“You’re getting so thick,” I said as he did a few poses for me in the bathroom.
“You like that, don’t you, kid?” he asked as he grunted into a new flex.
“You know I do,” I replied.
“Yeah, this huge daddy is packing on the muscle for you. Getting myself bigger . . . thicker, just for you. Look how massive I’m growing,” he responded and I could tell he was moving into that other world he called Muscledom as he watched himself in the big mirror beside me. “Gonna get so big you can’t reach around me to hug me, man.”
“You’re nearly there, now,” I said back.
“Then my big arms will just have to do all the hugging,” he said, still staring at himself. “Fuck, my chest looks like it could swallow you whole, boy.”
He loved his pecs and how big they had become. He had started working out like a fiend after a minor health scare three years ago and had quickly become this elder behemoth that turned heads and pushed around the amount of weight usually reserved for power lifters. He rolled his hairy, meaty slabs of beef up and down, slowly, knowing the action turned me on very much. I could tell he already planned on having me suck on that right nipple of his all the way home. I’d then have to make the left one not feel jealous this evening. His chest ballooned out way beyond his hard abs. He called it my punching bags and made me spar with his pecs all the time – my fists finally aching because they were no match for his muscles.
“Punch the bags a few times, boy,” he said, tensing his pecs.
“Someone might walk in,” I replied, knowing how he’d react even as I said it.
“Who the fuck cares. They’re not going to say anything. It might even turn them on, too,” he said, smiling a knowing grin that meant he hoped it did. “I worked chest today, those things are hard as rock.”
As the smack of my first punch echoed off the tiled walls, I noticed that the big chest did seem a lot harder and even bigger, for some reason. It was hard to believe this mountain of muscle had been my slightly overweight heavy partying older husband just a few years ago. The first sign of changes to his body had turned me on so much – along with the definite more aggressive attitude of the guy – that he had wanted more just to please me. He kept on calling me his little muse as he transformed into a muscle god. He had also turned into a tireless fucking machine. The guy that I used to have to beg for sex once a month now couldn’t got half a day without seeking me out in our big house and pounding me wherever he found me. It was about the eight punch by now and my fingers hurt. He had watched my feeble attempts to make him feel something with complete joy – staring at each small fist as it met his wall of pec muscle.
“Fingers need a rest?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” I replied, forgetting how that second word made him react.
Suddenly, there was a loud growl and his big arms were around my tiny waist within seconds. My face was slammed into the crevice between his mounds of muscle and I was off the floor in a flash. When I said ‘sir’ he went crazy with testosterone and had to squeeze the shit out of me every time. I found the pleasure of being surrounded by muscle more exciting than the fact that I couldn’t breathe. I heard someone stepping into the bathroom area where we were, but mountainous pecs surrounding my face prevented me from seeing the guy.
“Had to give my little fella a squeeze. Hope you don’t mind, dude?” my muscle daddy said to the man somewhere behind me.
“Um . . . not at all . . . uh, feel free to do . . . um . . . whatever you want . . . I’ll just . . . um . . . come back later,” replied the obviously freaked out smaller intruder who quickly vanished.
“I was kind of hoping the cute dude would have wanted to join us,” the muscled elder man said as he tightened his squeeze – cutting off more oxygen. “You should have seen the shocked look on his face.”
I immediately regretted the fact that I had not been able to see, but having my face slammed into his massive hard chest was definitely better. And with a kiss on the top of my head my elder lover dropped my body to the floor – knowing, instinctively, to keep his hands on my shoulder for a few seconds to help me with my post bear hug dizziness, which was caused partially by air depravation and mostly because I got so worked up being tightly surrounded by his muscles.
“Damn, son, you know what that word does to me. My little man shows me the proper respect and I just go crazy with lust. One day I might squeeze too hard,” he said, teasingly. “You’re getting lighter, sweetheart. Either that, or I’m getting stronger.”
We both knew what the right answer was. He dropped his sweats – struggling to get them over his enormous thighs, and cranked out a side chest pose after hiking up his briefs a little. I was in muscle worship heaven.
“All I could think about today as I was benching was getting these things monstrous, for you, boy,” he said through gritted teeth as he moved his body slightly back and forth to get a better view. “Gotta make you so mega pillows for when you sleep on top of me.”
This, of course, was where I slept every night. It was his choice – he said he needed to feel my body close to him all the time. That was also the reason he sometimes picked me up under one arm and carried me around as he did household chores. He said he couldn’t stand it when I was far away in another room. We also never knew when he’d get an urge for some sexual delight. He wanted to keep me ready for when the need hit. It was not as if I didn’t want it as much as he did. To be plowed by his huge body was like all the Fourth of July’s rolled into one at the same time. His cannon shooting off inside of me was better than any fireworks show. I took a moment to appreciate the size and muscularity of his humongous shoulder. It was not a muscle I usually stopped to stare at, but his was too big and gorgeous not to notice. I saw the bulge in his shorts getting bigger and his breathing had turned into heavy grunts. I knew what those were signs for. He was way beyond a point of holding back. I was suddenly in his arms again and my feet dangled off the ground.
“Gotta give you a big present, boy,” he said, gruffly, as he walked. “A bathroom stall will do nicely.”
“You’re too big, sir” I replied with enough of a whine to sound almost convincing.
“I fit in the handicapped one,” he answered. “And I won’t need to be the one that turns around. Thank goodness, since there’s not enough room.”
And we were off to be filled with much pleasure.