He flexed his rippling, veiny bicep for the dozenth time today. Grinning. He observed me thirst over him. How I wished to be wrapped in those bulging muscular arms. Held tight to his defined chest. His blue eyes sparkled in devilish delight. He enjoyed this as much as I did. Me, worshiping his muscles from a distance, him, enticing me with them.
He pumped his arm, his bicep stretching and contracting. The sleeve of his well-fitted blue polo scrunched up his arm as his muscles pumped, showing off more of his gym-worked body.
“It was nice,” I heard myself say, disconnected from my mind and body. “Relaxed. Saw a movie. Went out dancing with some friends. You?”
He switched arms, pumping the other one, polo sliding off his flexing muscles, veins popping.
Fuck, I sighed, my dick inevitably stirring. I chubbed every time we spoke because every time we did, my straight coworker flexed. He’d caught me eye-fucking him the first week after he joined the company and ever since he’s played it up, enjoying watching me pine over him. He had built his body into that of a Greek god and was more than happy to show it off. But we were also friendly, chatting about life, work, growing up. He was a nice guy, warm, inviting, those qualities only made me want him more.
He was saying something, but I was lost in his biceps and triceps, the definition, the smooth skin. To anyone of our peers, it would just look like two coworker friends chatting at the coffee counter, one of them massaging a sore arm. Nothing unprofessional, not to an outside perspective anyway.
He punched me playfully on the shoulder.
“You good bro,” he asked.
“Yeah,” I sighed. “You know.” I smiled, tilted my head at his flexing arm. He certainly did know. He knew exactly how I was. His eyes shown, light with laughter and deep with pride in the effect that his body had on me.
“Like I was saying,” he said, relaxing his arm, turning his torso to more privately face me, and dancing his pecs under his polo. “I had that date with the girl my buddy set me up with, the one I told you about last week, but it didn’t go anywhere.” He brushed a hand across his dancing pecs. “Sometimes I think I’ll be stuck with just my own touch forever…” He purposefully let the idea linger, tweaking a nipple as he watched me watching him.
My dick stirred further, leaking.
This was the extent of our – really his – teasing. Flex, show off, make a vaguely sexual remark, rinse and repeat. Every day. And I was game.
“Too bad man,” I said. Licking my lips, imagining suckling on his defined, large pecs and nipples. Being the touch he desired. “There’s always someone willing to touch you, touch that body…”
I did some of my own teasing, and flexing, though it hit him differently than it hit me. He smirked, complimented my gym body, and ignored my vague overtures.
“Let’s grab lunch later,” he said with a smile, picking up his coffee mug, and heading to his workstation. His well-fitted polo showed off his muscled shoulders and upper back. He wore a pair of tailored-fit chinos, but he didn’t have much of a butt. His quads were solid, his calves a nice size, but he didn’t do much to build a butt. There was some curvature, but minimal compared to the rest of his toned body.
But the front of those chinos, I’d missed he view this morning over coffee. I knew what was there, seen it every workday for over the last year, but I’d been so mesmerized by his flexing upper body I’d forgotten to get a look. Later, I thought, At lunch, making, mental note.
….
A few hours later, Clark was at my desk, his crotch positioned close to my face.
Uuuuufffff, there it is, I sighed mentally. The bulge. Even with his pants fitting nicely, he must be packing for the flesh underneath to create such a nice mound. And this was no coincidence. His junk in my face; he rarely stood this close to me. He must have noticed I didn’t get a view of his junk yet today and took steps to correct that.
“You ready buddy,” he asked, gently swaying his hips, his crotch hypnotizing me.
“Yeah man,” I said, staring. “Just give me a minute to finish this one thing.”
I had to pry my eyes away.
Working on my computer, he sat on the edge of my desk, lifting one leg, his chinos bunching up to hug his junk, giving me a full display.
I paused my work, looked him in the eye, and took in the view of his junk.
With a deep breath, I finished my task and smacked his knee. “Get your ass off my desk dude,” I joked.
He smirked, winking at me. He was handsome. Piercing blue eyes, thick brown hair brushed to one side that tended to droop a few strands loosely onto his forehead – he looked like a cartoon pilot, just without the mustache.
Throughout lunch, my dick remained chubbed and Clark resumed his flexing display.
Finishing his last bite, he leaned back, hands behind his head, elbows wide, and stretched. I caught just the frilly ends of his dark brown armpit hair poking out the sleeve of the polo, his arm muscles taunt, his polo sliding up his abdomen, showing off his dark brown treasure trail, and flat, hard abs.
