From: XHugeForMuscl Subject: BIG IS BETTER - Part 01 Disclaimer: Do not read this story if you are under 18 years of age or if you are offended by explicit language involving gay men. The following story is intended for adults over age 18 interested in male to male sexual fantasy. The story also depicts unprotected sex. Please- Practice safe sex. All characters in this story are fictional with no resemblance to any real persons implied. Any reader with objections to graphic descriptions of sexual encounters between males, who may not have reached the legal age of consent, or whose local, regional, state or national jurisprudence prohibits such descriptions, should NOT read further. The Story: This is a serial novella, written in a quasi-autobiographical, 1st- person style. If you have no interest in long stories or this particular style of writing, or if you desire something with more immediate gratification, this story is probably not for you. The plot is very small in scope and 'tame' for the genre. Feel free to send email if you happen to particularly enjoy the story. However, if it does not appeal to you, please don't bombard me with 'negative' email, but consider seriously writing a story yourself that 'works for you'! BIG IS BETTER By HUGE4MUSCL (xhuge4muscl@yahoo.com) April, 2000 (Part 1) FORWARD Just how two guys eventually find each other in this world is as much a beguiling miracle as it is a bewildering mystery to me. To say that the laws of probability were completely suspended for both me and my awfully big 'other half' seems a gross understatement. But somehow- call it fate or whatever- our paths nevertheless crossed in this life. We have an altogether unusual relationship by almost any common measure imaginable. Frankly, you may well think it's just bizarre- perhaps even abnormal. Nevertheless we're locked together inseparably now by the spell of some unseen sorcerer- something far beyond what you might call merely psychic soul-mates. And I, for one, do believe there is a God in this universe who watches out for us all. I'm Pete, by the way. Peter - that's my given Christian name. Without any doubt, it was clearly meant as a biblical reference by my parents. I have found myself wondering though from time to time, and even as I pen this now, if perhaps they may have had some other possible reference in mind when they chose that particular name for me, but.... I'll never really know. I first met Samson when I was exactly 19 years old. That's easy enough to remember, for oddly it was on my very birthday. Sam would have been about 30 back then. We are the proverbial 'Mutt and Jeff' couple too- total and complete opposites - and the oddest pair that you may ever run across. But just like the old saying goes, opposites do seem to attract. It's been 9 years now, and the bond between us is still so powerful that it can almost scare me at times. He's so much more than just my better 'other half', and in the physical sense. Sam is two-thirds of this relationship anyway, tipping the scales at very roughly twice my own body weight. I still get a raging hard-on just observing Sam as he stands over the kitchen sink, doing nothing particularly sexier than slugging his way through a mound of the dirty dishes. To me he is the living definition of everything that is sensual and masculine. His body commands immediate and total attention; it oozes raw sexual power in even its subtlest physical movements. Among the very small numbers of unchallenged living male deities in the world, Sam stands supremely as Zeus, in my mind anyway. As to whom is actually 'the god' and who is 'the monster'? Well, you'll no doubt form your own opinion. I think that I'm 'a monster' and Sam is clearly 'a god' but Sam probably sees this exactly the other way around, not too surprisingly. I've been toying with the idea of writing our story for awhile now. When I asked Sam if he'd mind at all, he just sort of chuckled a bit and shook his head; his way of saying, "Not a problem." Literally nothing ever bothers or worries him- and of course, everything seems to bother me. Knowing him as well as I do, I don't even expect that he will ever read this. Sam is not illiterate, but he's also never been much of a reader. He visibly struggles with it. When he can get away with it, he'll willingly defer that chore to me. His early childhood educational experience was frankly just awful, and his basic skills sadly suffered as a direct result. He didn't ask me to use pennames to protect our privacy- the very concept most likely being completely foreign to him. I felt I should anyway, and so I'm taking the liberty to change the names I'm using in the telling of our story. And so to the very beginning, back to a time long before we ever would set eyes on each other. This is about my own roots and..... FAMILY "TREES" I was born on November 10th 1969 right inside a large farmhouse actually in the State of Pennsylvania, inside the County of Lancaster within the town limits of place called Intercourse. The whole of Lancaster County is dominated by several distinct groups of Amish people- and yes, I'm Amish-born too. My family was of a particular Amish group known as the Old Order. It's a tight-knit, pious and very closed clan governed by a group of men known as the Elders. You would find the social order conservative to a degree that it would be almost incomprehensible to you. I never stepped foot outside of the Lancaster County for the first 18 years of my life. Moreover, I seldom stepped beyond the borders of my family's own large farm except to attend school, go to church regularly and take occasional trips into the town center. Those usually happened only on Saturday mornings as a rule. And rules- there were rules in abundance - rules that covered just about every aspect of Amish life. If I could somehow condense all of the Amish philosophy concerning life into one short phrase, it would be 'Keep It Simple'. Most outlanders (people living outside of the Amish communities) would understandably see these rigid social conventions as being very repressive and even backwards. Nevertheless, these were 'our ways'. My parents were raised with 'these ways' and so, for that matter, was I. Above all else, however, it is a community and social structure that strongly supports and cares for its own members. I attended a private Amish one-room schoolhouse for the first 8 grades and then transferred to the regional public high school. The magnitude of the culture- shock I experienced that first year in high school was extraordinary; moreover that first year in high school was also the very first time I would come to personally know any of these outlanders. My family life was a very simple one. We had neither electricity nor a telephone nor plumbing in the farmhouse. The only running water came from a one hand pump mounted on a counter in a corner of our very large kitchen. There were however two vehicles always parked in the barn for our use- a snazzy black convertible we usually used during the fairer months- and a hardtop used for the colder ones mostly. One of my very first chores as a young boy was take care of the large work horses that pulled them too. Both of my parents were also born and raised in Lancaster County themselves. They were very hard-working and God-fearing farmers who kept meticulously to the proscribed old ways. My parents actually spoke three languages, which of course I also learned as well. A dialect of German called Pennsylvania Dutch was spoken at home. We used High German at our church services and learned to speak English at our private community schools. Farming "Amish style" was one particularly hard and demanding life- and all done without the benefit of any mechanized vehicles or machinery. The work and chores were endless; the days routinely started well before sunrise each morning and didn't end until after sundown- 7 days a week and just about 52 weeks a year. I didn't have many friends growing up, but that wasn't particularly unusual for Amish farm children either. My social life revolved around my own family, and usually whatever childhood play I engaged in was done with my brothers. There was little time for playing, at least as you'd conceive it. The farm work just never ceased. My parents themselves were just 'good folk'. Honest people. Honest in a way almost unknown now in this modern, fast-paced world. My parents were loving and very giving- a degree of generosity in fact again just not likely to be easily comprehended by anyone raised in the outlanders' modern society. My mom's simply an incredible woman. To say she was hard-working grossly minimizes what the woman accomplished on a daily basis. She was a petite woman actually, short and trim to the point of being tiny, but don't let that fool you because physically, she was one very strong woman. If someone had ever videotaped this woman's daily routine, it would have easily been the killer workout tape of all time. She had beautiful alabaster skin and huge dark-rosy cheeks the absolutely radiated from underneath the bonnet that she often wore- a striking feature you would no doubt notice instantly. Mom also carried a constant big warm smile for everyone, and had an infectious laugh. Her heart was just as big as the rolling fields of our farmlands. My father was of average height and had a lean and mean build with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He was on the quiet side and actually said very little; somewhat stern but never mean, he was still the undisputed and never-questioned supreme head of the family as well as its spiritual leader and guide. Both of my parents practiced the creed, "Do Unto Others" every single day of their lives. Neither was at all physically demonstrative about love though. There was little to no touching or kissing, as I recall, once I and my siblings were basically out of the crib, but there was still no doubt that we were all loved regardless, that fact clearly established in countless other ways. But physical touch- kissing and hugging- just was not 'their way', or the way that they had been raised by their parents before them. A part of me wants to tell you that it was a good life, actually. I deeply appreciate at least certain aspects of having had that experience-more now than perhaps I did back then. But this strict social system of the Old Order commanded obedience, 'doing one's duty' without question and, above all else, total conformity. I don't return to Lancaster County anymore these days. As a very educated and much more 'worldly-wise' man now, it's simply a world that I don't really fit into at all; moreover as a gay man I never really did. If the Amish even have a concept or word for 'gay' at all, well I've never heard it. Let me emphasize to you that the Amish social conventions and beliefs uniformly produced extremely naive kids, especially when it came to literally anything at all to do with the human anatomy, let alone the "birds and the bees". I was as totally clueless as a boy growing up, but then again so were all the rest of my peers. Discussion of anything even remotely sexual was strictly "verboten" (forbidden). Nudity was absolutely unheard of - unfathomable- so much so that I've thought at times that my parents somehow managed to produce four offspring while essentially remaining almost fully-clothed. So in terms of my personal knowledge of anatomy, physiology and human sexuality, I was sadly pretty much a total moron- and remained that way until I went away to college. To put this into a different perspective, I didn't even have English words or a vocabulary to describe genitalia or anything remotely sexual in nature. I knew no 'names' for anything and resorted to making up my own terms in my head. This total lack of any information on the subject would also make my life as a gay boy in Lancaster County much more traumatic than it might have been, had I been raised in the outlander's world. I never saw my mother, sister or younger brother naked - not once in my life, and actually only saw my father and Zechariah, who's my older brother, naked just a very few times- and mind you, those times were also completely by accident. I very vividly remember though that Zec's male appendage permanently imprinted it's 'dimension' in my memory at a very young age. He was in high school at that time- maybe age 14 or 15- and I was about 8 years old. It was however seeing my father's particular male endowment that just really stunned me frankly. I only glimpsed my father's thing for a few brief seconds, and then on only two separate occasions. The man was an elephant with this 'trunk' attached to him. Among the very elite of the truly greatest male airships that exist in this world, my father's was absolutely the Hindenburg. After I'd seen these two other males in my family, I do remember bemoaning to myself how unbelievably tiny my own 'little-boy' was, comparatively. Unfortunately my father's and brother's behemoths were also the only points-of- reference available to me as a curious boy to formulate my concepts of what were the expected 'average male' measurements. Since I was always shorter than other boys my age- and I hated that- I also automatically assumed that I was a runt 'down there' as well, which was visually more or less proven to me by my rare observations of the other males in my immediate family. I distinctly remember not feeling at all good either about how very little my very little thing was. My self-concept would eventually become however - somewhat revised - in my freshman year at the regional county high school. CUMMING OF AGE I was equally as naive about puberty. I had no concept for it at all, let alone at what age most boys begin puberty on average. Looking back now, I realize that I started to sexually mature- and very much to my dismay please understand- long before other boys. By the age of 8 the little lump that would become my scrotum was already noticeable to me, and this was all-too-quickly followed by the appearance of two distinguishable little bumps inside that thing as well. I was extremely concerned with this new 'self-discovery' but too afraid to even mention this to either of my parents. Even before I reached my 9th year, they had literally fallen out of me, like two .. well... "nuts" I guess. My very unwanted 9th birthday present was pubic hair- it was becoming visible, even then. And if I really didn't like at all what was happening to me and how I looked- very ugly I thought-, then I absolutely detested the gooey little spots of something in my pajama bottoms I was discovering every morning, like I was peeing in my sleep- only I knew it wasn't pee. These spots too-quickly evolved into a nightly puddle of semen that soaked my pajama bottoms through. My nuts were now clearly of the variety 'walnuts' too. This became my very private nightmare. I began to routinely visually check out the current status of these fast physical changes that were happening to my body, usually while I was seated in the outhouse. Both fascinated and yet scared, I observed my 'walnuts' changing into- err- well- something more like two pullet eggs. The bag of skin around them was definitely getting bigger too I'd noticed, but seemed to be lagging behind what was actually needed. These things of mine were definitely forcing the basket of skin that contained them to stretch to accommodate them. Understand that I was clearly not at all OK with what was happening - not one bit. Once, I held the two balls in the palm of my hand, and lifted them heavenward to offer God a trade-of-sorts: "If you'd make me taller, you can make these smaller - PLEASE?" He of course did not, on either count. I wondered if perhaps God was punishing me for my sin of gluttony - I knew that I was rushing through my early morning chores to get to the breakfast table faster. Part of my strategy was to deliberately 'not see' a good number of the eggs in the hen house- I mean, there were so many of them anyway. Maybe He'd grown these 'eggs' inside of me so I would be eternally reminded of my sin? I began to secretly change my own sheets everyday. Thankfully there was always huge piles of laundry to be done, especially on a farm, and I hoped maybe my mother wouldn't notice. Certainly by the age of 10, I was waking daily in a virtual lake of semen that now soaked through into the straw mattress. Just changing the sheets wasn't very effectively concealing my sins anymore. I was one very scared boy. Moreover, there was this ammonia-like smell that began to emanate from the now chronically-damp mattress. God bless my mother though. One morning she came into my bedroom to get me up, just as she'd always done. On this particular morning, however, she paused- and then sat down on my bed. "Peter - der ist ein smell in here. Varh ist dis coming from?" My eyes filled up and I started to cry as I threw back the bedcovers to show her all of my secrets - my punishments from God. I was frightened, frustrated and also totally ready to fez up and be out with the truth. "I'm SO sorry .. I'm SO sorry.. ," I wailed over again and again. She unhurriedly took in the entire scene with her eyes- both the huge mess I'd created during the night as well as my 'new' male anatomy. "Ooohhh...... my ...... ," she said. " I see vat ist der problem." Then to my complete surprise, she smiled very kindly and began to stroke my head soothingly, and continued: "Dis ist OK mein Peter. Dis ist OK. You ist ein big boy now!" Reflecting back, she had a very thorough understanding of - well - the special nature of the men in her immediate family, I think- and their 'specimens' as well, though she never spoke it aloud. She simply accepted the facts of the matter just as they were. And since she was not a worldly or educated woman herself, she may well have not even known that this was anything unusual or way outside of 'the norms'- which it most definitely was. I do remember her words that also followed, though.... "You're JUST like your vater AND your bruder, Zechariah! Always know daat Gott - He lovz you now-- just the vay daat you ist. For His own divine reasons, He made all de mensen in dis family to be - ah - vell - very potent - see?. I'll just change your bed every morgen, yust like I do your bruder's....." "And Peter, you must never, never touch your- your "little Johann"- to make yourself do dis ting wit your hands, do you hear me? It is against Gott's law. Dat you do dis in your sleep, dat ist ein normal ting for a boy - dat you cannot help yourself. OK? Do you understand?" "Yes, Mama...." And so ended what was the first- and last- of any 'sex education' that I was to ever receive from either of my parents anyway. "Den Gut. I vill make you anoder couple of mattresses. I change dem, too - give dem a chanze to dry outzide. You get up now- for your chores, OK?" "JUST like your father and brother?" "Very potent...?" "My brother's..." Just what was she telling me? I mulled these verbal tidbits over-and-over in my mind. Well, at least I now knew that my thing apparently had a name for it - a "little Johann" apparently. But that was all my mother ever said about the matter, and the one and only time it was ever to be spoken of again. She made two new straw mattresses for me and began to change my bedding completely every single morning thereafter, just as she'd said she would. That practice continued right up until I left home for college. She was already well- accustomed to the copious amounts of nocturnal emissions that apparently flowed in that house nightly.. Completely unknown to me, she had been doing the same special daily 'chore' for my own brother, for several years already too... From: XHugeForMuscl Subject: BIG IS BETTER - Part 02 The Story: This is a serial novella, written in a quasi-autobiographical, 1st- person style. If you have no interest in long stories or this particular style of writing, or if you desire something with more immediate gratification, this story is probably not for you. The plot is very small in scope and 'tame' for the genre. Feel free to send email if you happen to particularly enjoy the story. However, if it does not appeal to you, please don't bombard me with 'negative' email, but consider seriously writing a story yourself that 'works for you'! BIG IS BETTER By HUGE4MUSCL (xhuge4muscl@yahoo.com) April, 2000 (Part 2) THE MEAT OF THE MATTER And as for 'touching' little Johann, well- I almost never had to anyway. Little Johann seemed to just do it all by himself,- and far too often frankly- though I was starting to privately enjoy the powerful sensations more and more. By the age of 12, when other boys are just beginning puberty, I already had sprouted a noticeable "v" patch of center-line body hair extending up from my groin to my stomach. The pubic hair around my groin was already darkening. My balls- I still just absolutely hated the big things- had, of course, only grown yet larger during the past year. I'd become convinced that this was no longer God's, but surely Satan's work. It was really no consolation to me that at least the satchel seemed to have finally caught up to the appropriate size needed to hold the cursed things. I was now the wholly-ashamed owner of two regulation-sized golf balls in their matching custom-made golf bag. But there was to be NO discussion of the devil's work in our house: "Es war sehr V-E-R-B- O-T-E-N." And my testicles just seemed to ache all the time, and being always squished in my pants only exacerbated the matter too. I remember one incident while working in the far east field with my older brother. I was dressed in a pair of Zechariah's hand-me-down pants- always black pants- and they were tight and just not accommodating my privates well at all. My balls were just throbbing that morning, and I was clearly in some distress. I was trying to rub the soreness away as inconspicuously as I could, but eventually my brother Zec must have taken notice: "Peter, are you very sore -- you know - down there?" he said very calmly and matter-of-factly, gesturing with his nodding head to my privates. "Yeah... I am" He paused and just started nodding his head with acknowledgement as he walked towards me. His facial expression told me that he understood exactly what I was- they were- feeling like, and rather empathetically. I somehow felt safe enough with his expressions of sympathy to risk adding more to this strictly off-limits topic: "You know - they just seem to hurt me - all the time!" I remember blurting out, and started to rub them overtly to ease the discomfort I was feeling, since Zec seemed to understand what was going on anyway. "I know Peter. I understand what you're feeling.... My own... they felt just like that when I was about your age too. They will stop hurting after awhile." His words encouraged as well as to comforted me, as he rubbed my hair and head very sympathetically. And eventually, they actually did stop aching two or three years later, although that seemed like an eternity to me. Many minutes passed and we continued to work in silence. Zec suddenly paused again, straightened up and looked at me, adding as if we'd never stopped talking, "Peter, you might want to wear men's' overalls like mine, from now on. You'll find that they're just much more comfortable to work in. They'll fit you better- ah, you know- down there," as he gestured again toward at my crotch. Not too long after that conversation, I guessed that Zec apparently must have mentioned all of this to my mother, as she set to work making me a few pairs of my own men's overalls - the kind with the straps that come over the shoulders from the back and attach to the high bib in the front to hold them up. And you know it was kind of odd, but she made them with a real lot of space in the crotch area, too, like she just knew I'd grow into them fast enough. When she'd finished sewing the first pair and handed them to me, I literally bounded up to my bedroom to try them on. Ahhhhh..., the truly simple pleasures of life. If my privates could have talked, they would have been joyfully screaming, "Free at last. Free at last! Oh Lord, we're free AT LAST !!". There was SO much room. Nothing squished them. I was hyper-aware of how incredibly good it felt to be able to just hang there in free space while still fully-clothed. I swear I could feel a cool breeze moving all around them, and that started to excite me, actually. "Wunderbar!!!" There was ample room now for my still-growing gonads and little Johann too. (By the way, this curse of mine apparently wasn't just directed solely on his closest neighbors - not at all. Johann had really always kept up with the Jones- or maybe it was actually just the other way around). But unlike my balls, I actually was initially quite pleased with what was happening to little Johann. No doubt I was comparing myself with those mental photographs I'd taken of both my father and brother so long ago, when that brief opportunity had presented itself. There certainly seemed to me to be a very long way to go still, but .... "Just maybe I won't be a runt, or at least SUCH a runt," I remember thinking to myself. At least there I was a growing sign that there was definitely room for hope now, anyway, but..... what I really just longed for all the time was to grow bigger and taller. At the rate I was going, I was just never going to be a 'big man'. Certainly by this time I'd become socially acclimated to the notion that I was supposed to have some real interest in girls- at least eventually. Men got married to woman and somehow they had families, although the exact mechanism of how babies came into this world was still completely unknown to me. In fact, choosing a mate is the most important decision in an Amish man's life. Boys and girls begin their search for a spouse when they turn sixteen. Certainly by the age of 20 or so it is expected that you will be married- brides almost always wearing a BLUE wedding dress, by the way. What seemed to be increasingly holding my undivided attention however were men - mature men. I had no name for this thing I felt inside me. It was much more intense that merely a special curiosity or an interest. Instinctively, I also just knew several things about this 'feeling' rather immediately. (Since I had never even heard of anything even remotely to do with sex or heterosexuality discussed anywhere, how or even where I had picked up these notions remains a mystery to me, let alone the very vague concept I had of my different sexual orientation.) Regardless, I had somehow 'divined from the universe' that this special interest of mine was also definitely not acceptable somehow - even dangerous - something else that must be kept completely my secret. Similarly, I knew that it was not OK to display any special 'attention' in men at all publicly, either- that I should never stare at any man for too long, lest someone follow my eyes and somehow 'figure out' my secret thoughts or feelings- these desires that held an increasing power over me, and that I couldn't even put a name to. It was the thoughts of men that filled my head at night. I imagined things. I had very vivid thoughts and dreams- dreams of men who, in various ways, always seemed to be big, powerful and very strong somehow. I'd think of a few of the men I'd seen in town on some previous Saturday morning, and use them as the basis for constructing my vivid 'imaginings'. I can remember sitting on the curbside alongside our parked buggy while one of my brothers or my father was off doing 'grown-ups' business. I'd be watching all of the people go by, but always seemed to watch the grown men most intensely; and when an especially bigger-looking man would occasionally come into my view, my eyes would lock onto him like a dog on to a bone. Little Johann often would at least start to get bigger too - but I didn't feel safe anywhere outside of my own bedroom with letting Johann get too hard, although I always wanted to. On one particular Saturday during that summer immediately prior to my entering the regional high school, I'd gone into town with Zec to help with the usual loading and unloading our wagon with various goods and supplies. Zec was doing some business in one of the stores while I was waiting outside, sitting in my usual position on the curb. I was wearing my new "mans" overalls. A male figure came into my field of vision from my right side, out of nowhere- and he was a giant. I was so dumbfounded that I think my heart skipped a beat or two. By the way he was dressed he was also obviously an outlander. There were many large wooden barrels sitting along side of a truck parked directly next to our wagon. The outlander started lifting them and putting them into the back of the truck. I knew just how heavy each of those barrels was; I'd hoisted enough of them myself, on occasion, and it took 2 or 3 of us (me and my brothers) straining very hard to lift just one of them. This man though was lifting one after the other all by himself. Being the hot season, he was wearing what they called a tee-shirt. It looked to me as if his shirt had been painted on to him, so tightly did it fit his body. I know that I was staring, but I could not seem to move my eyes anywhere else. I lowered my head a bit and continued to peer at him from underneath the brim of my straw hat. There were these - these breathtaking formations- these large, big shapes everywhere. From his head to his waist, nothing was flat at all! As he moved, it seemed that every inch of his body revealed another new powerfully attractive contour to me. There were very big ones as well as very small ones- maybe hundreds and them- more muscles were suddenly visible to me than I knew even existed inside a man's body. I'd never seen such a masculine specimen as this before and neither had I thought such a miracle could even exist! I felt my heart beating more noticeably as I watched his arms as he lifted up every barrel on to his truck bed, totally enthralled by how very- well big- they were. I was also aware that little Johann was uncontrollably growing very big too, and creeping steadily down the backside of my leg under my thigh. The leg in my new overalls was loose enough now to permit this without being particularly visible. I don't know why, but this time it felt just too good to me, and I couldn't stop - I did not want to stop little Johann from getting bigger. I was feeling these incredible sensations that seemed to be more intense than ever before. I know that I was getting very careless by just staring openly at him, but I could not resist the urge to gawk openly. Every part of me wanted to just- to just be able to- to F-E-E-L those great big muscles in his arms. He had glanced over at me a few times, and apparently had noticed that I was always looking directly at him too. He stopped and waved at me and said "hello" and I immediately waved back. Then I shocked myself (I was always so very quiet usually) and just blurted out, "You are VERY strong, Mr.!!!" Right then- the most completely astounding thing happened. He paused and then straightened up. Smiling right at me and putting his arms down to his sides, he somehow just - like as if by magic - MADE his two very large muscles on his chest swell upward and grow much bigger- right in front of my eyes. I could feel my Johann swelling upward and growing bigger too by the second. Then he reached down with one arm and grabbed the side-handle on one of the barrels. I thought, " Mein Gott! He was going to actually lift that very heavy barrel- and with just his ONE arm!" The man was still looking directly at me, as if he wanted to make sure I was watching him do this amazing thing! He took a very deep breath and then very slowly began to lift that huge barrel off of the ground. I watched in wonder with my mouth wide opened wide. He was just so- so unbelievably strong. By the time he got that barrel all the way to his chest, his arm muscle in front was just immense- exactly the size of a large grapefruit- and looked very too. My head spun dizzily as I watched him quite deliberately display his brute strength just for me. Johan was dangerously big and very hard now, nearly half way down the back of my pant leg. I could feel how heavy it actually was, pulling the back of my pant leg downward forcibly. Still grinning at me, the man began to lower and then raise the barrel to his chest again- and then- AGAIN! He would look intently at his own fantastically large muscle that astoundingly seemed to be getting even larger, and then he'd look back at me again, as if checking to make sure I was still watching him too. (As if I could possibly have been distracted away by anything else in the world at that point.) Then, in a low voice that was meant clearly only for me to hear, he posed a question to me: "Do ya think it's BIG enough?" "Did I think it was - big - 'enough' "? I couldn't have even dreamed an arm muscle so be so huge! I was overcome instantly with an undeniable urge to press my thigh down onto the curb right then and there, pinning Johann between the back of my leg and the sidewalk, and I did just that almost automatically. I slammed my leg down actually, and just as hard as I could. These incredible sensations flooded through me and Johann began strongly pulse over and over again, expelling my juices. I was completely overwhelmed by this sensation. And when it finally was over, I'd completely flooded my whole pant leg; and I just somehow knew that the man with the big muscles also knew exactly what I'd done. Almost immediately, feelings of shame and also fear swarmed over me. I involuntarily leaped up probably to start to run away as fast as I could, and my juices streamed down my leg and ran all over my boot. I froze, looking down in dismay at