Every time I worked out I’d always take time between sets to flex in front of the mirror. Most people thought I was just checking out my progress, but what I really was doing was taking a look at what my little worshippers always saw. I made it a habit to look at myself from their eyes – from their perspective. This inspired me much more than how I might see things. I’d been huge for so long I’d really forgotten how impressive it was – but not when I saw some guy’s face lit up like a Christmas tree as he gawked at my muscles. Being a muscle daddy fairy that granted little men’s fantasy wishes was what made all of the workouts worthwhile. I built my body beyond big merely because little men like Bradley could come close to passing out just because I whispered what I might do. Pinning him against the ceiling would have been a simple feat for me – telling him that I could do it, however, was even more fun. His imagination – even though it couldn’t come close to comprehending the real thing – went wild and took him places where a mere act of strength could not. Later on, when I truly lifted him with one arm, he’d remember this moment and realize his fantasy was sorely insufficient in comparison. My comments had made Bradley step off into muscle heaven. He was completely in lust.
“What do you say to that, Bradley, man?” I asked, keeping my lips close to his ear.
“I . . . uh . . . I . . .” he stammered, clearly still trying desperately to control his body.
“No need to speak, little man. Your body radiates your answer. You take a few minutes to recover. I’m not going anywhere. I feel like the luckiest muscle daddy in the world, right now. I get the feeling I’ve won a prize sent from the heavens,” I said, pulling my head away from his and staring down at the frozen pup – clearly scared that any motion whatsoever would make him convulse in a pleasure dump.
The poor dude just stared forward – not wanting to move at all. I knew I needed to give him some time. I used the short break to reflect on something I had been contemplating recently. I have no idea when a guy graduates into muscle daddy-dom. I know it has something to do with age, but I knew a lot of older men that weren’t even close to being a muscle daddy. I also knew it had something to do with size, but there were lots of big men that couldn’t be considered for the title – no matter how much they wanted it. I also knew it definitely had a lot to do with attitude, but some guys just assumed it meant you had to be mean or constantly domineering – and it was so much more than that. Lately, I had realized that while all of those things were definitely needed for you to become a muscle daddy, it was clearly something else that tipped the scale for a guy.
“You alright there, little Bradley?” I asked, checking on the guy and smiling when he let out a slight whimper – making it clear he needed more time.
So, what I’d come to understand about muscle daddies was that a guy got big, a guy grew older, and a guy developed the right attitude, but it was the little men that were the professors handing out the diplomas. You couldn’t be a muscle daddy on your own – since that just meant you were a huge older man living by himself. You needed the worshipper – the awe-struck little one – the Bradley’s of the world to make you a muscle daddy. I couldn’t remember the exact moment when I was awarded the title, but I could remember instances where the transformation had started. The moment in the produce section of a grocery store when a young man had dropped the two grapefruits he was holding and they rolled across the floor because I had come up beside him and my giant arm had shaken him a little, but he had fallen apart as soon as he turned to take in all of my daddy-ness. Or the time the UPS man had turned as rigid as a statue when I opened the door wearing only flimsy cotton gym shorts. He couldn’t say or do anything. I had to take the box, sign the little machine they use, and then carry the guy and set him back in his truck. It took him about thirty minutes to recover. I knew it was time to check in with Bradley, again.
“You alright there, sport?” I asked and, again, smiled when all I got was a whimper and a slight nod.
Another moment when I realized I was becoming the daddy of most guys’ dreams happened at the hardware store. I hadn’t realized the small dude helping me was seriously infatuated with me, since I was focused on some item that was a few feet above both of us on a top shelf. The guy said he’d go get the ladder and I told him there was no need – I was kind of in a rush. I simply grabbed him by the waist and lifted him up so he could reach what I needed. It had seemed like an easy solution. I had not anticipated, however, what it would do to the poor kid. As soon as I got him hoisted into the air his body started flopping around in my hands like he was having some kind of seizure. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. I was kind of embarrassed I had caused him to ejaculate so hard, so I just held him in the air until he stopped cumming. He grabbed the item and I set him back on the floor, apologizing profusely. He merely looked up at me and said thank you, sir. Looking back on that memory, I now realize that the ‘sir’ at the end of his statement of gratitude would become the telling sign of when you had become a muscle daddy.
“Drink . . . please, sir,” Bradley suddenly said in a soft voice, as if he had known what I was thinking.
I immediately knew what he needed. I brought his glass up to his lips and let him take a small sip. He still stood there frozen, as if he were concentrating very hard on something. I could see he still needed more time. I went back to thinking about the word ‘sir.’ It was when waiters started saying things to me like ‘right away, sir’ or bartenders saying ‘here’s your drink, sir’ that I truly began to realize my new role. I grew a bushy mustache and always had thick stubble across the bottom of my face. I made sure my clothes emphasized all my massive bulges and I started making sure my movements were determined and strong – flexing when I did normal things. Crowds at bars or in the gym started parting when I came walking up. I no longer paid for drinks at bars unless I wanted to – admirers always bought them for me with a ‘this is for you, sir’ accompanying them. Upgrades on flights, at hotels, or being given other free stuff was a common occurrence. And then there were the open-mouths, saucer-sized eyes, and hard crotches gifted to me on a daily basis. I started marveling at how men chose to hide their erections – the doctor with his clip board held at waist level, the businessman that wouldn’t stand up from his desk when I prepared to leave, the motorcycle cop that kept his helmet at crotch level as I flexed my way out of a ticket, and the trainer at my gym who confessed to wearing three pairs of tight underwear on days he knew I’d be working out – both to keep his hardness flat and to soak up any leakage. It really was astounding how I had so easily moved into the role of an extreme muscle daddy. And now my title was being ignited beyond my wildest dreams because of the fire my body had stoked in Bradley. He made me want to be an even better elder muscleman.
“Mind if I come back in, Bradley?” I asked as I moved in closer to the fellow.
The little guy had returned from muscle heaven. He looked up at me with a smile and nodded. I placed my big hand on the back of his neck, squeezing kind of hard. I knew he was at a place where intimate contact no longer threatened to release a tsunami in his pants. The poor guy winced as I squeezed, but I knew he could handle it. I also knew he wanted it.
“Had to drift away to muscle la-land for a little while, huh, Bradley?” I teasingly asked.
“You can be a little too much, sir,” the small guy responded.
“But that’s a good thing, right?” I added.
“Definitely, sir,” he answered. “When it comes to you, sir, there’s no way I could have too much of a good thing.”
“Aw, kiddo, that’s probably one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me,” I said, squeezing his neck even harder and watching his face scrunch up in appreciated pain. “You like it when I use my strength, don’t you?”
“Yes sir,” he answered with tight lips, even after I had stopped squeezing.
“You know, Bradley, I should come visit you at work some day,” I said, taking a sip of my beer and pressing up against his hard cock at he sat on the stool with my big body between his legs. “Get a good look at you in your expensive suit, running your big company, and telling lots of people what to do. I’d make your big office seem small – you know, like the way a big elephant seems to make a tall tree shrink. Maybe I could bend something metal as you talk on the phone – sending you back to muscle heaven and making it impossible for you to concentrate. Or I could just stand behind you when your board members want to come in and say something unflattering to you. You know, intimidating them just with my presence. How about I just wear a tight tank top and shorts – making sure all of my muscle daddy massiveness is so emphasized that no one would be able to get any work done – especially you. I could put you on your huge desk and lift both it and you into the air for a little exercise. Sound like a plan, Bradley?”
“Yes sir,” he replied – clearly loving every part of the idea. “One of our attorneys likes to bully me, sir.”
“Really,” I said, thrusting my massive thigh against his crotch, “Well, we can’t have that, now can we. You just point out the guy and I’ll fold him up so he fits in his briefcase. No one bullies my little Bradley. And I mean no one. Tell me who else I can take care of for you, sweetheart.”
“Well, there’s a neighbor near my beach house that likes to blare loud music all the time and ignores all of our requests to turn it down,” Bradley quickly answered, clearly excited by the idea of me taking care of some people for him. “He’s got a posse of bodyguards, though, so that could be a problem.”
