Abs Session

I felt his hand cup my left pec before his words cut through the rhythmic pulse and heavy beat of the dance music. There is nothing like a Saturday night here in Sunny S Florida. Shirtless men, sweaty, dancing bumping and grinding all while freely groping and copping a feel both on the dance floor and while passing through the very crowded spaces around the bar. The feel of the stranger’s hand on me is a thrill.

  “My buddy over there” he nods in the direction of a cute younger guy. “he has a

big-time thing for Muscle Daddies.”  He motions the blonde boy over. “And he is going to fucking love you Big Boy”.

He introduces the younger guy as Travis. He is Rick. My name is Joe. While we are talking and making introductions Rick is telling his younger friend to go ahead, rub the pecs.  Touch here. 

Somehow, he assumed inviting himself and his friend over to maul my muscles was his right. Of course, I did not and do not object. His brazenness is fully over shadowed by the lust filed attention Travis is showing my body right now. And it is sort of odd, but very hot how Rick is directing it all like some sort of conductor or more like porn producer.

“Joe didn’t build all this for his health.” Rick encourages his friend. Nudging my side with his elbow, “he built this body to be enjoyed. So, go on. Enjoy yourself.”  He passes me a knowing smile as if to say, ‘hey thanks for indulging my friends’ fantasy’.

Fuck yea. My fantasy as well. I love having some cute twinkish guy go crazy over my muscles. And being worshipped in a bar full of other men is huge rush. Trust me, we are getting our fair share of attention, but when there are other men on their knees sucking dick in dark corners of the place our show is quite tame by comparison.

Rick directs me so my back is against the wall and has me lace my fingers behind my head. He runs the tips of his fingers gently down tracing my biceps, into my sweaty hairless pit, circles the square slab of pec meat before deeply tracing each of my ab muscles with detail.  He encourages Travis to get into every muscle. Learn it. Touch feel lick. The two are conversing like I am not even there and my body is some sort of anatomy lesson for a young man with a muscle daddy fetish.

“Tighten.” I feel the back of his knuckles rap on my abs breaking me from my own trance. “Go ahead, land a few right here.” He points to the striated section just to the left of my navel. Instinctively and flex with every fiber making my abs more like bricks of steel anticipating his jabs. 

I have no clue why. But rock-hard abs make guys want to punch them. Hell, I do the same with my buddies. It is hot. And if flexed fully almost pain free for the muscled gut.

The first strike is feeble. But judging by the look in the kids eyes he knows it to. Amazed at the sheer hardness of my muscles he goes for another hit. Decent. But I can tell he is still waiting for my reaction or approval. Before he can get another throw in, Rick tells him to lay into it. He tells him give the next shot all he has.

I don’t even flinch but the kid did lay much more into that last shot and it felt really good.

“Here, let me show you what bricks like this are made for.”  Rick reaches for the lower hem of his shirt as he removes it slowly. Almost too slowly. On purpose, for effect. Every shredded corded sinewy muscle is exposed. Inch by every so seductively slow inch. Silky smooth golden bronze skin glistening with light sheen of sweat. But it is his vast and spectacularly shredded physique that caught me off guard.

Oh fuck!  The kid is cute but this man is hot. It is hard to gauge, but I guess him to be close to or around my 58 years. With some of the Asian cultures they ae so well he could be 70 for all I know.

I stand right at 6.1” and weight a rock solid but lean 220lbs. It has taken me 25 years to sculpt my physique and I enjoyed every ounce of sweat it took to look as hot as I do.

Covered by a loose T-shirt all evening, this newly revealed masterpiece of muscle just upstaged mine by a mile. Rick was closer to 5’ 8 or so. And his weight I guess to be about 155-165. So it was not his size that was mesmerizing but his perfect definition. Separation of each muscle. Striated ripped and cut. 

His pleasant smile merged closer to a cocky one of ‘yea. Go ahead muscle daddy get a good look.’ I could tell he was getting off on his big reveal. And he did it well.

“Hands back behind your head big boy.” He instructs me as he takes a squared off stance in front of me.  “Yea. Good.” He casually approves as he is in deep discussion about the art of gut punching with cutie pie.  And he starts slowly but methodically.

His jabs are solid. But nothing insane.   He keeps up the conversation with his pal, I can’t really hear over the music but is pace is as precise as the beat blaring from the speakers. And getting gradually harder.