the mess for no more than a second, when Zec came bounding out of the door of the store, saying, "Let's get going Peter!" I looked up and the man with the big muscles was completely out of sight, as if he'd just disappeared. But there I was, caught red-handed regardless. Trapped. All of the evidence of at least some perceived sin was too clearly visible down below me and completely impossible to hide. I was so scared and it must have shown all over my face. And then the 2nd miracle of that day just happened. While Zec walked towards me and our wagon, he spotted the condition of the back of my pant leg - only a blind man could have missed it anyway. I saw his eyes follow down to the big mess all over my boot that flowed onto the sidewalk. He just shook his head, more like an expression of only very mild disapproval and that little brothers can be a real pain in the neck sometimes. He grabbed me by the shoulder and said, "Quick now. Get in the wagon Peter." And just as fast as I could, I'd leaped into the back of the wagon, and we were off- heading towards home. Long minutes later, I heard his voice coming from the front of the wagon, saying, " Don't worry Peter- It's happen to me. I used to have those accidents too. It's OK. I'm not going to tell Mother or Father." I just listened to the horse's hooves clomping steadily on the pavement. Then, as if to encourage some special brotherly male bonding, Zec tacked on, " So Peter - It feels pretty good, doesn't it!" Well yes, to me it had felt VERY good, actually. And I now had one new piece of information. This 'expelling juices' thing also happened to at least my brother Zec and that it also felt good to him too. But I passed up the opportunity to fraternally bond over this and chose to remain silent. I knew that while the same thing may have happened to Zec, it most definitely wasn't for the same reasons. Zec was going to be married very soon and was growing his beard, Amish-style without a mustache; this being the Amish male billboard that officially announces, "I'm taken and off the market." For as long as I could remember anyway, Zec also always had the same obvious 'interest' in women that I seemed to have for men. I did not want to risk further discussion- or worse any questions from him - about the specific details. One sin was quite enough for that day and I didn't want to add lying to that list either. But Zec's reassurances nevertheless felt good, and certainly calmed and soothed me greatly; and he very wisely never pressed for any further conversation. It was never even mentioned again, thankfully. And so I was about to enter high school. I was a really very quiet, even shy and always obedient boy - raised completely with the Amish value system of austerity and hard work. I had an implicit understanding of the need to conform to the rather austere social conventions, these being instilled in me from the earliest age. I was about to find out how difficult though it would actually be to continue to conform..... OF MICE AND MEN My real awakening began when I transferred to the public regional high school, probably not unlike the experiences of most other Amish boys. I suspect. Thanks to the outlanders, I heard the word 'sex' for the first time. I also began hearing other related topics in conversations as well, mostly of course only teenage distortions, rumors and innuendoes. Still- I got some very rudimentary base-line concepts down concerning sex. I also heard the word 'homo' for the first time and understood immediately that this was not a 'desirable thing' to be in the least, this more or less confirming my own unexplainable previous intuitions. A few other facts about myself I 'got' rather immediately too, thanks to having a large number of other boys my same age around me for the first time. I saw that I definitely was shorter than almost every other boy in my same grade. I was still growing, but just not fast enough to catch up, let alone keep pace. Standing on my toes, I'd have been hard-pressed to squeak out 5' 8". I also got that I had a very good head on my shoulders and was smarter than most comparatively. I just picked things up very easily- especially when it came to math and sciences. Thanks specifically to gym locker rooms, I got two additional facts about my physical self, and on the very first day of gym classes too. One fact I liked, while the other would traumatize me beyond words. My surprising 'big plus' was that it seemed to me that I already had a much nicer overall shape to my otherwise very short body than any of the other boys in my grade. There were clear, visible signs that I was already filling out, and starting to develop the very 'wide shoulders and narrow hips' bone structure that was the genetic characteristics of the males in my family. This was only exaggerated more because I was so short anyway. I also was a strong kid - a beefy little bulldog actually- from working the farm all my life. There was some meat on my otherwise short bones that narrowed down into a definitely smaller waste line. Most of the other freshman were really thin and lanky and looked like pencils from their shoulders on downward. The shape of my body was wider at the top and narrower at the bottom, just like the older high school seniors I saw- more shaped like a man's body. This aspect of myself actually pleased me greatly. That first fateful day in the locker room while changing for my first-ever gym class was also the very first time that I'd seen any nakedness at all, save for staring at myself in the outhouse. This was my first opportunity to do that other kind of mental comparing that boys inevitably do. I had a real concern that I'd probably come up naturally short in that area, too- that particular impression formed at an early age no doubt, after having seen the outright phalluses that my father and Zec each possessed. I managed to quickly sneak discreet glances here and there around the lockers while we were stripped and changing. It only took one gym class to unequivocally establish just how I really measured up with the other boys- that kind of naked truth that can only be revealed in a men's locker room. The truth flattened me like a steamroller. I was completely stunned and overwhelmed with feelings of humiliation. In the body hair department, the other boys only had some wisps of pubic hair, some a bit more than others. Most of the other freshman frankly seemed to me to be pretty much like hairless Chihuahuas, actually. I looked down at myself and saw, in comparison, this narrow strip of dark hair that ran up from this grotesque 'forest' of dense hair surrounding little Johann and his friends, and followed the centerline of my body right up over my flat stomach. I impulsively wanted to immediately hide my differences- and just as fast as possible. I about jumped into my own brand new jockstrap and quickly yanked it up. "Whew! There," I muttered to myself, thinking that everything was quite OK now. I then turned my attention back to discretely inspecting how everyone else looked wearing their own jockstraps. In their 1st athletic supporters, the other freshman certainly didn't seem to really have much of anything to- well -"support". Their jocks covered their nakedness more than effectively, even resembling a bathing suit in the front on most of them- like a bunch of eunuchs, actually. When they moved around in them, I saw that nothing shifted around so much as a millimeter inside their mostly flatten pouches. After having now established what 'the norms' were for jockstrap posing, I turned my attention to myself to see comparatively how I really looked in my own. The waistband of mine seemed to fit me just fine, but it sagged in the front too much, as if being pulled downwards from my narrow hips. The rest of it, however, didn't look at ALL right to me - not one bit - certainly nothing like the fit of the other boy's jock. The white elastic pouch part seemed to look too small, and certainly felt way too tight. The elastic material was stretched thinly as it attempted to both confine as well as pull up its 'load' into something that looked like a very rounded-- grapefruit, actually. Moreover, the perimeters of my pubic forest were still completely exposed, perfectly framing this big white bulge with bold dark contrast all around it.. So rather than concealing anything, I realized immediately that wearing my jock actually visually 'quantified'- and in no uncertain terms - just how very much there was. I might as well have turned on a spotlight shining directly at my crotch. When I tried to walk slowly across the floor as inconspicuously as I could, I was appalled that my bulging pouch was kind of stretching and rebounding visibly with each step I took. I noticed that almost all of the other guys were glancing at me- down there- too. (Elastic and I were to become mortal enemies in the near future, and unknowingly to me this was my very first hint of that coming 'relationship'.) When the other boys were butt-naked heading for the shower, I noticed that their little Johann's looked like shaftless 'bald-headed mice' and seemed to poke right out of their round, motionless little sacks. When I walked into the showers, my Johann hung from me like the serpent in the Bible and swung around playing an aggressive game of stickball with it's two orbiting planets. I was undeniably a "Triton among the minnows". The very last thing I wanted was to be was so obviously different from the others. Regardless of how carefully I tried to be inconspicuous in the gang showers, I eventually drew all their eyes downward, freshman and seniors alike. Their stares were carefully expressionless. Wherever I looked however, I would notice at least someone staring at me more or less constantly. The words "you're really a freak Peter" started echoing in my brain as I became aware of more pairs of eyes inspecting me. I wanted to be just like every other freshman - to fit in and just to belong in my peer group. I was so clearly NOT like every other freshman- or even any seniors I could see for that matter. They all knew it and I knew it. A big part of me just ached inside and not one single ounce of 'male pride' did I feel. To me, this was a curse. What I didn't have was the balls to cut off my balls, although that thought honestly raced around in my head - having none at all seemed the better of the two big evils. I was deeply ashamed and a big part of me wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and die. Well die I did not. I adjusted. I adapted. I came up with a strategy- a game plan. It was basically to 'appear' as small as I could, or at least attract as little attention as possible. In an attempt to better conceal myself (and praying that sooner or later the other guys would just forget) I learned to dress and undress quickly, always facing my locker and turned away from everyone else. In no time at all I had it down to a real science of speed and precision- oh, and I just stopped taking showers altogether at school. FIRST CONTACT My first experience- my first contact with another male- hardly could be called sex. It was more what you'd call just experimental 'touchy-feely' games. Regardless, to me it was still a benchmark event in my life, both powerful and sensual- and honestly scary too. Scary in the way that the experience also gave me a very brief peek - a hint - at my deeper sexual psyche and those particular desires that were still buried and repressed inside of me. So my '1st time' had elements that both thrilled and terrified; a very first small step along my journey of sexual self-discovery. It happened with guy named Gabe, who I'd met in my first year in high school. Gabe's gym class and mine were scheduled during the same period, so we were always using the locker room together. We'd exchange a few polite 'hellos' occasionally and we knew each other's names, but nothing more conversational than that had ever occurred between us. He was a very large, strapping guy - not Amish - just so much bigger and taller than I was- definitely 'all man'. A man like I'd never be either, I knew. Gabe was confident and outgoing. That also seemed to apply to just about every other guy too but myself. I was one very shy kid. I assumed he was well 'experienced' with sex; Gabe being both older as well as an outlander. As well as being a big senior, Gabe was a big athlete too- a varsity linebacker on the high school football team. I was always especially eyeballing those really 'big bruisers', attracted to them like a moth to a flame. Gabe was also one of those guys I noticed that never seemed to miss any opportunity to check me out either. Every time our paths happened to cross in the locker room, his eyes would track downwards to my crotch, however briefly. He took more than just 'a peek' whenever the opportunity presented itself too. Such attention also unfortunately constantly reminded me that I needed to take great lengths to minimize my public exposure. 'First contact' occurred during the spring semester of my first year in high school. By this time I was already into my 3rd jock while the other guys were still wearing their originals. The truth was that the elastic seemed to give out completely in mine after about 3 months of regular gym classes. (Some boys were tough on shoes or pants. I seemed to just destroy jockstraps.) Also thanks to the outlanders, I was gaining a new vocabulary- a sexual vocabulary. I had brand new words to describe sexual 'things' now. It was very late in the afternoon, well after school was out. I was doing make- up sessions for several PE classes that I'd missed. I came into the locker room just as Gabe was returning from the showers. I didn't know it, but Gabe had just finished one of his regular heavy workouts in the weight room. (I still had no concept about lifting weights or what a weight room even was, let alone there was one in the school as yet.) Gabe was very big into 'the weights' I'd eventually discover. He turned his head as he walked by me and said, "Hi," very friendly-like. There was something though about the way that our eyes locked and held the contact. Really it was probably only an extra second or two, but still... That lingering gaze shot like a bolt of lightening through me. It was something very real- very powerful- and completely compelling. (I didn't understand it at the time of course, but my GAY-DAR had just been switched on for the very 1st time.) My vocal chords strangely failed me as this electric- feeling coursed through my whole body. I just could not get myself to return his greeting, though I wanted to. My eyes continued to track him like a laser- guided missile as he walked crossed the room. It seemed as though he was almost moving in slow motion. My skin felt very warm and my heartbeat seemed to quicken. I could not for the life-of-me take my eyes off him. He looked really solid and more powerful than I remembered. The veins in his arms were very prominent too. I traced with my eyes the visible outlines and utterly masculine shapes of his very- yes they really were- big muscles. "He has very BIG muscles," was a silent chant that repeated in rapid succession in my mind as I just stared. I snapped out of my trace when I became suddenly aware that I was developing a sizeable boner- and rather uncontrollably. That freaked me out totally. Having absolutely no way at all to hide it, I spun around on my heels and just about ran back out the door. I spent untold minutes subsequently running laps widely around the gymnasium to thoroughly extinguish all traces of my 'undesired' sexual fires. Eventually I walked back into the locker room. It was completely empty and unusually quiet, with none of the usual noise and commotion typical during the normal school hours. Well, wouldn't you know it - guess who just happened to have taken the locker right beside mine very own? Yep, there was Gabe- just finishing getting dressed now. He had on a pullover tucked into his jeans- this in contrast to the all-occasion Amish "uniform" that every Amish male wore that was hanging in my own locker, which was a white starched shirt, black pants and suspenders. He was sitting on the bench, lacing up his boots. I didn't say a word- more accurately, I actually could not have spoken a single word. I opened my locker and, looking straight ahead, quickly popped off my sneakers, peeled off my shirt and dropped my gym shorts. Fully aware that I was then wearing only my jockstrap and socks, I automatically positioned myself as close as I possibly could to my locker's opening. (Truthfully, I'd have stood inside of my locker to get dressed if I could have gotten away with it, but I'd worked out this defense of using the locker door as a protective visual shield against roving eyes.) As I rummaged around in my locker, I became more aware that Gabe hadn't left yet. In fact as far as I could tell, he was just sitting there because there were no noises. I moved my head backwards slightly and saw him still sitting there out of the corner of my eyes, maybe with his head turned towards me. It took a few more seconds for me to establish that he was also more than likely actually looking at me- and he appeared to be staring right- well you know where. But very oddly unlike any previous times, I didn't seem to mind as much this particular guy's inspection of me. I was closer to him physically now than I'd ever been before- almost close enough to feel his body heat radiating, or so I imagined anyway. I remembered how he had just looked so very- BIG- to me, as I'd walked up to my locker. I remembered how his back was just so wide across and very thick too, when he'd been tying his shoes. I remembered how he more than filled out that large shirt he was wearing. Gabe was exactly the type of guy that made my blood start pumping uncontrollably. He was so appealingly masculine and apparently very strong. That sexually excited me, which also scared the hell out of me. I snapped out of my thoughts when he suddenly jerked his head upwards. "Hey Peter. What 'cha hiding there?" I just froze solid right on the spot, completely paralyzed. His voice sounded unexpectedly deep and intensely masculine. There was a unusual tension in my body. My head felt a little light. While only a few seconds of silence had actually passed, it seemed like a full minute or more to me. Somehow I managed to find my voice but only after clearing my throat a few times. Talking directly into my locker, I said rather mechanically, " I'm ...errrr... I'm not hiding anything." "Yes, I think you are." he replied quickly. The way he said those words didn't seem confrontational. It had a between-the-lines unspoken message that also seemed to be saying, "Hey, I'm a friend / just don't bullshit me." He seemed so close that I thought I could actually feel his hot breath on my ear - and I could tell that his gaze had now returned again to my crotch. "Let me tell you something, Peter. Your basket is nothing to be ashamed of... at all." "Basket?" Well, I knew exactly what that was referring to unfortunately. OK- so I did know that I was built 'kind of big' down there, but after that very first day in the locker room, I'd also spent these many long months now literally hiding myself and being as 'small' and unobtrusively 'normal' as I could be. I just wanted everyone to forget that fact about me actually. I doubt seriously that I'd had even since looked at another guy's crotch again myself since that fateful first day in the locker room. Truthfully, it wasn't a guy's crotch that pushed my 'on' switch anyway. It was their bodies- the way the 'total package' looked to me - and always it seemed that bigger was just better. So I'd kept my eyes to home for months. And throughout that time, I'd slowly been minimizing, at least to myself, the 'size thing'. Perhaps it was a very necessary self-deception, but in my own mind I'd gradually "shrunk" the perception of myself down a bit, something akin to, " I'm big, but not really THAT big...." But Gabe's comment suddenly brought this whole issue up again right in my face again, and I was faced with my doubts and my question again. "Am I really that big?" I had the urge to actually look at his crotch just to get an instant reality-check and comparison again, but then I remembered he had his pants on already. Evidently not getting the response from me that he wanted, Gabe took another tactic. "My friend says that you stuff something in there- so everyone'll think you have a big basket. I mean... maybe it's just because you're kind'a short- and all you want id to at least be really hung, and all- to sort'a compensate. Hey, I can understand that. I won't tell no one. Honest - I won't." 'Hung?' Another new word, but I seemed again to get the reference clearly enough. It was about my size- the size of my equipment. Then I saw this hand appear in the corner of my vision and grab the door on my locker. This big, thickly-veined large hand. It was a grizzly's paw. Just immense. Gabe must had very easily been able to completely surround a football with that thing. No wonder he was already on the State all-star's draft pick list. Once he got a football in that grip, no one was ever going to be able to dislodge it. It was a hand that said to me, "I'm connected to a REAL man...." And this hand was now slowly pushing the door of my locker wide open. I watched as my privacy shield disappeared completely. Now my unobstructed profile was fully in his view. Meanwhile, I was also turning red and genuinely angry at this hurtful and definitely very false rumor. Rather impulsively, and also demanding in no uncertain terms his immediate attention, I blurted out, "See? See me?. S-E-E ??" Then I childishly - stupidly - and very awkwardly jumped up and down in place just once, absolutely intent upon squelching this rumor by just showing him that it was really 'all me'. It was easy enough to tell that I wasn't lying. My whole jock sagged and recoiled from the sheer weight inside. It's noticeable motion said very effectively, "These are the REAL McCoy's!" But no sooner had I finished my angry demonstration than my old familiar feelings of embarrassment and self-loathing overwhelmed me. This was unfortunately just more reinforced when Gabe gulped with sincere astonishment, "Now that's a real tool chest...." In exasperation, I blurted out, "I hate it - hate it ALL! It's all- well- too much! I only wanted to be taller and look what I got instead - THIS! I'm never going to be a big guy." And Gabe continued studying the situation, and VERY intensely too. More seconds passed in complete silence. Then I just heard one more word, spoken almost breathlessly.... "W-O-W......." From: XHugeForMuscl Subject: BIG IS BETTER - Part 03 The Story: This is a serial novella, written in a quasi-autobiographical, 1st- person style. If you have no interest in long stories or this particular style of writing, or if you desire something with more immediate gratification, this story is probably not for you. The plot is very small in scope and 'tame' for the genre. Feel free to send email if you happen to particularly enjoy the story. However, if it does not appeal to you, please don't bombard me with 'negative' email, but consider seriously writing a story yourself that 'works for you'! BIG IS BETTER By HUGE4MUSCL (xhuge4muscl@yahoo.com) April, 2000 (Part 3) THE POWER OF THE PEN - DULUM Somehow I got my head to rotate stiffly on my neck, and for the first time I looked directly at him. Gabe's eyes appeared to me to still be taking in their first (and very close-up) mental photos of my crotch. Though previously I'd always made sure that I was a moving and uncooperative target, this time however I found myself frozen solidly in place and motionless. There was ample time for this particular 'photo shoot'. In my mind I could almost hear the rapid clicks of his mental camera's shutter. He was changing from a wide-angle to a zoom lens, and back again. I was so aware of this strange tension running throughout my whole body. My heartbeat seemed more pronounced to me. As his brain received and processed more and more visual images of me, I watched his eyes open wider and get glazed over. Gabe seemed like he was in a trace. He stared with such intensity that it felt like it pierced right through me. There was something in his eyes though- the way he was looking at me- and his facial expression as well- as if there was a tidal wave building up behind his gaze. It was palpable to me. (I'd come to know this particular 'look' very well, but not for a long time to come yet.) For the very first time in my life though, at least in this moment I was not feeling like running away and hiding. His whole body language was telling me that I was OK with him.... "W-O-W ... Are you EVER a man .... " His soft tone was soft . Gabe looked as if he was really in amazed awe and very appreciative at the same time. Clearly he was fascinated and was overtly complementing me. I felt my skin getting hot and the surrounding air feeling very cold, and I got Goosebumps suddenly. "A man with very BIG tools...." He followed this with a short whistle. The whistle's meaning translated instantly to me. There was no questioning it. It said, "Unbelievable...and unbelievably HOT... and you're turning me on." His pupils were getting dilated. I didn't understand why, he really was finding my grapefruit very attractive, and his excitement was physical- and that was arousing me. Still, I was afraid to let him actually see my dick getting even the least bit hard. Maybe still afraid that my senses were all lying to me and I was misinterpreting everything completely. The air seemed electrified with a force and that was harder to deny though. My senses were all telling me that he 'wanted'. I was detecting the sexual energy pouring from him and it was powerful and intoxicating. Gabe's eyes were roaming all over my body. I was becoming aware of another totally new and very foreign feeling inside of me too now. I was feeling oddly - strangely- sexy. like I might be actually a HOT guy. Definitely I was being stimulated by the big Gabe's interest in me. And being so close to him too, I could see with my own eyes how different he was from most other guys. He was handsome, masculine face. Square-jawed. Even though clean- shaven, I could see he had a heavy beard. His body below was broad, thick and utterly beefy. Everything about it said he was a very powerful man. I saw how amazingly big his neck was. I admired the sheer thickness of neck muscles- how his neck was cradled by these bulging ropes across the tops of his shoulders, and how they, in turn, flowed into broad rounded hemispheres that capped each shoulder like armor-plating. His shirt seemed to hide nothing from my eyes. As if with x-ray vision, I could see all of the big manly shapes underneath. While looking down at him, I imagined how it would actually feel to just reach out and touch him - to feel his muscles all over, their massiveness and their hardness. I imagine how it would also feel to be just - touched - by him, too. All my sense were telling me that I 'wanted', too. All of these feelings inside of me, collectively, were my sexual power as a man (even if still a pretty short one, at that) just trying to awaken for the first time. Many of these sensations were new and completely foreign to me. Mixed together they felt like a very potent drug. There was a battle raging inside. I wanted to just 'let go' with everything I was feeling and indulge all of these strange urges but they still felt ominously dangerous too. They were also powerful and tantalizing. I was teetering on the brink- so excited and yet so scared. What if I was wrong? Still these powerful urges seemed to compel me to really turn him on- to be sexy for him as well as for myself. The sexual connection between us did seem solid and real enough, if I could only accept that and surrender to it. My fruits were perfectly ripened and matured, and wanting desperately to be picked. The words, "Do it Peter. Do it Peter. Just.. DO IT PETER", raced through my head many times in rapid succession. Somewhere, that ruling body inside of my psyche sent the message, "Peter, permission is granted." I yielded and my surging hormones did the rest. I thought I sensed what just might excite Gabe to take the perilous plunge as well. Moreover, I actually now wanted to turn him on- totally. My mouth was dry and I was definitely aroused. I let myself just begin to 'bone up'. Allowing my 'thing' to swell right in front of Gabe's eyes was another brand new feeling to me and that excited me beyond words. And I was ready - Ready to BE big for him. Gabe was still sitting down, equally as frozen and motionless and leaning forward slightly. His face was still at my crotch-level and only a few feet away. So I just stood still-- absolutely motionless-- for the longest time. Purposefully. Intentionally. I didn't speak a single word, but just began breathing in-and-out more deeply, letting my expanding and falling ribcage subtly move my strap every-so-slightly up and down. Slowly. Rhythmically. I let his eyes feast. I allowed him to gorge himself on just how really big I actually was. He was devouring all of me with his eyes, like a starving man. His eyes were drinking in the impressive fullness and circumference of the my bulging jock- and my jock was beginning to even stretch further as I let my cock continue to swell without any real inhibition now. Gabe's gaze remained totally transfixed. I slowly turned my torso directly at him while I pulled my tight stomach way in, as far as I could making my small waist appear extremely narrow indeed. More impressively though, that also made the already large hemispheres of my two low- hanging 'big boys'- already so prominently visible under the thinly-stretched elastic- even that much more pronounced. It also showed him directly the actual contoured-outline and real thickness of my cock. He watched it growing slowly, as it nuzzled its way down between my globes, pushing them further apart. Watching Gabe just watching me get hard was hot and turning me on even more. I wanted him to see my fat cock continue to slowly enlarge into the real major league slugger I knew that it was capable of becoming -the whopper of a club just made to beat around these two baseballs of mine. I wanted him to see the real magic in this wand of mine- the really "big bat".) I began to shift my hips subtly from side-to-side, then up and down. This got my heavy equipment moving; stretching and rebounding in the swaying pouch. I could tell that he was getting a whole new concept of what 'hung big' was, all close-up and personal-like, because his mouth was wide open. It almost seemed to me more like an expression of disbelief actually, not to mention the very noticeable swelling in his own pants that really encouraged me to continue to trust my intuitions. "Wow.... Oh, God ...You're so.... Wow... What a HOG.... ", he said softly and almost reverently, like a prayer. He really was totally turned on. I knew that he 'wanted'- and very badly. He wanted to touch me down there. He needed to feel me up- to feel 'hung big' with his own hand, just a powerfully as I wanted to feel his BIG shoulders, chest and arms. I wanted him to just take me. Gabe reached up slowly towards my swaying bag of meat, but his hand stopped motionless just short of it; in fact his hand was so close that I could feel the heat from it on my balls. He looked up at me with his eyes clearly asking, "Is this really OK with you? Can I actually touch you?" I just took his huge opened palm (easily twice the size of my own hand) and brought it up slowly the rest of the way underneath my Big Kahuna's. Then I just held it there for awhile. It was everything that I craved to feel, actually. I burned like a fire inside from the sensation of being touched for the first time by such a powerful, strong man - and Gabe had the glove-size just made for these balls of mine. They felt incredibly good nestled in that big sweet-spot of his palm. I felt his hand start to move, so gently squeezing and kneading my rising bread- doe. He hand started moving all over my jock and pubes more enthusiastically, and he began groaning audibly with pleasure. He closed his eyes and seemed to get carried away to some far-away place as he continued to indulge himself with exploring all of my ample man-tools. I was needing very much to also indulge my own desires as well. I wanted to feel his magnificent, massive body just as intensely. My own hands found their way on to his big cannonball shoulders, a bit cautiously at first. Surprisingly, he didn't react at all negatively but seemed to be enjoying it. Feeling his still very-pumped torso was unbelievably hot. I let my hands wander all over his body as far as they could reach, exploring every separation- the unbelievable firmness of it all- then, on to each big rock-hard muscle that I could find. The fact that he still had his shirt on didn't matter. I doubt I was even aware of that actually. What I was felt with my own hands combined with what I felt in my crotch was causing tidal waves of sexual pleasure. Somehow I could tell that Gabe was mentally 'sizing me' up too- to be specific, my balls at that particular moment. It was the way he checked their 'weightiness' by lifting my package in his hand, then gently squeezing and kneading them. He was tracing the circumference of each one with his big fingers- then doing the geometry in his head -and getting more turned on as he considered the mathematical "answer" he was getting. His fully erect cock that was tenting his pants told me he liked doing math. The sensations of finally being man-handled by such a solidly built guy overwhelmed my