I smiled and brought my arms up into a double biceps flex – making sure my massive peaks were tensed into hard, intimidating muscle. That ever-so-familiar shocked awe-struck look swept across the small man’s face. The conversation had to stop for a few seconds so his brain could catch up with the rest of his body. It was difficult for him to fully comprehend my size – or my obvious power. I took a glance to the right and to the left, wanting to savor the moment through his eyes. Seeing the giant mounds of muscle the way a guy that was never even going to get close to being my size would view them. My cock hardened even more as I beheld my biceps in the way he was clearly admiring them.
“Bouncers, bodyguards, thugs, and the like have all tried to get the best of this muscle daddy, son,” I said, making sure my voice was full of swagger and cockiness, “But nobody’s even come close. You’ll love it when I toss guys through the air like they were just wadded up paper. And what about watching me crush huge speakers with my arms or between these massive thighs. Or maybe I just push your neighbors house into the ocean. How does that sound?”
We both knew I wasn’t super strong, but it made no difference. Just thinking about me doing the things I could – tossing a guy through the air – and the things I couldn’t was enough to turn us both on even more. I hadn’t thought that was even possible. But seeing Bradley contemplate me taking care of his neighbor for him was almost enough to send me into ejaculating bliss. It was like seeing a kid meet someone pretending to be a superhero. Bradley had the same kind of worshipping awe-struck eyes. I balled my fists tighter and pumped my arms back and forth a little to make the rock-hard biceps bulge even more. My efforts were rewarded with a little drool sliding down the kid’s chin.
“Wanna kiss one, boy?” I asked roughly, knowing the answer before I even asked and chuckling when Bradley merely shook his head in a big yes.
I knew I could lower my arm for my little admirer, but I also knew Bradley deserved better. I would have lassoed the moon and pulled it closer for him if that’s what he had wanted – that’s how powerful he made me feel. So, I knew this kiss needed to be really special. I let go of the flex with my left arm and reached down to grab one of the legs on the stool Bradley sat on. My arms were so long it didn’t require any bending. Lifting the stool and the guy was amazingly easy. The little man’s drool and lust-filled eyes had been enough to pump more testosterone through my body so I even felt much stronger than usual.
“Let’s bring you up to your prize, Bradley, man,” I said, guiding the guy’s already puckered lips up to my giant arm.
Even in the noisy bar I could hear the contented moaning of the little man. Bradley’s lips turned into a Hoover and aggressively attacked my hard biceps – as if he were a starving wolf being given some raw meat. Within seconds my flexed muscle shimmered in the light because of the sheen of saliva Bradley’s lips were leaving. His nose bent to the side because of the steel-like firmness of the sinew beneath my skin. My flexed gun was double the size of his head. I immediately made a mental note to show Bradley the size difference in a mirror one day. I knew my little friend would find that thrilling. One of the things that had confirmed my muscle daddy-ness had been my intense affinity for difference in sizes. Standing beside a grown man who was much smaller and seeing our reflection in a mirror or window was enough to thrill me for a week. Having both of us flex at the same time and seeing how tiny the guy’s muscles were compared to mine was like icing on the cake. Bradley was a normal sized guy – and had that gymnast’s build I had mentioned before – but compared to me he was a tiny boy beside a pro bodybuilder. A gray haired massive elder pro bodybuilder. I laughed as Bradley took quick breaks from savagely kissing my arm so he could look down and see how far he and the stool were from the ground – being held in the air by one arm, albeit a huge one. It was clear the guy knew I could continue holding him like this for a while. I finally figured it would be good to give his lips a break – knowing they were already pretty chapped. I placed him back on the ground and let my right arm drop out of its flex. The poor guy looked disappointed.
“Don’t worry, little man, there’s enough of me for seconds, thirds, and even thousandths,” I said. “You’ll never run out of muscle. Geez, you sure are light, Bradley. I barely even notice it when I’m holding you in the air.”
“Trust me,” he said, smiling, “I notice it.”
I had learned a long time ago – even before the young guy at the hardware store – that a true muscle-worshipping pup loves to be manhandled. The pup is turned on when his muscle daddy treats his strength as an afterthought. An accidental bump sends some dude crashing to the floor and that offers the opportunity for the muscleman to reach down and lift the other dude – like he might pick up a dropped sock. Or squeezing too hard during a handshake and totally missing the fact that the smaller man is wincing in pain – maybe even letting out a loud yelp. Or maybe it’s easily moving a piece of furniture that would normally take three to four guys to budge. A devout pup needs moments like these – moments not overtly obvious to the muscle daddy – to help with a sense of security. An experienced big man instinctively knows his admirer is always watching. Drying off from a shower is a good time for some quick poses, there’s no need for wearing a shirt when it’s just the two of you at home, and any chance the big guy gets to lift something so he can get in a quick workout he must always take it just to please the pup. Another very important rule is a muscle daddy never showers at the gym. To come home sweaty, pungent, bulging, and horny is a must demand from any card-carrying pup. You owe it to the little man that he be given the chance to smell, taste, and feel the fruits of your Herculean efforts. And, if by chance you’ve got a pup that actually likes to go to the gym with you, you must pause every now and then to go to the little weights section where he’s working out so he can get a good grope and whiff.
“Bradley, sometimes a crashing wave of desire overwhelms me and I want to grab you into a big bear hug and squeeze your insides out,” I said, tensing my body all over.
“Well, I’m glad you don’t,” he responded, “Although I’d probably like it on some level.”
“Part of the fun of having a new boy is testing just how much pressure he can stand,” I said, looking into his gorgeous eyes.
“I have a high tolerance for pain . . . especially when given by a gray-haired hulk with hands bigger than my head,” the young man responded.
His comment made me smile. I had always been super proud of my thick-fingered giant hands. At age seven I could easily palm a basketball. When I was just a teenager I got in the habit of always shaking a man’s hand when I first met him – just to get a thrill out of watching the dude freak out when my giant mitt engulfed his making him feel small and demure. Bradley held up his small hand with its palm facing me and I knew what he wanted. I placed my monstrous appendage against his. When you were just looking at the hands you would have never known the smaller one was a grown man. The enormity of mine made it seem like Bradley was a kindergartner playing patty-cake with a giant. I could actually bend my fingers at the knuckles over his. Again, the sight of such a size difference clearly pleased both of us. We simply stared at our hands as I felt the heat between our palms skyrocket up from the thrill.
“Never met a jar I couldn’t open,” I said, smiling.
“Or a locked door, I’m sure,” Bradley quickly added – and that made me chuckle and nod.
“I’ve been an arm wrestling champ for all of my life,” I continued. “There’s nothing better than watching some guy struggle hard – sweating and grunting up a storm – getting nowhere, and I’m barely using any strength at all to beat him. I also always have to make sure I don’t squeeze too hard. Hands can be fragile things.”
“Around you, sir, I think anything would become fragile,” Bradley said softly, knowing full well his comment would turn me on.
“Damn, boy, you’ve got the sweetest mouth around. I hope all of you is that perfect.” I said, dropping my huge hand to my crotch to adjust my hard-on.
I was starting to get a little weak in the knees for my little man, Bradley – and that never happened. One thing you could never call me was weak. There was something about this guy, though. I still needed to wait it out and get to know him better, but every fiber of my body was getting turned on by the small fella – and I had learned a long time ago that my big body never lied. I started imagining us watching television together and him begging me to put him in a headlock. Then, I’d squeeze my biceps into his face so hard he’d have depressions across his cheeks and forehead where the veins smashed against him. I’d wake him up at two in the morning just because I felt like lifting and didn’t want to get out of bed. He’d be my sleepy little barbell that I pressed into the air until I’d be read for sleep again. I’d come home after work and make him sit in my lap as I had my beer, so I could play with him before we began our evening. He, of course, would also get to grope my bod as we sat there. He deserved to have some fun, too.
The transformation into a muscle daddy happens over a long period of time – that’s why it’s linked to maturity. However, once you’ve reached the title of an elder flexing god, reading the likes and turn-ons of an admirer becomes second nature. You’re able to size up a pup in mere moments. That doesn’t necessarily mean a guy can become your one true pup instantly – no, that takes time. But muscle daddies that have reached a maximum level of testosterone oozingness and naturally drip with manliness can intuit exactly what makes a little guy tick – what makes the smaller fella get rock hard or even spew uncontrollably. A king of wrinkled muscle knows if the fragile bod in front of him needs his ass manhandled, his crotch crushed by a huge thigh, or his hand tightly squeezed – close to breaking point. Knowing how to please the pup is as automatic as whipping out your own substantial meat and pumping out a loud, enthusiastic daddy-load. Being cocky and dominating is actually muscle daddy masturbation. As you crank up the juice in your adoring fan, you crank up your own massive tool. It’s always mutually satisfying or it’s not a true muscle daddy. The more your muscles and strength excite the little one you’re holding in the air or flexing for, the more you got to give him. It’s a glorious muscle cycle – enhanced by daddy talk, grunting, terms of endearment or just purring like an enormous lion.
