** Hey guys. Yep it has been awhile. Life has been full and fun lately. New man in my life. YAHTZEE. A man who truly gets off that I have a muscle fetish and allows me to use it both ways, any way, anytime I desires. " This week I am flying solo, un-supervised plus bored and horny. So I decided to write a quick one, Oh, and my man has the sexiest feet ever. I need to work some hot foot scenes into this story.
I am rusty, give me some slack. If you are more worried about grammar or some shit, I would bet two jacked up muscle heads would be of no interest to you anyway.
The double split on my bicep peaks is freaking ripped. I trace the ridge with my left finger. Feeling the hardness. Getting off on the veins and cuts. Flexing hard I am concentrating on every fiber, willing each strand of muscle to expand, fill with blood and peak to its massive potential. And they do, on command as I twist my wrist back and forth making it dance. Flexing in the mirror after a hard work out is gratifying, at least to me it is. Hell, when you take hours a day, every day, every week for years upon years to build this finely sculpted mass of muscle, of course I enjoy getting off on the results.
Fuck that! A thought pops into my head. I half chuckle out loud. Yea, at least I admit my lust for muscles. My muscles in fact. I freely confess that I built these muscles for attention, even if some of the attention is mine, and I get turned on. Look at any social media site, and you try to tell me that all those millions of flexed gym selfies, biceps exploding all over the world wide web, and these guys try and pass this ego driven mania as healthy. ‘I work out for my health’ Ha. Blah blah blah, then put on a baggy shirt and keep it to yourself.
NO. These guys are a lot like myself, yet they cannot admit to the dark desire to attract attention. Be ogled. Lusted after. Me, I relish it. Mind you, it comes at a price. Long arduous hours in the gym. Religiously, daily. A routine etched into granite that I do not deviate from. Then the hours of food prep, eating on timely schedule, no deviation. Of course, a cheat day here and there, but to be supremely ripped at 225 lbs. and in my 40’s old on top of that, it takes unrelenting dedication. Even the horniest of muscle fetishists are bored after the first few weeks of dating their “dreamy Muscle fuck toy.” They realize the fetish is hot, yet the dedication even as a supportive onlooker is exhausting.
I had accepted that fact many years ago, the fact that if I am addicted to body building and my muscles, I will be trading in any meaningful relationship with a good fuck here and there would be the bane of my existence. Guys who enjoy fucking a raging bottom muscle daddy, just wanted a thrill, not the commitment it takes to keep me pumped up into the fetish of their lust. Oh, I can get laid just about anytime I like. Put on a tight tank top and a pair of denim shorts to show my ASS-ets off, and I attract cock. Lots of it. But many times, I just wind up alone, at home. Oiling up, flexing for my own satisfaction. I do not mind. I keep telling myself.
Then I met Nick. ‘Nick the Dick’ as I named him in my phone after the first night we met. Damn, I smile and grin to myself remembering that first night we met. The first night, that turned out to be 3-day fuck-fest. I even missed a training session I was so enamored. I smile. I always do when I think of Nick.
“Well, GAWD DAMN DADDY” the southern drawl was as sexy as the man who is approaching me.
“Aw shucks” I attempt a fake shyness. Opening my arms exposing all of myself, adding a slight tightness and flex for his benefit. “But thank you”
Jonathan always throws a great pool party. This one no exception. So, standing here in my black speedo, enjoying the admiration of this handsome fucker, I remind myself to thank Jonathan for the invite.
The forward stranger sidles up close, whispering in my ear, “Do you realize how fucking hot it will be when your muscles are dripping in sweat while I fuck the living daylights out of your hot ass?” I loved it. My nipples immediately went erect, goose bumps covered my shaved bare skin and I think I even quivered at his direct approach. None of this monkeying around, beating around the bush acting interested in my life. Yada Yada Yada. No, this guy went direct. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to fuck me. He wanted to fuck my muscles. I loved it. “And by the way,” he opens the front of his bathing suit to show me a very impressive dick, “I am a grower, not only a shower.”
Finding myself speechless is a new feeling for me, but here I am wide eyed, slack jawed yet enjoying the compliments being hurled my way.