senses. My own hands and brain were also doing some 'measuring' of their own. They were evaluating the hardness and dimensions of his heavy chest muscles. I imagined him benching 600 pounds tirelessly- I'd never felt anything like them before- they were just solid, perfect mounds. I sensed how capable they each were of generating just enormous force. Touching with my own hands such massive symbols of Gabe's power was urging my big dick ever fatter and longer. It was the clearly dominating object in my jock now, pushing harder out from its base and lifting powerfully with it's broad back against the elastic girdle that was loosing the battle. My jock ballooned out like a big tent, the waistband clearly pulled away from and contact with my stomach.. I knew my meat still had big magic yet to go. This was unknown of course to Gabe. If he kept on warming me up in the bullpen so expertly, the Big Slugger was about to take the field. But unfortunately right at that moment, Gabe's fingers definitely turned their attention fully to my cock, which must have already had a dimension to it just as it was that exceeded anything Gabe was prepared for. He mentally started doing mental 'measurements' again - this was apparent to me by the way he was using his hand. I felt him measure it's thickness - its width - with several fingers. Then he surrounded it to check its circumference. Then he very clearly was measuring its length with his fingers. I think he lost it completely right then and there. He just started moaning, and I mean real loudly too, "It's so big....Oh God... It's SOOO BIG!" His breathes turned into panting sounds, and then ... And then.... I saw a very large wet spot forming inside of his pants. I did not tell him I wasn't really was all THAT big yet, but he had no way of knowing that... Hearing his loud moaning and seeing the wet evidence of his manly excitement catapulted me into another experience altogether. The last thing I clearly remembered was that I thought my heart would explode and also my blood just pounding in my temples. I was turned on totally. And then - it happened. I felt the presence of what I can only call a demon really - a spirit. It was nothing I knew or recognized. This was a carnal Beast too. Foreign. Terrifying- and utterly thrilling. And this truly demonic power seized and assumed total control over me. The Beast began manipulating my voice and my body as if I were a puppet on strings. "Please... Please play with me. Play with me HARD now." Something or someone slammed Gabe's hand forcibly into my big bulge again and squeezed it tightly, emphatically demonstrating just how hard 'it' wanted to be handled now, the clear signal being to put his brute strength behind it. And amazingly Gabe just did, as if equally powerless to resist this Demon voice. He immediately started to work me over, and much more forcefully than before. His hand generated a dramatic increase in pressure that drove me just wild... God it felt so good... Soooooo good. I'd never felt anything approach THIS feeling ever before. More miraculously, Gabe was still excited and very HOT. He panted and moaned non-stop. He was into it and still totally turned on. I was amazed his sexual power had recovered so quickly and so totally. Like a tape loop repeating over and over again. Gabe moaned, "It's even bigger.. BIG cock.. God damn HUGE meat!" My 'meat' was getting nice 'n' hard now- no doubt about it. Time became suspended. It stopped completely. I was total immersed in the sexual stimulation and heading towards the brink of an abyss very fast. I had surrendered completely to this sexual beast within me and deep within my sexual fantasy. Moreover, it was a fantasy I'd prayed for, and exactly with the kind of man I'd prayed for as well. Then the demon spoke again. "Gabe-Gabe -- " It half-gasped and half-panted, "Show me how STRONG you really are - NOW !! " "But I'll - I'll hurt you," he hesitated momentarily as if trying to resist and reassert some self-control again. "Bring me to my knees, Big Boy--- S-Q-U-A-S-H 'EM ---- C-R-U-S-H IT --- H-A- R-D !!! " The Beast again took my own hand and slammed it forcibly against the back of Gabe's hand- that very hand that was in command of all of my manhood. Gabe again succumbed to the commands of this Beast, as if unable to resist. The Beast had Gabe where he wanted him to be exactly. "Feel this now. Feel... my ... STRENGTH." "Oh, yes...That's... that's IT ... Y -E-SSSSS ! ", the Beast yelled out, and I felt Gabe's grip on me increasing even more and becoming an iron vice. Never once did the thought occur to me that Gabe might actually hurt me... My man- tools were industrial-sized and industrial-strength- built mightly 'tough'. I wanted to absorb it all - every millidyne of masculine power that this massive hunk of a man could muster. I watched as his face slowly grimace as Gabe brought absolutely every last ounce of his brute strength fully to bare on my equipment. His face told me that nothing was being held back. All the power and strength he'd built up from years of lifting the big iron was now being directly applied on my sac and balls and exploding schlong simultaneously. This pressure was more intensely arousing to me than anything I could have imagined. It was better than being in Heaven itself. "MAKE ME CUMMMM!!!" the Beast commanded. "H-A-R-D-E-R !!!!" God.. My God.... I was recording every last minute sensation I was experiencing in my memory banks. I watched as Gabe's massive arm just inflated, all for me too. His forearms as well as with the very large and impressive muscles in his upper arm, started to pump noticeably, along with his distending veins... those snakes were exposing themselves fully, and their sexual beauty was unimaginable. I watched his arm muscles become just so.. so full- so rounded out- so separated- and so amazingly hard. (I didn't even know their anatomical names back then.) They were just 'big muscles', and THAT is what the Beast wanted to see. To hell with the names. It was everything I'd ever dreamed of, deep in my darkest soul.... A chant - "Those HUGE muscles"- over and over again in my mind.... as I melded what my eyes were seeing and the astounding sensations in my groin all together in my mind. I could not take one additional second of such sexual ecstasy. The floodgates were fully opened involuntarily, I guess. I started to blowout my ballast tanks utterly, and with unbelievable pressure. Cum just began to pour out of what remained of my jock from every side, actually. Quickly, my juices completely encircled and covered his and then continued flowing off of it, running down and covering more of his forearm, and streaming on to the floor. Incredibly intense orgasmic contractions continued to command me to drain my large storage tanks completely to their bottoms. I just sprayed over and over again like a fire hose, seemingly forever. Gabe's magnificent hand was still holding me tightly in its erotic iron grip. It was the most intense and longest orgasm I'd ever had - and Gabe was witnessing the full power of it all right in his own bare hand. I was still pumping hard when I heard Gabe just gasp- and then gasped again a few times- and I saw the wet spot in Gabe's pants suddenly double in size, too. He was cumming again, and spontaneously too. I think he really like my pump. There was a lake of my expelled man-juice spreading over the floor below; that much I remember seeing. And then I heard the Beast - and myself - just say, "WOW...." I slowly began to regain my senses. I was totally spent; my knees seemed weak. I was stunned actually; utterly amazed at everything that had just happened. A part of me was in total euphoria certainly, but I was also very troubled by something too. I'd said things- done things- things that I'd never even conceived before, not even in my dreams. It seemed that I had been just a puppet and something was pulling all of my strings involuntarily. I had been possessed, at least momentarily, by some very real demon- a savage and frightening Beast. What had just happened to me? What was that? Was it gone now? I didn't seem to feel it - it's presence- anymore. Would it suddenly come back again? But my deep thoughts were interrupted when I heard Gabe say, "Hey, are you OK big guy? You look kind'a funny." As I pulled myself out of my thoughts again, I saw that Gabe was standing. He was looking down at himself, using a towel to apparently try to clean up the cum bath I'd discharged, a lot of which seemed to have gotten all over his pants and boots. He looked up at me and......just smiled. A broad smile actually that said that everything was A-OK with him and that he didn't mind cleaning up this particular mess at all, in fact! I grabbed some more towels and quickly started helping him mop up more of the evidence that was all over the floor around us. I didn't know really if Gabe was even going to say another word. He stood there silently, patiently waiting for me to finish getting dressed as if he was in no rush at all. "Say Peter- I... I could drive out to your farm on Saturday... and .. and I could maybe help you with your chores, or something...if... if you'd like me to." Inside, I felt this amazing flush of absolute joy sweep over me. "He really likes me!" "Wow Gabe- would I like you to? That'd be really super!" Yes, I know it was all very tame stuff, looking back. Just touchie-feelie games actually. Hell, I'd never even taken off my jock and Gabe had remained fully- clothed. No sucking or fucking or real man-imal sex. But it was my 1st time and I was still very young. But it really was so incredibly hot in its own way. There was an element of simplicity and real innocence about what happened between us, and I appreciate that for just what it was. Certainly the memory has vividly remained with me, and probably will for the rest of my life. BARNYARD ANIMALS And sure enough, Gabe did keep his word. The very next Saturday afternoon he drove out to our farm in his truck. (I remember my father's distinctly disapproving look as he pondered this mechanized vehicle sitting behind his house.) And so our relatively short friendship started that Spring. But it was a special friendship like I'd never experienced before, and I think frankly it was the same for Gabe as well. He started to very regularly come out to see me on every Saturday while we were still in school, and then much more often during that following summer when he seemed to be around a great deal of the time, in fact. Whenever he wasn't 'doing his weights', he'd be out at the farm. My parents were a bit slow to warm up to my new friend, however. He had "the ways of the outlanders" and that was initially viewed with some distrust and suspicions at the least. He really did pitch in and help me with the chores - a lot, actually. He was a big bruiser even for a high school graduate. Only really 3 years older than me, he nevertheless dwarfed me completely in size. Let me tell you though that when you don't have the benefit of machines of any sort, having THAT kind of strength comes in mighty handy around a farm. Moreover as time went on, Gabe really seemed to very genuinely enjoy working on our farm. Perhaps it was his own version of 'culture-shock' in reverse, but I think 'our ways' as well as our way-of-life actually fascinated him. I know there was something that also strongly appealed to him about such hard manual labor too. He really loved doing hard physical labor- and that we had in abundance. He was, I swear, just as strong as an ox- a fact which he'd demonstrated on more than one occasion- and always resulted with me springing a 'big one' instantly. I don't know why really, but he even took to showing up in more traditionally Amish 'work attire' too. Maybe it was to feel like he just fit in better, or perhaps to placate my parents a bit and feel more accepted. But anyway, I had to stifle myself from laughing out loud on the day he just showed up wearing a solid colored shirt, broadfall black trousers with suspenders, black socks and boots - and - a straw broad-rimmed hat. I remember Zec just rolling his eyes and grinning at me when he spotted Gabe's 'Amish drag' for the first time. I thought he looked absolutely incredible in anything he wore however, and an Amish work shirt suddenly looked very hot indeed when Gabe was wearing it - I never saw one look any better on any man, in fact. Well, Gabe became accepted as at least 'a regular' by my family in a short time. My mother just automatically took to setting him his own plate at the dinner table after awhile. But much more symbolic of his real acceptance, she spoke English whenever he was present. And Gabe, not the least bit bashful or shy, fumbled openly to speak the little German he began to pick up as time progressed. He thought my mother's cooking was simply the very best he'd ever tasted in his life- and in fact, it well may have been. Amish women, despite not having literally any of the conveniences commonly found in a outlander's kitchen, nevertheless CAN cook- and incredibly well. And that boy could pack away more food than anyone I'd ever seen. Mein Gott did he ever love to eat! (or at least my mother's home-cooked meals). But Gabe worked as hard as the rest of us, and maybe even harder, for his supper. Nothing seemed to please him more than ending up alone with me somewhere at the end of a hard day's work, when he's often work up an even bigger appetite after working on me. We did what many other boys did - we just 'fooled around' out in the loft of the big barn. This kind of fooling around still had no name whatsoever, but we certainly managed to do 'whatever-it-was' very regularly indeed! Regardless though, thanks to Gabe though at least my sexual vocabulary grew by veritable leaps and bounds. When we were done working, usually out in the fields somewhere at that time of year, Gabe and I would start to head back to the house. If Zec or my father wasn't around at that time, often he'd encourage me to "jump on" his back and he'd carry me at least part way back through the fields and over the rolling hills to give him 'a good workout'. He was as big as a horse to me anyway- certainly as strong as one. He seemed to actually enjoy carrying me around on him. I'd leap onto that mile-wide back of his and then he'd grab my legs and off we'd go. I'd grab hold of him around his large shoulders usually (the little of them I seemed to be able to get my arms around anyway) and pull my whole body right up close to his with my chin usually resting on the side of his neck. I'd start to inhale his man-scent at that close range. The mere smell of him acted like an aphrodisiac. Usually it didn't take long at all before his scent, combined with feeling his powerful shoulders, aroused me. Sometimes the feelings were so intense that I'd close my eyes and nibble at his neck and ears, kissing him wherever I could. He really liked that a lot, I could tell. My dick inevitably would begin to get pretty big, and he felt my increasing excitement pressing ever more prominently along his spine between his shoulder blades. Sometimes he'd bend over and sort'a rub my whole body all around his back so he could feel my 'big fatty' all over it. "Just hold that thought Peter. We're almost there," he'd say as he picked up the pace, usually making a beeline for the barn. Once safety inside of the barn, our games were private from the rest of the world- out in those big piles of curing hay, where maybe God wouldn't notice the sins that were about to take place either, or so I told myself. Somehow my anticipation of how Gabe was going to 'do me' seemed to always far-overshadow my concerns about sin in those moments though. He'd often start by just gently pushing me down into the soft hay. Gabe would gaze at me and I would look at him, each of us with our own lusty anticipation. Each time I saw his body seemed like the very first time- each time was a total erotic miracle to me. He'd often begin our ritual by very slowly unhooking his white cotton shirt. I'd get hotter just watching each new perfectly-chiseled muscle reveal itself. He knew exactly how to go about getting my cock right up to the 'specifications' he desired. He was one undeniably built-huge specimen of manhood from hitting the big-iron as regularly as he did. >From the very first time that Gabe removed his shirt in front of me, I'd knew instantly - inside every fiber of my being -- that "big muscles" were definitely my thing -- my primal sexual "on switch". Gazing at Gabe's massive body got my own particular "love muscle" pumped FAST- well- fast for me anyway. (But I'll tell you more about that later, too - the real truth about what it's really like to possess a huge tool) Gabe was the first - the beginning of a very special relationship I was to develop with 'muscle'. So I'd lay there, just watching him slowly strip standing over me. I stared as if in a trance as his hard upper body was finally fully naked and exposed...and what I secretly longed for him to do right then was - you know - "make a big muscle" for me too. I was too shy and embarrassed to ask, and there was an implicitly understood 'rule' that little to no talking was allowed - it would have made what we were doing perhaps just TOO real and undeniable. I'd spread my legs apart further and thrust my hips up rhythmically and suggestively. That was his cue to begin rubbing his hand all over the crotch of overalls. He'd rub and squeeze me gently. God, did his hand ever feel good too. He worked it good, maneuvering and coaxing my swelling to emerge eventually through the side of my overall, over the top side buttons usually. Gabe would reach down and take my whole beefy mantube into both his hands and work it up and down until I'd start erupting like a volcano. Actually these orgasms never took very long at all. My jiism would explode out of me in waves, heading up towards the rafters and he'd quickly 'capped the gusher' (as he termed it anyway) by opening his mouth as wide as he could and putting it on my exposed cock head. Then he'd just start swallowing and gulping; and swallowing and gulping -- voraciously. My manjuice often would start leaking out of his mouth. Apparently I emptied my reservoirs faster than he could gobble me down - sometimes I noticed my cum dripping out of his nose too. I never touched his cock though - not even once. In fact, that wasn't even necessary for him, I guess. Gabe seemed completely contented to just play with me, jerk me off and then 'cap my gusher' as best he could forcing every last drop of me that he could down his throat. He always brought himself to a climax with his other hand. But I did make some mental notes about another male's full erection for the very first time. I noticed just how very - well - small actually - Gabe's stiffie was. And when he came, there were only a few small globs here and there on the hay- maybe a couple of teaspoons at best - that's all. But that really didn't matter to me. It was his hard, developed musclebod that was THE gasoline powering my whopper of a sex engine (comparatively) anyway. We performed this basic ritual many times while we were together. Our games with no name inevitably had to end however, and the following Fall Gabe enlisted in the army. The activities in the barn were never spoken of between us - ever. It was just something we did. Regardless, when Gabe and I said our good-byes at the end, I saw his big square linebacker's chin quivering just a bit, and there were tears in his eyes. And every night, regardless of how many times Gabe might have played with me the previous afternoon, I'd inevitably spray more batter liberally around my bed again while I slept and wake up sitting in an ocean of cum again in the morning. My mother would just silently and dutifully change the bedding, just as she had been doing for the past several years already. I produced enormous amounts of the stuff, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. My scrotal factories just churned out my man-juice non-stop. I'd just adjusted to the whole nightly scene by this time and never really thought much about it anymore -let alone if this might be more typical of the amount produced by your average black angus bull rather than an average teenager. There were some unexpected pluses to the 'plus-sided' overalls that my mother had made me too, that I quickly came understand. When this would happen to me during the daytime, I discovered that I could position myself so that the large legs of the overalls allowed for the stuff to often just run down my leg and out the bottom onto my boot. No fuss - no muss, and with some luck, even no wetness visibly showing. It always worked best though when I was outside somewhere, of course, preferably a field. Oh, there was just one more 'sexual encounter' after Gabe left for the Army. There was that 'first time' with a girl, too,- or- well sort of, anyway. My fledgling attempt at "straight-dom" that happened at a neighbor's barn-raising. Yes, I did it with the proverbial farmer's daughter. And yes again - we did it in the loft of a barn. As was customary, every family in the entire community participated in these occasional building projects, especially common when there were newlyweds involved (It's just a very Amish cultural thing.) Rachael was by every outward appearance a reserved, pious and chased young Amish woman. She wore the traditional black woman's prayer-cap on her head, indicating that she was single. Not so obviously however, she had a very lustful "eye for the boys" apparently - and never passed an opportunity to raise her long skirts up with abandon whenever she could find a hard Amish male pole to mount. I'd been working steadily framing the new barn all afternoon with the other men and I'd worked up a real sweat and thirst to match. Usually the boys did the high-up pegging work in the roof rafters while the men assembled the sections on the ground. I assume that Rachael had "targeted me" as suitable stud material earlier while I was working. Why me and not one of the older boys, well - I'm not really sure. Maybe she'd taken notice of the full contour that formed in the crotch of my pants, regardless, whenever I was squatting down knees-to-chest on a high beam, pegging the new joists together. But no matter. I clambered down to fetch a drink for myself. Rachael approached me as I was walking towards a large table loaded with refreshments that was set out on the grassy lawn. She extended a glass of cold lemonade to me and was smiling I'd say - "invitingly". She feigned some concocted excuse that she needed some help from "a big, strong man" with something to get me out in the barn with her. I dutifully went off to help the fair young maiden in exerting whatever force my virile teenage manhood could to assist. It wasn't my brute strength that she apparently was seeking, though, I would quickly discover. As we turned the corner out of site from the rest, she moved in very close to my side - the full- court press was on. Taking my hand in hers and with her eyelashes batting away, she coyly asked me, "Do you think I'm pretty?" "Why yes - Of course!" I answered completely automatically, ever the kind and polite boy. I noticed also that as our arms swung hand-in-hand, the back of her hand was making very regular contact with my crotch - and I started to spring one, completely automatically. The truth was that literally any manual stimulation to my equipment almost instantly produced this reaction. It strangely never mattered particularly to cock exactly who or even what was doing the stimulating, either. It was as if it always had a mind of its own. Sometimes just going about my usual daily chores, I noticed that my baggy overalls would still rub me in just that 'right way' and I'd get hard and even cum right in my pants sometimes. I didn't even have to touch myself. So with just the very littlest amount of rubbing, I always got hard. Just a few steps into the barn, Rachael transformed from the chased Amish girl virgin into the chasing wanton women that she really was - and what she was want-in was my pecker stuffed into her pussy - and fast. A virgin she definitely was not. Down into the hay we went, with Rachael's hand working non- stop on my boner like she was manning the bilge pump handle of a sinking ship. "Yeah, just like I thought.. A really big one," I heard her mutter as she continued to raise my mast. In the blink of an eye, she unbuttoned my pants with speed of a consummate professional, and yanked them down to my knees. Then, to my complete disbelief, she produced a - box of condoms- from somewhere, probably from one of her dress pockets. I was amazed. Amazed because I don't think that condoms were even sold anywhere in the surrounding towns, and I wondered just where a sweet Amish girl would acquire such possessions.... She opened the box, ripped one open and handed it to me. "Here, do you know what this is?" "Sure I do." I said, all-so-confidently. The fact is, I knew what it was alright - I'd heard about them from the outlanders in school. I'd just never really seen one before- let alone, used one. "Good. Put it on that big fat dick of yours, then show me what a real man you are." The words just did not seem to go at all with this perfectly-dressed vision of Amish chastity in front of my eyes. Actually, I struggled and struggled and struggled to get the damn thing on me the entire time she was dropping her skirts and undressing. God it was like this awfully tight "vice" on my dick. Now naked, Rachael rolled onto her back with leg spread wide apart, her pussy all wet and wildly waiting for me to stuff her. And oh, did I- I admit it. I try for a long , long time, in fact- I really did. "Come on- FUCK me with that huge thing, stud," she demanded, and in English no less. She repeated it again and again, as if she was possessed and needed to be exorcised of her own demon - or - maybe at least beat it to death, using me as her holy weapon of choice. And she was intent- absolutely relentless! I lunged and I pushed. I thrust and parried. I drilled like a North Sea oil rig. Seemed to me that her eyes were bigger than her .... Every push seemed to meet an insurmountable resistance. Rachael had worked up an incredible sweat too, and was trying to take the active rather than passive role now. "Wait a minute...." Then onto her back. "Wait a minute..." Then, onto her front. "Wait a minute..." Then, she tried to impale herself from on top of me. Meanwhile, my cock was acting completely on it's own behalf, anyway. I seemed to be able to watch all this somewhat detached from what was happening, in sheer amazement - amazement at the degree of lustiness, actually. She was a cowgirl just born to ride. But try as she did, she could just not seem to get me inside of her. And that wasn't all either. To make matters even worse, the damn rubber would be there one second and then suddenly just gone the next - like magic - or maybe more like some real voodoo curse cast on me. She panted in frustration, "Where'd your rubber go?" " I don't know!" I grunted , and then I'd struggled to put on yet another one. God those things felt so uncomfortably tight! And then we'd change positions and then same damn thing would happen. It was gone again in the blink of an eye. "Where'd your rubber go now?" she said with a much more puzzled, quizzical expression, realizing finally that something very odd was going on indeed. "I DON'T K-N-O-W ," I said in total exasperation. "It was just there a second ago - honest!" Rachael was getting more impatient as I'd have to break off the assault and struggle to get yet another rubber on my totem pole. In total, I must have had at least 4 rubbers disappear just like Houdini on me, in exactly the same way- there one second and gone the next. This was to be my very first real hint of just how really incompatible latex and I really were. Eventually, we just gave up exhausted- and both of us equally as sore, too. This fiasco of back-to-back failed attempts at 'hetero' intercourse was to be my first and very last attempt. It was a total disaster. I was hopelessly humiliated that I just couldn't manage to 'do it' with her. I felt it was somehow all my fault- and I was a failure. And as I had more time to think about it all afterwards, deep inside I was revisited - haunted again- with that old thought, "You're really some kind of circus freak." I was so traumatized, in fact, that I never had sex again while I lived in Lancaster County. Even though I had the sex drive of the whole Dallas Cowboy Team combined, along with the gonads of a prize stud bull, my experience with Gabe was never to be repeated with another man while I was in high school- and that was going to be 3 long, lonely years. I would graduate high school essentially as I had entered it - a shy, self-conscious and still na Subject: BIG IS BETTER - Part 04 The Story: This is a serial novella, written in a quasi-autobiographical, 1st- person style. If you have no interest in long stories or this particular style of writing, or if you desire something with more immediate gratification, this story is probably not for you. The plot is very small in scope and 'tame' for the genre. Feel free to send email if you happen to particularly enjoy the story. However, if it does not appeal to you, please don't bombard me with 'negative' email, but consider seriously writing a story yourself that 'works for you'! BIG IS BETTER By HUGE4MUSCL (xhuge4muscl@yahoo.com) April, 2000 (Part 4) TOTO, I DON'T THINK WERE IN LANCASTER COUNTY ANYMORE Goodbye to overalls. Goodbye to horse-drawn buggies. Goodbye to reading by candlelight. Goodbye to stiff starched plain white shirts and black pants, black coats and straw hats. Goodbye to getting up every morning at 4:30 AM to tend to the cows. Hello movies! Hello cars! Hello electricity, showers, cell phones, magazines, movies, stereos, television, VCR's and rock-n-roll. But most of all, I was thinking- HELLO MEN! I left on a bus that Fall, destined for my first college semester- off to seek his fame and fortune among the outlanders at last. My first semester was awful. I was a fish out of water. The quintessential 'hayseed'. I was homesick to the point I thought I'd physically throw up. It was "culture-shock" for me on a scale I never could have conceived of, regardless of what direction I turned. I did survive. I adapted and I learned, and actually fairly quickly due to an intense, burning personal need to fit in and 'belong'- to become, in fact, an outlander. Failure was not an option. John was my first college roommate. John was the proverbial heterosexual stud in my eyes, anyway. WHAT A MAN. Tall, dark, and good-looking (and fucking every coed in sight, I quickly gathered.) He was extremely gregarious and had a great sense of humor, to boot. For whatever reason, the two of us hit it off very well, and in short order. Plainly John just liked me. Maybe he found something involving about my so very backward "countrified" notions and ways. I know that he told me at one point early on that he found me "charming and quaint." Those were his words. My words would have been something more like "socially-retarded", especially that 1st semester. I know I did am awful lot of listening and very little talking to anyone- well, except John who I talked with non-stop. I just observed everything and everyone. It was as if every minute of my day offered me something absolutely new to be learned- acquired- picked up on. It goes without saying I suppose that I was still locked ever-so-firmly in 'the closet', as well. But I saw advertisements for campus gay organizations as well as for gay establishments in the city, bars and the like and made mental notes on all. Needless to say also that I had to give up wearing those overalls mighty fast as well - talk about sticking out in a crowd I was trying to fit into! But the current fashion styles smiled on me, and I discovered that a real loose-fitting pair of jeans and extra large pullovers or shirts left untucked worked very effectively to cover my crotch. Now understand that John was as straight as an arrow. I always showered and did my bathroom routine when the dorm was the emptiest and John wasn't in the room. One such afternoon, I was just getting dressed and had just zipped up my jeans as John unexpectedly entered our room. This was also the most exposed that he'd ever seen me, more a testimony to just how very careful and self-conscious I always was about exposing my body to anyone. John quickly visually scanned me from head to toe and the back again, but stopped noticeably at my waist-level. With his eyes clearly focused on the profile of my crotch, he said rather wryly, "I'd ask you if you stuffed a sock in there Pete, but --- in your case, I think you misplaced your bath towel." "No - ahhh - well -- that's just me." I said as I automatically turned away, grabbing quickly for my sweatshirt that was lying over the back of a chair. I heard him whistle and then came the skeptical comment, " Yeah, sure it is, Pete. So who's the chick that you're trying to over-impress?" Although the words weren't quite the same, my mind flashed back instantly to my very first encounter with Gabe in the locker room. Well, I was quite happy to leave it all just at that. I quickly changed the conversation and tugged my pullover down to my thighs, if somewhat involuntarily, as if to reinforce to John that the door had definitely closed on any further conversation about that topic. John was a sophomore, all-worldly and wise. I think I was completely in awe of him. I hung on his every word of advice. He was a handsome man actually, too, just not exactly the kind of man that put an instant bulge in my pants, thankfully. I