I had become an expert of reading subconscious signs offered by little men I was flirting with. Most of the time, the dude didn’t even know he was blatantly offering me erotic maps to what would make him happy. A dude that can’t take his eyes off of your arms wants flexing – and lots of it – but he also clearly wants you to use those arms to show off, too. He needs to personally feel the power your massive biceps naturally and easily produce. He wants you to lift him every chance you get – whether it’s to the stool by the bar or a toss to the bed a few feet away. The cute thing that keeps taking every opportunity to move between your massive legs spread invitingly apart wants you to squeeze him with the monstrous things until he gets close to passing out. A guy that compliments your clothes over and over again clearly loves the way giant muscles look in skin-tight material. You want to pump every muscle you can so the material gets stretched to the ‘almost ripping’ point. And if you can afford to lose some shirts or pants by flexing out of them, you’re going to cause euphoria in the man that’ll be on par with an erupting volcano.
Then there are the subtle signs - the ones that most amateur muscle daddies miss. A guy that keeps talking about how huge you are is obviously sending you messages that he likes size comparison. He might not even know he loves seeing your giant muscles next to smaller ones. When you get one of these fellas you want to always make sure you stand next to smaller men – the smaller the better – so your admirer gets a full view of just how mammoth you really are. You bend your arm next to the guy at the bar beside you so your pup’s mouth will drop open wide as he compares the anthill to your mountain. Another unspoken desire most gray-haired muscled behemoths miss is what a guy truly wants when he takes the time to introduce you to his friends or acquaintances. If your pup is taking the time to share you with others, he is actually begging you to impress the hell out of them. You’re secretly being asked to intimidate other men – and your poor date might not even realize it’s what he wants. Of course, there’s the powerful squeeze when you’re shaking hands with his friends – that’s an expected treat. Your pup wants to see his friends wince a little from the pain and, at the same time, see how monstrous your hand is compared to the delicate one you’re gripping. But some added unexpected pleasure comes if you choose to stand really close to his friends as you talk to them – the size difference being fun, but also getting to watch the inferiority complex your massiveness causes in his friends fills your pal with a raging desire he didn’t expect. He watches his friends unconsciously buttoning up their opened shirts because they know their chest doesn’t come close to yours. These same friends cross their arms and press against their biceps with the backs of their hands to make their tiny bulges bigger – in hopes they don’t look so small compared to yours. And then there’s the obligatory deepening of their voice and attempt at copping an attitude in hopes they could come close to matching your oozing manliness. Of course, they never do and this pleases your pup to no end.
I had picked up on some definite subconscious desires from Bradley. He was clearly a fur man – my beard scraping against the side of his face as I whispered to him had sent jolts through his body that were powerful enough to light up an entire town for a week. The little guy loved my bushy, manly mustache and thick stubble. He understood – without even thinking about it – that I could shave my chiseled chin completely smooth one morning and by two in the afternoon I’d have enough bristly hair to rug-burn the inside of his thighs as I toyed with his pulsing balls. He didn’t need to see the dense forest sprouting out across my chest – even noticeable through my shirt – since he automatically knew it was there. Bodybuilders shaved all over, while muscle daddies – true muscle daddies – pumped out so much testosterone that they sprouted thick, hard fur that pleased a cheek, begged for caresses, or longed to get caught between teeth as the little man’s mouth went to town on your chest. Bradley was especially turned on by the salt and pepper fur across my mammoth pecs – visible because of my open shirt.
My pretty little prepster was also sending me subconscious messages about his ass. When I lifted him up against my body – groping his globular cheeks in my mammoth hands – he twitched his dimpled butt in a way that made it perfectly clear that a muscled daddy pounding not only made him happy – it was a gift he liked to bestow on his elders. He had an ass that just wouldn’t quit and he knew exactly how it sent me into pleasure overload – just feeling it and imagining what I might do to it later on. It was his golden chalice – his secret cave – and his most precious offering for any man deemed worthy of its access. I had instantly known there were many hurdles and labors I would have to perform before I would even be considered for that hard, juicy reward. My giant hands groping the gorgeous ass, however, had been the first perfect score I had received in the long list of tests. I had instantly made it clear I was a master at manhandling buttocks. I used the perfect combination of painful squeezing and comforting massaging – making it strongly obvious that I was the kind of ass man that gave as much power as I received. A powerful pounding that does not make your little man squeal in delight and shoot off like a roman candle is a wasted pounding. I knew his chute longed for my massive tool in the same way his mouth desired my huge, hard nipples. It was second nature to both of us.
Hidden deep in his desire for domination was something Bradley could not even fathom he wanted, however. I was so attuned to little men, I had picked up on something in our short time together that he was – at this time – unable to know existed deep in the recess of his brain and heart. Bradley needed something that was actually rare in most muscle daddy – pup relationships. It was also something that most towering, bulging, elder men would miss. The man desired total freedom . . . the kind of freedom that could only be obtained through absolute abandonment. The thing that came closest to describing it was that moment you first leapt from an airplane when skydiving. It had to be the first time, though. For, even as much as every jump was thrilling, that first one would never be repeated. Freefalling through the sky on that initial time connected immortality with mortality – fear and excitement – control and loss of control. Unbeknownst to Bradley, he hoped I might be the man who could finally empower him to give up control. He was so used to controlling everyone and everything around him he could not even begin to fathom what it would be like to wake up one morning and not immediately start a list in your head that would later be ticked off. He had absolutely no idea how freeing it could be to not have to make a decision – and, yet, that is what he desired. Bradley unconsciously wanted his first thought every morning to be about feeling muscles, pleasing someone big, and getting off in return.
Every leather-like crinkling sounding flex of my mature muscles was now focused in one – and only one direction – helping Bradley become aware of what he truly wanted, desired, secretly needed in a way that could never be revealed before I had come on the scene. I knew, now, that we were the ying and the yang of muscle worship . . . of muscle relationships. All of the densely packed electrons in my body were alive with awareness of one thing – pleasing the small man before me. I needed to advance slowly, for it was still possible to ruin the potential bond that was quickly blossoming between the muscle daddy and the adoring admirer. One false move – one action that forced the issue too quickly – could send both of us home forever empty handed and our core beings fully aware of the gloriousness we had missed. My advanced years and my experience put me at a definite advantage in this awareness. I knew, instinctively, that Bradley’s soul and desired-filled libido was completely in tune with what was happening, but I also realized that all had not become apparent to his conscious brain yet. He would need more time to fully understand that he truly only wanted to wake up in the morning and have his first thought be about muscle, pleasing me, and being pleased by me. He wanted coffee, business, friends, and all other things to be an afterthought. He wanted waking up consciousness to be purely and only submerged in hardened bulging arms that surrounded him, a powerful heartbeat that sent tremors through his own body, and a desire to be pleasured that was so intense that his entire being opened to being invaded by the giant force that held him. It was truly when two bodies became one and all lines between pleasing and being pleased were so blurred that it felt like you were pounding yourself.
I, of course, had already realized – to the full extent – how I had fallen into the abyss of complete and utter desire for this man. I was lost in Bradley-dom. I was his pawn, his dominator, his keeper, and his prisoner all at the same time. I now knew my strength, my hugeness, my maturity, and my life, itself, existed to merely give Bradley – and in turn, myself – what he unknowingly desired. Fulfillment for me would only come if he were absolutely and thoroughly happy. The pup in front of me did not understand any of this – and he had no idea that I was the only one – on the planet – that could give his inner being what it so desperately desired. This awareness would come later. The businessman within my little guy was still ticking off lists to see if I met his requirements. He was Lois Lane, completely blinded to the fact that his Superman was blatantly disguised in front of him. I had never felt so powerful in my entire life, but – at the same time – I had never felt the potential for total powerlessness. If I lost this pup . . . if I did one wrong move and sent him away . . . I knew I would be devastated beyond belief. The fear of losing him was now my kryptonite. This was my moment to prove my true muscle daddy-ness. It was enough to make me want to toss the little man through the wall – that’s how scared I was, but I also realized that all of my years of training, all of my moments with other pups – showing off my body and my strength – had led to this moment. Suddenly, I felt more focused, wiser, and more dedicated to one goal than ever in my entire life. I was the muscled god coming down from Olympus to offer some mortal all the pleasures my divinity could offer. At the same time – all of my desires and needs would be met.
