londonboy

"I'll put your car down when you agree to a date. How's that?"

"I guess bending the light pole wasn't enough. You need more, right? How about I lift a bus?"

"How 'bout I bend all this metal into an animal just for you."

When you say, "Make me cum."

He cracks coconuts open between his knuckles.

"Aw come on, you sure you don't want to arm wrestle?"

No one would dare wrestle him - until he said he'd take on twelve at one time. That's when guys volunteered. He easily won three rounds - with twelve new guys each time. He complained because he didn't even break a sweat.

When he says, "Marry me. I turn 56 next week and I plan on getting bigger. I'm also horny all the time." (he really turns 56 on January 24th - Woof!)

“Here’s why your fist hurts so much, pal,” he said, smiling an evil-like grin and lifting his sleeveless shirt to reveal flesh-covered bricks that bugled out like a mountain range. “It’s also why I didn’t flinch or move at all. You’ve got a pretty powerful punch, dude, but it’s nothing up against this.” He stepped closer and I swear I could feel heat radiating from his powerful mid-section. His eyes were magnetic and he just kept smiling, as if he knew something I didn’t. The veins on his arms bulged noticeably as blood pulsed through them. He tweaked his own nipples as he continued to gaze into my eyes – not dropping his stare for even a second. “You’re a fucking hot dude. You make me feel even more powerful. You’re turned on, aren’t you, straight boy?” he suddenly asked. “Hell no!” I stammered back. “Fuck you, freak.” “Oh, so you think I’m a freak, do you, pretty boy?” he said, stepping even closer. I was pressed up against my SUV – trying to think of a way to get around him. “I take that as a compliment. I’ve worked hard to turn into a freak. I’m glad you noticed. And, by the way, if anyone’s going to be doing any fucking, I can guarantee it’s going to be the freak.” He let his gaze dropped to my crotch for only a second and my massive hard-on, which I had no control over whatsoever, gave me away. He smiled even bigger when he caught my gaze again. His big fingers pressed into his hard bulging chest and I could see the skin didn’t dent in at all. He was definitely hard all over. “Your lips says no, but your crotch says yes, yes, boy,” he said, leaning in and inhaling deeply. “I can feel your lust and man it fills me with some kind of energy I’ve never experienced before. The heat between us is intensifying, little man. I’ve never felt so alive. How about you.” “I don’t . . . feel . . . anything,” I replied, but the hesitation in my words said something very different. “Oh yeah? Let’s change that, man,” he said as he pressed his insanely hard body against me. I was smashed against the back of my car. “Looks like you’re caught between a rock and a hard place. And I’m the rock and the hard place put together, aren’t I?” My body felt like it had burst into flames and the fire was consuming every part of me. The power his body radiated was unbelievable. It was also intoxicating beyond my wildest imagination. His body made the SUV behind me feel flimsy like cardboard. It was very clear that I had about as much chance of getting through him as I did punching my way through a mountain. My cock took over all control of my body and throbbed noticeably pressed strongly between us. “Cocks don’t lie, pretty boy. Your big tool is spilling the beans right now – telling me all I need to know,” the guy said, his face a few inches higher than mine and close enough for me to smell his toothpaste. “I smell lust and I somehow get the feeling I could make the aroma of semen come wafting up with very little effort on my part. How about it, fella, want to come for this big man?” “No . . . please . . . not here . . . please,” I begged in stutters. I was on the verge of a major explosion. “Not yet?” he asked, teasingly, and ground his own hard cock into mine menacingly. “Okay, little man. But later on when you’re beating off thinking about all of my had muscles pressed against you, I want you to remember one thing. It’s not nice to call big guys nasty names. Just because I’m into dudes doesn’t give you the right to call me derogatory terms – okay? And then to throw a punch at me just because I challenge your homophobia – come on, dude, was that really thinking straight, excuse the pun. I could punch through you and the back of your pretty car if I wanted to, but that’s not my style. I just figured it would be better to make you shoot harder than stone just because I pressed all my muscle hardness against you. Next time, think before you throw out slurs against a big muscle man, okay pretty boy?” “Yes . . . sir,” I replied, trying desperately to not ejaculate on the spot. I could see he contemplated finishing the job he had started, but then he merely flexed his body even harder than it already was, pressed me into the back of the car with more force, and then released me as he took a few steps back. He let his shirt fall back down over his incredible abs and I found myself relieved – cause seeing those hard things was turning me on. He then started laughing. “How was that, honey?” he asked in a jovial voice. “Shit, it was nice!” I exclaimed. “You know, maybe you’re right – a little role playing would be fun,” he said moving around to the driver side of the SUV. I adjusted my aching hard-on and moved to the passenger side. I had a feeling tonight was going to be awesome.

“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.

"Let's let all of this goodness out, shall we."

He can keep himself entertained for hours.

When he casually drops "I like it when guys squirt all over my chest" into the conversation.

When he says, "Time for me to win this thing."

Definitely my kryptonite.