“If I am wrong” he steps back a foot or two, he gestures as if he is leaving. “But if I am right, my name is Nick.” He offers his right hand as an introduction.
“Hello Nick” I reach for his right hand, introduce myself. “Marc” I trail off enjoying the sight of this very handsome, hot man. Swarthy Latin maybe Mediterranean charm. Bronzed perfect shin, dizzying dark brown eyes that seduce the unsuspected. Perfect teeth, and dimples that almost had me bending over, begging for cock on the spot.
“I am parked out to the side, white Jeep, top off.” My mind finally catches up to the blood rushing through my body, to my cock and to the spine-tingling sensations my tight hole is already twitching over. I turn, heading for the door, knowing full well he is following me. Two can play this game, I thought as I swished my speedo covered ass towards the door. I knew he was hot on my trail.
The sex. MIND BLOWING. The brutal, raw connection. The intense passion. His lust for my body, my muscles, my desire to please him to get his big dick. We were both delighted in lust. Finally, a man who just wanted to fuck me because I had built a body to be worshipped. And a man who totally got turned on that I was in lust with his big dick. Not so much him. I am sure he was a great guy, but that fucking cock. I was gaga over the size. Its girth. The weight. And the sheer hardness. All I had to do was flex a bicep and he was rock hard ready to fuck. Again and again for the entire week end.
Chatting over a nice hot breakfast on Sunday morning, our conversation veered into many other subjects other than Sex. Or muscles. Or his huge cock. I started feeling pangs of familiar pasts - this guy got his muscle fetish satisfied, but Monday morning he would wake and return to his mundane routine, not willing or able to endure my grueling schedule. He has no clue what it takes to look like I do. No clue as to what it takes to keep this body jacked up into competition shape lean muscle mass. No clue that I do all this selfishly, just to get him hard so he can fuck me.
But I grin and charge on, damned if I do not give him something to really remember what it is like to fuck his muscle wet dream. And I enjoy the rest of our sex filled weekend. I take him down to my home garage gym, relentless heat and south Florida humidity only enhanced my work out. I wanted to flex and preen and lift and display what my muscles really look like while I got a short but intense work out. He was enrapt with every rep. asking questions. Seriously thought-out questions. His keen interest was way beyond that of a horny big dick just wanting to fuck a hot muscle daddy. He had knowledge. He understood the rhythm behind my madness. He appeared as interested as I was in the development of my body.
And yet, within the next hour he had me bent over the bench press bar, fucking me like a wild man. Mirrors all about, our reflection echoed around the room. Grunting wild sex abandoned noises bursting through the walls into the serene neighborhood I live in.
“On your knees you hot fucker” he commands after a wild fuck on every piece of equipment in my garage gym. “FLEX” he stammers out between clinched teeth. “Your biceps.” I barley get into position before a hot splash of cum covers the entire peak of my right arm. Gush after gush erupts and I keep flexing.
“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkKKKKKK” he is lost to his own orgasm.
My cock starts to boil. My nuts scrunch up. My biceps quiver. I look up into his eyes, then start licking his hot serum off my muscles. Licking my biceps, sucking up his delicious cum is too much for me. I start shooting. Hands free. Just looking at him, flexing every ounce of strength that I have left to turn him on and I cum. Boy, how I cum. I lace both hands behind my head, and enjoy the pleasure we both are experiencing.
MUSCLES for COCK. A very simple equation, yet so complicated.
Sunday afternoon fades into Sunday evening. As if we are both experiencing the same faded thoughts of what the new week would look like. Lots of hot memories. Nothing more, nothing less. I got my rocks off several times, and I am pretty sure I rocked his muscle fetish more than any man before me. Not too shabby I think as we both drift off for the nights sleep before the new week sets in.
Briiiiiinnnnngggggggggggggggggggggggggggg,, Ringggggggggggggg, Ddddddddddddding,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,”What the fuck?” I am jarred awake by the 4:30 am alarm. Usually, I find that sound exciting. My routine, my rhythm, my daily grind that is ingrained in every fiber of my body clicks in. Yet this morning. I am in a fog. What the fuck. I shake my head a wake. Then I smell. First the bacon. Then the coffee.?
