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Mr. Gamboli-Muscle Stud

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Mr. Gamboli

 

 

I was at the gym in the town where I grew up and went to high school. While working out I heard a name I knew and that made me smile. Mr. Mike Gamboli was my math teacher for three straight years while in high school and he was the one that turned me and about ten other guys on to bodybuilding. Mr. Gamboli was pure Italian with olive skin and dark curly hair. Years ago he worked part time at this very gym and he started a program to encourage guys my age to stay fit for a lifetime. 

 

The program was designed for us to learn proper lifting technique, proper nutrition, and to learn our limits as well as safety. I think that all of us stayed with the program and continued to lift in college. I knew I would never join the pro bodybuilding ranks because I was built like a swimmer or basketball player. That didn’t mean I wasn’t buff and muscular, I just didn’t have the muscle size it takes to win contests.

 

A few years ago Mr. Gamboli moved away and it is rumored that he doubled his salary in California… the Mecca of bodybuilding. Now he was returning to New Orleans for a bodybuilding contest and I had a ticket for the main show on Saturday.

 

The business I had in my hometown was resolved so I headed to New Orleans mid week and when in New Orleans you eat, drink, and then drink some more until it is time to eat again. And when you need a coffee break how can you have French Market coffee without a plate of beignets (doughnuts) covered with powdered sugar. Then you go to supper and afterwards you have to go to Pat Obrien’s for a Hurricane (rum punch drink). You fall into bed and do the same thing again the next day.

 

I was stumbling into the hotel around midnight planning to crash. I was waiting for an elevator when I heard my last name being called. I didn’t see anybody familiar and was about to step on the elevator when a hand clamped onto my shoulder.

 

“Stevens?”

 

“Mr. Gamboli?”

 

“Looking good Stevens,” he replied as he looked me up and down. “Are you staying here in the hotel?”

 

“Third floor,” I smiled. He held up his room key envelope. The number on the front was 321. “I’m in room 325.” I grinned. “I heard you are competing in the bodybuilding contest.”

 

“Yep. Hey why don’t you come to my room and we’ll catch up over a beer… water for me,” he chuckled. “And call me Mike.”

 

“As long as you call me Lenny and not Stevens,” I said.

 

“Agreed,” he said as the elevator door opened. As we rode up together we traded information about our lives since high school all the way to the room. Do I have to remind you that a beer is just as acceptable at midnight as it is for breakfast if you are in New Orleans to party? I planned to sleep until noon anyway. Mike was teaching college now and I told him I was a CPA working in Memphis. I didn’t bother to tell him I just resigned from the firm to start my own business. Once in the door Mike immediately excused himself and ran into the bathroom. I drank some bottled water he handed me and sat on the sofa.

 

“Hey Stev… Hey Lenny I need to jump in the shower. Be right out.”

 

“Take your time,” I muttered. Five minutes later he came out drying his hair. “Holy fuck Mr. Gamboli!” I gulped.

 

“What you never saw a naked man?” he laughed. “The name is Mike!”

 

“Your body is ripped! Fuck yeah! Damn you are huge!”

 

“Contest ready,” he corrected with a big grin.

 

“How do you conceal the sausage?” I asked looking at his cock and balls. He had at least eight inches of soft man meat hanging between his legs. He stopped right in front of my knees making no attempt to cover up. “Um-mm M-Mike,” I stuttered. He tossed the towel and straddled my knees until we were practically cock to cock.

 

“Young Lenny Stevens all grown up. What are you about 6’3” or so? I know you want to run your hand all over my body. Have you come out of the closet yet?” he asked. My mouth was dry and I drained the water. “I knew you were gay back when you were a sophomore,” Mike added.

 

“M-Mike,” was all I could vocalize. A grunt of urgent lust escaped my lips when I looked down at his hardening Italian cock. I felt hot all over. My skin tingled and I wanted to rip off my clothes.

 

“The first sign that the formula is working is sweat. It has a sweet odor,” he said as he lifted my shirt. I let him take it off. He opened the empty water bottle and started gathering sweat off my chest, arms, and face… anywhere he could reach.

 

“W-what are you talking about,” I slurred.

 

“The first dose has been dormant since the graduation party. Remember the glass of punch the guys at the gym club raised to those of you that graduated? That was my gift to all of you for participating. All of you have huge potential Stevens. Wait until you see yourself. Wait until you see what is in store for your physique.”

 

My mind couldn’t comprehend what he meant. It was like a riddle. I was filled with lust for his muscles. I leaned into Mike’s chest and found one of his hard nipples with my tongue. I licked and chewed pausing only to attack the other nipple. My hands meanwhile were feeling and worshiping every inch of Mike’s hard physique. I heard the man begin to groan with pleasure. Occasionally he would start grunting when I got overly aggressive.

 

“Yeah, man that’s right, that’s how to do it. Suck!”

 

I saw that his cock had stretched to obscene proportions. I lowered my mouth to his twelve inch shaft and hungrily licked the pre-cum that was flowing like water. Suddenly I felt dizzy. I had succeeded in removing my shirt but Mike was sitting on my legs which felt like they could burst into flame at any second. I opened the zipper to relieve the pressure on my cock. It was so hard it hurt. I was beginning to lose consciousness when I felt his cock shoot in my mouth. I dreamed that I was being carried somewhere in Mike’s huge arms.

 

I imagined being thrown into bed and being smothered by hard sweaty muscles.

