no mmg The Ogre Part 1

[dmrppp]

THE OGRE - Part One

 

After I close my mailbox, I turn to look at the house in front of me. Across the street from where I have lived most of my childhood is a small run-down house. There is a man who owns it who is rarely seen - I've only probably seen him once - which is hard to imagine after living across the street from him for the last 13 years. Kids used to tell stories that in that small house was a giant ogre who would trap you, eat you, and grind your bones to make paint to repaint the sun-worn white siding of his lair. The house surely is in need of repair, so I guess no kids have met an unfortunate fate after stepping on his overgrown lawn. If anyone had been brave or stupid enough to take the perpetual dare to go and ring his doorbell, I'm now sure they wouldn't have been eaten, but something about that house sends a chill down my spine that I can only read as a sign warning me to stop staring, take the mail, turn around and go home.

 

Once inside, I quickly look through the mail, tossing the advertisements and newspaper on the kitchen table. I rarely get mail and I had my “big mail week” last week because of my 22^nd birthday, but as a habit, perhaps out of hope, I look through the mail – bill, bill, catalogue, and then I stop. In my hand is an envelope: an envelope addressed to the ogre.

 

My curiosity rises as I now had a name – the name of the mythic ogre. I drop the rest of the mail and beeline to my laptop. I google: “Michael McMann”.  Naively, I think an answer about the giant ogre would just be right there at the top of the search results, but it isn’t. The thought of now having to give this envelope to the ogre rings over me. To get to his mailbox I’d have to walk directly up to his door, past the gate – he might see me, or worse, prove the legend true and capture me. I think about how I could escape and then feel extremely foolish as I remember that our mail carrier puts mail in his box almost every day and she obviously hasn’t been eaten. I take a breath and decide to go now so that I wouldn’t have to go when it was dark.

 

In front of the gate leading to the house, I pause with the envelope in hand.

 

“Here goes nothing.” I sigh, “nothing’s gonna happen.”

 

I lift the gate’s latch and jump at the creaking noise the rusted hinges made.

 

“Shit! He’ll hear me.” I think.

 

My steps quicken as I approach. With the tarnished copper letter box in sight, I don’t know what came over me, but I ring the doorbell.

 

Immediately, I feel a drop of sweat roll down my back tracing the curve of my spine.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with me? Did I really just do that?”

 

Before I can think of what to do next, I hear what I can only think of as the ogre approach the door.

 

The sound of the peephole cover sliding open should have sent me running back to my house, but I froze. As the door swings open, I look at the shadowed figure before me. There is a sense of relief for this is no ogre. I see man. The largest man I have ever seen. I couldn’t help but stare at the comic-bookeque figure before me. My eyes stare at his chestnut shaggy hair, furrowed brow, and meet his piercing grey eyes. He looks at me waiting for me to speak.

 

I am mesmerized, following the scruff of his unshaven neck to swirl of his chest hair. His chest! I have never seen pecs that big. Their square shape discernible under the tight wife-beater he's wearing. When he moves his arm to wave at me like people do when you zone out, I am fascinated by the ebb and flow of his tricep, the spit peak of his obscene bicep, and the rivers of veins leading down the meat of his forearm. I feel my cock stirring to life. He is beautiful.

 

“Umm…are you - hello? Can I help you?” he chimes.

 

Startled by his voice, instead of responding like a normal human, I thrust the envelope out and when he takes it, I hurry away embarrassed at my behavior.

 

That entire night I am enraptured replaying the movie in my mind – stuck on all of the curves, the hair; wondering how strong he must be, how he built such an incredible physique, wanting to feel what his body felt like, wishing that I could know how great it felt to have a body like that.

 

When I wake that next morning, I find a box outside my door. 

 

I rip open the box and inside was a card and a small cake. I pull out the unsealed card.

“Thanks

-Mike

ps: hope you like it”

 

"The ogre baked me a cake!"

 

--- to be continued.

[arpeejay]

Good start!

 

Just a suggestion: Pick a tense (present, past, whatever) and stick with it.

[amauiguy]

Looking forward to part 2 and seeing more of the ogre!

[BBadmirer]

Yes! Please much, much more!! With hefty doses of showing off size and strength!

[musclelover]

Kinda romantic can't wait for more!