wouldn't have known what to do with that, back then. But in that first critical semester especially, John really helped me begin to fill in all my 'gaps'. Literally everything was a new experience to me. Beyond just the whole mass media bombardment (television, radio and the like), there was the thornier issues of booze and drugs and SEX of course- all brand new territory for me. I was vulnerable and could have gotten just SO completely lost, and so quickly. I did not, thankfully, and have mostly John to thank for guiding me through those initially very rough, turbulent waters. John became my very true friend, and seemed to actually care very much about my welfare. I think my backward-ways actually shocked him initially. But always the willing and available resource, he helped me adapt to this whole new world that existed outside of Lancaster County - and that was no small challenge either. John was there completely for me every step of the way and I think he actually relished this self-appointed "role" of his- that of being my guide and mentor into the 20th century- and especially into the world of SEX. To him I think I was "a project" of sorts- very rough uncut gem to be formed and polished. Apparently through having such long and regular conversations, John eventually pieced together that I was still (technically) a virgin and I think he felt sorry for me in a way. He must have thought I was totally 'deprived' of all normal masculine outlets. (Well, what I was really deprived of was MEN). Upon finding out this new 'fact' about me, John also strangely made this his very personal and sacred crusade to rapidly have my membership in the '17 year- old Virgins Club' cancelled. And - can you imagine how I reacted inside- when I heard that the perfect vehicle John had so carefully selected to very quickly de-flower me was a trip to a local whorehouse that very next weekend. I felt like I was between a rock and a hard place, not feeling either that I could say no or come up with some plausible excuse, and not wanting to tell him my cock got rock-hard for big men either. But contrary to what you might be thinking (me being gay and all), this really posed no particular sexual "performance" problem for me either. Getting it up for a whore wasn't anything that would have worried me. You see, I'd been 'getting it up' usually several times a day often involuntarily since I was a 10 year-old man-boy. Getting it up was never a struggle - getting it to go down to avoid totally embarrassing myself was far more often my particular dilemma. I'll tell you for now that I was just perpetually horny, but.... I'd find out eventually that there was much more going on with me than just normal teenage male horniness. Having spontaneous 'hands-off' daily organisms was perfectly normal to me, and it had always been that way. Moreover, with the constant guy jokes, innuendoes and kidding around that I heard literally all the time about 'spanking the monkey', I probably just assumed that all males involuntarily sprayed from their hoses as often as I did. I quite literally got a hard-on just hearing the word 'sex'. Hearing the word 'fuck' all by itself was literally orgasmic. Get it? My dick's "on switch" was essentially genderless. Anyone's touch at all, and the boner was fully-automatic and fully guaranteed. Hell, it'd been at least semi-automatic with nothing more that my pant legs brushing it on too many occasions past. The following Saturday night, John successfully orchestrated the loss of my virginity. He made sure I was well loosened up for starters with a six-pack of Bud, I recall. So off we went in John's VW to the "little house of love" located just a few miles away in a neighboring town. I was too inebriated to be even nervous by that point. "I'm going to get laid" was all that my then single-tracked mind could think of. John wasn't initially thinking of getting laid himself, but once we'd gotten there, he seemed to quickly reconsider. So, cutting to the chase. I short order, I'd selected 'my date' from the smorgasbord of willing babes and so had John, and off we went to our own 'dates' rooms. And there, I was FINALLY - almost unbelievably - actually going to have real sex with my very own dick. "So, you wanna fuck me?" she said teasingly as she slipped off her slinky one- piece dress. I was more expecting the "Do you think I'm pretty" opener that Rebecca had used. The word "fuck" literally ignited my fire. "Fuck" - the word swirled in my already swirling head. I felt my dick begin to stiffen immediately. As I stripped off my clothes as fast as I could, she laid back on the bed on her back, legs spread.... "Come on stud and FUCK my hot wet pussy." Her fingers pointed the way or maybe they were opening the barn doors.. whatever. "FUCK".. the word was like a god damn lightening bolt. Magical. My cock responded more enthusiastically, and continued to harden fast in anticipation as I went down for 'the score'...... Like that Amish wench before, she actually had to rotate through several positions. I will say that Madame X was a consummate professional though. Eventually she did manage to accommodate me, but she definitely worked very hard for her money and must have gone through a whole tube of that 'lube stuff', too, in the process. I began to explode just as soon as she managed to get me into her too. Man, what a tight, tight fit! I was so hot from the rapturous sensations radiating from my dick that I just started the pumps working to completely deplete my sperm banks. She seemed to really enjoy me, surprisingly, being a pro who'd had untold numbers of men previously. As I continued keep on cumming strongly, she started to take noticeably increasing interest as her eyes opened wider. Then she started practically screaming, "God .. Oh yes... Oh Ooohhhh... YES... Shit- I'm cumming!! Oh God.....YEESSSSS ... Oh fuck! Oooohhh FUCK!! I'm cuuummmiinnnnggg AGAIN!!!" and that probably went on for minutes, actually. And so my 'real' virginity became a page in history- and it wasn't unfortunately with the man of my dreams, but rather with a hooker (with one incredibly big smile on her face). Eventually I withdrew and she propped herself up with her elbows on her pillow. Her slightly distended belly began to flatten out as all of my cream drained out of her puss forming a large pool. That lake was no stranger to me anyway. I'd seen it every morning for many years. I noted that she rather quizzically looked at the condition of the bed back several times as she slipped into her dress again. Then she reached into a dresser and pulled out a Polaroid camera, asking if she could take a picture of me for the house 'memorables' collection, whatever that was. "Just your dick. No face shot", she said. "Sure, go ahead," I said, I far too drunk to really protest. She was snapped the photo, adding, "Your Daddy must have been a bull elephant. I must'a seen a thousand men, and I ain't never seen the likes of you. And I definitely ain't never seen the likes of that," gesturing toward the semen- soaked bed. "You're some kind'a mighty big freak." The fact that she'd clearly intended that to be a complement completely missed me. Probably because of the alcoholic fog in my head, there were actually a few long seconds before the bomb detonated in my brain. But when it finally did, all I heard was "FREAK", as if being screamed over a PA system. The word slashed me like a knife, over and over again. I felt deathly ill suddenly inside and I bolted as fast as I could. When I got outside, it was as if I was instantly sober; and to say that I was also very somber is understating it entirely. John was already in the car and of course, with a shit-eating grin on his face asked very enthusiastically, " So - just how WAS it, man?" I said it was just fine, and feigned more enthusiasm than I was feeling right at that moment. But 'freak' was still screaming in my head, as if what I'd always half-thought was now a proven fact. John read through me like a book. "OK - Something wrong, Pete?" "I got'ta see a doctor..." Naturally he asked why, saying " God this sounds serious, like it's a big deal or something!" "Yes, it's a very big deal John - and it's kind'a personal, OK?" I think it was the very next week I pulled myself up by my own bootstraps, swallowed hard, and marched myself into the college infirmary. Scared almost witless, I stepped up to the receptionist and asked if it was possible to see a real doctor rather than a nurse-practitioner. The receptionist of course said that would depend on what was wrong with me, and proceeded to about the nature of my problem. "It's personal. It's very important and ... it's definitely personal." "Oh, I see," she said. My immediate thought was, "Oh God, she sees? How could she see? I'm standing up against a high counter." But then it occurred to me that she probably thought I had a venereal disease or something similar. "Oh, it's not what you're thinking - It's NOTHING like THAT," I quickly blurted out. "I'm not sick or nothing. I've just got a - thing - kind of a big skin thing - that I want to talk about with a doctor." "Like a growth?" she asked. "Well yes, kind'a - that too," I squirmed, now more anxiously waiting for these questions would come to an end. She asked if I could show her, to which I responded instantly, "No. Definitely- NO!" I eventually got in to see a doctor and he was a younger guy dressed in jeans and a white coat, which made me feel just slightly more at ease- well, slightly. When he asked me to show him my problem, I hesitated and then undid my buckle and tugged down my jeans to my knees. The doctor just looked- completely deadpan and expressionless- for the longest time. To break the uncomfortable silence, I said, "It's all...Well, it seems to me like it's all just.. just too much." He sort of choked a bit and then, clearing his throat a few times, proceeded to confirm that my "male genitalia did appear on gross inspection to be unusual, but not deformed". I took that to mean I was built like a bull, and my baseballs and the bat went together well - proportional, and all that. "So, was your daddy a bull elephant?" he added with a rather wry grin, intending to make light of it and just break the ice a bit. He proceeded to take an extensive medical history and did a complete physical exam - the first I'd ever had in my life in fact. I became somewhat more at ease, eventually telling him about my early onset of puberty, my nightly dreams and the ocean of cum I'd wake up in every morning, my spontaneous erections that happened all the time and also cumming uncontrollably in my pant, etc. I told him almost everything. I never mentioned that I got hot over men. Not surprisingly, he needed to examine my cock and balls, which he did sitting down while I stood in front of him. Of course it goes without saying that as soon as he began to touch me, I sprang a boner. Although he said not to worry and that it was a normal male reaction, my cock had a much bigger reaction than I think he was maybe expecting. Being totally embarrassed, I started to apologize saying that I couldn't seem to control it at all. "That's just like what always happens to me," I complained. "I see what you mean." He continued to manipulate me and my cock continued to swell right up to the point where I think it would have eventually smacked him under his chin. I really do think he was a straight doctor actually, but after awhile he definitely began to get a boner too, I noticed. He recomposed himself quickly though, saying, "I've seen enough now. You can get dressed again" He said he found no tumors or could not feel anything that seemed suspicious or out of the ordinary - other than the unusually large size of everything which he did at least verbally confirm out loud to me. But otherwise, I appeared to him to be in excellent health. Then he added that a more extensive evaluation was definitely warranted, and he ordered a whole bunch of blood tests and a CAT scan of my brain as well. I was told to make another appointment with him in a week so he'd have the results of all of these test back, which I did. So one week later, I got both good news and bad news. The good news was at least I had some clearer answers that began to explain this all finally to me. The bad news was that there were no immediate cures available, however. No pills I could take- certainly nothing that could be done surgically, like a 'dick & ball' reduction. Although the doctor could really only speculate, he said that he assumed that my size was likely caused by my genetics- the genes I'd inherited from my father and that were probably 'normal' for the males in my family anyway. I did however have circulating levels of several hormones that were 'off the charts' for normal males - 3 to 4 times the normal levels, in fact. Although sometimes unusually high hormone levels are caused by tumors, I had no indications of any in the CAT scan. So in all probability, this was just the way I was "made by God"- those were the doctor's exact words - and then he tacked on, "And after He made you, I think he broke the mold." He went on to speculate that since I'd been under the daily influence of extraordinarily high levels of male hormones since puberty, I had developed exactly the heavy-duty male equipment that these hormones commanded my body to grow. "You should be smiling Peter- You're practically Superman!" the doctor said, trying again to make light of it all as well as to perhaps raise my spirits. "So- I'm a freak then. That's what you're telling me," I responded. He thought for awhile. "Think of yourself in more positive ways, Peter. You're a bright, young - and really - you're a good-looking guy. And additionally you just happen to be among the extraordinarily well-endowed males of our species - the real measure for manhood, I'd say, " he chuckled. "And for Pete's sake- and I mean that very literally - stop beating yourself up and just enjoy these rather bountiful gifts you've been given. Hell, I would be if I were you!" he said grinning from ear-to-ear. The more I mulled this all over in my head during the immediate days that followed, the more all sounded like increasingly good advice too. I decided I'd been isolated and alone long enough. It was time - definitely time to start living my life as the person I was born to be, and that included a man who was hot for other men, as well- and it had been almost five years since I'd felt the special magic of another man. CRUISIN I hit the one local gay bar in town like a starving man would attack a banquet table... ravenously hungry. I was still under the legal drinking age of 21 in that state, but managed to circumvent that little problem by procuring a well- made false ID from a guy who specialized in such things around campus. He did really good work apparently because it was never questioned, even with my still obviously under-aged-looking face. I was every bit young, dumb, and full of cum. What I lacked in "people smarts" and perhaps common sense I more than made up for with enthusiastic horniness, at least initially- not unlike most young guys discovering enticements of a gay bar for their very first time too, I suspect. Before long I found that I was getting picked up with ever-increasing frequency too which really thrilled me in the very beginning. But unfortunately not long after that, I realized that I'd developed some kind of 'reputation' among the regulars that had spread by gossip like a wild fire and that my sudden popularity was based completely on these innuendoes. Of course each guy that I'd find myself going home with was older than me since I was still underage and since they were also much more experienced with sex, I did begin to at least pick up a few 'techniques' and other useful things. A few things however became all-too-quickly apparent to me. Although some of these fella's were certainly good looking, almost all of them were on the thin side - even more on the skinny side actually, or so it seemed to me. As time progressed I began to realize that I just wasn't seeing the kind of guys who really turned me on in that bar. Sadly, it was also becoming more obvious to me that invariably the guys who picked me up had eyes that were bigger than their orifices. While they all clearly wanted what they'd apparently heard rumored about me, it always turned out to be much more than they could actually handle. More often than not, the actual sex was sadly unfulfilling for me. Sometimes actually pitiful and humiliating. I had guys go down on me in a way that felt more like being attacked by some crazed animal. Others were almost maniacally determined that they were going to get thoroughly plowed before I would be released from my sexual obligations. Still others would damn near go through a whole bottle of poppers trying to somehow cram me into their eager asses- and boy, try they definitely did- but in spite of their unbridled enthusiasm, they just could not to get me inside of them though. Moreover, as they continued with their futile attempts, I began to see a pattern emerging - their attention and focus was totally on my dick. I began to notice that some would never look at my face or even into my eyes. It wasn't me at all they were interested in. Eventually some would give up and just hold me like a club in their hands, looking rather sheepish and certainly disappointed. Others, failing to get me even through their gauntlet of teeth, would end up licking me like some kind of lollypop while I jerked them off. Still others got outright indignant and pissed off about it. I would hear comments like, "Hey, I like big poles but... that's a damn sequoia you've got there -and just what the hell do you actually expect me to DO with that thing!" Even worse, I actually heard one time, "God, your daddy must've been an elephant!". Seemed that one phrase had a way of coming back to haunt me over and over again, as if I had it tattooed on my forehead. And as for the sex, well.. it actually wasn't very enjoyable for me. Frankly, by then end of most sessions I'd find myself raw and sore, and probably hurting a bit more than I should be. I can only imagine that some must have felt equally as beat up afterwards. So that's the way it typically went for me. I remember this one particular time when the guy just started to laugh hysterically when he got a good look at my woody, and then he said, "You've got to be kidding. - Just... just leave, please." That was it. Just like that I was summarily dismissed. Within a relatively short period of time, my experiences with gay sex became a cumulative string of major disappointments- and that only reminded me again that I was, in fact, a freak. I vividly remember drifting off into my own thoughts on one occasions as my 'host for the night' continued to work obsessively for an hour or more attempting to somehow get my cock into him. And while he pounded away on me, I realized that, as far as he was concerned anyway, I was just a thing to him - granted, a very big one. I had this picture though just flash in my mind. It was a picture of my cock and balls sitting in a large jar of formaldehyde somewhere on public display in the Smithsonian Institute, with a prominent label "The Elephant Man's Gonads"..... It wasn't even a pleasant digression for me. As essentially the same scenarios night after night seemed to repeat over again, I became more convinced that I was just destined to be alone forever. I was to be completely wrong on both counts, for I was about to meet a man I thought just could not exist- a man named Sam. SAMSON You may recall that I'd said in the very beginning that Sam and I were as different as night and day - and in about every way imaginable. To begin with, Sam was raised in an environment almost as opposite as you could imagine from the one that I was raised in. In my world, everything was learning to conform to strict rules and understanding all the things I could not or should not do. Sam was raised without rigid social conventions or really any limitations whatsoever, as far as I can tell. In fact, he thrived on being different and his family was entirely non-conventional, to say the very least. Where I was instantly chastised for going against any proscribed social conventions, Sam was actually very supported and even encouraged to be exactly who he was in the world. We did have one thing - and only one thing - in common during our childhood, and that centered around 'size' too. Samson was always much heavier and taller than other boys his age when he was growing up - exactly the opposite of my own experience. I couldn't help wondering if his parents may have had the same perverted sense of humor (or crystal ball perhaps) that I imagined my own did when Sam's somehow selected his own first name. His Dad was a well known heavy- weight professional wrestler, and it appears that he got his fundamental genetics for size anyway right from his old man. He was just a very big boy growing up and was commonly mistaken to be in a more advanced grade level than he actually was. No doubt that assumption contributed to his academic problems too, as Sam was just naturally always perceived by teachers as being much older than he actually was. Another obvious contrast between us was that I was, for the most part, uncomfortable in my own skin usually, whereas Sam had always been more than O.K. with exactly who he was. He told me once that other kids always teased him unmercifully. I could relate to that part of his history anyway. For what I've pieced together, his dad was actually instrumental in helping Sam make a healthy adjustment and helped him see at still a young age that there was nothing that was ever going to make him a normal-sized kid - and - getting angry wasn't going to change that. So Sam learned well the concept of acceptance and tolerance early on, a lesson many of us actually could still stand to learn. Moreover he accepted both his physical gifts as well as his definite limitations with an ease and nonchalance - even with a certain grace - that still is a marvel to behold for me, even today. Sam was exposed to weights and physical training at a very early age. His Dad worked out very regularly - no doubt an occupational necessity in his father's particular line of work. Sam was at 'the iron game'- and seriously too, I've gathered- by the time he was probably 7 or 8 years old. Moreover, his father was genuinely proud of his son's capabilities and enthusiastically encouraged and supported Sam's interest in 'heavy metal'. Sam's also told me that they always lifted together- father and son. Sam's physical abilities have always been nothing short of astounding, and by the time he was in junior high school, he told me that his physique was already becoming very 'unusual'. Where I had always struggled with accepting my own particular brand of freakiness, Sam absolutely thrived on being a really big guy. "I couldn't get smaller so I decided to get bigger!" Nature positioned him to make the absolute most out of his great physical assets - more than you could even imagine, in fact. You see, Sam genuinely believes that he had something incredibly special given to him by God. According to him, the miracle really started happening when he hit puberty. His bones grew into an extraordinary large skeletal framework - one that was just perfectly constructed to support huge masses of muscle. You see, size has always mattered very much to him, and lifting was what he naturally excelled at and was absolutely compelled to do by his spirit too. To his real credit, Sam has never wasted the incredible physical gifts given to him. If you met him today and asked him what he does, I guarantee he would never answer that he worked as a personal trainer or coached resistance training for the college football team, which he did as well - He'd answer simply, "I lift weights." You'd probably also immediately notice if you got to know him personally that Sam's most significant limitation is his "brains" or I should honestly say, lack thereof. He just wasn't blessed at all in that department to begin with, and his family's situation growing up probably only compounded the problem. Sam's not retarded, but he is nevertheless very slow. (I've since gotten used to describing him as "just a simple guy" - a VERY simple, basic guy - perhaps the simplest.) His family was always moving around due to the demands of having a dad who was in the wrestling game. His schooling suffered accordingly. He never graduated from high school and to this day has never even thought about getting his G.E.D. Frankly, he may not even know what G.E.D. stands for. The truth is that Sam does of only three basic things in life: (1) Eating - he eats just enormous quantities of food, enough easily for three grown men. (2) he moves extraordinarily large masses of iron around so effortlessly it takes my breath away literally, and; (3) Sex, (and that, just about whenever he's not doing either of the other two). OK. So Sam will never win the Nobel Prize, I know. But I also know that I'll never meet a more honest and straightforward guy in this lifetime. What you see is definitely what you get and he clearly knows who he is and, more importantly, who he is not. He's got a real natural humility that is just so incredibly rare to find in almost anyone these days. And it's worth noting too that I've never seen Sam flaunt his unbelievable body either. He never wears muscle shirts, preferring his old beat up flannels or just an XXXXXXXXL sweatshirt. He simply doesn't have to. Whatever he happens to wear cannot hide or camouflage what's underneath - those particular shapes and contours are so unlike any normal man's. Lying and deceit take a certain mental capacity and a desire to manipulate others, as well as an ability to look into the future in plot 'alternatives' and 'scenarios'. Sam lives only for the moment he is in, and he can actually be no other way. He's not that deep. To be so would just give him a headache. He holds no grudges and bears no one any ill will at all. I've only seen him get genuinely mad a few times in fact, and once he's vented it out, he's right back to his old self again - even probably forgotten the circumstances entirely by the next day. Lucky for those poor souls who might otherwise have gotten on his 'bad side'. He's very physically formidable- an absolutely gigantic mountain of a man- and could certainly be completely intimidating if that was in his nature. I came to understand that many people avoided him simply because of his freaky size and physique. He unintentionally scared most people away. Despite having a really pleasant personality actually, he had almost no real friends except a few close 'lifting buds' at his gym and the college. He never complained about it though and seemed to take life exactly on it's own terms. If he was lifting, he was happy; therefore, Sam was always happy. I remember him once saying to me, "I really know I'm just dumb Pete - but I can lift really big weights." And so he is - and so he does- and does he EVER. Sam was just born to hoist unimaginable masses of iron skyward. (He does a few other things very well too, by the way, but I'll get to that.) Even more amazingly, he has absolutely no qualms about his sexuality and I doubt he EVER has had. It's as totally natural a thing to him as his amazing body is. There has never been anything to even question, in his own mind. Sam's also frankly incapable of lying. He just isn't that complicated a person, or at all devious. I would increasingly come to admire his almost child-like straightforwardness. He does as he pleases and knows exactly what he likes. Sam would never think of apologizing for, or even being at all embarrassed about his sexual likes and choices. If it 'feels good', that's all that matters to him, and he's always been right up front about what really turns him on - and that - is 'size'. Size matters to Sam. There's no such concept of 'too big' in his book. With Sam, bigger is simply and definitely better. So you see, in at least one specific area we are, I guess, very similar. We're both strongly attracted to really big guys actually - it only our individual ideas of where 'bigness' counts that really differs. Sam is a real aficionado of truly big meat. He's a 'meat freak' through and through, and totally turned on by the really big ones, almost to the point of a kind of worshipping actually. Hey- lucky, lucky me! From: XHugeForMuscl Subject: BIG IS BETTER - Part 05 The Story: This is a serial novella, written in a quasi-autobiographical, 1st- person style. If you have no interest in long stories or this particular style of writing, or if you desire something with more immediate gratification, this story is probably not for you. The plot is very small in scope and 'tame' for the genre. Feel free to send email if you happen to particularly enjoy the story. However, if it does not appeal to you, please don't bombard me with 'negative' email, but consider seriously writing a story yourself that 'works for you'! BIG IS BETTER By HUGE4MUSCL (xhuge4muscl@yahoo.com) April, 2000 (Part 5) SUNDAY AFTERNOON - THE LIGHTENING ROUND I could never forget the details surrounding the day we first locked eyes on each other. It was in the dead of winter on a Sunday afternoon, I'm guessing around 2 P.M.. - just as frigid as a witch's titty outside. I'd spent the last several weeks in heads-down research work for almost every waking moment. I was horny as hell and in need of some man-company rather badly; and so I found myself back in a bar nursing a brewskie by myself, trying to 'celebrate' my 20th birthday. Funny how a guy can feel suddenly so lonely when he's in a bar of all places, but I did. My mind drifted off and wandered through it's 'historical files'. I found myself thinking about Gabe surprisingly - wondering where he was now and what he was up to. On this particular afternoon however, I was uncharacteristically sitting right at the bar, rather than propping myself upright in my usual corner. That would have been more my normal 'modus operandi'. Somewhat lost in my private thoughts, I heard a voice coming from over my right shoulder... "Hi there. I'm Samson - but please - my friends just call me Sam." From the close proximity of this voice, the overture seemed to be obviously directed at me. A part of me wanted to just say, "Please- just leave me alone." I just wasn't in the mood at all for another ultimately disappointing - if not outright embarrassing - one-night stand. And then of course another part of me wanted something else entirely and was still hopeful. That evening though, that hopeful part of me was close to being silenced by the other. This voice though did have a very nice quality to it. It was a deep and unusually masculine. But before I could crank my head around to check out it's source, I felt a hand on my right shoulder. This hand squeezed my shoulder in a very friendly sort of way. Involuntarily, I looked right at the hand first, and it was one hell of a very big paw let me tell you with prominent veins - a real man's hand. Frankly it's fortunate that I was sitting down for I would have surely fallen down in the next few seconds that followed as I naturally started to glance up to see the rest of the man that this hand was connected to. My vision was almost completely obstructed by an in-the-flesh absolute giant of a man- whose body completely filled my entire peripheral field of vision. I was so shocked that I reflexively started to just bolt up from my stool. "Whoa there!" The steam shovel-sized hand effectively blocked my skyward launch and pushed me back down. "Hell, I know I'm probably a bit scary. Maybe even more than just a bit really," he chuckled. "Seems I always have just that affect on guys. They run away from me. But please - don't run away .. Please? I'm just a regular guy, really - like you maybe. Honest, I am. Just talk with me awhile?" I'm not sure I had any choice as his hand was still very strategically placed and holding me down firmly on the barstool. Not even two feet from my face, these two mountains of visibly-moving flesh stared back at me, immense in their proportions and utterly three-dimensional. These apparitions were so alien to me in fact that it took seconds for my brain to accurately identify exactly what I was looking at. But when it finally registered that these undulating mounds were actually his chest muscles, I was instantly dumbstruck and frozen. These behemoths just continued their slow, writhing movements and rather quickly also calmed and hypnotized me with their powerful and potent magic spell. I could not seem to command my eyes to move anywhere else. It seemed that time was suddenly suspended. Finally I began to see that these mountains were covered by a tea shirt, and that, in turn, was covered by an opened flannel shirt. The shear mass of his chest plates jutted, almost horizontally, far out beyond the underlying ribcage. I remember thinking that I could set my beer bottle on either of these 'shelves' and it would have just stood there! I'm sure that my mouth was falling slowly wider open too - a side effect of the hypnosis, no doubt. It's a good thing that I'd pulled the stool up to the bar very closely or I'd have been immediately embarrassed by my arousal too - a clear sign of just how powerlessly spellbound I really was. "Say, the truth is that I came down here just to meet you, Pete. My buddy tells me your name's Pete. Right? I'd never even be in this here place otherwise. I just scares too many guys, I guess. I hardly bother coming here no more. Just ain't worth it. You maybe know what I mean? But I've been standing over in that there corner just watching you for awhile now, I