 

The next afternoon the maid found me still sleeping in the darkened room. Seeing me in bed she backed out of the room and slammed the door. That didn’t do anything for my throbbing headache. I felt like I was still drunk because I couldn’t balance. I knew I had a beer or two with Mr. Ga… Mike but beer doesn’t get me this drunk. I crawled to the bathroom to take a long piss. I began to wash my hands but couldn’t find soap so I flipped on the light and froze.

 

The man in the mirror was a hulking 6’3” figure whose shoulders could nearly span the bathroom doorway. His physique bore little resemblance to the body that rented this room 30 hours earlier. He had a thick corded neck and muscle-knotted shoulders, massive square pecs and awesome flaring lats that were pushing his 24” arms away from his body. There were rock hard abs as flat as a board, serratus fingers on his ribs, and outstanding obliques that formed an Adonis belt around a tiny waist. There were huge 38” thighs and a cock that would make any porn star jealous. The heavy low hanging ball sack contained golf ball sized gonads and the soft uncut dick was at least six inches long. He was perfectly hairless from the neck down and a shock of dirty blond hair covered his head and hung to his shoulders.

 

“What the fuck have you done with Leonard Stevens,” I asked my reflection. My voice was an octave lower and sounded so sexy it sent a chill though me. “Fuck, I like what I see,” I said as I began flexing. My cock rose to a length of ten inches and I stepped into the shower to stroke one out. That orgasm brought me to my knees in the tub. I licked the cum off the tile and then started the water to wash my stink away. Drying the new body I realized that none of my clothes would fit me. Digging through the suitcase I pulled out a 4X tank top and basketball shorts I use as workout clothes. I had shower sandals for my feet. I had to find a sports store to buy some sweats and clothes. Anything would look better that what I had on. Maybe I could find a big and tall store too. I called Mike’s room and pounded on the door but there was no answer. On the way downstairs to the parking garage I asked the maid to clean my room.

 

I had to re-learn how to get in the car because my shoulders were so wide. People in the lobby were gawking at my pecs but I have to say the cleft between my pecs was awesome. I moved the seat back because my chest was too close to the steering wheel. I couldn’t see my back but it too felt very thick as I leaned into the seat. It was strange that my body didn’t fit.

 

Returning to the hotel I was mistaken for a contestant. They seemed very disappointed they wouldn’t see me posing on stage almost naked. Mike never answered his phone or his door and I was beginning to think I imagined him being there in the hotel until I saw him on stage Saturday night. He did very well but wasn’t in the top ten in his weight class. I began to believe there was some politics going on when I saw a couple of the guys in the top ten. Mike had a better body than they did.

 

After the winners were announced and knowing Mike was backstage I got a chair out of my room and sat in front of his door. I needed an explanation.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Mike said smiling broadly as he approached. I thought about getting violent and trouncing him.

 

“No, I’ve been looking for you,” I said. Then I saw Mike scanning my body and he began hyperventilating. He went down on one knee and held onto the arm of the chair. He looked faint. I knew he needed food and probably water too.

 

“Len,” he said as he lifted his head. “You are more beautiful than I remembered. You were so young and untouchable… Help me into the room.”

 

Mike took a long hot shower and I helped him wash off the body makeup. Room service came with steak dinners a few minutes after were got out of the shower. As we ate Mike explained that the formula was a two step process. He also told me that the water bottle contained a double dose of his muscle growth formula. He planned to use that bottle of the formula to help win the contest because it would have temporally made him super buff as if he were super dehydrated.  

 

“You let me drink the whole thing,” I grinned.

 

“You had almost drained the bottle and there was no use stopping you,” he said.

 

“What happened after I passed out?” I asked.

 

“Fortunately for you, nothing. Fucking you would have negated any muscle growth. It may have even killed you. Three days is what you needed to make the muscle growth permanent and that is why I disappeared on Thursday and Friday. I avoided you all day today.

 

“And what happens after the three days is up?” I inquired. Mike stood and dropped the robe he was wearing. He sat across my knees facing me and began undressing me.

 

“We fuck, and fuck, and fuck!” Mike growled. “The muscles are now permanent as is your cock. I’ve waited almost ten years to fuck you,” he said kissing me. “I can stay in New Orleans the whole summer,” he said as he led my naked body to bed.

 

“And I can locate my new business anywhere in the country,” I added. He didn’t respond because he was too intent on kissing and lovemaking. It was days before I was able to fill Mike in on my plans to start a new business.

 

As we flew to California Mike began talking about the other nine guys that were in the gym club. He said that he would offer each one of them the formula and that we might have to use our physiques as an example of what was possible. My cock hardened at the thought of my high school buddies Tom and Ed having a physique like mine. The possibilities seemed endless.

 

Of course there were some negatives to taking the second dose of formula like having to explain the overnight explosion of muscles and a libido through the roof. Then there was being able to cum all night long. Also the aging process slowed down. That was why Mike moved to California. He explained that he only aged about one year for every ten. He thought it had something to do with the immune system since he never got sick; not even a cold.

 

I sat back pondering the possibility of being a hundred years old and looking like I was thirty, muscular, and in the prime of my life.

 

“Want to join the mile high club?” Mike whispered as they turned off most of the lights. I must have looked puzzled. “We could trade blowjobs,” he said wiggling his eyebrows.

 

“Why Mr. Gamboli!” I said as if shocked. “I’d love to…”

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I find it kinda funny that the guy in the pic is actually Corbin Bleu, a black guy. 

just putting that out there since he's not super popular and most wouldn't be able to tell from the black and white pic.

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So he's a black Italian! He actually looks like the teacher I was thinking about when I wrote the story.

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