“Bradley, little man, I know you keep your calendar in your phone – that’s just the kind of powerful man you are – so I want you to take it out right now and type in my name as your date for tomorrow night. And then I want you to hit the button that says ‘repeat forever’ so it goes on every day from now to eternity,” I said with enough seriousness that the guy actually took out his phone.
“Um, I have some other evenings already planned, sir, “ he replied as he unlocked his phone, “You know, with other men.”
I moved in closer to him and placed my massive hands on his shoulders. I was amazed to see that there wasn’t much room left of that part of his body with my big paws sitting there. I was pretty sure he noticed the same thing, without even turning his head to look. I squeezed hard – teasingly, making sure to offer a slight amount of pain. At the same time I tensed my chest, making sure it inflated tremendously before his face. He stared at it for a few seconds – his eyes growing wide – and then he looked up at me.
“See anything – or feel anything – that makes you want to cancel those dates, son?” I asked.
“Yes sir,” he instantly replied, his shoulders trying unsuccessfully to escape from my powerful grip.
“That’s a good boy,” I replied, “You wouldn’t want me to start paying visits to potential rivals and intimidating them, would you.”
“Maybe sir,” he said, honestly, and this made me very happy.
The way he kept glancing at my swollen chest made it very clear that it was time for me to bless him with another present. I had definitely passed some other unspoken test. I pulled his body forward and let his face smack loudly against my hard chest. The moan that escaped his body, at first, made me worry that he had cum instantly, but then I realized it was merely his reaction to finally getting to feel some of my generous fur, taking a strong whiff of my manly scent, and finally feeling the hardness of my pecs with his face. For a split second I envisioned this would be how we would one day wake up nestled together, but I immediately forced that thought out of my brain. That was one of the surest ways to move too quickly and ruin everything. Let the present moment be enough – and it was – to please you. If you desired other things too quickly, you wouldn’t allow your pup to catch up with your awareness, your desire, or all of your abilities. Maintain your muscle daddy-ness at all moments. You can lead a pup to your pecs, but you cannot make him automatically suck with passion – that had to come from within him. I knew to let him go at his own pace. To say the little dude inhaled deeply would be an understatement. He nestled his nose and face in between my massive pecs and seemed to go into some kind of trance. I squeezed my chest even tighter around his cheeks and he mumbled incoherent words into my muscles. I knew we were drawing a lot attention from other guys in the bar, but I didn’t care. I was giving my little man what he needed and I would have flattened anyone or anything that got in the way of doing that.
“Pretty PEC-tacular, huh, Bradley,” I teased.
“Yes sir,” he mumbled back, but I could understand what he was saying – mainly from the adoring tone.
I could feel my mounds of muscle squeezing the hell out of his face. I’m sure it was painful, but he didn’t care. It was just another moment of me showing him my power. I probably had him trapped there – but you really can’t trap a willing prisoner. I could feel his tongue darting out to get a taste of whatever it was that my body radiated – testosterone, sweat, manliness, dominance, or a mixture of it all. The little man had made me perspire a lot throughout the evening, so I’m sure there was a strong aroma of my hugeness and power. I got the feeling Bradley could have stayed there for hours, but I wanted to converse with the dude a little more. I released my flex, releasing his face, and moved back a little. His body leaned forward as his tongue tried to follow my massive chest. I caught him before he fell face forward off of the stool and set him upright – aware he was still entranced by the bulges that had surrounded him.
“So, do we have a date tomorrow night?” I asked.
“No sir,” he replied and smiled at the immediate disappointment in my face. “We have a date tonight. It’s past twelve.”
I flexed my arm hard and turned my wrist slowly to look at my watch. It was a move made purely to grab his attention and remind him I was still in charge, even though he had put me in my place concerning the day of our date. My biceps was like superglue to his eyes and his gaze honed in immediately on the bulging mass of muscle. I bounced the flex a few times, just to make the peak twitch. Appropriately, his eyes got wider.
“So it is. I stand corrected,” I answered. “And this muscle daddy doesn’t like being corrected.”
Only the tone of my voice could tear Bradley’s stare away from my biceps. He looked up at me and instantly we both got a surge of power to our balls. When our eyes met there was an unspoken awareness that shot through both of us. I had teasingly been stern when I spoke to him. The sound of my voice had immediately done something to him. He became like a puppy that had been caught in the middle of the destroyed box of tissues – unable to escape blame and fully aware of how cute he looked even in his terrible mistake. I distinctly saw that part of Bradley’s thick wall of control had been chipped away. Someone more powerful – in every way – had spoken and he was upset he had displeased that person. I saw incredible love and a deep desire for forgiveness in the face below me. I was almost overwhelmed by the look – and nearly exploded with a harsh ejaculation. It took a lot of my strength to prevent me from cumming. I had seen a glimpse of what was to come – a slither of the true muscle daddy pup that Bradley could become. For a split second he had truly worried I was displeased. He was very nervous he had done something that might interrupt this trajectory we were on to a true muscle communion. Immediately, he recovered and saw that I had been kidding – but that glimpse of raw fear that his muscle daddy was not happy had been enough for me to know that we were destined for great things. I also realized we had inched our way past another milestone.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said – mustering enough sincerity to make my cock twitch with excitement.
Some would-be muscle daddies found pleasure in tying their pups up – binding their hands and their feet or even wrapping rope around their entire bodies. I found this a sure sign that someone was not a true muscle daddy. An elder man didn’t need rope, chains, or locks to be his power. A true muscle daddy knew his body was the only power he’d ever need. I could have subdued Bradley easily and made it impossible for him to move a muscle – all with just my own huge, powerful body. Keeping a man in place wasn’t about cages with metal bars – it was about cages created completely from the knowledge that his muscle daddy would protect him no matter what. A guy felt subdued because he knew his huge partner could easily dominate him – something he wanted as much as the big man did. That split second in Bradley’s consciousness – his worry about me not being pleased – did more for opening his soul to me than anything I could have ever said. A muscle daddy that is genuine actually never raised his voice or reprimanded too much – simply because his dominating spirit, the power he exuded was enough to make his pup be submissive forever. It’s actually been proven that a muscle daddy can have a submissive pup who is actually bigger and stronger than him – the pup giant offering himself to the other man simply because the elder man is seasoned, more mature, and can lead without any need of material things. I easily commanded respect and attention by my massive presence – not merely by anything I said or did.
“That’s fine, pup. I knew you meant it in a good way,” I replied quickly. “You’re just that excited about our upcoming date.”
And, like that, the guy lit up like a Christmas tree. My statement of forgiveness was like he was given a new lease on life. I had darkened his life by a small reprimand – making him think I was displeased, but I had released a tsunami of endorphins by blessing him with understanding. His face broke out in a giant smile of gratitude and he almost seemed to swell in pride from the fact that I acknowledged his excitement. We had reached a new plateau in our relationship. He was beginning to show signs of the ultimate pup I knew he’d be. I had once made a guy gush a big load simply by barking out the order for him to ‘cum.’ I had a feeling that Bradley was going to be way more easily influenced than that. I actually think he would one day be able to squirt simply if I invited him to. His serving spirit was going to be that intertwined with my dominating one. Of course, he was going to probably be able to do the same thing to me. He’d probably be able to ask his huge super-strong daddy to spurt for him on the spot. That’s how much I’d probably want to please him. I had a feeling my body would take over my brain and instantly do whatever he asked of me. Of course, all of this was down the line a little while, but we had both already caught glimpse of how it would be.
“And what does my main man want to do for our first official date,” I asked, tensing my arm by my side and moving in closer so he could immediately try to grope the hard muscle.