has. I heard from my buddy of that you got a really big piece of meat on you boy. Is it true?" "Say what," I almost blurted out. Under almost any other circumstance, I would have certainly ignored or deflected that comment, or else possibly even denied it totally. I might have even bolted and ran out of the bar. But the truth was that I was being intensely turned on by these two jumbo-sized masses of mind- blowing muscle as they continued to slowly undulate amazingly. My overabundant supply of hormones (thank you Dad) controlled the moment. I couldn't think straight with all that blood pounding away inside my head. I couldn't even get a word to come out of my mouth. My mouth was as parched as the Gobi Desert. I choked trying to speak in fact, and took a fast swig of beer to stop the throat spasm. Finally, I managed to stammer out, "Yes, Peter.. I'm Pete. And ah- there's more than enough of it, I guess. I think so.... And you are definitely NOT any REGULAR guy!" "No - guess I know what 'cha mean, well enough," Sam chuckled. "I know this all scares guys away - well, most guys anyway," he said, quickly scanning his body from side-to-side with his eyes. "Does I scare you, Pete?" "Well honestly? Yes. You scared the shit out of me, but I was really just more startled- that's all," I replied. "You know, maybe you should like- warn a guy or something - before you just walk up behind him - especially when he doesn't see you coming!" I smiled, letting him know I was at least semi-OK now. Sam's mouth opened into a big, wide smile, showing a blazingly white and absolutely model-perfect set of choppers in his mouth. "That'd be so great if you'd just talk to me awhile. Maybe you can just forget my size for now?" Well that would damn near impossible for me I thought, but I said to Sam that I would certainly try my best. My eyes were now slowly beginning to at least take in other aspects of this gigantic man. I consciously noticed the real dimension of what was inside the arm of the long-sleeved shirt attached to this hand that still was covering my shoulder as well as a good part of my upper back too. His large upper sleeve was filled to capacity with a humbling mass that reminded me more of an athlete's upper leg actually than a man's arm, by its size. Without a doubt it was the biggest arm I'd ever seen - more than I'd ever imagined even in my nocturnal fantasies. I was also now very aware that my dick was still swelling slowly in my pant leg, but which was still hidden underneath the bar. I felt it's weight pressing down in my pant leg. I was also more than a bit light- headed from the speed that I was growing this torpedo. Fast arousal's very often just did that to me. After very slowly passing over a mile-wide pair of shoulders whose thickness from front to back also defied description, and traversing a neck that seemed as large as my waist, my eyes finally managed to make it all the way up to top of this mountain standing at my side. It wasn't really a cute or 'pretty boy' gorgeous face. No, not at all. If was a completely handsome face, and in the most utterly masculine of ways. Sam had a large square jaw. Heavy brow. Clear sparkling eyes- the type I could get lost in. Though Sam was clean-shaven, I could see that he possessed a dense beard- the kind that reeked raw, potent masculinity. And this incredible face crowned a body that stood way way way over 6 feet. The fact was that Sam's whole upper body was just so broad around and amazingly thick that I couldn't begin to tell how tall he was, let alone what he might begin to tip the scales at. Eventually my eyes finally made their way to the very top of Sam where we finally locked our eyes mutually on each other. Sam had evidently been observing my eyes as I'd mapped out every last inch of his gargantuan physique. "So, there now. You've taken a real good look...." Sam said. I immediately felt funny somehow, like I'd done something wrong- kind'a guilty of some unknown crime. He returned again to promoting his immediate agenda. "Say, do you suppose maybe - you'd let me just... well... touch it actually - please?" I thought his please was definitely an afterthought. I don't think a guy had ever been so bold with me this soon in the game and that sent a cold shiver up my spine. Seemed this guy Sam didn't care much for "idle chatter" although there was also something nevertheless undeniably very friendly about him. I tried to say something, but my mouth failed me again. After a long pause, Sam repeated the request again. "I really just love- you know - really big guys. I do! Really!" There was something about the way that he spoke that seemed odd to me - something completely childlike in his voice but exceedingly honest and straightforward too. Very unusual- certainly lustful and yet very sincere. It was as weird as it was unique. I sensed immediately a kind of genuineness and honesty without any bullshit whatsoever coming from this total specimen of manhood that dominated my whole horizon. It seemed that everyone else in the bar was disappearing. There was only Sam and me in the moment. "And if I was to say no - then what? You could ambush me outside later and do me severe bodily injury easily in just seconds actually, if you wanted to. Do I really have any choice here?" "Course you can say no - if 'ya want. Absolutely! I'd never hurt you. I ain't that way. I never EVER hurt no one- never. A guy my size? That wouldn't even be fair." He actually seemed to be surprisingly hurt from his expression. Callously, it never occurred to me that this King Kong could have real feelings too. I felt ashamed for having even hinted at that being even a possible outcome. "Hey that was a stupid thing for me to say. I'm sorry. Really, I am." I reached up just to pat him to reinforce that I meant no harm either. My good- will gesture landed smack on his mega-chest, easily the biggest and most accessible target I could reach from where I was sitting. My palm contacted something with a mass and density that just stunned me- more like patting the rump of a trained thoroughbred. "That's O.K.. I didn't wanna really do nothing else but look at it - maybe feel it a little. I didn't mean no harm at all. I thought that you might be that one-in-a-million guy who'd... you know... like me... maybe special-like. I must've done figured wrong. I ain't the smartest guy in this world. Suppose you can tell, huh? But I thought the way you looked before at these before ..." Sam put his hands on each hip and slowly inhaled as he spread his elbows outward from his waist. Like two Phoenix's rising, hard hemispheres of muscle rose up, pushing the front panels of his flannel shirt aside and sending them to the far remote corners. His white tea shirt underneath stretched drum-tight, perfectly hugging two swelling mountains of muscle. Huge nipples became clearly visible as the cotton threads pulled uniformly apart from each other, making the his shirt much more transparent. They were larger than silver dollars and pointed almost straight down at his shoes- each suspended under a shelf of ballooning muscle. It was like watching two Zeppelins inflate. The two titans just continued to rise both upward and outward, finally reaching within only inches of my chin. Then the two tectonic plates of muscle began very sensually move completely independently and in opposition. Amazingly, Sam commanded each one alternately to reach out even more and brush against each of my cheeks. The affect on me was instantly stunning and surely written across my entire face. By now Sam had to be fully aware from my whole reaction that he had actually pegged me very accurately. I was totally spellbound and frozen and I'm sure my mouth was opened widely. I don't know which excited me more- his massy mammoth chest muscles or the unbelievable command and control he exercised of each one of them. Regardless, it was hard to ignore the seismic tremors of lust that were coursing through my entire body. As the beasts continued to slowly dance, Sam continued exactly where he'd left off. "It was just the way you were looking before at these. I was just hoping for a second there that maybe you liked 'em...you know.... big... on a man..." I got my mouth to move only with some concerted effort. "I do like 'em actually..." With his question now apparently answered by me, Sam end his hypnotizing display. He relaxed and backed away slightly. Still overwhelmed completely by Sam's display, I asked, " How.. ahh.. big are they really?" Then catching myself being a bit to honest for my own comfort, I quickly added, "Err, I mean... You... Tall. How tall are you? How much do you weigh?" Very matter-of-factly, he said, "Six foot 10 inches and 342 pounds, last I knew." His stats we almost incomprehensible. I thought, "You're being picked up by funking King Kong! And I bet he could too, if he wanted to, and with just one hand." I also thought briefly that this monster would squash me like a fly if he was ever was top of me -whatever the reason! Sam returned back to his original conversational objective. "So Pete. Will 'ya let me touch it?" "Do you mean touch me right here? Now? In public?" He, said obviously trying to encourage my cooperation as well as I suppose to reassure me, " Ain't no one paying no attention. No one's goin' to even notice..." Strangely, in the next moment I found my head involuntarily gesturing down towards my crotch. "Sure .. It's OK. Just go ahead - do it. You can touch it if you want to..." Sam's hand left my shoulder and came down on my thigh, which was still for the most part hidden out of sight under the overhang of the bar anyway. Not moments later, it found my bloated pant python- which was not particularly an overtaxing challenge to locate in it's current condition- and came to rest on top of it. He continued to look right at me as he felt me up very privately and discretely. I noticed that his eyes seemed to glass over and his pupils became just as dilated as if emerging from an opthamologist's office after an eye exam. "God, I don't believe it..... It's so ....." He stopped mid-sentence, appearing suddenly completely dumbfounded and unable to speak. He seemed as awestruck himself now as I'd been only moments earlier. The look on his face was certainly that of genuine astonishment - perhaps even initial disbelief - as he instantly figured out that the fantastic rumor he'd heard from his buddy about me was no rumor at all. While he was 'checking me out', I was also actively exploring the many large visible shapes underneath his clothes. I was increasingly aware of by how much this guy really just totally dwarfed me. He was no man at all, by any previous measure I had anyway. He was a real King Kong - a powerful, huge and stunningly handsome man-beast who had amazingly large, erotic shapes everywhere that I looked - those special shapes that screamed 'superior power' to every fiber of my being. Sam's brought his mouth very close to my ear. "God Pete, it's - it's just WAY bigger than I'd... Now I've just GOT to really see it. Please, please, pleeeaassseee? I want us to go somewhere so's I can REALLY play with it. Just how big IS that thing? Wow..." This conversation was as absurd as it was completely juvenile. It kind of reminded me of more like a boy talking actually, in that moment anyway. My eyes however were telling me that every inch of this guy was definitely "all man". These two perceptions didn't quite fit together neatly in my mind. But what I found even more ridiculous was that being in such close proximity to such a gigantic and powerfully-built man was turning me on so much that I didn't actually care. I end up finishing his thought for him. "Yeah, I know it kind'a freaky-weird. I'm... well, I'm not really normal. I mean - my dick - it's just not normal. It's some kind of genetic abnormality I probably inherited. A doctor told me so. It was caused by some hormonal thing. I don't even get hard-ons the same way that other guys do." What I was thinking during this self-confessional moment was that it actually takes me relatively much longer to get fully erect than other normal-sized guys. With me it's of a process- not an event like other guys. "Wow.. Hey that's OK... I mean that's just ...PERFECT! Say, we maybe even got something in common. I ain't exactly a normal guy either, case you ain't noticed. I figure there's always been somethin' different 'bout me too - maybe somethin' with them hormones you mentioned too.. just I don't know that, really. All I knows is that I'm very big and all that I seem to want is to get even bigger! But better yet Pete- I'm just made for big tools, really," he said with a certain mischievous twinkle in his eyes. I missed his meaning completely, as I was thinking to myself, "Sure. That's what they all think." I'd heard such bravado before and had learned to be very skeptical about these macho claims - every guy I'd know had always had fallen way short on his 'capacity-limits' in the real moment of truth. But God- was I ever completely turned on. I stared into his big beautiful puppy-dog eyes as I thought Sam's proposition over in my head. "Should I really go home with this guy? What's the worst that can happen? God he's dangerously big- but he does seem like a decent enough guy otherwise, really. You know you're never going to meet another guy built like this again in a whole millennium. Go ahead. Take a chance. It's your damn birthday, after all...." So I'd made up my mind to go through with it, although I'm not sure my brain was doing the thinking anymore. At that moment I was ready to drop my pants in the middle of Main Street in the height of Xmas shopping season for this man, if he wanted me to. My dick was in total control and I was completely over-the-top with intensely erotic feelings. Sam was bending way down now, so I leaned into his ear, and said very privately to him, "Your big hand feels perfect - right there." I pushed down on the back of it to emphasize where 'there' was, in case he missed the reference. "Feels really good. I'd really like you to play with me a lot more, actually, if we can go somewhere else. Maybe we can go to your place Sam? You see- I've got a roommate situation....." "Great! We's outta here NOW!" Sam said with a very sincere and wild-eyed enthusiasm. I contemplated momentarily directly asking Sam for something too- a 'special request' of sorts. I felt my face flush with embarrassment as I pondered the advisability of making this request even known to him. I was very concerned that, by doing so, I'd blow it completely now and Sam would walk away from me, all-disgusted and everything. "So, ah... Sam. I have a question. I was wondering if - if maybe - you'd be willing to ....." Then I stopped, very unsure if I should even continue this. Sam looked outright puzzled. "What did 'ya have in mind, Pete?" I could feel my face turning crimson. "Look at you! You're blushing! What is it?" While I'm sure Sam didn't mean to, just his noticing that I was getting quite red-in-the-face made me even more embarrassed. I chastised myself silently for a moment and then gave myself a quick silent pep-talk. "Damn Peter - just SAY it. Ask him! What's the worst that can happen? You'll go home alone (ugh....) - that's all." Thinking about whether I should or should not continue, I decided to take a perhaps safer, more indirect approach. I would lead him a bit, not quite trusting yet that he'd be completely OK and non-judgmental with this deep-seated fantasy of mine that so obviously still embarrassed me greatly. (Eventually, I would come to understand that taking such a circuitous and obtuse route was unnecessary with Sam. In fact, more often than not, he would completely miss such vaguely-disguised requests. Moreover, in time he taught me to say exactly what was on my mind.) "Sam, you say that you big ones - big cocks- turn you on?" I already knowing the answer, of course. "Surely they do. That is THE truth!" he instantly grinned, then added for unneeded emphasis, " They make me crazy!" I continued to lead him on cautiously. "Ok. Ahhh ...Then you'd like my cock to get absolutely as big as possible, right?" "Boy, does I ever! I can't wait to see it!" "O.K. Sam. Well then- it would help me a lot to - you know, get it really really big- if maybe you'd... you'd..." I started to stumble badly, feeling almost overwhelming embarrassment. "Would what?" Sam seemed a bit perturbed now with my continuing hesitation to just spit out what was on my mind. "...you'd... take off your shirt, so I could see... I mean- you look so..." Apparently catching on to what I was struggling to say, Sam just finished my sentence for me. "Big, maybe? I've got big muscles. I'm very strong - really!" I was glad that Sam seemed to guess correctly what I was thinking and actually spared me having to come right out with it. Inside, I'd always known I was totally into muscle and that embarrassed me too much, just like the size of my dick. I couldn't own that part of me yet, so I couldn't put it out to Sam. I did notice that Sam hadn't reacted one bit to my subtle hint however. He made nothing of it and accepted it at face value. I felt kind of good actually if only for a moment. But his mere statement about his big muscles caused my testosterone levels to just surge. "Sam, it's my birthday today. Honest, it really is... and it always helps get my cock going when a guy is naked when... when he's diddling me. That's all I meant by that." Right. Sure. And a guy with a build jet-propels my erection. However, I couldn't somehow seem to just say that aloud. Sam just smiled. "Pete, I got no problem t'all takin' my shirt off. I want 'cha to just think of me as the biggest birthday present you've ever had. I've got me some muscles- really big ones. I think you'll maybe like 'em a lot. So tell me now - just how big does that 'ol dick of yours get anyway?" "Oh... probably too big to be of much use..." The blood was pounding in my head at the thought of this guy agreeing to actually peel off his shirt for me. I still had no real idea of just how amazing Sam's body actually was, however I was about to get a whole new concept about what 'big' really meant. And so was Sam too, actually. Sam was now grinning from ear-to-ear. "O.K. Pete, we got us a deal! Boy, I think I'm a lucky man!" Then he got quiet for awhile, as if he was seriously thinking. "You seem like a nice boy. I mean ... real nice- just the kind'a guy I'd like to be friends with. I mean - real special friends. Say Pete, do 'ya really like this? I mean REALLY?" He grabbed my hand and moved it on to his upper arm hanging relaxed by his side, so obviously wanting me to feel it. I began rubbing my hand around the back of it slowly and then to the side. I doubt my hand could begin to even cover maybe even one-fourth of it. His arm was just that huge, and just as rock-hard a granite too. When my palm finally traced it's way over the front and paused there momentarily, Sam brought his hand slowly upwards toward his chin- and what I felt underneath his shirt got my dick hard as a rock. I mean - it was the most intensely powerful and erotic thing I've ever felt in my life. I think I even moaned involuntarily, if only momentarily, before I caught myself and stifled it. "God- that feels as big as Superman's!" Sam replied, "Oh, that's really nothing. You should see 'em after I've been lifting. I like 'em when they get huge! You can come over and I'll lift for you sometime, so's you can see 'em when they're big. They isn't really big right now." He really seemed very sincere, even actually apologetic for the current size of his 'puny' arms. Again, there was something just so amazingly honest about the way he said it. I mean this dude was already super-sized, and I practically creamed at the thought of watching Sam actually lifting just for me. An ocean of pre-cum leaked from my hog. Sam's other hand was right there too, and he felt the unusually large area of dampness forming in the leg of my jeans. "Oh no! Did you cum already?" he said, clearly very concerned and obviously disappointed. "Ah.. no... not yet. NO." I muttered breathlessly. I was actually difficult to speak with such veritable tidal waves of erotic energy flowing through my body. "That's all .. just pre-cum ... really." "That's all just pre-cum? WOW!" he said, appearing rather stunned again by my honest disclosure. The size of the area of wetness he felt was certainly larger than most other guys after they'd shot their full loads. I was just getting warmed up nicely in fact ,but he had no was of knowing that. "That gets me really hot now!" With that, Sam effortlessly ripped me right off of my bar stool, and let me tell you that I was not exactly a welter-weight either. In the blink of an eye, he had me literally airborne actually. My legs almost automatically reached out and wrapped around his waist to steady my trajectory. My hands could only find his two wide shoulders to grab on to and begin to steady myself momentarily - those shoulders felt like huge rock-solid cannonballs. And then he impulsively gave me a very unexpected and very hot lip-lock... God... I do mean this was the most deeply passionate 'sucking face' I'd ever experienced..... Sam's mouth was hot. Amazingly hot. Those lips - that tongue- penetrating every reachable inch of my own mouth. His rough utterly sexy beard stimulated every nearby nerve-ending surrounding my own mouth and lips. It's amazing that I didn't really shoot right on the spot. I'd never been so forcefully just taken - actually seized - by a man, let alone Superman.... He pulled back momentarily, and looked me in the eyes again grinning, "Boy, you are just SO hot! We're gonna have a GREAT time - I just know it!" In the blink of an eye, we were out the door heading off across town to his apartment. From: XHugeForMuscl Subject: BIG IS BETTER - Part 06 BIG IS BETTER By HUGE4MUSCL (xhuge4muscl@yahoo.com) April, 2000 (Part 6) WARM UPS I didn't own a car, typical poor college student that I was. Sam offered me a ride though, saying that he'd bring me back to campus anytime "after we do the wild thing". It was a relatively small town and that wouldn't put him out of his way too much, so I agreed. He owned an older model three-quarter ton pickup. As we walked up to it, I noted that it still was in damn nice shape - had a real nice shine - and thought this must reflect some real TLC he gave it routinely. He unlocked the door for me first and bellowed- but very friendly- like- "Just hop on in!" The first thing I really noticed when he climbed in himself was - man, did this dude ever fill up a truck cab! I knew he was a really big guy when we were in the bar certainly, but I had nothing to put his size into some real perspective. It hit me like a rock when I saw how completely confined he was inside of the truck cab. Honestly, Sam was so large- framed that I began feeling both intimidated and totally turned on at the same time. It was a very weird combination of feelings- talk about Ying and Yang! If this absolute monster of a man ever intended to do me bodily harm, he'd have an easy time of it. But Sam was a damn ruggedly handsome monster, like Beauty and the Beast- all rolled into one guy. I was relieved too that Sam actually talked rather easily as we bounced along across town. His light-hearted banter began to put my mind a bit more at ease, and I figured that I'd probably live to see another sunrise anyway. He didn't seem like he had a mean bone in that whole immense body. I did find out a few details about Sam on that ride, just from his chatter. I learned that he worked at a gym since he was a teenager, and that now he actually had an small apartment directly above it on the second floor. He told me a little about his family too. I gathered that his Dad had been a professional wrestler- evidently a big name in that business, too. I never followed professional wrestling, so I didn't have a clue whether he was just pulling my leg or not. He also said that his family had moved all over the country while he was growing up and that he'd attended a dozen schools in about a dozen years actually- but never did graduate. "I never was any good with books," was his exact quote. I thought that must have been an awful experience personally, but kept that thought to myself. There was a lull in our conversation for awhile. I became aware that the radio was on, playing at a very low volume. Finally Sam broke the silence, and turned his head towards me. "So how old are you, Pete? Just- I wondered, that's all..." "I'm 19 years old. Today's is really my birthday, too." I repeated that fact again. He grinned. "God, you are just a boy after all! You don't look like you're six feet tall to me even...." I wasn't sure I liked either comment actually, but he continued. "But you got something there," he said, glancing down at my crotch. "Something that makes you a mighty big man in my eyes, anyway." Now that reference to my cock actually felt very good. Odd though- since I usually didn't like any comments others guys made about my dick. Again, it wasn't the words as much as it was just the way Sam said the words. He impressed me as being honest and, if not smart, at least very sincere. I found myself strangely willing to trust what he said more and more. "I'm 29- in case 'ya wondered." "So....You're just a man after all too." It was a stupid and very awkward comment for me to make, in retrospect. Sam shook his head and winked. "Well ...no .. I'm no more a regular guy than you are. I thinks we're mighty special, you and me. I got this real strong feeling 'bout that, actually. But we'll find out soon enough- when we get to my place." We pulled up and parked in front of what clearly was a small town gym. I could see the weights as well as other equipment through the large windows. The overhead sign said simply, "Big Is Better." Strange name for a gym, I thought. He unlocked a side door and led the way up a narrow flight of stairs to a single apartment door at the top of the landing. I made another mental note of how Sam's body completely filled the inside of the door frame to his apartment as he passed through it. Yikes! If he was just a very little bit taller he'd have needed to duck just to get inside. Again I got a very uneasy feeling. The recurring thought popped into my head again that this guy could easily rip me into very small pieces if he wanted to. This guy was just too big, very strongly both attracting and repelling me at the same time. I 'wanted' badly, and yet that didn't feel particularly safe either. I remembered Sam saying how other guys routinely ran away from him. Now I was thinking that I should have done precisely that too, when I'd had the chance - but it was too late for that now. I felt extremely uncomfortable when Sam closed the door behind me. Sam ushered me into a living room. I just stood there as he turned the light down low and put a CD on to play. It was definitely kind of atmospheric- you know what I mean - sexy-like. He sat down on an unusually large easy chair, maybe even custom-made I thought, and faced me. I was still standing in the middle of the room. He looked me right in my eyes. "Pete, now I want to see that big 'ol thang in your pants. Show me it." There was that unbelievably bold directness again from him. That single beer over an hour ago at the bar hadn't begun to loosened up my inhibitions nearly enough for this; moreover, I'd never been asked before to literally strip while a guy just sat there and watched me passively. I still didn't see myself as being attractive or sexy, therefore it was inconceivable to me that another man might actually get turned on totally by just seeing my dick. This was a too weird-feeling scene, and I felt myself panicking. But much to his credit, Sam did seem to quickly interpret my hesitation, awkward stiffness, and body language rather perceptively. "Say ...Ah.. You maybe- nervous, Pete? Please - please don't be. You've got nothing at all to be embarrassed about there. Your cock is beautiful. Show me that big cock of yours." I didn't think saying 'no' was still an option frankly, so very nervously, I undid my belt and unbuttoned my jeans. They slowly slipping down around my ankles. I was standing about 4 feet in front of Sam in my jockeys, feeling not only ridiculous but extremely self-conscious. He just stared at me for what seemed a very long time. Eventually a broad grin appeared on his face. "Yep, you sure do fill up a pair of shorts. Man I can see everything right through 'em! That's one big sexy bulge 'ya got down there. Looks like heavy equipment to me - mighty heavy. I'm gonna be in heaven when that big thing gets hard- for sure!" His wide grin put me slightly more at ease. My conflicting 'fuck or flee' feelings were thankfully changing again- now tipping more in favor of 'fuck'. I actually chuckled a bit, saying a bit sarcastically, "Yeah, I think I hear St. Peter now, in fact." "It'd be really neat to watch it just - you know - getting bigger. I love seeing hogs get all growed-up. That turns me on, pure and simple! Say, can 'ya do that all by yourself, you know - maybe- think horny thoughts or something? I'd love to watch that. Must be a real monster! I'll get real hard, too. Really, I will!" I considered for a moment what he'd just said, as well as what I'd heard from him previously. It was becoming quite apparent that I wasn't going to be discussing theoretical quantum theories this evening with this guy - probably never, actually. I would have to keep my conversation very - well - basic. Sam obviously liked hot 'cock-talk'. That made him all-sexy feeling, I surmised. I wouldn't need to be straining my vocabulary much to maintain his interest - maybe a dozen words at most, I figured. At least now I knew most of them, my college education having taught me something actually useful now. I had no problem with that. The fact was that 'dirty talk' could be kind of stimulating for me too, especially coming from this guy. "I can get into this," I thought. Sam wasn't the only one staring. My gaze again was being drawn back to the unbelievable physique sitting in front of me, like iron to a magnet. "You're already hard, Sam. God, do you - ever - look very hard." And that was certainly the truth. He looked a bit puzzled briefly and then I saw a light bulb in his brain definitely pop on. "Hey, I'm sorry, really," he said. "You and me- we made a deal. You'd show me and I'd show you. It was my shirt, right? Promises are promises..." Well that was definitely going to work really nicely for me, I thought. "That's right. Remember I said that'll give me a good boner for sure. Definitely- a very big, hard one." I was sticking to the conversational basics to make sure the big guy and I were 'communicating' effectively. Sam began by whistling a few bars of "Happy Birthday" and then he removed his big flannel shirt. Underneath, Sam's commanding physique could not begin to be concealed by his mere tea shirt. Instantly I got lightheaded as my dick sprang to life with enthusiastic gusto, quickly starting to lift my jockeys outward with it's broadening back. I thought my heart would burst trying to suddenly pump so much blood into both of my heads at once. To say this stud was "all muscle" doesn't begin describe what I saw. I wasn't even sure what I was seeing. Sam was shockingly huge, and everywhere I looked too. He had to notice my astonishment as my jaw dropped, and he apparently felt some need to somehow explain - his body - to me, I guess. "This is because - well - I just like to lift heavy things. I love the way it makes me feel. I do it all the time, so I feel good all the time! I am really very strong. I have very big muscles now. I'm going to get much bigger too." Sam had habit for understatement to the extreme. My eyes were popping out of my head just trying to make some sense of the simply unbelievable. I found myself wondering if Sam really understood just how huge he was already, relative to virtually any other human being. His simple words of explanation worked on my brain like a powerful aphrodisiac. His white tea shirt was tautly stretched, straining to cover all of the truly dominating shapes of his upper body. Two iron railings of muscle sloped down on each side from his huge neck and disappeared into the broad, round melons that formed his shoulders. His upper arms were simply outrageously-large, really - definitely capable of amazing feats of strength, I thought. Absolutely the biggest set of arms I'd ever seen on a man, even in a magazine. I could see every cut clearly in his rope-like stomach muscles. His upper body exploded out in all directions from what would be considered a trim waistline for any man, let alone a man of such gargantuan stature. His huge arms didn't rest at his sides I noticed. They were suspended on incredibly broad thick shoulders and pushed outwards by two massive columns of muscle that seems to explode laterally upwards from each side of his back. I couldn't help but also notice the two colossal muscle-mountains on his chest rising and falling so obviously with each breath he took. He was a magnificent hunk of man - more beast than man, actually. Meanwhile, Sam was thoroughly enjoying my own visibly growing enthusiasm too. "Wow! Just look at how that thing is swelling up! I ain't never seen nothing like that! Thick hogs makes me so .... Pete, you're making my blood just boil!" He concentrated on my dick and I concentrated on his body. If nothing else, these particular mutual interests in each other seemed perfectly in harmony at the moment. I sensed that I really was arousing this amazing man. Sam seemed genuinely fascinated and clearly aroused staring at my particular endowment. Yep, strangely the playing field seemed