He took his time in the stretch, exaggerating the movement, watching me drink him in.
And so it went on like this, workday after workday, for the past year.
I had blasted uncountable loads at home, dreaming of his dick in my mouth, of him cumming in my ass, of fucking a load into his hot face, eating his underdeveloped ass… I shook my head, my dick growing beyond just a chub. I was muscled myself, wore fitted clothing, and could easily have been in Clark’s position, thirst-trapping some other gay man. And with my own fitted chinos on, I had to be carefully that my grower of a dick didn’t expand to it’s full 8inch potential or I might face a sexual harassment complaint.
Calming myself, Clark grinned from ear to ear. He knew he’d achieved his goal again today. Make me hard, entice me to the point of daydreaming about wild sex with him. He succeeded every day.
“Well man,” he sighed, flexing in his stretched-out position, spreading his legs to give me a final view of his package, “It’s been fun as always, but I need to get back to it. See you tomorrow then,” he said with a wink.
My eyes followed him as he walked away. I took another few minutes, letting my dick subside as I finished my meal.
Little did I know that starting Monday of the following week the situation was going to be upended.
….
“Grant,” my boss called from behind me. I’d just gotten in and started on a project when my boss arrived at my workspace, a late twenty-something year-old in tow. “I’d like you to meet Cam, he will be working with you starting today.”
Cam smiled and leaned forward, hand extended.
We shook, strong grip, and I felt a familiar flutter and saw a familiar look in his eyes. He too was fit, gym-built, though slimmer than Clark and me. Handsome, with dark eyes, full lips, and dark, short, ruffled hair. For his first day in the office he wore fitted dress pants and a fitted white button-down shirt, tucked in. He showed some bulge in the front and the back, slim, tight. And with the top few buttons of his collared shirt undone, he showed off a toned and smooth upper chest.
“I’m sure you’ll be right at home here,” my boss said. “Grant is one of our best and will get you situated. Take some time to get to know each other, you’ll be collaborating from here on out with the new projects in the pipeline.”
He was right, there was far too much work coming in for me to handle alone, I just wished I’d been a part of the hiring process, or that I’d even know there was a hiring process in the works. But here he was, my new coworker, and already my dick was chubbing from just the touch of his hand, look in his eyes, and the overall appearance of his athletic body.
“Tour and some coffee,” I asked him as my boss walked away.
“Sure.”
I showed him around the multi-level office chatting about our experience and working together. We talked about work and life. He was single, just broke up with a girl he dated for a few months. Avid with exercise, he hit the gym several times per week and played sports. And I took in the view of his body. Lithe muscle, sporty, with a butt more proportional to his build than Clark’s. I’m sure he caught me looking a few times. I’m also sure he gave me something to look at. Scratching his upper pec, he pulled the shirt open further while facing me; sitting in his chair, he pointed his butt in my direction as he sat; and once seated, he hiked his pants up slightly, bunching them around his junk while he smiled coyly at me.
Oh shit, I thought, images of Clark and Cam cycling through my mind. I’ve got another one.
With my hands full, so to speak, with my new coworker, I didn’t have time to play the usual game with Clark. I’d missed our daily morning coffee counter exploits. So, when lunch time rolled around and Clark was seated on my desk, legs spread, junk on display, I was extra excited to see him.
Cam was sharp, he noted Clark’s display, his brazenness sitting on my desk and showing off his junk. Cam also caught my reaction, the same lust I’d shown him.
Clark was equally sharp, noting Cam’s bunched up pants, open collar, the way he glanced at me, the way I drank in the views of his body when I turned his direction.
My straight coworkers seemed to size each other up, silent observations, intense eye contact, with me bemused in the middle as their appraisals played out.
My heart raced. “Clark this is my new coworker Cam, Cam this is a good friend of mine Clark; he’s in another department.”
They shook hands. The grip held, almost like they were wrestling. My eyes wandered over their clenched forearms, their veins rising under their skin. They both saw me taking in their view of them together, their appraisals shifting into weary rivalry, as though they were trespassing on private property.
“You ready for lunch,” Clark asked, the handshake finally ending.
“Yes,” I said, turning to Cam. “Would you like to join us?”
A look flashed through Clark’s face. I could swear it was a moment of jealousy.
Jealousy, I thought, second guessing myself. My dick lurched. Clark is jealous I have a new hot straight man in my life. That’s fucking hot!
