“Give it here,” he said as I looked for a bottle opener in a drawer.
I handed him the beer bottle. He put the edge of the top against his dense nipple and pulled down quickly. The cap went flying off. My mouth dropped open wide and he just smiled at me – as if he were pitying a lesser soul. He handed out his hand for my bottle. I gave it to him and he repeated the process with his other nipple, as if he needed to show me that both sides were equal. My mouth dropped open wider. His smile got bigger.
“I’m really popular at parties,” he said and then he turned to look at my place. “Nice digs. I like the high ceilings and wide rooms. The place goes well with my big body. Mind if I get more comfortable?”
He had already taken off his shirt, which had almost caused me heart failure. The huge, gray Harvard sweatshirt didn’t hide his size at all, but it had certainly covered up his definition, fat nips, perfectly defined abs, and his tattoos. He saw me staring at the one plastered on his right shoulder, just above the well-muscled biceps.
“Are you religious?” I asked him, once I could get my mouth to work again.
“Kind of. It’s for when I tell someone it’s time for a ‘come to Jesus’ moment. I’m like a preacher that carries around his own altar to worship at.”
“It’s a very big altar,” I replied, finding some boldness in my quivering body.
“Don’t ever let anyone tell you size doesn’t matter.”
He unbuttoned his jeans and then pulled down the zipper slowly – teasing me with his eyes as he did. He then had to actually grunt a little as he struggled to push down his tight jeans over mega-sized quads, revealing white posers covering the kind of package you’d want to receive at Christmas – because it was huge. He took a sip of beer, making sure his biceps swelled nicely as he did it. He was watching my every reaction and loving it.
“Bigness runs in my family,” he said, grabbing one of the dining room chairs, sitting in it, and man spreading his legs in a very inviting way. “I’ve been blessed in so many ways.”
We had met in one of the only remaining gay bookstores in the city. He had been looking at the bodybuilding magazines (of course) and I had conveniently dropped in at the same time to pick up a newly translated novel by my favorite Spanish writer. It was the continuation of a series about a library of forgotten books that I had been anticipating for a long time. He had sauntered over to the counter as I was checking out, clearly having noticed that I had glanced at him over twelve times in the last five minutes. When it came to big men, I had no subtlety at all. He carried a big duffle bag – which screamed either he had just arrived or had been kicked out of someplace just that morning. He stood entirely too close for me to not acknowledge him – or miss the heat his big body put out. He towered over me – my face even with his shoulders. I looked up and smiled – saying nothing. It was a situation where I didn’t want to say something I’d regret and my mouth wasn’t working that well, anyway. His beauty and size made me speechless.
“I like that author. And that series is good.”
I’m a guy that likes all sorts of men – the clueless jock, the sweaty construction worker, the hairy fireman – but I did believe that reading separated the cavemen from the gentlemen. A good novel could almost be as good as sex – almost. I quickly glanced down at the cover of the book to make sure it didn’t announce that it was part of a series. It did not. This guy might actually read and know an author that I adored. He clearly picked up on my need to test to see if he really knew the novel – for he quoted a very important line from the other books, perfectly. He also did it in Catalan, which blew me away. I couldn’t really think for a few minutes because such a huge and gorgeous man knowing this author was like winning to giant lotteries on the same day.
“He’s one of my favorites.”
“You’ve got good taste. I’m Eduardo,” he said, holding out a beefy hand that engulfed mine.
“I’m Carson,” I replied – instantly noticing that he purposefully did not squeeze my hand hard, which I was thankful for and disappointed with at the same time.
“Carson, I hope I’m not being forward, but I’m new to town – hence the bag, and I don’t know anyone. I just got off a two-day bus ride from Texas and I could really use a beer. Could I buy you one at some place that’s your favorite? I’d like to get to know the neighborhood and my, hopefully, soon to be neighbors.”
What makes a guy trust a moment? What makes a guy make irrational decisions? Maybe, it was the fact that it was Friday afternoon on a cool summer’s day. Maybe it was the fact that I felt really handsome in my new tailor-made suit. Maybe it was the fact that I felt a connection with the guy. Or, more likely, it was because he was hot as hell and huge as fuck. But, I suddenly decided that this was an opportunity not to be missed and was aggressively bold.
“I live around the corner and have a fridge full of beer. I’m also cooking lasagna, tonight. Doesn’t that sound better than a bar?”