leveled and this boosted my confidence. My initial misgivings were slipped away as my hormones took more control of me. "Could you maybe take off your tea shirt?" God, did that ever feel really embarrassing to ask, but the hormones helped push me past at least some of my natural inhibitions. Sam was enthusiastically on-board with this whole program now. He must have also sensed our attuned sexual energies beginning to resonate. This whole encounter with Sam had already approached the surreal. I mean- think about it! But what was about to happen next would plunge me into an unexpected fantasy beyond anything I could have conceived- the "pinch me, this can't be real" kind of experience - and a dream from which I never wanted to wake up. But it wasn't a dream at all.... "Pete, I really want your birthday to be something real special. So for tonight - you own me. And you own this, too." I watched him gaze at own body, panning across it from left to right, and I assumed this was to emphasize what he'd meant. Then he just stood up and grabbed the neck of his tea shirt, effortlessly ripping it wide open down the middle and exposing his fully naked upper torso. Easily well over 300 pounds of relaxed, perfectly-carved manhood stood there in just a pair of jeans, towering in front of me. His degree of muscular vascularity defied his heavy body weight. Sam's physique was massively beefy and yet perfectly chiseled as well. This was one powerfully-built colossus of a man with huge muscles, each just amazingly distinctive and cut. His body hair actually amplified the overall visual impact of his physique. He hadn't shaved like most builders that I'd seen in magazines, and frankly it made him look sizzlingly sexy. Just the right amount, in all the right places. A beautiful dark trail ran up from his jeans following the centerline of his abdominals and spread out naturally across those mighty majestic mounds projecting from his chest. His immense physique, combined with such a perfectly dispersed pattern of body hair and handsome rugged good looks, created a statement that said to me "measure any other man by THIS package." Sam casually tossed the shredded tea shirt to the side and continued. "Ask me for anything - anything 'ya want. I'm hot for you, Pete. Anything that pleases you - anything at all. Whatever makes your cock really hard- and keeps it hard too! Ain't nothing 'ya can't ask - nothing 'ya can't do to me - or with me, at all. It's just that I... I want your big cock so much. Just so much... and I just want it- everywhere." There was a reverent tone to his voice actually. "I hope I'm big enough for you." "Big enough?" I tried to fathom everything that I'd just heard, clearly not quite yet believing my ears. But it was clear that he meant it - even his boy- like question about whether he was 'big enough' was quite genuine. He meant every single word! I was starting to understand that Sam thought in very simple, straightforward ways. Amazingly simple actually. There was a genuinely palpable boy-like quality to his personality. And all this boyishness lived within the body of the manliest of men. It looked as if Sam routinely bench-pressed Abrahm's tanks to have build up such rock-hard granite mountains all over him. There was not a single inch of his body that didn't just- well - bulge. He bulged everywhere. Every muscle group impressed me utterly - each one just perfect - and perfectly huge. Here in front of my eyes stood Hercules, born of Zeus, in the flesh. I had no doubt at all that this was one incredibly strong man- one in a million. That was the last thought I remembered clearly for awhile. I was aware of an enormous surge of sudden growth in my cock. My head reeled and nearly blacking out, I staggered and fell forward. "Whoa there!" Sam said as he caught me, breaking my fall. "You O.K.? Pete, are you O.K.?" I shook my head to throw off the momentary dizziness. "Yeah. I'm O.K.. That ... sometimes happens when I get turned on too fast." I raised my head to look at him. "And right now Sam, you're making me very hot..." Still supporting me with one hand, Sam eased back down in his chair, propping me up on my feet in front of him. "Terrific! That means you must like me then - really! So, can I take off your underwear now?" "Uh... Sure. Go- go right ahead." My jockeys were literally there one second and gone the next, just like magic really. With blazing speed, Sam had reach out, grabbed them by the band and effortlessly snapped them right off of me- so fast and with such precisely applied force- that my body didn't even recoil- just like whipping a tablecloth out from underneath a dinner table set with china and nothing moves. "Shit is that ever a big one! Just look at the size of it!" "Am I big enough for you?" I said, teasing him now with his own words, and surprisingly myself actually. I swung it just a little bit by moving my hips just so he'd appreciate what a pendulous piece of meat it had already become- and from just looking at him. Sam reached for my big schlong and squeezed it a few times and then grabbed me around the waist, pulling me forward into the chair now. I had to quickly spread my legs rather widely apart just to stand staddling his own. His hand moved to my lower-back and he leaned me down right into him until my schlong came to rest in the deep chasm between his giant squares of chest muscle. I didn't have to lean very far either because his upper body was just so utterly massive. I couldn't help myself, and just started to rub it slowly in-between them. The feeling of his chest hair and those huge, hard man-mountains was beyond just incredible. It approached a truly spiritual experience. He just stared directly down at his chest now, hypnotized. " Wow! Just look at that big thing," Sam exclaimed with admiration. "Uh... It gets bigger too- that is, if I don't pass out first..." That comment seemed to have suddenly inspired Sam. He somehow willed his two mighty dirigibles to rise up around my cock, almost completely surrounding it. This was no small feat either, considering my girth. My cock found itself suddenly cradled snugly in this new, wildly erotic and totally hot embrace. Only huge muscles could do something this amazing. "God, how do you DO that! I mean- how do you make 'em bulge out like that, " I panted as I leaned in more, grabbing his shoulders to steady myself now, as I began screwing them more uncontrollably. Sam somehow began to mentally control his two amazing muscle mounds. I watched them start to move - back and forth - up and down. He was intentionally giving my cock a completely over-the-top muscle massage with his chest! I felt his powerful behemoths caressing me, pressing and squeezing my fattening cock. I must have been literally drooling on him at this point. "Feels real hot to me, too!" Sam said as he worked his massive boulders even harder. He was developing a real sweat that also further lubricated his mighty makeshift muscle-pussy. Sam's eyes indicated he was pretty wild with excitement as well. They were almost rolling in his head, in fact. "That's the hottest... Shit that feels wonderful!" Sam sort of parroted my remarks. " That's the hottest - the most amazing cock I've even seen! Keep fucking my muscle tits. Yeah, reach down now and jerk me off at the same time.." I reached back with my hand behind me and awkwardly blindly unbuttoning his jean and unzipping his fly and quickly found his very swollen hog. It was surprisingly easy enough to find too- not at all small - especially considering the size of this man. That made it a very big piece indeed- one really substantial handful of meat- well, for a regular guy that is. Feeling Sam's surprising size just turned me on even more. With my hand still behind me, I started to work his big piece. I really strangled and pounded on that sucker too, and he was obviously loving it. I was just beginning to get warmed up nicely when Sam said very unexpectedly, "Cum. I really want you to cum. Shoot in my mouth! Yeah, fuck 'em stud. Fuck these big pectorals!" He reached up and grabbed the massy mountains, pressing them upwards and together with his hands. They almost completely surrounded my pole. God, they were just huge sides of beef, now all glistening with sweat. The feeling of my big oranges slamming up against them was driving me wild. My hips pounded away, driving my cock deeply between them. Sam was moaning load as a steer, signaling how turned on he was as well. Oh well- I had no problem with cumming on request since that's really what he wanted now, so within a matter of seconds, I just exploded. Cum began pumping out of my balls, shooting like a geyser right out between the top of his 'pectorals' - thanks to Sam, at least I now knew these things had another name- as I shot right into his wide-open, eagerly-awaiting mouth. Sam's own meat began throbbing right in my hand almost immediately and he began to blow his own big load. He was grunting wildly, emitting deep guttural noises of obvious man-pleasure. I grabbed a big gob of his own cum and slapped it right back on his still-jacking meat, just to lube it some more. I wanted him to keep cumming until I'd squeezed every last drop out of him that I possibly could, and Sam didn't disappoint me one bit in that department either. His pumping power was truly impressive as he continued to gush out more of his man- milk. Meanwhile, I just kept emptying my oversized cum tanks into his already overfilled mouth, although Sam was gobbling it down just as fast as he possibly could. The excess dribbled down his chin and ran onto his chest. After finally spilling out the last drops, he pulled all of me down on to his huge hot body, and leaning back fully, just effortlessly moved me around all over him like a big towel, smearing the buckets of cum all over between us. My body seemed to disappear right into his truly massive frame. God, there was just so much of him! I had to spread my arms far to the sides just to be able to grab a hold of him around the outsides of his monstrous, granite arms. It was such a wonderfully stimulating feeling to be pressed full-bodied against such a huge, hard and handsome beast - so hot that I decided he could use my body for his personal cum rag anytime he desired. I lay there on top of him for awhile catching my breath, with my arms still fully outstretched around his. With one of those big arms, Sam easily pulled me higher up on his body where he just held me actually for awhile, squeezing me gently against him every now and then, alternately rubbing his fingers through my hair and stroking my face with the other. Man -o- man did I ever feel wonderful when I realized that this brute could be quite gentle- even approaching something that felt like tenderness, actually, to me. Then I felt his big hand practically surround my whole head coaxing my face next to his. As we lay there cheek-to-cheek, his huge paws slowly explored my back all the way from my neck to well below my knees. This bruiser had one hell of a reach on him. Eventually, Sam's mouth found my own and .. he kissed me. THAT- I definitely was not expecting. Sam kept on kissing me too- deeper, and with more passion. His lips were actually full, big and beautifully wet. He had a large mouth, completely in proportion to his large head. His head with was probably even small in proportion to his huge frame. Well regardless, his mouth was damn sexy and hot- not to mention he could have hovered half my face with it at once. Being kissed by Sam would redefine 'sucking face' for me forever more. I was very aware of his heavy beard, and how good that felt. This guy must be some reincarnated sex god, I thought. Everything about him was totally hot. My fires lit and I felt my cock swelling anew. Sam noticed this too immediately. It's really a hard thing to miss about me, actually. As he continued to play with my hair, he grinned and said, "Good. I was really hoping for that," referring to my newly-fresh arousal. "I hope that means 'ya really likes me a lot... 'cause I really likes you." "I 'likes' you too, Sam." Bad English, but still true enough. That seemed to be all the encouragement Sam needed to hear. He began spilling his 'deeper' thoughts. "I knew you was special when I saw'd you this afteroon, I did. You're a good boy, and you got you some big equipment! I mean it's just a b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l crotch rocket, absolutely the hottest thing I've ever did see on any guy. I mean - God, it's a whale! See Pete, the thing is-- I think I been waiting for you, maybe my whole life. So, can I watch it get big again? Lookin' at it makes me real hot!" Wanting to egg him on just a little more, I said, "Sure. And then what?" I wasn't mentally prepared for what he almost instantly came back with. "Well, when 'ya get it up all big again - then I want to have sex with you. I want 'ya to give me that huge cock- and use all of it. I mean- I want to have real sex with you. That's only if you'd like to, 'course. I want to have sex with you all night long. I think I want to have sex with you maybe ... forever.." "What do you mean when you say 'real sex?" I asked. "Man, a guy like you must have sex all the time!" Well, so much for assumptions, I was about to learn. Sam hesitated, seeming to consider his response before he spoke. "Actually, that ain't quite true, Pete. It's been years since I've have what I'd call like- real sex- with a guy. Oh yeah, sometimes if they're drunk enough- so's I'm not scary to them- they'll maybe let me diddle there dicks- but that's really all. Even those times have got pretty rare now- I's even bigger than I was before. So the real truth is I don't screw 'round hardly at all really, anymore. Besides, only my big 'ol toys seem to really feel right. Hell Pete, look at me. I mean, look at me realistically. I dwarf most guys! Normal guys are just way too small for the way I'm made. Even their cocks don't seem to.. well ... to satisfy me at all, if you know what I mean. I just stopped bothering a real long time ago. I ain't been to no bar in... hell, I can't even 'member the last time now. Then a buddy of mine told me about you, maybe a week ago or so. It seems 'ya got some kind of reputation down at that place. My buddy said I'd better get my ass down there- and really fast. And 'ya know? He was right 'bout you. So I ain't kidding when I say I's been waitin' for you maybe my whole life even. I didn't think you existed. But here 'ya is now... and... God, you are just... just... perfect!" I choked hard and bolted upright, pushing myself off him with my arms and up on my feet again. I couldn't get my breath. My mind raced trying to recap everything - each thing - that Sam had just uttered. His directness had caught me way off guard again. What did he mean by 'use all of it'? 'Real sex'? 'Forever'? I was mulling it all over even as I was about to expire from coughing. It really did all sound very hot. And if that was only foreplay we just had, I was a dead man for sure anyway. I'd die a mighty happy one though. "What's wrong? You O.K.?" Sam asked with real concern. "I know that Heimlicht maneuver thing...." I was smiling as I held out my arm, pushing him back in protest, as I thought about what CPR from King Kong would feel like. That offered cure seemed possibly worse than the actual 'illness' to me. "No. I'm really OK. I prefer my ribs all in one piece, thanks. It was just something caught in my throat, I think. I'm fine... Sam, I want to have 'real' sex with you, too. A lot. You're a hot guy. Really hot. Truth is- I haven't have 'real sex' with guys either. Oh, they've tried and all- real hard at times too- but my cock just becomes a problem really, and the rubbers always break. They eventually just give up trying." I thought he'd like to hear more cock- talking, even though this was the sad truth of the state of my so-called sex life, to date. "So technically, I guess I'm practically a virgin still. See, my cock just gets too big eventually, but it takes awhile. I came too quickly, just now. It wasn't that big yet. It takes longer than that, usually... I'm a bit slow on the draw." "Yeah, even a blind man couldn't miss it even now, Pete," Sam said, taking another look at it longingly. "It's just the beautiful-est cock I ever seen. I want to see 'ya get hard again. Next time though, I want 'ya to let it get even bigger." NOT a problem at all, I thought to myself. As a matter of fact, I knew that, doing nothing more that just looking at Sam- and if I didn't touch it of course- it would get just huge- guaranteed. But right at that moment, I sure wanted Sam to know that he wouldn't have to wait long at all for me to fulfill his wish and that I could more than deliver the goods, but with one important and probably negative caveat that he needed to know before this went any farther. I sort'a held my breath, not wanting to bring this up, but also knowing I really had to. "I can get hard again right away after I cum. That's just the way I'm made I guess, like you said. I can keep it real big for you too. That's easy- big maybe even forever! But Sam, you got to understand something clearly. When it comes to rubbers- I just can't really use 'em Sam. I mean- never. That's a real problem understandably for guys these days. I'll understand if you'd rather take me home now, really. It's not that I won't use 'em. I just can't use 'em. They just bust 100% of the time..." Looking a bit surprised by this additional clarification of what I'd alluded to moments before, Sam asked, "Even those jumbo-sized ones? What do they call 'em- Magnums, I think?" Very sheepishly, I replied nevertheless with the truth. "No, Magnums don't make any difference. They just last a minute or two longer, that's all. Hey, I'm really sorry Sam. Really, I am." I proceeded to tell him in some detail about all of my past experiences with latex failures. We're talking all known brands here, too - it was never a question of if, but only when they'd break. When I was done, Sam sat quietly in silence, just studying me for the longest time. "I made me a decision. I've decided I'm gon'na trust 'ya, Pete. Your eyes - they tell me I can," and then he added with a chuckle, "and 'ya knows- what 'cha said is makin' me really hard again, damn you! Ain't no such thing as too big for me. Bigger is just better! So as far as I'm concerned- you can just forget that 'rubber requirement' thing OK? With me, you can let it grow as big as a fist- if you can!" "Uh... OK... That won't really be a problem..." Sam's head recoiled as he assimilated what I'd just said. He was startled I think. Then he started hooping and hollering, and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Damn, if this ain't my lucky day. I feels like the luckiest man alive!" And with that out of the way, Sam change the subject of the conversation. "So let's get back to your birthday now. Remember what I said to 'ya earlier? 'Ya owns me -anythin' 'ya want. Ain't nothing I won't do for 'ya - and that goes triple if it includes that salami of yours! Anythin'. Just tell me what 'cha want. Go ahead now. Try me. This'll be fun!" I was feeling mighty good that Sam seemed to like me as much as he did, but I was suddenly quite humbled now with his willingness to actually trust me with such a significant and potentially risky practice as unprotected sex. I strongly sensed that I could mutually trust him too. I was also just damn near ecstatic that he asked me to stay with him for a long night of 'real sex' as he put it- certainly ever hopeful, but never really expecting that any guy could deliver what he thought he could. Sam still hadn't see Monty Python yet, and I knew that. I just tried to put it out of my mind. All that said however, I really was completely missing the point as what he meant by all this 'you own me' stuff. I just didn't get it at all. "Go ahead. Try me," Sam repeated again, but growing a bit impatient with my continued muteness. "Sam, I guess I'm not sure exactly what you mean. Maybe it's because I never really played much growing up. There just wasn't much time for that." "O.K. Pete," he said, assuming a more serious posture and surprisingly adult tone now. "Here's exactly what I mean. I want 'cha to say what 'cha feel, and ask for what 'cha need. It's simple 'nuf. I just don't want to be guessin' 'bout what 'cha might be wantin', that's all. 'Ya got'ta know that I like cock. I mean- I like really big cock- a lot. It's a total turn-on for me. I ain't been hidin' that at all from 'ya. You did know that, right?" I had to stifle a laugh, wondering how he could even think I might have somehow missed these repeated 'subtle' revelation. "Yeah Sam, I somehow managed to get that loud-and-clear." Sam continued. "O.K. So what does that SAME thing for you, exactly? I'm your birthday present, remember? Ain't nothing - I mean nothing in this world- 'ya need to feel 'shamed about- 'specially when it comes to me. But I don't want to coax it from 'ya. I think I might reckon what does it for 'ya, but... I need to hear 'ya say it with your own lips. For Pete's sake, just be honest. Be YOURSELF! Just ask- that's all. It ain't so hard! It don't seem right to go through life so all locked up inside. Loosen up! So tell me- what turns your motor over, Pete?" What Sam had said actually stung me to hear- mostly because I knew it was unfortunately the truth. I tried to respond, but I felt myself turning beet red even at the thought of telling Sam the real 'birthday request' that was on my mind- the one that I deeply wanted. The one that I was also judging as being stupid, unworthy, ridiculous, childish, embarrassing, etc., etc.. Sam was right on-the-money. This WAS shame at work within me. I could actually feel it- and it felt just awful, in fact, twisting around inside of my stomach. Oh sure- so I'd maybe hinted around a bit vaguely at it. I knew however that I hadn't really divulged to Sam in anything straight-forward way what I found specifically so overpoweringly attractive about him. I needed to get this out now, and as cleanly and directly as I could. I really wanted to finally overcome this paralyzing fear inside of me. I started to visualize myself speaking the words directly and aloud- and finally I spoke. "Sam.. it's.. it's muscles. Muscles really excite me. I know it sounds really kind'a weird and all, but I just get hard automatically when I even THINK about big muscles, let alone actually see them! I have since I was just a kid. God, you couldn't have any idea just how big muscles on a man affect me. It's something so powerful it still scares me a little sometimes. This feeling comes out of somewhere very deep inside of me. Sometimes it even feels like it's attached to my very soul. I guess nothing's too big for me either, when it comes to big muscles on a guy- and now I'm beginning to feel like a total freak telling you this, but I...". Sam interrupted me in mid-sentence. "Ain't nothing strange 'bout it, Pete. That IS your soul, I reckon! So you listen up now. I get even think'in 'bout really big dicks. Just like you, I been that way for long as I can think. I dig dicks- and you dig muscles. That's just plain who we are. It ain't no big deal! So if you're a freak Pete, then I'm just another freak too. There's some... What's that damn word? Yeah, biological- that's it. There's some 'bio-logical' makes me different from other guys. I ain't never had no doctor 'splain it to me, like you did, but... I knows there's reasons why God made me like this. I'm freakier than you know yet Pete, but 'spose you'd find that out anyway- maybe even later tonight." Sam grinned, then continued on, preferring to remain mysterious for the time being about whatever he'd meant by that. "But see- Your freakiness Pete- that what turns me on, and so powerful-like that it's sort'a scary. I can't help it. I ain't got no control over it. Right now, truth is I can't even think 'bout nothing else. The Lord gave you a special 'bigness' too when he built all that male equipment of yours. I don't 'spose 'ya maybe see it that way yet probably, but it's a mighty rare gift." Sam paused pensively and glanced away, as if he were collecting some more thoughts, and then continued. "My Pa- he told me some things that I ain't likely to ever forget. He told me to do whatever makes me happy. He told me don't ever let no one stomp on my dreams- and he told me to use the gifts that God gave me too. The truth is Pete- I know's that most guys don't go for men even my size. Hell, they don't go for guys half my size. I got that notion clear 'nuf years ago. To them, I'm grotesque- some freak o' nature that belongs behind bars in a zoo. So what'd I do? I worked real hard to get even bigger! I knew'd I wasn't never going to be no Einstein, but I still built me some mighty big assets, don't you think? Seems this is what I's born to do, and it's somethin' I kind'a do really good-like too!" "So what's this all about- you and me anyway?" Sam asked, cocking his head, then he followed immediately by answering his own question. "Seems we got us some real important things in common, you 'n' me. We're both 'big' freaks- and freaky-big too! We got these here real powerful cravings. It's like - it's like there's this hunger in me for you, and 'ya got that feelin' I think for me too. We're like two starving animals. I don't know 'bout you Pete, but I knows I'm feeling things- and they's mighty weird and wonderful things. I'm burnin' up and hotter than Hell for you. Good things like this here- I think they's special, I do. Maybe that only 'once in a lifetime' kind'a special. Knows what I mean? But... But..." "But what, Sam?" I prompted, sensing some real doubt unexpectedly surfacing. "But 'cha need to just let GO, Pete. You're well.. err.. kind'a inhibited-like, I reckon. 'Ya need to trust me. 'Ya hesitate though, and I don't reckon that 'cha really do. Knows what I mean?" I was really taken back by this outpouring of some real wisdom unexpectedly from Sam, and again there was this palpable sincerity. And Sam was- I hate to admit it- painfully right too. I knew exactly what he meant. "I think I do, maybe... Sam. It's like you're saying that there's this brass- ring, like you see on a merry-ground. And it's right in front of us now. And all we got'ta do is grab it." "Hey that way cool! I like that! You're real 'mazing with words, Pete. Yep, that's a part of it, surely. You got this real 'man-imal' inside of you. I got a peek at it upstairs just awhile ago, but that was just for a little while. It's that there part of you can drive me just wild! And I want that Beast real bad. There's some powerful magic there, 'tween you 'n' me. I just knows it! So let it out, Pete. That's all." A cold and ominous chill suddenly raced through me. Something Sam just said had triggered a thought of something long ago- something that I'd put completely out of my mind, but was back suddenly and rather vividly now. The feeling haunted me. I needed to understand better if what I was thinking was what Sam really meant. Another metaphor, perhaps. "So, what I think you mean Sam is that- it's as if we've got a powerful genie in a bottle, you and me. But I can't quite let it out, and you can't let it out all by yourself. It's neither your genie nor my genie. It's our genie- both of ours. And we both have to pop the top off the bottle and set it free together? So you're saying that you think I'm afraid of magic?" "Wow Pete- are you ever good with words. Yep, you hit the nail right on the head." And that's exactly what I was afraid of hearing. You see, I already sensed that we did have this 'genie in a bottle', and one very erotically potent and powerful genie, at that. I mean, let's face it- Sam was overwhelming already, even with the genie locked safely away. I had to admit to myself that I was very afraid to open that bottle and set it loose again, and especially with Sam. This was exactly the very same Demon - that 'man-imal' as Sam called it- that I'd known only once before, so long ago, with Gabe. It also had nearly consumed me once, and it had terrified me as much as it had thrilled me. Dare I chance even summoning that Beast again? I remembered vividly now that totally unconstrained and uncontrollable raw energy - the seemingly deeper, darker side- something wild and savage- and worst of all, unpredictable. I was also a lot older, I thought too that maybe now I could handle it. Now, the most handsome and built 'stud stallion' I'd ever known, and was every likely to know, had miraculously just come into my life. And Samson was asking me to trust him and risk it all- to plunge into a black hole, and have faith that we would emerge out of it in a far better universe somewhere. My urge to totally repress The Beast was very strong, and I instinctively knew I would need to ask for support if I was to avoid regressing- that is, if Sam was willing. But he clearly wanted it, and I was willing to try- and more importantly I was willing to really trust. And so with my mind made up, I made my bold emancipation proclamation. Normally I'd deliver what I was going to say usually looking right at the floor, but I raised my head and looked Sam right in his eyes. "Sam, this is very scary for me but-- I sure want you. And yes, you're right. I can be a real 'man-imal' at times. That's a part of me I don't know too well, but I know it's there 'cause I've seen it before. So if you think that releasing that part of me is a good for us, then- then- I'll try to set it free. This is going to be hard though. It goes against my grain, so I'm really going to need your help, I'm almost sure. So I was thinking maybe a code phrase- you know, something that you can say to me that'll remind me to just 'let go' might really help me a lot. You can say it whenever you get the feeling that I'm holding back somehow. Maybe you could say something as simple as, 'Let the genie out of the bottle, Pete' ?" Sam smiled and said, "Sounds real good to these ears, Pete. I'm more than willing to help you all I can. We're gon'na have us some REAL fun, I just know it! And thank you for just trying.. uhh... means a lot, 'ya know. So let's give this a try by start'n again with your birthday present now. Remember what I said to you earlier? You own me -anything you want. Ain't nothing I won't do for you. Just tell me what you want. TRUST me. Let that genie out of the bottle Pete. Go ahead- what's your special birthday wish?" I took a deep breath. "O.K. Sam- here's what I want for my birthday. Boy, would I ever really like to just watch you lift. What a totally hot scene that'd be for me. If you like a huge cock, well- that'll give me 'the boner from Hell', absolutely guaranteed." Sam was sporting a shit-eating grin and nodded strongly, showing his approval. "Wow. Way to go Pete! See, that didn't hurt did it? With your cock and my muscle, we're gon'na have us some real fun on your birthday. It just don't get any better than this! Lifting is what I do best. I'll be proud as a peacock to have you watch." "Makes me hard just thinking about it," I grinned. Sam paused, as if collecting his thoughts. "It will really make a big difference if I can watch that magnificent weapon of yours getting all pumped up while I'm pumping up. You have no idea how much that'll.... motivate me totally." "It's a deal," I said, nodding my head affirmatively. "Hell, now I'm getting a boner too!" Sam added, taking the liberty to inform me of his status. "Just luv it, too." "Say Sam- you got any rubbers by any chance?" Sam didn't know it of course, but I was just going with an impulse, and not dismissing it as I would normally do. Understandably, Sam looked suddenly puzzled. "Rubbers? Thought you said that you can't wear 'em?" "Yeah, rubbers. Just grab some anyway please, if you got 'em." Sam went across the hallway and into what I assumed was his bedroom and returned in a few seconds. He tossed me a package of Trojans, still looking somewhat quizzical. I just said, "Thanks. O.K.. I need to use the bathroom though, really bad- first." "Number One or number two?" he asked. I looked at him questioningly, not having a clue what he meant. "Well, piss or shit, boy?" Why did he care, I thought. "Shit Sam, it's to shit." Sam pointed the way to the bathroom, and said that while I was taking care of that business, he had time then to pull the truck in off the street. As I headed for the bathroom I head Sam grab his keys and holler, "Meet me in the kitchen Pete," as he went bounding down the front stairs. When I walked into the kitchen, Sam was there waiting. "Y'all follow me now," he winked, gesturing with his hand towards the kitchen door. From: XHugeForMuscl Subject: BIG IS BETTER - Part 07 BIG IS BETTER By HUGE4MUSCL (xhuge4muscl@yahoo.com) April, 2000 (Part 7) STAIRWELL EPIPHANIES Sam led the way out a back door into a hallway and then headed down a dimly-lit stairwell. Glancing through a window, I was surprised that it was already dark outside. As I silently followed him step-by-step down the long flight of stairs, my mind drifted off. Have you ever noticed just how many different and yet complete thoughts can race through one's brain in only several seconds? Well perhaps not, but that seems to be the way my brain routinely works. In a way, I'd always taken refuge inside of my head. It was my 'safe place' to go, and I retreated to it almost unconsciously with alarming regularity. Considering what Sam and I had just talked about, I was feeling somewhat uncomfortable, if not actually even a bit worried. I was still shy and private by nature, and not at all uninhibited, let's face it. I had a good sense of humor actually, but generally showed a more serious, studious side to the world- at-large. There was also a truth in what I