I stumble out of bed, naked and tousled from a long night, while my mind reminds me why my ass and every muscle in my body is sore. I smile as I lumber down the stairs. And there he is. Nick. ‘Nick with the big dick.’
“Hey babe.” Nick gives me a quick kiss. “I am not sure of calories, or macros, or protein, or any of that.” he rubs my shoulders while planting a sweet kiss on my bicep. “But I cooked everything I could find in the fridge and I hope this is enough fuel to engage those beautiful muscles for your morning workout.”
“I have got an eight o’clock meeting and I am running late.” He runs his knuckles up my right bicep, “But, thank you for this amazing week end.” He kisses my lips softly. “Call me if you need some more of this big dick.” And with that, Nick waltzes right out the front door.
“Wait,” I call out before he gets out the door. “Do something for me, will you?” I ask to take his photo licking my biceps to inspire my morning routine. “Only if I get a pic of you on your knees with my big dick in your mouth.” Once again, we both get “It.”
After we shoot a few salacious pics, I tell him indeed id love some more of his cock. In fact, I freely admit, I would like a lot more of your cock, my ass already feels empty.
He reaches up to kiss me, “Daddy. Be careful there. Because you could spoil me rotten and I may never leave.”
“Me too” I happily agree, and give him one more double bi flex just as he closes the door.
“You are cruel” he laughingly exclaims loud enough for me to hear him through the door.
My breakfast taste especially good this morning. Mainly because my ass was still full of cum from the handsome man who cooked it for me.
Today is leg day, and I nail it. With repeated glances at the pics we took this morning, I am inspired to put in the work. Put in the dedication and extra effort. Good grief, I got a damn crush on this guy; I shake my head. I was proud of myself; I had not texted him a dozen times like a horny teenage girl. But I wanted too.
After 2 hours of brutal leg work, my oak sized thighs were fried. My calves exploded up into horseshoe shaped ballons. I slipped my shoes and sox off and did some flexing right there in the gym mirrors. Not caring if any one looked, but I did take a few photos, my veins were exploded. My skin still glistening with sweat and so tight it looks like the skin may burst. The calf photo came out amazing. I could not help myself. I sent it to Nick.
Within seconds my phone dinged with a message back from Nick. “Holy crap. Muscle daddy. I love that photo. And the next time I have those amazing calves on my shoulders; I am going to eat them up.”
“How about tonight?” I reply with no hesitation, “My calves could use a good massage and TLC.” I send with a wink emoji.
“My ass too” followed immediately.
To which a picture of his big dick landed in my messages. It looks as if he unzipped at his desk just then and snapped a quickie. That was the first photo I added to the ‘folder’ labeled Nicks big dick.
“Oh, hell yes.” I begin my celebration early.
At last, the doorbell rings. My heart races and I take a deep breath.
“I think this should be your new uniform.” Nick obviously approves of the choice of clothes I chose. After changing several times like a nervous teenager on a first date, I decided on a simple black jock.
I give Nick a wink and turn my upper body half sideways. Starting with the wrist on my right hand, I slowly tense and curl it up. Just the wrist at first, even this simple action of flexing my wrist up causes every muscle to perk up to attention. Intentionally slow for effect while concentrating on inflating each muscle with as much blood as I could. My left fist resting on my hip, my right leg pushed ahead of my left. I keep flexing. My elbow is still next to my obliques, but rising and forming the massive peak. Inch by inch I raise it higher. I am so far into the zone I do not even look over to see if Nick is watching. When I get into the perfect right arm bicep pose, I turn my head to see Nick. Pure lust driven euphoria. “Marry Me.” He calmly stated. “Marry me right now.” He pulls me in for the hottest most passionate kiss I have ever had. “And I am not kidding.” He circles around my body with a whistle escaping his lips. “I have never met any man like you before.”
“Awnnhhh” my corny imitation of a buzzer. I point a shaking finger up and down his body. “And?”
Not even skipping a beat, seconds flat, he is stripped naked, obscenely grabbing a handful of his junk, “Will you fucking marry this big dick, would you? You hot, juiced up, muscled up horny piece of ass.”
And that was 20 years ago, almost to the day.