“Feel your muscles,” he quickly responded.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?” I asked.
“Yes sir, but I’ll never get enough,” he shot back, not taking his eyes or his hands off of my huge biceps.
“Well, how about if I promise a lot of groping later in the evening and we started with dinner at my favorite little French restaurant,” I suggested, and then added, “It only has about twelve tables, so I kind of fill up the place.”
“That sounds great, but I promise you I’ll pout if I don’t get to grope,” he said – still working away at my arm.
“What kind of muscle daddy would I be if I didn’t let you play with all this?” I asked.
His hands stopped their motion and he turned his gaze toward me. I could tell the look on his face that he wanted to say something very important.
“You have no idea, sir, the kind of electricity that shoots through my body when you call yourself my muscle daddy,” he said.
“I think I do, Bradley,” I replied. “The same thing happens to my body.”
“I’ve got a list in my head, sir . . .” Bradley started.
“I’m very aware of that, son” I interrupted and the comment caught him off guard at first, but then he smiled as if to say ‘of course you do.’
“Well, it’s like you’re ticking off everything on that list, sir. As the night progresses I seem to be getting closer to say everything’s taken care of,” he answered.
“Everything is taken care of, my boy,” I said and the seriousness in my voice made him suck in air audibly.
His hands had automatically restarted trying to grope my huge gun, even though one of his palms didn’t come close to covering my giant tensed peak. He just pressed in with his fingers over and over, again, as if he was astounded that all of his strength couldn’t press in my muscle at all. My hardness was a mystery to him. He hadn’t been in the gym all of those countless days I lifted more weight that he could imagine – pumping blood into the tissue that would multiply and become like marble. He didn’t know about the days when my muscles ached as much as my cock was aching at that present moment – because of the poundage I moved around at the gym. And he didn’t know those days when I had to crawl up stairs because my legs hurt from squatting what seemed like a bar loaded with enough weight to equal a city bus. The pup didn’t need to know any of that. He simply got to admire, worship, and love the product of all my hard work. He was awarded a groping session that kept him rock hard merely because he had not idea an older man could be so buff, so huge, and so fucking cocky. His tiny hands pressing against my giant gun looked so puny and weak. It made me want to protect him even more.
“Let me be your rock, Bradley. Your foundation. Let me be so strong for you that everything else in your life seems fragile and breakable,” I said, and I instantly realized he was silently begging me to continue. “I’m a hurricane of power just waiting to be released. You can just say the word and I’ll be everything you’ve ever dreamed a man could be . . . and then some. Trust the message your hands are sending to your brain right now – that the power in my guns is more than you have ever imagined. You can’t believe a man my age can be so huge . . . you can’t believe a man of any age can be this huge. But your hands don’t lie. You can sense my power without me doing a thing. You feel the same way I do right now – that there’s nothing in the world more powerful than the bond we are feeling.”
“Yes,” he said, softly, and then added, “I feel it, too.”
I leaned down and we let our lips meet – barely – so they just brushed against each other, as if teasing. His tongue slid out and pressed between my lips to meet my own. We then pressed our mouths into each other harder – with a passion that seemed to be equal to the heat at the earth’s core. I let out a deep rumble-like moan that must have made the little man’s body shake like a train was screeching by. His oral assault temporarily stopped, as if my moan had frightened him – the way a lion’s roar might cause smaller animals to flee. He also might have been listening for some kind of echo in the wide expanse of my upper body. Either way, I noticed the sudden thrill that must have shot up from his toes to his head. I wrapped my huge paw around his head and pulled him into me even harder, making our lips smash together like squashed cement between bricks. It quickly became clear that even my tongue was bigger and more powerful than his. And, as if a sign of things to come, he simply submitted to it’s power and let me take control of our kiss. I sucked so hard it felt like I might make his toes come out his mouth. I plowed his throat with my tongue in what was clearly a sign of what another part of my body would do at a late date. I anticipated when he needed air, when he wanted more force, and when he wanted gentleness. I used my muscle daddy sixth sense to the nth degree – making sure he got a good idea of what I was capable of. I slid my other hand under his ass and lifted him off the stool, standing erect and easily bringing his body with me. At the same time, I never let our mouths separate. I could tell the little man was impressed because his hands, which had moved from my biceps to my huge chest as I lifted him, shook uncontrollably from being overwhelmed. By this point, he was moaning almost louder than me. When I finally moved my mouth from his, he kept his eyes closed and continued to breathe deeply – as if he was recovering from a long run. Finally, he spoke – without opening his eyes.
“I really need to go home, sir” he said, “Tomorrow is a work day. To say this has been the best night of my life is an understatement.”
“Maybe it’s just the beginning of the best part of your life,” I replied – still, his eyes remained closed.
“I hope so,” he whispered.
I lowered his body to the ground but kept my hands in place because I could tell his body was a little shaky. I was used to having that effect on guys. I was feeling a little wobbly myself – a totally new experience. I finally sensed I could release him completely since he opened his eyes. I stepped back, enabling him to get a good look at my entire huge frame. I watched as he looked me up and down, clearly wanting to memorize every inch of me – surely for a few rounds of masturbatory pleasure into the wee hours of the morning and beyond. The thought of him having to step into his private bathroom at work later that day to relieve his hard cock gave me much joy. I had a feeling I’d even surpass my own personal record of five orgasms in a span of six hours – that’s how much little Bradley turned me on. We stared at each other for a few seconds – neither of us wanting the magic to end. I finally spoke, knowing full well that the magic would begin again as soon as we were within ten feet of each other.
“Shall we exchange information?” I asked.
“I’m eight inches,” he replied, smiling and clearly thinking he had gotten me.
“I’m two more than that flaccid,” I quickly replied and was immediately rewarded when his eyes grew wider and he licked his lips. “Get me really hard, and I’ll really surprise you.”
His hands shook as he took out his phone and tried to type in the information I gave him. I finally had to take his phone and finish it for him. He had recovered by then and ended up showing me how he could send his information via some app – I had never fully learned how to use a smart phone. I figured my huge muscles made up for it. Right before we parted I bent down, wrapped my arms around him, and bear hugged him hard as I stood up and took him off the ground. I again brought my face next to his and whispered in his ear, “I’ll be thinking of you non-stop until tonight.” I put him back on the ground and we walked out together. Like a good muscle daddy I walked him to his vintage Jaguar – of course – and watched him drive away. I immediately felt a profound loneliness and knew I needed a wank session thinking about Bradley to make me feel better. I actually didn’t wait until I got home. Thank goodness I had some tissues in my truck.
I waddled by his secretary’s desk as she stood and started to tell me I could not go in. I just did a most muscular flex and grunted loudly. She immediately sat down and shut up – her face white as a ghost. I made her huge desk look small and she definitely noticed. I opened the door to a humongous office and there was Bradley sitting behind an even bigger desk - the biggest I’ve ever seen. Suddenly, I had desk envy. Windows on three sides surrounded him and the view of the city was spectacular. He looked up and immediately smiled. He didn’t move, though. He just remained seated behind his desk and that simple action turned me on so much. He leaned over and pressed a button on his phone as I shut the door behind me.
“Sarah, I don’t wish to be disturbed. The big man is a friend,” he said and the way he didn’t wait for a response told me he knew I had scared the crap out of his secretary.
I walked slowly across the floor of the big room to the area where he sat. I wanted him to get a good view of the tight black muscle hugging t-shirt and even tighter jeans I was wearing. I could see him adjusting himself beneath the desk as I moved toward him. His eyes went over every part of my torso like a ravenous wolf looking at a big chunk of meat. There was something about the way he was acting that immediately told me he had expected me to come for a visit. I thought I would be a huge surprise, but the little dude might actually be my equal in cunning. I tensed my upper body to make him breathe heavier and the anticipated reaction did not disappoint. I had a feeling my biceps were almost an inch thicker because of all the beating off I had done the night before thinking about the little stud. He had cute circles under his eyes that led me to believe thoughts of me had kept him up all night, as well. I was caught off guar by how happy that thought made me.
“Take a chair,” he said, pointing to one of the large wing back chairs in front of his desk.
I bent down, grabbed the humongous thing by the leg, easily lifted it into the air, and said, “Where would you like me to take it?”