“Try again”.   He steps aside giving Travis another turn. He doesn’t waste any time or energy this so round. He lands repeated punches. Hard and deep. You can tell he is getting into it by the grin of accomplishment on his face.  All the while Rick keeps his eyes close on mine, visually gauging my reaction and checking in on me with a knowing nod. I assure him with my smile, I am perfectly fine, and if you can’t tell by my smile, the huge tented bulge in my jeans with a wet spot the size of a dinner plate should set you at ease.

Gut punching, in itself is not my thing as a standalone play scene. I do enjoy it. But many times, it goes along with muscle worship and appreciation so the fact these two are holding a sparring class using my abs, in a public place is fine by me.

We grab a beer. With Rick on one side and Travis on the other we chat and get to know each other more. Hands are every where as we chat. I have a arm draped over each of their shoulder and I feel fours hands continuously massaging my muscles. They are both really nice guys, and turns out they are lovers. Been together about 7 years.  Travis is just now 30. Blonde really cute but on the lean side. More of a runner build with no mass. But very hot. Turns out Rick is my age. 58. His body is the result of life long dedication to sports. Gymnastics, body building, rock climbing. His life revolved around physical activities and it showed. 

After one more beer, “how about one more round before we call it a night?” Rick suggested.

I brought them both in for tight group hug with a flex of each bicep and said Sure.

Rick positioned me against the wall. Placed my hands just perfectly behind my head. Adjusted my arms just so. Ever the conductor and director. When he finally had me in place, his hands rubbed my abs and with a different fire in his eyes he asked if I was ready.

I nodded yes.

“I need to hear you say it.” Rick cupped my chin directing my eyes make contact with his.
“Are you ready to get these bricks worked over?”

“Yes Sir!” I heard myself say out load with no warning on my part.

And the assault began. Rapid deep solid shots to my mid-section. Nothing insane, I have had much harder blows. Steady repeatedly graduating to full of punches. I can begin to feel this now. But determined I contract even harder to endure the pain.

It is hot and muggy in this bar so my body is now drenched in sweat from flexing and contracting, and sweat is now flying off of Ricks body with every blow that makes contact with my weakening abs.

He doesn’t falter. His pace is as precise as ever yet the blows are getting harder and fiercer. I start to flinch with each impact. I am not sure how much more of this I can take.

Ricks impressive muscles looked hot when he took his shirt off, but now fully engaged and pumped from the punching he looks even more like a super hero carved out of granite. My abs are turning into mush yet he is not even winded or appear to be even phased by his assault.

My abs and endurance fail me as my body begins to slump over from exhaustion. Before I am completely doubled over a lightning fast hand cups my neck just below the throat and slams me back up against the wall.

“Did I say I was done with you boy?”  He shakes my head back and forth in a no reply. “I didn’t think I did either.”  The intensity of his tone and stare of his eyes was alarming at first. Not threatening. But total domination was evident.

“My boy wants to see me finish you off properly.” His hand still in firm control of my throat. “You have one more round in you don’t you?”  we both know it was not a question, but a command.

I nodded in agreement even though I am damn sure I do not have another round of assault left in me. I also know that being used by this man and his boy is new experience for me, and it is turning me on like I had never dreamed before. I also know that when his hand slammed me back up into the wall, I am pretty sure I shot a decent size load in my pants hands free.

“Arms up.” I comply.  “lace your fingers” yes sir. A flicker of grin escapes the corner of his mouth when he hears my yes sir reply. “Give me a Gun show pretty boy”. I pop and flex the guns into full peaks.

“He will work out perfect daddy.”  I hear cutie say as an aside to Rick.  Rick gives him a gentle kiss then turns his attention to me with a knowing smile and a nod meaning he is ready to get to work on my abs. Again.

There is no warm up. No steady rhythm or increase. His first blow is full on powerhouse assault. And they keep coming. Relentless full power full contact punching strikes. My already demolished abs fail me as I double over grabbing my battered abs trying to protect them from one more strike.

The final blow I never saw coming. In Fact I don’t even remember it happening until I hit the floor both hands cupped on my swollen balls and wondering where in the hell did that low blow come from.  

“Great job son” Rick embraces his boy in tight hug and a kiss. “Looks like you just tagged us a new muscle boy-toy.”

Still rolling in agony on the floor of that nasty bar, holding my aching balls. A smile slides over my face as they both look down at my mass of muscles sweaty and beaten at their feet.

More?  If you like, let me know.

Positive or constructive critique is welcome.