June 8 - 9
Hamza wants to fuck me. Hamza wants to fuck me. Does Hamza want to fuck me? How does Hamza want to fuck me? Doggy Style? Up against the wall? Hamza wants to fuck me.
Ever have a thought that gets stuck in your head? That was me now.
I texted Brian in Amsterdam that evening: “Be honest. What do you think of my ass?” He texted back immediately.
“What ass? You dress like a schoolteacher. How could I even have an opinion?”
Hmmm. I guess my wardrobe could use a refresh. Then my phone dinged again.
“Show me”
“What—?”
“Take a picture of your ass.”
“Ok.”
I mean, I did ask, right?
I took off my clothes and looked at myself in the mirror. I liked my body. I was 5’9” and 160 lbs. Back when I was a self-conscious 120 lb teen, I always thought this would be a good weight for me. Not too skinny, not too flabby. Of course I was headed for dadbod territory in the near future if I didn’t up my exercise game. Swimming once a week at my condo pool wasn’t going to cut it for much longer. I twisted my lower half around and clicked a shot.
“Ok” was the reply. “Now show hole.”
That was trickier, I really should do more yoga.
A few moments passed before I got the reply.
“Klaus says: Fuckable”
“Wait, who's Klaus?”
After another short wait I got a picture. It showed a sweaty, salt and pepper bearded muscledaddy in a black leather visor cap, his rippling abs flexed in mid-thrust. At the bottom of the picture was a naked Brian, with just his pert ass and the top part of his face visible, eyebrow raised.
“Brian! You’ve been getting railed at a sex club this entire time??”
“It’s 2 AM in Amsterdam. Why else would I be awake?”
I clicked off my phone and sighed, looking at my ass in the mirror again. “Fuckable” Klaus had said. But not “very fuckable” or “damn fuckable”. I tried to do a version of Cameron’s most-muscular flex. I did have little bulges in my chest, arms and shoulders. But no abs and pretty sad legs. I hardened my resolve to go to the gym in the morning.
Tuesday morning I was fumbling for my wallet at the gym reception to buy another day pass when Cam and Chad walked in behind me with their gym bags slung over their meaty pecs. “Jeffy!” Cam said. “Come to watch us work out?”
“Actually,” I said rather proudly. “You have all inspired me to get into lifting.”
“That’s awesome, Jeffy, but you don’t have to pay, it’s part of the benefits package.”
“What? Rich from HR never told me that when I was hired.”
“Fucking Rich! Let me guess, he tried to sell you on his CrossFit gym.” He had, in fact. “That’s shady. We should get Hamza to audit his ass.”
We got to the locker room and I tried to focus as the words “Hamza” and “ass” banged around in my head again and again.
“So what do you want to work on?” Chad asked.
“Ass!” I said.
He turned back to me and smirked. “Cool, Jeffy. But I was asking Cam. You’re a beginner so you should do a whole body workout.”
“Good advice,” said Cam as he started to undress. “But me and Chad will do legs so we can show you how to blast your ass. Great to have goals, Jeffy,” he winked.
“Hey!” called a guy who was putting on a red UnderArmour polo shirt that read TRAINER. “There’s no outside personal training here.”
“Oh?” said Chad as he pulled off own work polo. He stepped out of his chinos and approached the now wide-eyed guy in just his briefs. “You think we look like trainers? So you’re saying I look like you?” Chad planted his feet, put his fists on his hips and did a lat spread. From my line of sight sitting on the bench, he eclipsed the body of the taller man barely halfway through the flex.
“No man,” the trainer said, shaken and trembling. “You look like Lee Priest.”
I didn’t get the reference but Chad did and he wasn’t impressed. “You saying I’m short, bro?” His calves flexed bigger than footballs as he went up on his toes to get in his face.
“N-n-no, dude.” Now he looked frantic. “No! I didn’t mean nothing. I just mean, you’re huge!”
Cam put his hand on Chad’s shoulder. I thought the poor guy’s eyes would pop out of his head as his gaze traveled up Cam’s powerfully thick forearm to his veiny, melon sized biceps to his delts that were bigger than his head. “Holy shit are you guys pros?”
“Yes. Professional computer programmers,” Cam smirked.
“Wow!” He said in awe. “I’d hate to meet your trainer in a dark alley.”
Cam and Chad exchanged a look. “You would shit yourself.”
“I’m glad you didn’t hurt that guy,” I said to Chad as we made it to the gym floor. “I think of you as the sweet one.”
Chad smiled that cherubic smile he gave me during the Cum-a-thon. “I am sweet,” he said. “But I can be salty.” I wondered if I might get a taste after the workout. “Especially when dudes think their height gives them some kind of advantage. Like, dude, I could rip your car door off at the hinges, but sure, go off on how you can reach the can of beans on the top shelf of the cupboard.”
“See that’s the difference with me,” said Cam. “I know you can kick my ass.”
“Well since you chose leg day, you must want your ass kicked, Cammy.”
Cam gave him a tight side bro-hug. “I love it when you call me that. Reminds me of when I was a little kid and my Dad would toss me in the air.”
“That can be arranged,” Chad said. Holy shit I was gonna cum if they kept up this friendly bro banter.
“You’re gonna have to work on those puny delts first,” Cam laughed, flexing his own monsters.
“Oh just for that I’ll make sure you are crawling to your desk this morning, bro.”
Cam gave me a quick routine with the machines that I could do while they did their warm-up squats. “Then come back and watch the fun.”
I kept an eye on them as I did my routine, and came back at least twice because I figured they must be finished with the warm-up with all the plates they were loading on the bar. Nope, still warming up.