“It sounds like heaven, Carson. I might also give you some money if you’d let me take a shower. I’m pretty rank from the trip.”
“Of course,” I said, handing my money to the grinning lesbian behind the counter.
“Good for you, honey,” she said, winking at me.
And now, there was this huge man in white much-loaded posers sitting in my dining room, sipping a beer and staring at me with a look in his eyes that was both frightening and thrilling at the same time.
“What brings you to the city,” I asked, leaning against the counter that separated the large open kitchen from the dining room.
“My family didn’t take to the idea that I like men as much as I hoped they would. Disowned, disinherited, dissed completely – a story that’s been many times before. I decided I needed to be where my lust for cock wouldn’t be viewed as a ticket straight to hell.”
“Let me guess – the eldest son, the biggest son, and, with looks like that, the son that was going to give mom and dad the best-looking grandchildren.”
“Yes, to all of the above,” Eduardo said, taking another sip of his beer.
“Even if it’s a tale that’s been told before, it’s still pretty sad and unfair,” I said – with a seriousness that seemed to move him. “You look like you’ll be able to take care of yourself, though.”
“I do alright,” he said, staring right at me,” but sometimes it’s better having someone else taking care of you, you know. Satisfying one’s own needs can get pretty . . . lonely.”
My brain told me to sip beer – mainly to give my suddenly dry mouth some much needed liquid and to make my brain stop imagining Eduardo satisfying himself. He sipped, too, but was finishing his beer. I forced my body to move and went to the fridge to retrieve another one for him. When I turned around he had moved silently right behind me. I almost ran into that magnificent chest. I held up the beer and he took it, making sure his hand brushed across my fingers. This time, he merely held the bottle and put his thumbnail under the edge of the cap. He flicked it off easily and caught the thing in his other hand. I’m sure it was more party tricks. We were standing close enough for me to get a good whiff of his masculine musk – not even being close to ‘rank’ as he had called himself earlier. He noticed me inhale deeply.
“Mind if I take that shower now? I’d like to be clean for dinner.”
“On two conditions, though.”
“Maybe. What are the conditions?” he asked, suspiciously.
“One, I’m not taking money from you. My shower is your shower. And secondly,” I continued boldly, “you stay dressed only in your posers. They seem to make you comfortable.”
“Very comfortable. Carson, I like the way you think. I believe I might have met my first friend in the city. I’m looking forward to the lasagna.”
And with that, he turned around slowly and walked away – knowing I was taking a long drink view of his back, ass, and humongous thighs. He picked up his discarded clothes – how thoughtful – and then grabbed his duffle bag. As he walked down the hallway, without asking where he should shower, I suddenly realized he’d choose the master bathroom, anyway. The shower was big with multiple heads and it would be big enough for his huge body. The masculine smell of him lingered in the kitchen for a while, after he was gone. I stood there, sipping my beer and willing my body to calm down. There was a certain place in my bedroom where I knew you could stand and see perfectly into the glassed shower stall in the reflection of the mirror. I thought about going back and taking a long look. I’d seen the guy almost completely naked, already, but there was one big part of him I still longed to take a gander at. I refrained and jumped into action to start dinner. Twenty minutes later I was standing at the long counter looking at some mail and Eduardo walked out in only one of my enormous, white, thick, fancy hotel-grade towels wrapped around his waist. His muscles glistened a little from leftover water and his hair was ruffled from towel drying it. I noticed the towel looked small on him. He held up his empty beer bottle and I took it, heading to the fridge to get him another. He had his palms on the counter and was leaning forward when I came back. His arms were huge and it looked like he might start doing push-ups any second now. He took the beer and then noticed I was drinking something else.
“I switched to scotch,” I said, not telling it was done to specifically calm my wildly turned-on body.
“You’ve got a big place for just one guy,” he said, making his biceps tense a little as he pressed into the counter.
I found my gaze drawn to a little tuft of fur right above where the towel was folded over itself at his crotch. He surely saw where I was staring. This made him smile and I turned red. I quickly took a sip of my drink, letting the clink of ice cubes fill the awkward silence.
“It used to be for two,” I replied, and felt a little pang of sadness.
“Who’s the babe in the picture on the dresser?” Eduardo asked.
“That’s Carlos. My ex.”
“You have a thing for Latin men?” he inquired, standing up to his full height and squaring off his shoulders.
“I have a thing for men, in general,” I replied.
