Popular Post londonboy Posted October 28, 2017 Popular Post Share Posted October 28, 2017 “You’re a big man.” “Too big?” “Is that even possible?” “Some men would say yes. Maybe not fitting through regular doorframes is their limit. Or maybe it’s not fitting comfortably on a single bed. Or sometimes it’s just a matter of buttons on a shirt being pulled way too tight. You’d be surprised by what turns a guy off.” “Do I seem turned off?” “No. Quite the opposite, really.” “I like it when a guy can’t find a shirt that fits him well. When everything seems too small and you can actually see skin between the strained buttons. As for the bed, a real man should never have to fit into a single. It’s made for children. I like it best when a king-size bed looks small because a big man is lying on it. And doorframes seem like they were made to be busted by shoulders . . . wouldn’t you say?” “I’ve ruined a few in my time.” “I bet you have.” “The best is when it’s a metal frame and my size just dents the thing to crap as I pass through.” “I kind of feel sorry for the frame.” “No you don’t.” Monstrous pecs bounced a little under the skin-tight t-shirt. Shoulders were pulled back a little and seemed to flare out even wider. Simply to impress. The poor weak shirtsleeves inched up mega biceps that seemed to pulse to twice their size. The weakened fabric seemed like a second skin – striations, veins, nipples, and hair so clearly seen. “It might interest you to know that I compete.” “I get the feeling you also win.” “I’ve got my share of trophies.” “Although, sometimes, a living, breathing trophy is the best kind . . . wouldn’t you agree?” The bulging thick neck swallowed hard. Luscious, manly lips parted in what could only be described as a deeply masculine slow gasp. The giant had been surprised – something that seemed unfathomable a few seconds before. Dark blue eyes grew wider, followed by a smile so gorgeous it could have slain an army. “I didn’t realize this was a competition. I would have taken my shirt off.” “Not a competition, exactly. More like an interview.” “I should have brought my CV.” “I hope it’s long.” “And hard?” A much-needed gulp of the vodka tonic sitting on the bar happened at the same time the behemoth took a long swig of his beer. Eyes never left the other. Both men seemed to need a few seconds to recover . . . to move back from the edge. “How much do you weigh?” “Whoa, big man . . . getting a little personal, aren’t we?” Silence. Eyes not leaving the other. “I weigh one hundred an fifty-six pounds.” “And I weigh three eighty.” There was no way either man could comprehend how much this shared information excited the other. Sometimes, cocks harden for the strangest reasons. Weight difference . . . and difference in size seemed to be a turn on for both the giant and the little guy. There was a need for another long swallow of both drinks. “I curl weight heavier than you.” “I’m not sure any of the furniture in my place is heavier than you.” “That make you nervous?” “Just the opposite.” “Not intimidated by size?” “No. Why would I be? The bigger the better.” There was so much sexual energy flowing between the two men at that point that if any human being had walked between them the poor person would have been electrocuted on the spot. “Some men are scared by my size.” “I don’t know why. Are you going to hurt me?” “No. That’s not why I’m big.” “Just as I figured. Although, sometimes a little pain can be erotic. You know, just to show me how big and strong you really are.” “Yeah? Only if it’s something you like.” “A little squeeze here. A little bear hug there. It can be fun for both of us.” “I like the way you think.” “I like the way you bulge.” Another need for retreat. Another need for a sip of cool liquids. The drinks were now finished and the man with muscles galore signaled to the bartender for another round. He held his arm up and signaled for two more by making the peace sign with his fingers. The smaller man stared at the biceps that bulged – though it was completely relaxed. This did not go unnoticed by the big man. “Shall I flex it for you?” “Please.” A chorus of angels. The beginning of an opera by Wagner. A thousand timpani drums pounding at the same time. The finale of a fireworks extravaganza. None of these came close to describing the moment when the giant tensed his arm and made his biceps bulge to full size. It was now time for the little man to gasp slowly and let his mouth drop open wide. Time froze still for both men. Nothing else mattered – except for bulging hard flesh, gaping eyes, and a wide-open mouth. It took a few seconds for the smaller man to return to earth. “Just a little thing