Finally, Chad gave me a signal and I came back, my muscles feeling a nice flush from the workout. Maybe I could get used to this. “Warm up over?” I asked.
Chad smiled as he rubbed chalk on his hands, and I gooped a little pre into my workout shorts. God he was handsome. “We’ll pretend it is, for ol’ Cammy’s sake. His self esteem is so fragile. These bodybuilders, y’know, always needing the attention,” he joked.
“You’re not a bodybuilder?”
“Powerlifter.”
“What’s the difference?”
“You’ll see.”
Cameron hefted off the huge weight, there were five big plates on each side and he squatted down till he was almost sitting on the floor. “That’s it bro, nice and deep.” Chad encouraged him. He pushed up and his huge quads flexed into sequoias. “Yeah bro.”
Cam was sweating by the time he racked the weight after 12 repetitions. Chad switched places and pumped out the same number, smiling at me the whole time. He was not sweating when he racked the bar. Clank. They added another big plate to each side.
“This is for five, right?” Cam said.
“Eight bro.”
“Oh right.
“You need a spot, bro?” Chad asked innocently.
“Fuck you.”
Cam powered through the eight reps like a champ, sweat now dripping from his face.
Chad finally broke a sweat. When he racked the bar, he dabbed a towel delicately on his brow. Cam rolled his eyes, then reached for a smaller plate.
Clang! Chad banged a big plate onto his side and gave Cam a look like: What? Cam grumbled but smacked the same sized plate on his side instead. Cam got into position, and this time Chad stood right in front of him.
“You got this bro, five easy reps.”
“Three.”
“Five.”
“Four.”
“Five.”
“Fuuuuuuuck!” Cam groaned as he lifted off and sank down low with ponderous weight.
“Monster legs, bro. C’mon push it.”
“Arrgh!” Cam got one solid rep, then two. Veins and tendons were popping out of his neck like crazy as he squatted just as low as his very first rep and popped little hisses of breath like a steam engine as he somehow rose up to his full height again, bellowing at the top of the rep like King Kong.
“You got this bro. Two more. You’re huge, bro. Blow those shorts out with that pump.” Chad slapped Cam’s legs as he got through the fourth rep, then actually started slapping his face when he paused mid-lift on the last rep. “Don’t punk out on me bro. You’re big! You’re strong!” With a hollar that I thought would turn his lungs inside out, Cam finished the rep and racked the bar. Chad waved me over. “Look at this pump, Jeffy, see, this is bodybuilding. You ever see such beauty?”
My cock tenting my gym shorts as I goggled in lust at the swollen stanchions of Cam’s epicly pumped legs. As he dripped sweat onto the rubber mat, exhaustedly leaning on the bar, he wobbled his quads like you see bodybuilders do on stage and then BOOM, flexed them hard into an explosion of shiny, veiny, striated meat.
“But this—” Chad said, as he clapped his chalked hands together and grinned. “—is powerlifting.”
CLANK. CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.
Chad added two more big plates to each side while Cam used his arms to cling to the upright metal bar of the rack and slowly lowered himself to the floor. “Ow. Ow. Ow.” When he got there he rolled over and looked up at his friend.
“I hope you’re satisfied, bro, you just coached your way out of a spotter.”
“Guess you’re up Jeffy,” said Chad.
“ME??” I gasped.
Cam laughed weakly from the floor: “Oh Jeffy, you’re gonna love it.”
Chad got into position and started psyching himself up.
“Puny weight, bro,” he whispered to himself. Or maybe he was talking to the plates? How many were there now? Nine on each side? “Gonna crush you, then gonna crush your big brother next week.” Definitely talking to the plates. Cam told me how to get into position to spot a squat and I followed those instructions, standing behind him and holding my arms lightly around his wide lats and barrel chest.
Just as he was about to lift off, I whispered into his ear. “Chad?”
He let out a breath. “Yes, Jeffy?”
“How much is this?”
“855 pounds.”
“And you weigh?”
“195 pounds.”
I did the math on just how flat I would be if all that weight fell on top of me.
“Chad?”
“Yes, Jeffy.” His voice was patient, not annoyed at all.
“I’m scared.”
“Don’t be scared, bro. I would never hurt you.”
I swallowed and screwed up my courage. “Ok.”
Chad unracked the weight and with a metallic groan the bar immediately sagged heavily on either side. I panicked: “CHAD!” I wailed and I fell forward and clutched him tight.
Cam yelled from the floor: “Jeffy no! Chad rack it!”
But whether he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, instead Chad squatted.
His ass pushed back hard into my shrunken fear-dick and I belatedly remembered I was supposed to mimic his position. It was hard to concentrate because his entire body transformed into living rock. His thighs bulged three times thicker than my own as he started to rise out of the depth of the squat. At a third of the way up, Chad’s gym shorts exploded in jagged rents and his beercan soft cock and low hanging bull balls fell through the scraps. I scrambled to gather up the cloth fragments and genitals and my hard-on shot to full mast as I realized I could barely hold all of it in my two hands. At half way up, Chad let out a primal scream and my vision went white and I zoned out completely.
When I came back to reality, Cam was gently prodding my shoulder. ‘Jeffy, it's okay. It’s okay.” I was clamped onto Chad like a backpack. I let go, put my feet on the floor and backed away dazed. I took in his naked boulder sized ass, and realized I had his torn shorts in my hand. Chad looked back over his shoulder and managed his trademark smile even as he heaved breaths.
“Man… Worst spotter ever… Good thing you’re cute.”
Cont.