His face lit up like a Christmas tree. I had a feeling he was going to ask me sometime to do that with him sitting in it – I could see him making a mental note. Little Bradley, always making lists. I put the chair down and walked around to sit in it. I, of course, turned so my ass and huge back was on display for him for a few minutes – just to wreck him completely. He actually sucked in air. He quickly regained control, though – something that continued to impress me. The little guy obviously had some hidden inner strength.
“How did you get by security in the lobby?” he asked and I noticed both of his hands were still underneath the desk, moving back and forth. He was blatantly and proudly stroking a hard on my presence had produced. Or maybe he had remained hard since we parted earlier.
“I simply held them in the air and fucked them both senseless in the broom closet,” I teasingly said. This made the man moan a little and then break into a knowing smile. “Naw, just kidding. It was easy. I’m bigger. They really didn’t have a choice. They asked me to flex, which I gladly did. We arm-wrestled a few times – both of them against me at the same time. They foolishly thought I might be too tired to win the third time. They, however, were so worn out by that point all I had to do was tell them you and I had a serious thing going on and they went all gooey inside, instantly allowing me access. It pays off to be big sometimes”
“I’m pretty sure it pays off being big all the time, sir,” Bradley said, smiling a knowing grin.
“It certainly did last night,” I replied and he nodded ‘yes.’
“And why, Mr. Butch, sir, have you decided to grace me with your presence today,” Bradley said – encouraging me on even more.
“I thought I’d get a glimpse of the wild beast in his natural habitat,” I replied. “It seems to me you had some staff members and board members that needed some intimidation from a huge muscle daddy.”
“And what do you think, sir?” he asked.
“Pretty nice digs. I’ve never had an office in a high rise. I tend to work outdoors mostly,” I replied.
“Hence the perfect golden tan,” he said, making sure I felt complimented.
“I have an awesome tan line,” I said, smiling. “I’ll have to show you sometime.”
“That would be wonderful, sir,” he answered.
I pushed my chair back a little and put my feet up on his desk. It was a bold move. I was ready to take my presumed dominance – even in his office - to a higher level. I crossed my giant legs and made it so we looked at each other between my huge work boots. I could see Bradley staring at the size of my shoes. I saw him swallow hard, but I also saw a little gleam in his eye and knew right away that he was rising to the challenge in more ways than one. He finally got up from his chair slowly, making sure I got a great view of the hard cock unashamedly pressing against his suit pants. Of course, it was a given that his clothes were tailor made. He looked impeccable. He walked around his giant desk, not even trying to hide the rocket at his crotch. When he got near my massive thighs he looked at my face and without him saying a word I knew exactly what he wanted. I impressed the shit out of him when I raised the top leg almost straight up, showing how flexible I was. He stepped in between my legs and turned toward me. I lowered the big thing back to the desk and immediately squeezed – pulling him closer by flexing my muscled calves. Our hard-ons were pressing against each other and the small man started running his hands up and down by big quads, purposefully avoiding my hard shaft. We both looked at how tiny his fingers and palms looked compared to my mega thighs.
“I could smash your little body until you passed out, Bradley,” I said.
“I know you could, sir,” he replied and I could feel his hands tremble a little with excitement.
“Would you like me to do that?” I asked – and my tone was suddenly serious.
His face showed that he was right there with me as far as intensity goes and he said, “No, sir, I’d rather not have to change my clothes and I know I’d certainly explode right before I blacked out.”
“You know, of course, that you really don’t have a choice,” I continued – just to emphasize my point. “Those big things wrapped around your body control the situation completely.”
“Yes sir, I do, but I have a feeling that if I ask politely you’ll save this particular thrill for another time,” he responded as he continued to stroke my thighs.
It took almost all of my strength not to immediately squeeze the breath out of the little guy. He was right, for sure. I wouldn’t do anything without his approval. That approval didn’t need to be verbal, though. Sometimes, a muscle daddy just knows what his pup needs by looking at him. Bradley wasn’t ready to feel the full force of my giant trunks. He was not a delicate man, but we both knew he wouldn’t last long if I chose to intensify the pressure of my legs. I lessened the present light compression just to help myself move away from uncontrollably squashing him – just because I wanted to so much. I was proud of myself for waiting. This little guy was proving to be way more than I had ever dreamed possible in a worshipper and I wanted to make sure he knew how much I appreciated him.
“Your self control amazes me, sir,” he said with much admiration.
“We’ll wait, tiny fella, we’ll wait. You’re certainly worth it,” I said, smiling. “What’s it feel like to be the top man of this place?”
“Probably the same as when you have a small guy between your legs and you know you could squeeze the life out of him,” Bradley replied.
My legs automatically tightened at his response. I couldn’t help myself. He had pushed all of the right buttons to egg this alpha on. He was toying with me – trying to see if I could hold out. Then I realized it was another test. That made it easy for me to not squeeze. I lessened the pressure and just smiled. Bradley smiled, too. He was beyond impressed by my ability to not give into my base desires. He knew a sign of a true muscle daddy was to always be in control – to be the one that makes all the decisions, even when it comes to getting off. He was getting closer and closer to offering himself completely to me.
“It would be hot to watch you turn red and see your eyes bug out, but we’ll have to wait until another time,” I said, making it clear that I was still in control.
“You’re getting closer to the prize,” he said with much sincerity.
“Am I? And what if I just took the prize whenever I wanted to?” I asked.
“You would never do that. We both know that the moment will reveal itself to us at the same time. It will be like two bolts of lightning coming together. There’s a few more things we need to find out about each other,” he said, calmly – still stroking my legs.
“You mean like whether or not I squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom or the middle of the tube?” I questioned.
“Yes sir, something like that,” he answered, chuckling at my joke. “Or maybe more like whether my muscle daddy can truly meet all of my needs.”
“Little man, Bradley,” I said leaning forward a little, “I need a jolt of that lightning you spoke of right now. That’ll show you what I’m capable of.”
He knew what that meant. The guy grabbed the sides of my face and drew our mouths together. My entire body tensed hard when our lips met and his tongue darted in. I’m pretty sure we stayed locked together that way for a good ten minutes – or even longer. My rough stubble and mustache scraped his pretty face raw. By the time we separated our heads we were both so hard that it was clear we shouldn’t even be touching each other. I removed my legs and set his small body free. He leaned back against the desk and I spread my legs wide enough so my knees were about a foot from his body – even that was too close.
“Damn, boy, I’d still don’t know where you learned to suck face like that?” I said, desperately trying to calm my body down.
“It just depends on who I’m kissing, sir. If the connection is there the sucking face part just comes naturally,” he replied and I knew he was right.
“So you feel it, too, don’t you, Bradley?” I asked and I could see by the look on his face he was ecstatic to finally talk openly about what was going on.
“Butch, sir, I haven’t gotten anything done at work today. I’ve been too busy thinking about you,” he replied honestly.
“Why the hell do you think I came over – I’ve been having the same problem,” I responded.
We just stared at each other. This was one of the last hurdles to clear before we dove head first into this magic that was happening between us. I ached for the man. I had been searching for someone of his caliber for over thirty years. He had no idea how I could rock his world, but I was determined to show him. I could see he was thinking the same thing about me. He was dying to submit himself totally to my alpha-ness. He was desperate to give up control – since he never ever got to. I could feel Bradley internally begging for something even though he was a few feet away. I just knew it like I knew my own face. I brought my arms up slowly, balled up my fists, and then started flexing my biceps to their full height. The small guy let out a whimper that made me tense even harder. Somehow, I made my big guns bulge bigger, harder and stronger than I ever had before. I saw a tiny dark spot appear at Bradley’s crotch and I knew he just couldn’t help himself – a little spooge had to bubble out. I didn’t hold the flex long. I instinctively knew I should not. It would have been too much for the little guy. I brought my arms down and put my hands in my lap. I gave Bradley a few minutes to recover.
“What do you bench,” he asked quickly and I instantly knew he was in interview mode.
“More weight than you can imagine,” I replied, and his moan told me I had answered correctly.
“How big are your guns?” he continued.
“Much thicker than your tiny waist,” I replied and he moaned even louder.
“What’s your favorite thing to do with a little man?” he asked, even more excited than before.
“Walking around the room while I hold him upside down and we sixty-nine,” I answered, now anticipating the moan. I knew it was my turn so I asked, “How much are you worth?”