I’ve been working on for a few years.” “There’s nothing ‘little’ about it. It’s bigger than my head. And probably a lot harder!” “I’m glad it pleases.” The giant released the flex. He knew it would be better for the continued conversation. He watched the smaller man’s gaze stay glued to the biceps even after he had lowered his arm and left it relaxed at his side. “I’m a verified muscle whore.” “I’m a verified muscle exhibitionist.” “It seems we were made for each other.” “It would seem so. Mind if I ask a personal question?” “I don’t mind at all. I’m an open book.” “Why muscles? Why a big guy? Why me?” “To be frank . . . all of that was secondary. You smiled when I smiled at you. That comes first with me. You were friendly . . . open . . . happy. Look around this place. Look how many people seem desperate . . . sad . . . lonely. You didn’t radiate any of that kind of energy.” “Neither did you.” “Now, my turn. Why me?” “Simple. You spoke to me. You engaged me. You actually spoke to me as a person.” “I’m not sure what you mean.” “Easy. Other guys only see my size . . . my muscles. You actually saw me. I guess – since you said it - it was my smile, but you talked to me like I was a person and not just a piece of big muscled meat. I actually felt like you wanted to get to know me.” “A man is much more than his muscles.” “Just as a man is more than his gorgeous tight ass.” “Are you saying I have a gorgeous tight ass?” “Well, now that you mention it . . . yes, yes you do!” “And you, my big friend, have a body carved at Olympus.” New drinks had arrived and just in time. Both men, again, took long swigs of alcohol to calm their libidos. It seemed that only common decency and the fact they were in a public place prevented both of them from ripping the clothes off of the other. A second long sip of both drinks was needed to calm the moment. “My name is…” “Wait! Let’s name each other. Let’s give each other the name we think the other should have.” “Um . . . okay. Wow. You’ll have to give me a second.” “That’s fine. I’ve already got yours.” “Yeah? What would that be?” “Atlas. Cause you seem to be holding up my entire world. And I think you could do it with just one arm. Maybe even one hand.” “How crazy is that? I’ve got a Greek name for you, as well. Adonis. Because you’re one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen.” “The god of desire.” “Yep, that’s the one.” The two men stared at each other. If eyes had been able to undress people, then both men would have been stark naked. Neither guy moved a muscle – small or big. Desire was dripping off of everything within five feet of both of them. Around them, the bar continued to move at a different pace – guys flirting, romances ending, drinks being served, and hearts beating wildly – but right there, at their corner of the bar all time stopped and it was only the two of them. Nothing else mattered. “It seems we’re the A-team. Both of us with a name starting with ‘A.’ And both of us Greek.” “Well, the Greeks did know a thing or two about the unspeakable love between two men.” “Yes, they did. And they had so much respect for the male form . . . for muscles.” “Kind of like you.” The big man spoke in a whisper. He wasn’t sure why, but he definitely felt the importance of the conversation and of the moment. He wanted to convey all of his respect, admiration, and lust in one sentence. He definitely succeeded. The smaller man was entranced . . . in love . . . entrapped. “I feel that worship is the only appropriate response to huge bulges.” “And I feel that worship should be rewarded . . . appropriately.” “Hopefully with more flexing, more groping, and more worshipping.” “Exactly.” This time the pause – the time out – was needed more than ever. It seemed that the two men were teetering on an abyss of no return. It was clear that each guy was so turned on that they were unable to fully register other people existed in the room. The world, for each, had become completely about the other. For a few seconds words were unneeded. The big man let the back of his hand – resting on the bar – brush up against that of the smaller guy. They both looked at the ridiculous size difference in front of them. “Your hands are enormous.” “Yeah. In high school, my baseball coach said there wasn’t a glove made for a paw as big as mine. I told him it didn’t matter. I just played without one. Not even he could hit the ball hard enough for it to hurt when I caught it.” “Have you always been huge?” “Pretty much. The doctor said it was all about genetics when I was younger. I guess both my parents came from long lines of huge people. My dad’s family was Vikings and my mom’s lineage was