had told Sam too, that being that I'd never really learned how to just play or 'let my hair down' with any regularly. There was always something more important to be done- work. Sam had unwittingly just called my bluff and asked me to 'let go'. I knew that all he was really saying to me was, "I want to play. Please just come play with me. Be your whole self, not just parts of it." Ah, from the mouth of babes, as they say... and what a total babe this man of muscle was! It wasn't a leap to assume that Sam was at least hoping this included sexual playfulness too, on my part. So all I had to do was to be more open, spontaneous, uninhibited and even perhaps wild. Yikes! What had I agreed to? For me, this was scary stuff. So not too surprisingly then, in the next few moments I retreated into my mind far away from all of this, conjuring up a multitude of disjointed, unconnected thoughts and impressions in the moments that followed. I was escaping. Thoughts raced through my head in no apparent or related order. First, it occurred to me that I was aroused- just the very motion associated with stepping-down drew my attention briefly to that certain 'beefiness' in my pant leg; moreover, that I'd also been more-or-less continually aroused to varying degrees since I'd first met Sam the man. The real man. Was that minutes, hours or even a day ago? I seemed to have no sense of time. I more- or-less resigned myself on the spot to the fact that I'd have a perpetual hard- on whenever I was around this man- as well as beside, behind, in front of, over or under him as well. (I had no way of knowing it at this time, but in retrospect, that's proven to have been an uncannily accurate psychic prediction.) Then I thought of the ways in which Sam was already becoming a growing collection of paradoxes and dichotomies to me, even in the short time since we'd met. For example, on one hand, his mere physical presence would awe or humble anyone. With his clothes on, Sam would probably awe. Even a professional linebacker would be immediately demoralized by his overall body mass. The size of him just intimidates, shocks and stuns. And with his clothes off, Sam body would humble any observer. The beauty in his type of physical development is classical. It intoxicates. The incredibly masculine shapes of perfectly-realized muscular giants, all built to symmetrical perfection, communicate very strong primal messages subliminally- and it's all about power and sexual potency. Combined with all of his other "100% all man" attributes, Sam would, to me anyway, sit at the apex of the 'Alpha Male' pyramid- the ultimate manifestation of masculinity in this world. Then I thought that Sam doesn't get out all that much, basing that on a few things he'd told me already. I doubted that many men had ever seen Sam's physique fully-exposed. My impression was that he kept to himself quite a bit, actually. I suspected that, if given the opportunity to look at him buck-naked for more than a few seconds, he'd make any woman's panties wet as well as put a big bulge in any man's shorts. His kind of attractiveness is raw- even animalistic. Some physical beauty transcends even gender orientation. All I knew is that he just plain made me sweat. Sam's physical looks were unquestionably 100% 'handsome He-man'- stud material here of the very 1st order. Zap -I was off into another thought entirely. This one concerned, of all things, the back of Sam's head and specifically his dark hair, and then- oddly- his haircut as well, which wasn't something I'd usually pay any particular attention to. It was a good haircut I found myself thinking- overall, just a great look for Sam specifically. His hair looked silky and had a satiny sheen. The length was medium-short; long enough to be able to run fingers through, but short enough probably to just brush, although I guessed that Sam combed it. I also noticed the wisps, swirls and rings of hair all over the back of his head that suggested his hair would be naturally wavy, maybe even curly, if it were any longer. But at it's current length, it was naturally neat, only hinting at a possible wilder unruliness. Damn, even this man's hair looked sexy to me. Wham - I found myself thinking next about Sam's personality. He had some very remarkable, even somewhat unusual, qualities- qualities that seemed to repel and yet attract me as well. If not almost 'simple' acting at some times, Sam was certainly 'basic' acting all the time. What you saw was what you got - and it was, in fact, all that was probably there. Sam was open, incredibly straight- forward, honest, and totally sincere- and to such a degree that it had frankly startled me several times already. All combined, it reminded me of a child - a young boy, in fact. The man was, I truly believed, incapable of lying or deceit of any kind. I don't think he knew how to, in fact. Sam also had a certain naivete that was hard to pinpoint, but it was there; and yet I'd also just heard him say things to me that hinted of perhaps a certain kind of wisdom. It seemed he had insights that greatly surprised me. At the moment though, I wasn't particularly thrilled with at least some of his insights, at least as they applied to me. In the very short time we'd spent together, I'd already seen several suggestions of a generous and giving nature in him. The total trust he's exhibited though, and especially with me so far, was just very powerfully endearing. Bang - another odd thought suddenly popped into my head. Actually, it was more of a strong feeling. Sam was obviously quite happy to be fulfilling my 'special birthday request' by lifting for me, and maybe even genuinely excited by the opportunity to show me his big muscles; however, I just had a strong feeling suddenly that he was really not a real show-off at all by nature. I don't know exactly what signals I'd picked up upon from him, but I knew that at least his ego was probably normal-sized, even if he so obviously wasn't himself. I was surprised by that thought- that observation. I didn't think that this characteristic was probably typical at all of men with such a physiques. Nevertheless, my hunch was that Sam just was not into himself in that way at all. He seemed to have a kind of humility about him, with maybe even a wee bit of shyness mixed in that probably was just not obvious to me so far because of his rather affable, outgoing nature. So it logically followed then to me that Sam might be doing this purely because I had expressed an actual interest in something that he also enjoyed very much as well. I had finally managed to say it out loud to him, admittedly with a real struggle, that I like 'muscle'. It struck me now that this was exactly like two boys excitedly discovering that they have a real common interest in baseball cards, and Sam just wanted very much to show me his collection. "You like Yoggie Barra cards? Hey, I've got a big set of Yoggie's! You wan'na see 'em?" "Wow! You've got a REAL Mickey Mantle? I've been looking for one forever! Say- maybe we can even trade! I'll give you all my Yoggie's for just your one Mickey!" So Sam wasn't doing this to merely show off, in any flaunting sense anyway, his clearly far-superior physique. He was going to do this only to please that boy that lives inside of me, and then excite and arouse the man in me too (measured of course by the deflection of the 'ol dick-ometer). And the truth was that I was both man and boy simultaneously, and for that matter, so was Sam. As for those 'men' parts of us, it popped into my head that there probably was a sort of crazy, but nevertheless very real, sexual feedback loop between us too. I already had some sense - some awareness - of this hard to define 'thing'- this 'energy'. Pleasure given would beget even more pleasure received. But as for those 'boys' in us, Sam WAS really doing this just for me. All of this suddenly seemed to me now to be about bonding, and Sam was just doing whatever he could to feed and nurture a strong bond between us. Sam's prime motivation was to please me however he could do that- so that I WOULD JUST LIKE HIM. I thought then about what I'd felt when I was looking into Sam's face upstairs, and especially into those eyes. I realized now that what I'd been seeing was that little boy inside of him- the little boy who trusted completely, celebrated every aspect of life unquestioningly, and above all else, just wanted a trustworthy friend to play with. A really big lump in my throat suddenly. I felt all mushy and gushy. Something went 'ping' deep inside of me. I was just beginning to see Sam through a brand new pair of glasses. These crazy, disjointed thoughts that had just raced past me, flooding though me more-or-less all at once. Nevertheless, some at least seemed like fairly profound revelations, and when taken together, felt like an epiphany of sorts to me, especially considering I was just a 19 year old kid- powerful, a bit humbling, and certainly unsettling for me to experience, as well. (In retrospect, looking back from years into the future, I believe that this experience was my heart fully-opening, if but momentarily, to another human being- probably for the very first time in my life in fact.) Next I began to mull over in my mind this list of Sam's very positive attributes that I'd just been collecting together, and it was an already long and quite impressive list at that. I mean- it all summed up to Sam being really just one very decent and nice human being. I thought, "What's not to genuinely like here?" Damn. Nothing I could think of at all certainly. So the guy just also happened to be the most heavily-muscled stallion I've ever seen anywhere- and that includes on TV, in the movies or in magazines too. "So what's not to genuinely LOVE here Pete?" Damn, nothing I could think of either. That scared me. I decided to stick with 'I liked him'. I could handle that. Suddenly I was snapped back from of all these far-away thoughts rather abruptly when Sam spoke. I didn't quite catch what he'd said. It might have been, "Watch your step Pete." That was probably the gist of it, I thought. Anyway, my brain suddenly cleared and I was suddenly transported back into the real world again. I found myself still following Sam down the stairs, right where I'd been before I'd left, and actually only taken a few more steps during that whole time my mind had wandered off elsewhere, seemingly for so long, too. It had probably only been a few seconds at the most. My eyes focused on Sam's back as he walked in front of me. It was actually the ONLY thing I could see, I suddenly realized. This observation reminded me again of just how massive that this dude really is, and in now some semi-quantifiable way- his body was framed by a confined space- the stairwell. Although Sam wasn't ducking, his head nevertheless only cleared the ceiling by an inch or two at the most, and his hair was brushing it a few times. I also realized I couldn't see around him at all; in fact all I could see was a wall of green material- the back of Sam's sweats- in front of me. The actual width of his upper back was being graphically demonstrated by the outsides of his shoulders and upper arms alternately brushing the walls on either side with each step he took. If Sam was even a few inches wider, he'd have plugged that stairwell like a cork in a bottle. This was the same kind of observation that I'd had when Sam climbed into his truck cab back at that bar - the man is one just huge dude! I thought more about his size, but in a different way than I had done before. After all, Sam's body was so far beyond any expected 'norm' that it would automatically attract immediate attention anywhere, I suppose. I couldn't imagine Sam going out in public without drawing an involuntary glance from every single person he happened to come across, and 100% of the time too- be that man, woman or child. I suppose it's just human nature. And not to be hypocritical, God knows I couldn't keep my eyes off of him either. So to say he was a 'very big dude' or even a 'monster' still doesn't quite capture his real impact, whether visually or even socially or psychologically, that he must certainly constantly make on people, in general. I started thinking about what everyday life was like for the big lug- and I just happened to picture him doing some routine, like his grocery shopping. I visualized Sam turning down an isle pushing his shopping cart, and all the shoppers suddenly snapping their carriages around almost in unison and clearing the isle, fleeing in the opposite direction. Strangely, I also just knew that's exactly what happened to Sam more or less routinely. Hell, that's exactly what I tried to do myself when I first turned around on that bar stool to check out just who belonged to that big hand on my shoulder. I'd have hit the ceiling had Sam not suppressed my 'launch' in mid-flight with his hand- and also held me down on that stool for quite awhile thereafter too! He's scary big. I wondered how many people actually really knew this guy at all, or would ever initiate a conversation with him on their own initiative. Well thankfully, Sam's a good talker and seems to be outgoing enough- but still, I wondered... How many people took the time to actually see anything else about him other than his massive body? How many had ever even noticed just what a handsome face Sam really had? I mean, his was a face 'to just die for', at least to me- not to mention Sam's heart-melting pair of real clear 'baby blues'- They're almost eerie-pale, in fact. His eyes have an unusual coloration and a special softness and sparkle to them... and they're just kind-looking, like there's a good soul in there. My suspicions were, sadly, not all that many. THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS Sam paused long enough to unlock another door at the bottom of the stairway. We emerged directly into the back of the gym that occupied the entire 1st floor of the building. Initially, I had trouble seeing much of anything in the dark room, but then objects slowly became more visible as I stood there and my eyes began to adjust. I realized that the large room was actually lit at least somewhat by low wattage lights mounted around the perimeter. Meanwhile, Sam walked to the front of the gym and close the big blinds covering the large plate glass front windows, this I supposed to insure some privacy. He grabbed a chair on his way back and set it down on top of what appeared to be a raised platform. As my eyes acclimated even more to the low lighting, I saw that the platform was really made of uneven lengths of what looked like steel construction beams, all pushed together and forming a roughly 6 x 6 raised platform. Adjacent to this platform was a rack holding some heavy regular-sized bars and assorted weights like I'd seen in another gym. There was another rack nearby with some much longer and extremely thick bars, certainly nothing like I'd ever seen around the gyms that I'd seen. They were formidable looking things, and I guessed that they were also very heavy in themselves, even without any weights being added. Scattered around the floor in various places were what I thought had to be specially made weights- absolutely gigantic iron plates, piled in stacks of two's and each about the size of a solid locomotive wheel. They were all so massive that, to me anyway, they all looked the same, but I surmised that each paired set was probably of different actual weight. This was big iron, in every sense of the word. No doubt they were made to go with the unusually big bars, I thought. I glanced more around the room and saw some cables and chains of different sizes. Some were hanging from or attached to various kinds of apparatus, and others seemed to come down from the ceiling. Several of the chains however were massive, reminding me of anchor chain or the kind you'd see being used in heavy industrial manufacturing operations, like steel production. "You can have a seat here Pete," Sam said with a wink as he patted the back of the chair, "and rest up! You're gon'na need it, I think. I need to change into somethin' else. I'll only be a minute." I sat down, not quite sure what was going to happen next. I watched Sam disappear into a darkened doorway that I thought might be a locker room entrance. Moments later, I heard what sounded like a locker being opened, and less than a minute after that, I heard a metal door being closed again. Sam emerged from the doorway wearing a Olympic weightlifter's form-fitting one- piece singlet, held up by long straps that crossed over his immense chest and shoulders from front-to-back. It was one very hot-looking 'outfit' too with Sam wearing it. The dark-colored singlet was stretched so tightly over his hulking physique that it looked as if it was spray-painted onto his body. It would have revealed even the minor physical defect in any normal man's body, but then again, Sam clearly had no defects in his physique whatsoever- an astonishing fact, especially for a dude as huge and heavy as Sam was. For all of his extreme massiveness, his physique was absolute sculpture; a fact that his singlet validated totally. Sam also wore a thick leather belt that was cinched around his impressively narrow waist over the outside of the singlet, and it seemed to accentuate the large, beautifully bulging curve of his crotch, making it stand out in rather bold relief. I knew that Sam was very well hung- more from what I'd felt behind me in my hand previously than what I'd ever seen up to this point- but now there no doubt that he had a very hot package indeed. As I gazed at him, the shape of Sam's body silhouetted in the dim lights looked outrageously sexy to me. I started to really ogle Sam's bare legs, as this was the first time I'd seen them exposed. The light where he stood seemed to make them particularly stand out- and out-standing they were- real attention-grabbers of the highest- and biggest- magnitude. His thighs were stunningly immense, actually, I realized, and reminded me of trees. Each thigh without any doubt was thicker than my waist. Twin thick columns of muscle flared upward on either side of each knee. As he slowly walked forward, I took a dry gulp as I marveled as absolutely huge, swollen twisting striations in his thighs appeared and disappeared with each step. I also noticed that, as he walked, his stride had a peculiar gait to it as he swung one massive thigh around the other. I'd never seen anything that even remotely resembled the way Sam's legs looked, so being so turned-on by these two oak trees was an absolutely unexpected and thrilling first-time experience. As he walked past the platform where I was seated, I wafted in his potently sensual, manly musk like a bloodhound. I swear I felt the floor trembling too as he passed close by. Sam stopped about 9 feet in front of me. and then turned around to face me, saying, "There. This is more like it. It's comfortable- this here material stretches- gives me real freedom to move when I lift." Then Sam said nothing more, and stood there absolutely motionless for the longest while afterwards, as if he might intentionally be providing me this first chance now to do nothing more than to just look him over thoroughly and slowly. In fact come to think about it, this was the very first time I'd had the opportunity to really just stare and gawk openly at Sam from head-to-toe. Up to this moment, if I hadn't been directly in it, then I'd been at least certainly very close to his 'personal space' most of the time, so far. Sam was just way too much man to take in up close. It really hard to get the 'big picture' that way. And we'd been always involved in something when I was trying to look at him, like conversation. There were no other distractions now - no talking - no moving around or 'doings' of any kind - and I was at the perfect viewing distance to finally genuinely get the full visual impact of this man. A big part of me screamed to do just that- to just stare. But I had this long- standing 'rule' in my head about never looking at anyone for too long, or letting them know I was staring at them. I looked discretely- always keeping my eyes moving and never letting them linger too long. Partly, this was because it wasn't polite I was told, and partly because somehow it didn't always feel particularly safe to do that either. More recently, my newest life-lesson concerning staring was that if I caught a guy's eye for too long, they'd seem to assume that meant I was automatically interested in them, which almost unanimously was not the case, except for Sam, of course - because, God knows, I could have just stared at him for hours, if not days. Well, I wanted to so badly that I started to stare anyway - really hard, in fact. But after a few seconds, I felt funny and I'd divert my eyes to something else. Then I'd let them wander back to Sam for a few seconds more. And then I'd find myself doing the exact same thing again - I'd find myself looking at something across the room. And this battle went on- back-and-forth, back-and- forth- for quite awhile actually. This, however, had also not escaped Sam's notice. Spreading his arms outward at a 45 degree angle with his palms facing me, Sam looked right at me and said, "You nervous about somethin'? Ain't nothing to be afraid of, really. Go ahead Pete. You can look at me. I think this is somethin' you need to kind'a get out of your system anyway. It's really OK!" "But I am looking at you, Sam," I said slightly defensively, knowing that while that was probably technically correct, it was none-the-less only a half-truth at best. Of course even as I was saying this, I also automatically turned my eyes away from him again, no less. When I looked back, Sam was looking down at the floor as if he was exasperated momentarily. Then he looked up at me. "Peter, I LIKE you! And I thought 'ya said 'ya liked me too, actually. There's something mighty strange goin' on here, I think. Pete, people stare at me all the time 'cause I'm different. They don't even know me, let alone like me. But believe me, they ain't got NO problem lookin' at me- not at all. They outright gawk! And the funny thing is- seems you like me but you AIN'T lookin'! Not really, anyway. And I knows I like lookin' at you - a lot! Fact is, I can't barely take my eyes off of 'ya, truth be known. And 'ya said 'ya liked muscles too- I they make 'ya feel all sexy, and everything. I'm real strong, Pete. Really. I am! I got big muscles! I knows I ain't bright, so I just don't get it. Seems if 'ya like me Pete, you'd look at me so's I'd know that with your eyes, that's all." Boom! There was an atomic explosion inside of me. Sam's words descended on me like I had a building collapsing on my head. I felt like a complete and total jerk- and a bit of a bastard too. I needed to say something back to him, and but fast, or I knew that it would suddenly all be over - irreparably over. But I seemed to only be able to get words out of my mouth by talking to my feet. God, I hated myself when I was like this! I knew this was also taking one giant step backwards for me. Nevertheless, I found myself doing it all over again- the exact same thing I'd always done whenever I felt this way - talking to inanimate objects whenever I had 'big feelings' going on inside of me. But saying something was at least better than saying nothing at all. So while addressing my left sneaker specifically, I nevertheless spoke honestly, although it all came out painfully slowly. "Sam, I like you - a lot... That's the truth... And I want to look at you too... Really, I do... You're whole body is completely amazing... and God, those muscles of yours are just... just... so beautiful... Honestly Sam,... you're just... just the most handsome... the hottest... man that I've ever seen... and God strike me dead if I'm lying..." Strangely, my left sneaker remained mute, but after some long moments of silence, I heard Sam's voice. "O.K.. Then all 'ya have to do, Pete, is let the genie out of the bottle. I've got big muscles, and it all right if you wan'na look at 'em all. It's OK that 'ya like 'em the way you do. Go ahead, Pete. You look just as long as 'ya want now Let that 'ol genie out. Let go. I want 'cha to let it out for me. So, you look up at me now, O.K.?" I took a very deep breath, and then I actually pictured in my mind actually opening a bottle and seeing strange-colored vapors rushing up out of it, and then I repeated this several times more in my mind. I saw myself opening an actual bottle. Finally, something seemed to fundamentally shift inside of me, and I felt I could trust my eyes to now more faithfully tell Sam everything that I felt about him inside of me. I slowly looked up - and when I finally was able to truly 'see'- it was one hell of an eyeful, let me tell you. For me, it was the difference between watching Star Wars on TV versus seeing it at a movie theater. The full sensory impact of Sam's physique could only be experienced on my 'big screen.' I allowed myself to gawk openly. I permitted myself to stare blatantly. And somewhere in the middle of ogling every part of him, I passed some point of no return. In fact, I wondered if I could ever stop staring! Sam must have certainly felt the heat from my lasers searing his skin as they scanned over every inch of him slowly, over and over again. It didn't take a great deal of time before my continuous uninterrupted staring was making me feel flushed. Sweat formed all over my body and blood pounded in my temples. There were just muscles everywhere I looked- massive and huge, rippling, powerful-looking things; some appearing and disappearing behind others it seemed. Sam hadn't lifted so much as a pencil yet, and I was turned-on powerfully, but I know Sam fundamentally understood that already. He knew what made my motor run, and he possessed it all- absolutely everything last attribute that I was attracted to in a man. I like my men T-D-H. On a scale of 1 to 10, I rated Sam about 1,000. And no- I don't mean 'tall, dark and handsome', although he certainly was all of those too. I mean 'Totally-Developed Hunk'. And from what my eyes were feasting on, he fit all the criteria multiple times over, Sam was more like a 'Titanically-Developed Hunk', in truth. My eyes didn't waiver, and I let Sam see right into me. And as I continued to stare at this magnificently-muscled, brutally-handsome monster still standing there motionlessly before me, the image of Sam transformed clearly in my mind into the 'Samson' of the Bible, whose phenomenal strength was of divine origin, and who slew the entire Philistine Army single-handedly. And if not exactly like Delilah, I nevertheless craved to get into any of his gorgeous hair at that moment too. Wherever that happened to be on his magnificent body, it was perfection too, and it greatly contributed to the overall stunning impact of this He man. Every aspect of this man was hotter than Hell to me, and after visually gorging on him for only several minutes, I just 'wanted' him- plain and simple. And Sam had been looking directly at me too throughout the entire time, watching me watching him. And although a word had not been spoken in minutes, the communication was nevertheless honest, total and complete. With a whimsical grin, Sam finally broke the long silence. "Hey- you ain't getting horny by any chance yet, are 'ya, Pete?" Without waiting for an answer, he looked down and inspected his singlet with his hands, and then said something about it needing a slight adjustment. He reached up with each hand and simultaneously pulled up on the shoulder straps, which quite effectively lifted the material at the sides of his crotch higher. This not only exposed more of his high upper thighs and the sides of his groin partially, but dramatically accentuated the plunge of his bulging basket and clearly revealed two substantial balls and his sexy thick wand through the now even more tightly-stretched material as well. I knew the He man was toying with me, but I didn't mind his intentionally erotic playfulness at all! Looking right at me, he said, "There. That looks even better, don't you think?" I'd just stared, smiling, for quite awhile longer. Still grinning broadly, Sam repeated, "Hey, are 'ya getting horny yet, Pete? I sure hope 'ya are!" Horny? You bet. But I was also feeling unusually sexy myself, actually. I had this new 'attitude' thing suddenly going inside of my head as I tried to remember to just enjoy this and practice 'letting go'. I felt a kind of power again- something that I really hadn't let myself feel in probably years, and boy- it felt really good. So to capitalize on these unusual feelings, I let myself be playful too. Besides, the whole scenery- Sam's big muscles all poured into that sexy-beyond- belief bulging singlet- was overtly arousing me anyway. Why waste this, I thought. I knew what really pushed Sam's 'on' switch. Hell, I had the right toy for Sam already too, but there was no way he'd know that, since I was wearing my usual baggy pair of jeans. So just how to 'communicate' this to him? Hmmmmm... I reached for the crotch of my jeans and slowly began squeezing and rubbing it all over very suggestively, looking up at Sam and then back down to my crotch several times, saying with my eyes, "Right here Sam. Look right here." Then I slowly swung the leg with my dick in it outward, exposing the inside of the pant leg for Sam's viewing pleasure. Then using my thumb and index finger of both hands, I pressed down on my jeans to clearly frame the perimeters of my cock in the leg, effectively demonstrating to Sam not only where it started and currently ended, but also it's circumference and pretty much said, "Here's the whole enchilada." Looking up again, I saw that Sam was riveted on my crotch and getting kind'a glassy too, and he also looked as if he was about to start spontaneously drooling if I continued this much longer. B-I-N-G-O ! "Yeah, I'm real horny Sam. Can you see?" I kneaded the big fat thing with my fingers slowly, just to make sure Sam was paying very close attention. "It feels to me like it's getting pretty big. Oh yes- definitely feels big! Hey, are you getting horny yet, Sam?" I thought we were now even, judging from the new pronounced bulge in the front of his singlet. "So Samson, I thought if I got big, you were going to get big too." (Not that he had to grow one single centimeter anywhere to be the hottest man I'd ever seen, but you know - promises are promises, regardless.) "Woof! Woof!! Sam barked out like a dog repeatedly. "Pete, y'all are just totally inspiring! Makes me wan'na really enormou-size myself first, and then do somethin' real special, just for your birthday. 'Ya ready?" Boy- was I ever. For the moment anyway, the genie was still out of the bottle, and I was determined to watch him like and snowy owl would a lemming. "My heart may not be able to stand it- but definitely go ahead anyway, Sam. I'll die at least with a smile and a massive hard-on. Come to think of it, that may give the undertaker a real thrill with the rigor mortis and all." Sam guffawed with seeming disgust at my awful sense of humor, and then got down to serious business. I sat up and leaned forward enthusiastically. There was no saliva in my mouth, it having disappeared completely untold minutes ago now. I sort of braced myself to see something I knew that I'd probably never see again in my life. I was ready - focused - and going to savor every second of what was coming. "Go ahead Sam. Enormou-size!" THE QUALIFYING HEAT He waved in acknowledgement, and then bent down over a fearsomely heavy-looking barbell that was lying near him, lifting it off the floor as if it weighed nothing at all. That alone was already impressive. Then turned to face me again. Sam began to just literally toss that very big barbell around, doing nonstop back-to-back series of different kinds of difficult lifts with it, repeating each lift many times before he moved on to begin the next one. For his first lift, Sam started with the bar in from of his thighs, and pulled the loaded barbell up to his chest using his arms and lowered it down again. Then Sam switched his grip and, bending over horizontally, he pulled the bar up into his chest and released it slowly back down again. Next he moved over and sat down on a nearby bench and, leaning back, pushed the bar up off his chest until his arms were nearly straight and lowered it slowly back down to his chest. Next he stood up and, dropping the bar behind his head, raised the bar straight over his head and lowered it back behind his neck. Then resting the bar behind his neck across his shoulders, he changed his grip and squatted down to the floor and stood back up again. For his final lift, he stood tall and began pushing the bar straight-up over his head and then letting it back down to his shoulders. Each lift was simply awe-inspiring. That barbell was a very heavily-loaded mother too- I'd seen the heavy bar bend a bit from the weights the very first time Sam had lifted it. I could read the poundage printed on the side of the outside plate. After counting the number of plates on each side, I quickly calculated how much weight Samson had been lifting non-stop with such eye- popping ease for, I guessing, perhaps 15 minutes. I wasn't about to miss one moment by checking the clock on the gym wall. I was more than just impressed. I was astounded- and stiffer, certainly. Sam had been lifting a total weight effortlessly for a quarter hour that I would not have been able to lift cleanly even one time, and that I knew also at the extreme risk of very seriously injured myself! Sam finally set that particular barbell down, and he did so just as effortlessly as when he'd picked it up originally. There was no sign of any sweat anywhere on him, and his breathing wasn't the least bit labored, even after such a very long time of non-stop lifting. Overall, it appeared that Sam had just expended the total energy needed to twist the top off a Bud. I was surprised to find myself thinking that this guy really was in just incredible shape and had a degree of stamina that was unfathomable to me. In a way I knew he just had to be, of course, but I guess seeing really is believing- suddenly Sam had become much more real, and therefore unreal to me both at the same time. And his strength- those big muscles of his! I was at the point of starting to get rock hard myself. 