“More than the GNP of some small countries,” he replied and it was my turn to let out a little gleeful sound, although mine was much deeper.
“What’s your favorite muscle on a big man?” I asked.
“The one that’s the largest!” he said laughing and then he added, “I’m a gun man, sir, but I love them all.”
“And what’s your favorite way to worship a muscle daddy?” I joyously asked, knowing his answer would thrill me – no matter what it was.
“Facing him while I sit on his lap straddling his quads with his big pole inside me. I love groping all of his upper body as he slowly invades me,” Bradley said confidently, knowing full well that I’d get a small wet spot on my jeans, as well – which is exactly what happened.
It was clear we needed to shut up for a while. We simply stared at each other and the electricity between us was palpable. The little pup was gorgeous – all suited up with expensive cufflinks, shoes that probably cost more than my truck, and a blue pin-striped suit that was so impeccably made I didn’t think I’d have him take it off even if we were to have sex right there in his office. He was staring at me with the same kind of lustful eyes as me.
“I gotta have you, man,” I said – staring into his eyes.
“Do I have a choice?” he responded.
“Always . . . you know that. But give me the sign that you’re mine and I’ll make sure you never have to worry about a single thing for the rest of your life,” I said with a tone that was both serious and inviting.
“I was just teasing, sir. I know I have a choice. We both know there are a few more things we need to sort out before this thing between us is signed on the dotted line. You know, I went to one of your construction sites today – to chat with one of your crews so I could get an idea of what kind of guy you are outside of a big-man bar,” he confessed – and the look on my face made it clear that I was both surprised and pleased.
“Yeah? What did you find out?” I asked.
“All of them said you were the most fair boss they’d ever have and they loved working for you. A few even said they’d been with you for over thirty years. One guy was hilarious – he just kept talking about how ‘fucking’ strong you were and I could tell he was getting excited,” he said, smiling at the last part.
“That would be Damien. You must have gone to the site a few blocks from here. Yeah, he’s a muscle whore. He makes me show off every time I come to the yard. He’s such a strength junkie,” I replied.
“I could tell.” Bradley responded.
“You find out anything else?” I asked.
“Yeah, you’re respected. That’s what I had gone to find out. Your crew respects the hell out of you,” he said – and I heard a definite tone of approval.
Bradley had surprised me – something that didn’t happen very often. He had taken the initiative to find out more about me. He had said he wanted to know me outside of the habitat of a dark bar where big men cruise little guys. He was making sure I wasn’t one of those muscle daddies that said all the right things, but when it came to a relationship I turned into some kind of tyrant that belittled or, even worse, abused my pup. It wouldn’t have been enough for me to tell him I was a straight up kind of guy – he needed to find out for himself. That’s probably what made Bradley such a successful businessman.
“Funny, I asked the two beefy security guards what they thought of you,” I told him.
“Of course you did. And what did you find out?” he asked.
“That you stop by every day to chat with them, which they appreciate very much, by the way,” I replied. “You also sometimes bring them doughnuts. That’s calories, little man.”
“They’re both fit as hell, sir. I don’t think I’m ruining their figure,” he replied.
“So . . . you’ve noticed their muscles, have you,” I said, standing up and moving towards him and wedging my big body between his legs.
“How could I not . . . sir?” he replied – and I felt his cock hardening against my crotch.
“Hmmmmm . . . and how do they compare to me?’ I teasingly asked.
“They’re like fleas next to you, sir.” Bradley cooed.
“Oh yeah, I like the sound of that.” I said, bringing my lips down to his neck.
“You could squash both of them with one swat,” he said to egg me on even more.
“I bet you’d like to see that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Bradley?” I responded.
As I spoke my breath made goose bumps pop up all over his neck – and probably the rest of his body. As soon as my tongue hit skin he sucked in air loudly and immediately stopped speaking. His hands instantly traveled up my thick forearms and quickly rested on my bulging biceps. I kissed his neck silently and he groped my big arms – trying desperately to dent in the hardness.
“I’m lost in you,” I whispered.
“That’s funny, with you it seems I’m found,” he answered softly.
“I’d do anything for you,” I said – and it was the most honest thing to ever cross my lips.
“And I’d never ask for anything you didn’t want first, sir,” he replied – just like an obedient pup.
It’s a powerful thing to know that you could easily make a man submit to you and yet you still wait for his permission to dominate him. I was so much bigger and stronger than Bradley it would have taken almost no strength at all to force him to do anything I wanted him to. There was a part of me that wanted to grab the little man and manipulate his body and his will for my own pleasure. I called this part of myself “The Beast.” Being a true muscle daddy meant that I had learned how to control The Beast. Throughout the ages many men – Neanderthals, Vikings, gladiators, rednecks – had let The Beast take over their lives. These men were never satisfied and it was mainly because they never found true companionship. It is only when you can tame The Beast and wait for permission to dominate that the connection with someone else becomes so intimate that complete satisfaction happens. A true muscle daddy knows this. It’s very difficult to reach this point, though, to finally be strong enough and smart enough to not give into the needs of The Beast. There are certainly times when The Beast can be released – lifting at the gym, when three or four men pick a fight with you, and during intense sex – but learning to control that part of you is what separates us from the animals. I wanted to grab Bradley’s shoulders, lift him off the desk, and then press down with so much power that his legs would buckle and he’d end up on his knees, the perfect position for me to stuff his mouth with my hard throbbing meat. I’d then face-fuck him so hard that he’d pass out from our mutual explosions. I, however, knew how to control this desire – to not give into actions that would give me immediate pleasure, yes, but would not create an enduring relationship with this man that had now entranced me so. I wanted Bradley more than I wanted immediate gratification. A muscle daddy learns to control his body and his desires. He knows this will ultimately bring about a deeper and more fulfilling satisfaction. I had a feeling this little man in front of me was that ultimate prize for me. He made it easy for me to control The Beast. I could sense that Bradley understood this.
“I almost want you to just take me, now,” he knowingly whispered.
“As you say, it’s not time,” I replied.
“It seems the strength of your will matches that of your body, sir,” he said.
“The perfect pup is worth the wait,” I answered, knowing full well the word would make his cock twitch. “I’m strong enough to wait for something as good as you.”
When exactly does lust turn into love. When does a muscle daddy move from just wanting to plow the ever-living daylights out of a little fella to the point of wanting him to become his pup? A pup is so much more than a toy. A toy is just there for pleasure. A toy serves a purpose, for sure. It helps the muscle daddy to get his rocks off and usually it means multiple times in one night. There is, however, no long-term commitment with a toy. You simply play with it until it becomes boring or worn out. Most boy-toys don’t even realize they’ll never reach pup status. They actually think you can work up to being a pup, like you might advance in an office. It doesn’t work that way, though. You have to come into a relationship already at pup status. There were many times I took little guys home even though I knew there was no chance in hell they were ready to be my pup – I was just basically using them to bust out a giant wad. Most of the time they knew that, too. But always, during the night of sex and worshipping, the boy-toy falls for the muscle daddy. It’s just the way of the world. I’d always end up breaking hearts, but there was no way I could become entangled with someone not capable of being a true pup. Most people think the muscle daddy turns a guy into a pup – as if he waves some magic wand. It’s not that way.
The first thing a pup has to have is potential. A muscle daddy can sense right away whether or not a guy can be molded. There are lots of things that can prevent a guy from being enhanced by a muscle daddy – stubbornness, stupidity, apathy, and so much more. A true pup, however, opens himself to all possibilities – in the bedroom, in learning from his big man’s wisdom, in exploring new ways to serve and many other joyous avenues. Bradley oozed potential. His small frame would definitely take to building muscle like a fish takes to water, but it was his emotional potential that got me juiced the most. The man was desperate to be controlled. He lusted for domination much more than he desired my big body – and he desired my muscles big time.
“When will it be time, sir?” Bradley asked, softly.
“The moment you realize your heart will break if I left your side,” I replied.
“That time is close,” he responded.
“For both of us,” I added.
“What makes you the one, Butch?” he pushed further.