Scandinavian or something like that. When I was around ten years old I was flipping channels one Saturday morning, bored of cartoons, and I fell upon a bodybuilding contest on a sports channel. Immediately I was entranced. There was some huge super heavyweight going through his routine to a piece of classical music and I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Two important things happened at the end of his performance – I creamed in my pants for the first time, entering puberty, and I instantly knew my calling in life. I started lifting the next day – using an old barbell set of my dads – and haven’t stopped since. Some people say I took to it really well. I kept growing taller and pumped up huge immediately.” “I’ll say.” “In junior high I was bigger than everyone at school. Even the teachers. I was also stronger than all of them. My parents wanted the administrators to skip me a few grades – just to put me with boys my own size, but the principal said even college students were smaller than me. My father sat me down one night and gave me a stern talk about not being a bully and not using my size and strength in a bad way. He told me that – in a way – I was like a superhero that needed to always think about what was the right thing to do and to not hurt others. For some reason that talk stuck with me and I’ve been that way ever since.” “Lucky for us, mere mortals.” 47 3 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hardmuscl4life Posted October 28, 2017 Share Posted October 28, 2017 Well done. It's a great day which begins with one of your stories. Many thanks. George 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
liftme Posted October 28, 2017 Share Posted October 28, 2017 First, welcome back. Second, great start as always. You have a great talent and can't wait to see if this "interview" continues. Thank you. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
divis24 Posted October 28, 2017 Share Posted October 28, 2017 Another one out of the park! Thanks, LB! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
iceman751 Posted October 28, 2017 Share Posted October 28, 2017 Another great tale of muscle lust between two males, a small one, and a much, much bigger one from you LB! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hialmar Posted October 28, 2017 Share Posted October 28, 2017 This story is delightful. Just one little detail: 'Viking' was a job description of a Scandinavian who went abroad in the 9th, 10th and 11th centuries (beginning in the late 8th century), either as a merchant, a raider or a mercenary, so the big character is practically Scandinavian on both sides, which is flattering, I suppose. To 'go on viking', as it was called in some rune stone inscriptions, was to go abroad for financial purposes. It's funny how people outside Scandinavia imagine Scandinavians. I, who live here in Scandinavia, like to fantasize about big Irishmen, Britons, Finns, Poles, Ukrainians, Belarusians and Russians. Funny, isn't it? Oh. And don't forget the Hungarians. They seem to have a natural talent for bodybuilding. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
londonboy Posted October 28, 2017 Author Share Posted October 28, 2017 Thanks so much Hialmar. I learned a lot from what you shared. I really appreciate it. I like the fact that he ends up being Scandinavian on both sides. And now, I won't forget the Hungarians. Thanks, again. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hialmar Posted October 28, 2017 Share Posted October 28, 2017 3 minutes ago, londonboy said: Thanks so much Hialmar. I learned a lot from what you shared. I really appreciate it. I like the fact that he ends up being Scandinavian on both sides. I'm often surprised by how The British forget how much you have in common with us Scandinavians, historically. The Angles and the Jutes who settled in England (and gave it its name, Angle Land – while Jutland is a Danish peninsula now) in the 5th century, the Danes who governed the Danelaw in Yorkshire, Midlands and East Anglia in the 9th and 10th centuries, and the Normans who arrived in 1066 were all Scandinavians. We also share a Stone Age past, because of the Bell Beaker People who spread from Ireland and Britain to Scandinavia in the 3d millennium BCE, probably because of tin trade. 1 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
bunkyboo93 Posted October 28, 2017 Share Posted October 28, 2017 Such a delicious read! Hot and playful. I like stories where the bodies contrast -- but both characters are on the same wavelength! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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