“Apparently, for big men, from the looks of his body in the picture.”
“I have been known to appreciate the male physique, yes,” I answered.
“How long has Carlos been out of the picture?”
“One month, tomorrow.”
“Ouch. Still raw, huh?”
“Still very raw.”
“Why is he no longer here?”
“He now lives with my best friend. They somehow forgot that golden rule of not coveting your neighbor’s or best friend’s husband.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Eduardo said and I could tell he genuinely meant it.
“Don’t be. I took a sledgehammer to his Mercedes. He didn’t press charges. He says we’re even.”
“How long were you together?”
“Eleven years, three months, and two days . . . but who’s counting,” I replied, laughing at my own joke and then taking a large swig of my scotch.
“There’s part of me, by the way, that’s not sad to hear you’re newly single,” he said, gazing intently into my eyes. “I came out to see if would be okay for me to wear some different posers for dinner. The white one’s have been on me since Texas. I have some gold ones I think you’ll like a lot.”
“As long as they are as hot as the white ones,” I said, wanting to ask him if I could have the one’ he’d worn since Texas for some all-night sniffing – but decided against it.
“I’m hot in whatever I wear,” he said, holding up his beer for a toast.
“I’ll drink to that,” I replied, tapping my scotch glass against the bottle.
“It would only be fair, it seems to me, if you wore as little as I am going to for dinner, though. I noticed some hot looking running shorts hanging in the bathroom. I’ll expect you to change into those before dinner.”
And then he walked away, taking his beer and returning to the bedroom down the hall. Luckily, I had dated the hot muscle head, Carlos, for eleven years. He was nowhere near the size of Eduardo, but he was pretty big and well developed. I’d gotten over any inadequacies brought on by being nude next to a bodybuilder years ago – thanks mainly because Carlos had insisted I turn my smaller frame into something pretty hot, myself. He said he didn’t want to date a dweeb and made it his personal goal to beef me up, slightly. I had a build I could be proud of – even if I didn’t bulge out everywhere like the body of my house guest. I looked forward to eating dinner with Eduardo in my shorts. Eduardo waddled out later on in some shiny golden posers that brought out his dark skin perfectly – indeed, he did look hot in anything he wore. He entered the room cockily and I, again, marveled at his magnificent body.
“How’d you get so big?”
“Mostly genetics. You should see my dad, he makes me look small. But I also worked out hard starting around grade nine. Having a dad into bodybuilding helps you to grow.”
“I can imagine. Dinner is almost ready,” I said, handing him another beer and pointing toward the dining room table.
“Then shouldn’t you be changing?”
“I’m on my way. Hold your horses, buddy.”
“I’ve been holding my horses all day, Carson. And even a big man like me can only hold the beasts back for a little while,” he said without hiding the multiple innuendos at all.
As I passed by him, I glanced as his huge body again. The wide dark circles around his thick plugs caught my attention first. Man, I was a sucker for huge nips. They were highlighted by the clearly rock-had mounds of muscle that supported them. His pecs were broad, thick, pillows of flesh-covered stone and that got me so pumped. Even relaxed, his arms looked like he was flexing hard. They bulged with single thick veins snaking across both mammoth peaks. His traps made me hot and jealous at the same time. They looked like a second pair of shoulders. Forearms as thick as my own biceps screamed for my attention, as well. I definitely wanted to ride his ‘ready-for-saddles’ thighs – each seemingly having the thickness of a horse. I shook my head as I went down the hallway, bewildered that a man could build his body so beautifully immense. I took off my suit and hung it up. I then stripped and put on the black running shorts that were still a little damp from my blast around the park that morning. I glanced at myself in the mirror. I knew I looked good – tight runner’s body with a more than adequate face. I knew I’d be feeling a little inadequate across from Eduardo’s mega bulges at dinner, but I’d be proud of what I brought to the table. I was in no way a slouch. When I came back to the dining area, Eduardo let out a big whistle.
“Why Mr. Carson, I do declare,” he said, in a very bad southern accent, “I had no idea you were hiding such a fine specimen of manhood underneath that suit of yours. That’s a hot, tight body.”
“Thank you,” I replied, retrieving the food from the kitchen, waving Eduardo to stay seated when he started to get up to help. “Let me serve you . . . you know, to welcome you to our fair city. Who knows, maybe you can return the favor and serve me something later on.”