I looked at Clark with new eyes. He saw the shift in me and redirected my attention to his crotch, drawing his legs together, squeezing his package.
“Sure,” Cam said, observing the entire interaction even if he couldn’t have known all the inner dialogue. “Be nice to get to know more of my coworkers.”
As we sat for lunch, Clark initially toned down his flexing, but when he saw Cam displaying his wares, he picked right back up.
I worried my eyes would pop from their sockets with all the flicking back and forth between them I did, a bulge here, a pec there, a bicep, and scratch at Cam’s testicles.
And I was hard, dreaming of both men, sandwiched between them, crushed by their bodies.
Clark knew I was hard and grinned, but there was another look. A hint of darkness. Jealousy. He also knew it wasn’t from him alone that had gotten me hard or that held my attention.
Like clockwork, he finished his lunch and leaned back, flexing, showing off his treasure trail, only this time he took it a step further and flexed his hips, pretending to stretch his legs but really showing off his package, the mounded flesh under the chinos pressing into the side of the table.
Cam took notice, saw me staring, and nodded his head, making a mental note. “Well,” he said, “It’s been great meeting you Clark, but we have a lot of work to do. Lunch again tomorrow?”
Jealousy flashed again. Clark knew he couldn’t say no; he couldn’t go back to eating lunch with just me, so it was either the three of us or nothing.
“Nice to meet you too. Tomorrow it is,” he said, voice tight.
The rest of the day passed without seeing Clark, but Cam laid it on thick. He rolled his sleeves up, forearms flexing. He dug into his open collar shirt, giving me a view of his nipples as he pretended to scratch an itch. And he adjusted his junk several times, sizable meat moving around inside. He noted my reactions, forming grins like Clark did, testing the waters to see how far he could take things with me. He was bold. Bolder than Clark had been in his first month of us working together. He’d started more subtly, but then he didn’t have competition. Nor did Clark have a captive audience like Cam did, sitting mere feet from me all day. Cam had seen Clark’s flexing and displays, he knew what I would respond to, and he wasn’t holding back.
“Thank you for helping me fit right in,” Cam said at the end of the day, scratching his junk overtly and then extending the same hand to me. We shook, my eyes darting from his hand to his bulge. “I think this will be a great partnership.”
“Me too,” I smiled, “Glad you feel so… comfortable.”
We chatted, leaving the building together.
….
That night I shoved a dildo up my ass and rode it on the bed, pounding my dick on my fist, crying out Cam’s name as I imagined straddling his waist. His dick impossibly hard, bludgeoning my prostate. Fuck yeah, he moaned, Show me how much you love my body. How happy you are to have me working next to you! Screaming as I came, Cam’s load coating my anal canal, dripping down his pumping dick, his pecs and biceps flexing as I shot my load all over them.
I sank down on the dildo, my anus twitching, panting, and Clark’s image fought for space in my mind.
“Fuck,” I sighed, feeling my ass spasm. Cam and Clark. Clark and Cam. Too fucking straight studs. Both competing for my attention to their bodies, to be worshiped by a willing gay man. Clark’s provocative bulge display at lunch popped vividly into my mind and my ass fluttered.
Rising, I rode the dildo a second time, moaning.
My dick reinflated, incrementally, like blowing air into a balloon, each time I rode the dildo, the motion forced blood back into my cock.
8inches of hard meat flopped around. A drop of cum stuck in the dick-slit from my previous load.
I imagined climbing across the lunchroom table, ripping Clark’s chinos open and sitting on his lap, taking his dick in my ass right there in the lunchroom. Cam watching, other coworkers gasping. But I didn’t care. I needed Clark’s cock. And I took it. Riding. Hard. Moaning.
My fist closed around my dick again as I pounded my ass up and down Clark’s dick.
Minutes later I was screaming for a second time, Clark dumping a load into my ass, my orgasm washing me away as my cum splatted over his polo, matting it to his skin.
“Fuck,” I sighed, sharp, dick aching from cumming twice in less than ten minutes. The towel I put over my sheets for sexual shenanigans was crisscrossed in thick, yellowy-white cum. I’d busted two huge nuts.
I let the dildo slip from my ass. My hole tingled. I wanted the real thing and more. Clark and Cam. Straight, muscled, adonis coworkers. Could I use their rivalry, and Clark’s jealousy, to get what I wanted, I pondered.
I grinned, scheming, and sat right back down the dildo for a necessary third round.
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