“I anticipate your needs. I desire to make you happy more than I want to please myself,” I responded, truthfully. “You are changing, too. You are taking the required time to learn how to give up control. You are finding out what it takes to trust someone completely. You trust no one, Bradley. It’s the burden of being a powerful and rich man. I have to earn that trust. I have to prove that I would use every ounce of my strength to make sure you are safe. Your body is also getting ready – ready to submit itself to me in every way. I will make you have orgasms you never thought were possible. I will, however, also expand your mind and your inner strength. In the gym I will push your body way beyond what you thought were your limits. I will force you to stretch your muscle worship fantasies to new heights by fulfilling them one by one. You won’t be my slave, Bradley, you’ll always have free will – but you’ll be my devotee. You’ll want to please me as much as I please you. You’ll want to make this muscle daddy proud as often as you can. Making me happy can be a full-time job, boy.”
“I think I’m up for the challenge,” he answered.
“I know you are,” I shot back.
I tensed my entire body – making my big biceps bulge more and my chest puff out even further. None of this was missed by the pup. He was watching every part of me at one time. His gaze always seemed to come back to his favorite part – my arms – but he didn’t want to seem too partial. I took some time to look at him. I had no idea why a crisp white shirt, a fancy tie, and some butt-hugging slacks could make me so horny, but at that moment my hairy mega balls were scrunched up in edging delight. He looked immaculate. The clothes were clearly tailored, for they fit him like a glove. He was like a big old chocolate bunny you got at Easter – I could have gobbled him right up. I loved slacks because they weren’t made to hide hard-ons. His pulsing cock was outlined against the light gray material in a way that almost left nothing about the gorgeous thing to the imagination. I could see the perfect mushroom head, the shaft’s surprising thickness, and the substantial balls threatening to tear his expensive clothing.
“That’s quite a tribute to this big old man,” I said, my head tipping in the direction of his crotch.
“A muscle god deserves a worthy offering,” he replied softly – knowing his words would thrill me.
“Could you call up those two security guards? I need to let off some steam and beating them both at wrestling would do the trick.” I asked.
“That’s something I’d like to watch,” he answered, without moving.
“You’ll get the chance as soon as you’re under what I like to call my ‘muscle daddy’ protection,” I shot back.
I sometimes beat off to pictures of guys in catalogs for stores that sold preppy clothes, suits, and even tuxedos. A well-dressed little man was like a lightning rod to my own huge tool. I didn’t like wearing those clothes, myself, although a button down shirt pulled so tightly across my chest that you could see the buttons were about to pop off was pretty hot. No, there was just something about a cute face, light-for-lifting body, and a firm bubbled ass decorated with form fitting, lip-smacking neat, expensive clothes that could unleash the Beast in me more than almost anything else. I needed to live out some of my muscle daddy fantasies with Bradley – mainly to distract my mind so I wouldn’t attack him right there in his immaculate office.
“You have a different suit for every day of the year, don’t you,” I asked, smoothly.
“And then some,” he replied, knowing it would send me through the roof. “I also have them personally pressed at my house . . . daily.”
When I talked about my huge muscles or what they could do, I turned on Bradley so much that he couldn’t hide his reaction or his erection. When he talked about his clothes, his preppiness, his smallness, or his business power it did the same thing to me. The crotch of my jeans was so tight because of my hard-on you would have thought I had an anaconda in my pants – especially because it was throbbing so noticeably. Bradley wasn’t through with me, yet.
“I also wear silk pajamas,” he softly said.
“Fuuuuuuccckkk,” I growled and suddenly I was worried I might lose control of my anaconda.
“And I have a warm, comfortable robe for every night of the week,” he tauntingly added.
I let out a very loud growl and I was standing up in less than a second. I grabbed him by the waist with my huge hands and lifted him high in the air above my head before he could even blink. I immediately started walking around the office to calm myself down. I needed to show him my power to even out our playing cards – to show him that I could toy with him as easily as he could with me. I looked up into his shocked, but thrilled face – staring down at me. I had moved as quickly as a jaguar – something he didn’t expect from someone so big. I had also raised his body into the air with such little effort he had instantly been reminded of my true strength – my ability of true domination. This is the reaction I had wanted. I needed him to know I could always take back the reins of control no matter how turned on he made me. Then, like a lightning flash I realized this entire exchange had been another test. His face now had the kind of smile that confirmed this revelation. He had wanted to make sure I couldn’t be forced to lose control. He needed to know that his big muscle daddy would always be in charge – even of his own big body. This knowledge made me tense my arms, tighten my grip at his sides, and start lifting his body up and down in the air as I continued to walk around his big office.
“You want to slam me against the wall, don’t you, big man?” he asked, knowing the answer already.
“Yes, but I would never hurt you. I want to do it only to show you my power,” I replied. “You need to know I’m always in control of my huge body . . . my will . . . my emotions.”
“Yes,” he said, knowing we understood each other in a way absolutely no one else would understand.
“Maybe I’ll just rip that crisp shirt off of your body and turn it into shreds,” I answered – still holding him in the air.
“No you won’t. It turns you on to much,” he replied.
“You know me so well,” I said.
“We know each other so well,” he softly answered.
I stopped walking and we just stared into each other’s arm. We were now teetering on that deep abyss called love. We both knew that soon and very soon we would join hands and jump into that darkness with our eyes and hearts wide open – we would become muscle daddy and pup in a bond that no one or nothing could ever separate. My own heart was about to explode from desire for this gorgeous young pup. I wanted to fill his every waking hour with pure muscle joy – like a good older muscle daddy should. He completely understood how smitten I was, because he felt the same way, too. Our moment of intimacy was interrupted by a woman’s voice.
“Mr. Smithson, do I need to call security?” his secretary asked.
“Not unless you want to watch them be easily defeated,” Bradley said without taking his eyes from mine.
“I heard something like the cry of a wild animal, sir,” she added.
“That was just my big friend, here, getting excited as we worked out the details of a big merger,” Bradley responded – still staring at me.
“Shall I draw up so papers, sir?” she asked.
“No, this is the kind of merger that is sealed in a much more intimate way and place than in a boardroom full of lawyers. You might want to start looking at china patterns for me, though.” Bradley confessed – and the surprising information was not lost on Sarah. Her response immediately told me she was very good at her job, but, then, I never doubted Bradley wouldn’t have the best.
“I know some excellent wedding planners, sir,” Sarah said, and both Bradley and I turned to see her big smiling face before she turned and left the office.
I immediately set the young handsome man down on the floor, noticing he was a little unstable merely because he had already gotten used to being held in the air. I took a step back. The word ‘wedding’ had made all of this emotion . . . all of this lust . . . all of this desire instantly real. I was suddenly a little dazed and confused. Bradley sensed all of this. He simply stepped forward, grabbed the front of my shirt, pulled, and was thankful that I bent over. He then kissed me gently, passionately, and lovingly. Instantly, my mind was clear and that one-point focus returned. His kiss made my body invincible. He made me feel like Superman. My muscle daddy-ness came roaring back into my body with a force so strong I had a feeling I could twist a bunch of iron girders into a bouquet for him. He pulled his face back and looked me in the eyes with a type of love I had never sensed before. It almost brought tears to my eyes. I knew what he was going to say before it even came out of his mouth. I realized, instantly, that a moment as special as this would never come again. I forced my humongous body and mind to be fully present – so I’d remember how all of this felt for the rest of my life.
“I need you to be my muscle daddy, Butch,” Bradley said with more love than I knew was possible. “I don’t ever want to take another breath without you by my side. I offer you my heart, knowing you’ll protect it as if it were your own. I want you to help me to give up control.”
I knew I didn’t need to respond with words. A man like Bradley needed actions. I raised my right arm into the most tensed biceps flex I had ever done in my entire life. I marveled at how blessed I was as the small man moved his face toward my big gun. When his lips met my hard muscle my body shook with incredible joy, my heart was filled with a love that couldn’t be explained, and my mind became completely jammed with only thoughts of Bradley. I instinctively knew to cup the back of his head with my other big paw and push his face into my big biceps even harder. I was sealing our muscle daddy – pup pact with a loving, but domineering action. It was what Bradley needed me to do. I was still – and would always be – a muscle daddy, no matter how much I loved the young man. That’s how he needed it to be. That’s what he wanted more than anything. I slowly brought my big arms down and wrapped them around the gorgeous man of my dreams. I lifted him off the ground in a tight, powerful bear hug. I surrounded him with muscle, but, even more so, I surrounded him with my daddy-ness. The end.