“I’d be happy to give you a very big portion later on, Carson. I’m hoping you can handle it.”
“No portion has ever been too big for me to handle, Eduardo. It seems appropriate to let you know that,” I said, serving the dinner and looking deeply into his eyes.
“Somehow, I think we’re not just talking about food, anymore,” the big man commented, smiling at me with a knowing grin. “I like a challenge, sir.”
“Oh, I’m not sure I’d like to compete with you, Eduardo. A big guy like you would dominate me in any sport. I’m just letting you know that I can be very accommodating. Huge men don’t intimidate me.”
“I like that word ‘dominate,’ sir.” Eduardo said, reaching out and putting his giant mitt of a hand on top of mine.
We both looked down at the table to take time to notice the size difference in our fingers and palms. His hand engulfed mine as if I was just a child. My crotch responded with what could only be described as an appreciative twitching. There wasn’t anything I liked more in the world than being ‘dominated’ by a larger, stronger, cockier man. Eduardo fit the bill perfectly. He pulled his hand away and we both started to eat. Allowing silence to calm our raging bodies a little. Our gaze, however, never broke from each other.
“What are your future plans, Eduardo?” I asked, trying to move away from the edge of mutual explosions.
“My plan right now is just to get bigger,” he said with a knowing smile. “Maybe it’s just a way to get back at my family, but – hey – inspiration comes from different places, right? I just want to keep growing.”
“You’re fucking huge now,” I said, without thinking – and it made him smile.
“But imagine me bigger,” he replied softly.
“I’m not sure my body can take thoughts of you being bigger,” I answered with complete honesty.
He took a huge bite of lasagna and chewed – even as he smiled. His eyes lit up as he took in all of my admiration and lust. His pecs rolled up and down just to taunt me and his huge nipples bobbed up and down. His foot met mine under the table and he placed it on top – pressing down teasingly. There was power in his legs – that was quite clear from how his big foot smashed mine. He kept taking giant mouthfuls of lasagna and staring at me. I needed to get my mind off of thinking about him growing larger.
“Tell me something about yourself that very few people know about you,” I said, taking a sip of wine.
“I get off on being submissive,” Eduardo replied, without missing a beat and the comment made me cough wine back into my glass. “You okay, there, Carson.”
“Um . . . no, the wine went down wrong. I’m thinking I might have misunderstood you.”
“Nope, you heard right. The quickest way to get me rock hard is to boss me around. I crave being subservient.”
The entire room suddenly seemed off-kilter – like one of those funhouses at a theme park where the floor was slanted or moved. I felt as if I were an unmoored ship – lost in a fog. The universe was suddenly not balanced. To make things even more strange, my already hard cock somehow shot painfully stiffer. The behemoth across from the table . . . the one with a foot presently dwarfing mine as it covered it . . . was, I think, telling me he liked taking orders, being dominated, serving someone else. My confusion, doubt, eager wonder must have shown clearly on my face.
“If I analyze it too closely, Carson, it’s probably somehow tied to my father’s cruelty, but I’m seriously working through all of that and I still long to be a ‘yes’ man to some other guy. I know I’m huge. I don’t have a self-esteem problem. I can be the dominant cocky muscleman any time it benefits me, but that’s not what gets me excited. That’s not the images I beat off to in bed.”
“And . . . um . . . what images do you . . . beat off to?” I asked, still somewhat baffled.
“Doing push-ups while a guy uses me as a footstool. Cranking out sweaty pose after sweaty pose as a guy tells me how to flex. Opening doors for a guy. Serving him breakfast in bed. Only wearing what he tells me to. Licking a guy’s feet when he offers them to me.”
“Sweet mother of . . . are you yanking my chain, Eduardo?”
The huge man pushed back his chair and stepped around to my side of the table. He never took his eyes from mine as he slowly knelt near my chair. He put his arms behind him, grabbing one wrist with the other hand. I have no idea what fueled my next action . . . it was just something I knew I was supposed to do. Maybe Eduardo willed me to do it. No matter what was the source, I turned in my chair and stuck out my right foot – placing the heel on the floor and making my toes stick upward. The muscled behemoth’s massive chest was heaving up and down with excitement. There was a look of total happiness on the big man’s face. His cobbled abs tensed up beautifully as he bent forward to take my big toe in his mouth. I had never experienced such an orgasmic sensation before. I cried out in pleasure as my cock spewed into my running shorts.