'Little Johann' was so big and weighty inside my baggy jean leg that I thought the thing might possibly fall right through. I started clapping my hands and whooping and hollering and stamping my feet, all to show Sam just how much I'd enjoyed it. "Sam, that was u-n-b-e-l-i-e-v-a-b-l- e lifting!! I've never even seen anything like that... and you repeated them over-and-over again, just so many times! God, how'd you......" "That's a rep, Pete. It's called a repetition," Sam interrupted, for my educational enlightenment. "I mean WOW- are you strong!! Thank you so SO much for letting me watch you lift. That was a terrific birthday present! Really- the best I EVER had!" Sam looked genuinely very puzzled and confused for a few moments. Suddenly, he started bending over with laughter. "Oh no... No... No...... Pete," Sam was gasping for air in between belly- laughs. "No.. No Pete. You mean that? What I was just doin'? That wasn't no LIFTIN' Pete. That weren't LIFTIN'!! I was just loosenin' up a bit!!" Then Sam started roaring again, banging uncontrollably on those oak trees of his with his hands. The guy was just busting up totally! I'd just witnessed what was for me, without a doubt, the hottest thing I'd ever seen in my life. Damn, it sure looked like deadly-serious lifting to me. Little Johann sure thought so to. Well Sam sure thought this was extremely funny, but I was uncertain what he meant really, and feeling foolish about feeling foolish, if you know what I mean. I didn't like being somehow 'in the dark' about something that still seemed like a private joke. Finally after too long a time of genuinely enjoying himself seemingly at my expense somehow, Sam finally slowly collected himself back together... Well, sort of... "Now..." Sam started to chuckle again but then quickly checked it, probably seeing from the expression on my face that I wasn't all-that-amused anymore, I think. He composed himself for a few seconds, and then apparently finally conquering the bad case of the giggles, Sam was able to finish his thought. "Now... O.K... Now this HERE'S where you probably want to sit up 'n' pay 'tention Pete." Did Sam really think I'd been napping or something? I'd watched him so intently that I doubt that I blinked my eyes even once for fear of missing even a millisecond of his amazing display. Moreover, my heart was already just pounding loudly to the point where I could hear it in my ears. "This here part is your 1st birthday wish." "My 1st wish?" I thought maybe there was a nuance here I'd missed before. "Yeah, your 1st wish. I'm hopin' you're gon'na make more of 'em tonight, 'cause I really want to...... Well... just remember- whatever 'ya want Pete. All 'ya got'ta do is remember that genie." He winked. Sam walked over to another rack holding very different bars than the kind he'd just used. These were very long and some seriously THICK pieces of solid steel- at least the size of those used for Olympic lifts, though for some reason I thought that these bars were specially-made and even larger, but I had no way of really knowing. After looking over several possibilities, Sam finally selected one. "These here," Sam said, eyeing and rubbing the bar almost fondly, "cost me lots of money. Must'a saved up for near' a whole year 'fore I could 'ford to buy these here babies. They's made 'o real TA-TANE-YUME, they is!" He walked over and placed it across a low support stand of some sort that was sitting near the middle of the immediate area in front of me and proceeded to load several pairs of those locomotive wheel-sized weights to both ends of the bar, and then collared them all in place. This was genuine 'big iron' - the real McCoys - a size that you don't ever see in even a commercial gym - the kind of massive weights that made me go all weak in the knees just watching Sam mounting them, if fact. He bent down over the bar and, gripping it in various locations, lifted it slightly several times, as if carefully determining exactly where he wanted to place his hands. When he was satisfied, Sam moved his legs into a slightly wider stance and squatted over the barbell, gripping the bar with his palms facing forward. Slowly Samson started to straighten his knees. The huge barbell creaked and groaned eerily and, as it slowly cleared it's moorings, both ends drooped dramatically as gravity tried desperately to pull the piles of massive weights suspended on the opposite ends back down to Earth. Almost straight-armed, Sam stood up completely, raising the huge barbell to the height of his lower thighs. I'm not sure why - maybe it was how even just holding such massive weight physically affects a heavily-muscled man's body- but seeing Samson just standing there, side-profile to me, made me feel a deep desire to cum. The sudden urge to just touch myself was strong. Sam was standing at nearly a 90 degree angle to me, absolutely straight and tall, with his shoulders thrown back slightly to naturally counter the great weight. His side-profile was wholly magnificent and fantastically hot. Sam's neck looked very big to me now, at least equally as wide as his head, and maybe more. Thick columns of muscle swelled out prominently on either side with a large vein tracing the edges of each. It was also now obvious to me that the very tops of the upper back muscles actually originated anatomically at the very base of his skull, and well up and behind his neck. I don't think I'd ever consciously realized that, probably because it isn't this obvious on normal man's body. Sam's upper back muscles were just so large that they flared out like the wings of the Concorde behind his neck; each wingtip being capped by a basketball-sized globe of muscle that formed his outer shoulder. But the single, most dominating feature from this particular angle, however, was definitively- Sam's chest. In fact, it was THE feature at the moment, for me. Mighty pectorals, looking every bit as thick as battleship armor, thrusted out so remarkably that they formed almost total hemispheres of muscle. Seen from the side, the projection of such great masses high on his body, combined with the bold contour around his entire thickly-muscled upper back, reminded me of a satellite photo of the South American continent. Sam's waistline seemed to almost disappear underneath it all. If I thought my mouth had been dry before, it felt now more like the Sahara Desert. "Now this HERE is Liftin'!" Sam said very emphatically, just to make sure I understood that he hadn't really been lifting yet, by his own definition anyway. "Hey, Pete- you just watch my bi's while I curl this 'ol thing, Pete. I'm gon'na get me some BIG muscles now. It's party time, Pete! Real sorry I don't have no hats or noise-makers, but... I'm really hopin' 'ya like the presents..." With that, Sam swung the huge barbell slowly around to stand facing me more directly. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back slightly, and then- just stood silently for the longest time- still gripping the monstrous sagging barbell in his hands. After some time passed, I thought to myself, "Gee, this sure is different." I even cleared my throat a couple of times while I patiently waited for something to happen, but it did not. But I did notice Sam's face seemed to be changing somehow. Its countenance looked calm and relaxed, almost serene actually, I thought. With his eyes still closed, Sam quietly spoke just a few more words. "This is for you, Pete..." Then even more time passed- still in total silence. Sam's eyes remained closed throughout. I even wondered briefly if he could possibly have fallen asleep. Whatever was going on here, I was completely clueless. So I just sat there an waited. After all, Sam knew what he was doing even if I did not, I figured. I'd have sat there for a week, in fact, waiting for Sam to lift. When Sam finally opened his eyes- and it was a long time later- he did it extremely slowly. He was looking more-or-less right at me still, but he just looked different to me now. Somehow his eyes seemed different too, but I was hard-pressed to say exactly how. His stare seemed to pass through me, in fact, as if I wasn't there at all- or he just wasn't even really seeing me. His face also seemed completely expressionless now; that previous look of calm and serenely replaced with something that appeared to me now to be just empty and vacant. Sam's breaths were slow and rather deep. I was just about to say something when I saw the large muscles in his big arms visibly tense and tighten as Samson made a deep 'Oooof'ing sound. The huge barbell moved slowly upwards. I knew he was doing yet another set of standing 'biceps curls' as he'd called this particular lift anyway- but now using this massive weight, unimaginable-times heavier than he had just before. Amazingly, Sam nevertheless pulled the massive bar up very steadily until it just brushed his protruding pectoral mounds, held it there momentarily, and then slowly lowered it back down to near his thighs. Then came another 'Oooof' and another cycle started again. By the third or fourth time, vascularity was just exploding everywhere in his torso, and to a lesser extent even his legs, and I could clearly see veins even in the areas that his singlet covered. His breathing was deep and very steady. In fact, everything about each repetition, so far anyway, was an exactly perfect clone of the previous one, as far as I could tell. His fourth repetition looked to me exactly like his first, in every way. Outside of the obvious veins and muscles that were exploding all over Sam's body, there was no other indication to me that he was really straining - certainly not by his face anyway. I was being instantly re-educated about just how unbelievably powerful Sam really was. I mean- the steel bar itself was just massively thick, and yet it still drooped so violently under the weight that I thought it could possibly snap. This was serious, absolutely stunning weight, actually. I didn't know the number of men in the world could even do what Sam was doing. At most, there were not many- maybe a handful- maybe even less, I thought. It was just devastating to watch, actually. I was completely humbled and in totally awed, and if there's such a thing as a gas puddle that goes along with my ignition switch, Samson was now pegging that totally to the floor. The world could have ended and I wouldn't have noticed. This was one genuine, boner-fied HE MAN! Now THIS was STRENGTH!! I remained hypnotically transfixed as Sam performed even more astounding repetitions. The deep, unmistakable sounds of the 'big iron' rattling and clanging as the plates shifted slightly quantified in my mind not only the massiveness and density of iron, but also the brute strength that commanded them upward against gravitational forces- and was doing so over and over again. Sam's form was perfect, and remained absolutely unwavering. His facial expression also remained exactly as it had been when he had begun- in short, he didn't have one. This may have been just an unimaginably intense focusing and concentration on Sam's part. "Yeah, that's got to be it... maybe," I thought. But even if Sam's face wasn't changing, absolutely unbelievable things were happening to his body. Defying the possible, his already huge neck, shoulders and chest muscles were clearly becoming even more pronounced. I saw the impossible nevertheless actually happening to those very big arms of his with my own eyes. With every repetition, they visibly grew bigger. The mere sight of them was absolutely paralyzing me. Sam's biceps were now reaching such stunningly dimensions that, in proportion to his other inflating muscles- and even considering his now incredibly-ballooned pecs- they were the true champions that totally ruled the moment- two perfect planets, literally spellbinding beyond words. And Sam just continued to lift. 'Oooof'. More repetitions followed, each cycle being performed with such perfect rhythm that you could have calibrated a metronome to it. I don't know if it's possible for a muscle to literally explode, but both of Samson's biceps were just phenomenally engorged monsters- which might have been Sam's own description of my cock at that moment, if he could have seen it, be he didn't look like he was seeing anything. The skin over them was now stretched so thin that the skin had a visibly bluish transparency to it. I also noticed that very small bright red-colored capillaries were beginning to appear as well, and I knew enough about medical biology to understand that these were called micro-hemorrhages, and their appearance implied the capillaries were beginning to rupture now from the internal pressure. Sam's astounding physical capabilities seemed to be surpassing some threshold of what might be humanly possible, even for the huge and muscular man that he was. His strength seemed almost Herculean. Certainly it was beyond what even I thought he just might possess, considering his size. Such power is fearsome. I'd lost count of the number of repetitions, yet his lifting - his form - was still mechanically perfect. The man was a muscle-machine, and one with the horsepower of a six-story Earthmover. Sam was still showing no really discernible signs of fatigue, and no indication that he was ever going to stop either, for that matter. Every centimeter of his bodying visually screamed out to me the near-tortuous force that was certainly being applied both to and through it, yet Sam's face remained essentially expressionless, belying any indication of that. I mean- I already knew that Sam was real rare mountain of a man, so it didn't surprise me particularly that I hadn't ever seen anything like what Sam could apparently physically do before, but an unsettling feeling started to come over me when I wondered if anyone else had ever seen such a thing before either. My eyes were telling me conflicting things that I couldn't quite make sense of. I could not reconcile everything that I was seeing anymore- and I was feeling a bit like Alice, after she's fallen through the looking glass. But just as these vague concerns were starting to get my increasing attention, Sam suddenly just- stopped- stopped cold, with the bar lowered in the starting thigh-position. He just stood there- silent and motionless- still holding on to the massive barbell- his face still expressionless- still that vacant stare. Then I saw him snap his head from side-to-side, just once. "Sam?" I said, hoping to get some response from him, but none was forthcoming. I waited in the silence for something to eventually happen, and finally it did. Sam blinked. And then- I saw him blink again. And again. He slowly tilted his head upward and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and held them there for awhile. Then Sam returned his gaze on to me, but he seemed almost disoriented, more as if he was getting his bearings or something. Finally he tilted his head down and appeared to be looking over the massive, sagging barbell he was still holding with his powerful forearms- now thick with tentacles - in a vice-like grip. Suddenly- and with no indication of any kind- Sam just released his grip, sending it crashing thunderously to the floor, and scaring me half out of my wits. I felt the reverberations in the floor as the massive iron recoiled and bounced rather ominously a few times. "Sam?" I thought I might have seen him nod his head slightly to acknowledge me- but I really wasn't sure. He still said nothing. His facial expression still looked peculiar - blank. He seemed as if he was way off somewhere else. He slowly raised his extended arms in front of him slightly and looked at them, almost as if he was quite sure what he was seeing. Well, given their current dimensions, it wasn't too hard for me to particularly understand why he might not recognize them immediately as arms either. Then there was a little more head movement. Sam slowly cocked his head to the right slightly and looked at his left arm for awhile, and then slowly rotated his forearm to look at the various sides of his upper arm. Then he very slowly cocked his head in the other direction, and repeated the same basic inspection of his other arm. Then pausing in the middle of this, he snapped his head hard again. "Sam?" I repeated. The way he was acting was starting to weird me out a bit actually. He casually glanced up at me momentarily, and then returned his gaze back to his arms, still saying nothing. Well at least I knew that Sam had heard me- he clearly responded to his name. I'm not sure he knew it was me. The look in his eyes was still funny, but his face had at least a little more expression back in it. Sam was moving his brow and jaw and mouth a bit anyway, and there were other slight movements throughout the rest of his body again too. He appeared to still be very interested in those arms of his, exploring every inch of them again with his eyes. He held them up in front of him and locked them out, fully-extended. I felt immediately woosy. In this position, his biceps looked to me like they were something actually set on top of his arms, as opposed to being a part of them. Two fire extinguishers of rock-hard muscle reached from his shoulders down to his elbows. Sam started to very slowly bend his forearms until his upper and lower arms formed roughly a 90 degree angle, partially flexing these two stunning giants in his arms. Even only half-flexed, his biceps were just absolute Titans, and still mushroomed up into beautiful domes. Sam was clearly observing their fantastic size and shape, but the actual way that he was looking at them was oddly casual to the point of being detached. Again I noticed Sam pause, and then shake his head from side-to-side. Then he went right back to looking at his arms. It seemed to me to be more like he was simply 'inspecting' them, as opposed to feeling anything, or even admiring their utter magnificence. In fact, Sam wasn't showing any reactions at all to the erotic monsters that I was seeing. It appeared that he was not even thinking anything. He'd just look slowly over at one arm and then the other, all the while slowly flexing them repeatedly in front of himself. All the while this was going on, some more discernible "body language" and overall movement was returning to him again. "Some pump," I thought I heard him mutter under his breath, but this was meaningless babble. Don't get me wrong- I was absolutely enthralled watching Sam examining his muscles now more actively -something about this was oddly very hot feeling to me- but increasingly, what I wanted to see was some sign of a little more significant brain activity than I was getting. So I thought I'd try again to make 1st contact the very big alien again. "Sam?" Sam paused and shook his head hard from side-to-side several times again. And a few moments later, I did heard an 'a-huh' come out of him, even though he continued to inspecting his two Goliath's. He did seem to be moving more, I noticed, and he was becoming a bit more alive acting again. "That's some pump......" Well, I heard words clearly enough. "SAM!" I said loudly, resolutely determined to get some real acknowledgement out of him other than a grunt, even though a grunt from this He man was pretty hot stuff all in itself. " Hey there, big guy. Are you in there somewhere? Anybody home? Come out, come out, wherever you are!" No reaction at all. "I don't think you even know who I am, Sam!" The big lug just said, "Sure I do," still looking dispassionately at his big battleships. I had a strong urge to get right up off of that chair and punch him actually- I was suddenly feeling just that mad. I guess I just really needed some of his attention, and I wasn't getting any- and I was getting pissed now. But very luckily for Sam, he saved himself from a ferocious attack from this Lilliputian Army recruit. Given the mass of muscle that stood there in front of me, it would have been about as attention-getting as a volley of arrows released against a tank, anyway. Sam- and no doubt sensing his extreme mortal danger I'm sure- raised his head and looked directly at me. "Sure I do. Your Pete." He still seemed a bit subdued to me- well, at least for Sam, that is. There was a kind of calmness in his voice that didn't quite sound to me like himself, and I thought a bit of a far-away look still lingered in his eyes too. He seemed just somehow mellower than usual, but at least I could tell that Sam was definitely seeing me. Sam shook his head back-and-forth again, this time making a big 'raspberry sound' with his lips. Then he opened his eyes wide a few times, just like I do myself when I'm trying to be alert. Then Sam loosened up his hulking body by stretching a little- alternately bending his legs a few times, rolling his head slowly in a big circle, and finally shaking his arms out rather forcefully. "And YOU - are the birthday boy!" He said, suddenly looking directly and with at least a partial smile. I noticed that his eyes seemed more focused. "So- Did I light your birthday candle, Pete?" "Like a bonfire!" I replied, grinning broadly. " You are just awesome!" A big wide smile spread across his Sam's face, and his whole face opened up in and expression of genuine happiness. He tucked his chin into his chest deliberately, and keeping his eyes right on mine, started walking towards me, one very dramatic step at a time, closing the distance between us only every-so- slowly. "I'm real strong. I got me some real big muscles now, I reckon...." That was true enough, I thought, but Sam's tendency for understatement had also never been more extreme than it was in this moment. Given this vision that was slowly coming at me, my heart started to just pound in my chest like I thought it was going to explode. "Say Pete, I bet you're big as me now too, huh?" Samson said, taking another step closer. He glanced down at my crotch momentarily, and judging by how wide his eyes got momentarily, apparently answered his own question. I was grateful for that too, because certainly no words were going to be coming out of my mouth anytime in the forseeable future. Lockjaw had set in permanently. "'Ya sure are," he continued. That thing's a MONSTER! 'Ya make me so hot." Sam took another very deliberate step. What he'd said was true enough on both counts, too. After being wildly aroused for what felt like forever to me, the broad back of my fully-realized python was straining so hard to raise it up through the top of my jeans that my baggy pant leg was clearly suspended in air clean off my knee now. This was the kind of hard-on that usually embarrassed the hell out of me, but my engine Rpm's were red-lined. Sam also clearly had 'big meat' now of his own that was reaching all the way to the bottom of his leather belt. Sam took another step closer and I needed to tilt my head slightly upward in order to see his face. Massy pectoral mountains, like twin bows of mighty ice breakers, projected proudly out in from of him. It seemed to me that they would actually reach me steps ahead of the rest of his body. "Pete, open them jeans now. I really want to see 'ya- all big like that. Show me what huge meat really is!" Without moving my eyes off of Sam, I unzipped and, bridging off the chair seat on my neck, quickly pulled my jeans down below my butt and freed the hopelessly confined prisoner. The whole expression on Sam's face changed into one of hypnotic wonder as he watched- spellbound- it's subsequent steady rise to fully glory. Proudly, it lifted dramatically skyward- high and mighty at last. I was allowing myself to be the real poster boy for the "Be All That You Can Be" slogan, in terms of erections. It felt so very heavy to me, slowly weaving and bobbing there high between my thighs, looking like one-half of the St. Louis Arch, that I thought it might just snap off of me at any moment. But I just sat there and let myself be huge for Sam anyway, and I was all that he wanted me to be. And I let him look at me for just as long as he needed. He made me feel good actually, like I was sexy and hot. I don't know what Sam was feeling inside, but I know that, for him, it was very powerful and good and likely necessary. Sam just stood there looming over me- playing with himself with one of those big paws of his- and he looked for a very, very long time. When he was finally done for the moment, he glanced up at me and simply said, "I must'a died, 'cause I know's I went to heaven." Then he took one step forward again and knelt down in front of me. "Thank you, Pete. That was really..... Well.... That there's the most beautiful think I ever did see in 'ma whole life." He paused for a few seconds, and then resumed. "Now- this here is for you. I'm big, too..." Matter-of-factly, Sam reached up and grabbed the shoulder straps of his singlet. In unison, he pulled them out across the wide plains of shoulder and then around the outsides of the two boulders that marked their ends, and in one motion, peeled the singlet down to his leather belt, leaving the straps dangling by the outsides of his tree-sized thighs. And for the moments that followed, for me anyway, seas parted and worlds collided. What I both saw, and what I felt inside, was so powerful that it is indelibly burned into my mind until my last breath on Earth. Sam understood implicitly how much he turned me on. He raised his utterly- pumped massive arms slowly from his sides, fully-extended, until they were just above the level of his massive eagle wings, and then he just held them there for awhile - these two inhumanly engorged, perfect huge cylinders of granite that lay atop each arm- for me to just look at them, absorbing their full erotic impact. He let me savor my own wild erotic energies. To feel the nuances of desire and the craving and wanting and lust. He held them there just as long as I needed. And somehow he was so in tune with my soul - he was reading me so well - he just knew when it was time. In almost slow motion, Sam brought his fists up towards his head, and created- just for me- one of the most erotically intense, spiritual moments of my life. His deeply-veined mighty and powerful Titans rose steadily upward, slowly transforming from huge horizontal cylinders into wrenching fully-flexed absolutely global Gods standing high in the heavens- two perfectly split biceps, each larger than a ten pin bowling ball, just kissed his thickly-roped forearms. My arousal was so profound -so total- - that I reached for the very first time that mystical point where agony and ecstasy are both one- and I know that I ached deep inside. Ached like never in my life- and it was, at once, also wondrous beyond description. And I just sat there and looked- then looked more- looked at, what for me was, penultimate masculine Beauty. And I ate of him - I ingested him - I consumed him totally- in a Holy Communion. If I had even so much as thought about touching my cock, I would have exploded on the spot. However, the power of this arousal - the intensity of this erotic energy - was so great that I was somewhere beyond being capable of independent thought. Like Sam before, I had found Heaven. Then I heard a deep, masculine voice speaking from somewhere that sounded far off in the distant, actually. "I want 'cha to feel 'em, Pete... feel 'em all over. They's REAL big. Go ahead now... It's O.K. ..." I sat there absolutely motionless, well beyond the capability of exercising any conscious control over my body. Sam lowered one arm and moved forward, walking on his knees, and pushed my own aside as he positioned his body between them. Taking me gently by my wrist in his hand, he lifted my arm upward - then placing my hand on the very summit of his flexed Titan, he released it as he resumed a full flex with his other arm, and returned his total attention to my python. Like a tree gently bowing in the breeze, I could feel my cockhead occasionally touching Sam's abdomen now, sometimes just brushing the hairs of the sensual love trail that ran up the centerline of his stomach, and at other times patting his deeply corrugated washboards. My other hand seemed to automatically find it's way to the summit of Sam's other biceps, and I started to actually feel what, up to this point, I had only been seeing. My hands slowly orbited like moons all around the twin Jupiter's high up before me. Had I been more mature, I might have actually wept with joy actually- without any shame at all. I heard his distant-sounding low voice again. "Happy Birthday, Pete. Time to make a wish, and blow out your huge candle. It's O.K... Go ahead now..." Well, my wish had already come true, a thousand times over, in fact. The very second that Sam's words penetrated, my eyes slammed shut. My balls yanked so violently up into me that I bellowed and involuntarily pulled down, lifting myself right off of the chair slightly, using Sam's massive Titans for handholds. I blew my candle out alright- hard- like a wide-opened unmanned high-pressure fire hose. The first and second volleys passed far above his head and over one of Sam's shoulders. I heard Sam moaning with that kind approval that only a real man can have. The third caught him squarely in his face. Uncounted others randomly coated the shelves of his massive pec mountains, drizzling over them like frosting on a Bunt cake. And by the time I'd finally emptied my tanks to the very bottom, big gobs of cum randomly clung to the deep ridges and hairs all over his stomach. As I opened my eyes and began surveying the damage in a daze, I realized that my hands were still firmly mounted on Sam's mighty Titans, and that Sam was, in fact, still moaning loudly. Glancing up, I saw Sam's eyes were closed and his head was titled far back. Then I looked down at the crotch of his singlet, and immediately saw the large dark area of wetness in Sam's ample basket, and also noticed his love batter was just beginning to leak out past the elastic around his balls. As his hot moans continued, streams of cum started flowing, following the contours of the large muscles on the insides of his huge thighs. "Man, can this big bruiser really CUM!" I thought to myself. "What a total stud!!". Then completely to my surprise, my still rock-hard rocket fired off not just one, but two encore salutes, seconding that emotion. Eventually Sam opened his eyes, and like I had done myself, he looked around somewhat dazed for awhile just eyeing the carnage around us. After completing his survey, he returned his attention to me and broke into the biggest grin I've ever seen on a man in my life, silently mouthing the word, "W-O-W!" clearly to me. "You're just somethin' else. You's just incredible, Pete! INCREDIBLE! Look at all this protein! Boy, I think I needs me a shower. I means- another shower! So, what'd 'ya think? Am I big enough for you?" "No way." I came back with, just being a wisecrack. "I was a little disappointed, actually." Sam looked a bit maybe- confused- momentarily, then he just stood up to his full height suddenly. The look that came over Sam's face gave me a bone-cold chill. His expression went from to confused- to serious- to angry- to just something suddenly really ugly and very mean. It was more than scary. When someone the size of this monster looks mean, it's instantly damn terrifying- and Sam looked suddenly seriously very threatening and dangerous. This had all happened so fast that I was dumbfounded. My mind raced. No one knew where I was, and there was absolutely no one around to even hear me if I decided to holler my brains out. I was about to tell him that I'd just been kidding with him- but before I could even get the words out of my mouth, Sam suddenly reached out and grabbed my head between his giant-sized hand- and I mean hard, too! He had my immediate 100% attention. This guy's hands had every inch of my entire skull covered totally in a vice grip. The picture of Sam pulverizing my skull like a squash with my brains literally all over his hands flashed instantly through my mind- and this brute had the more than enough strength to certainly do it very easily. My life was going to be over in the next few seconds. Completely stunned, I froze like an animal. "Well, I guess I'm gon'na have to just-" he started to say, with a meanness in his voice that would strike fear into anyone- and I braced myself for what was coming next. "-just kiss 'ya anyway, Pete." When I popped open my eyes, Sam was wearing an ear-to-ear shit-eating grin. Then turning my head upwards with his hands to meet his face, Sam bent over and planted a kiss on me that belonged in the Guinness World of Records- and turned me totally into quivering jelly. Eventually, Sam slowly backed away and crouched down on his haunches. He cocked his head, and with a big wink, smirked, "And you's- a big liar, too, Pete." This time I grinned broadly in acknowledgement- just in case. "So Pete- does 'ya think I's real strong? Does I qualify?" Strong? I immediately thought about Samson and that absolutely huge barbell, and I wanted to ask him just how much it weighed. I mean, I knew it weighed a lot certainly- the way it sounded when it crashed to the floor - the way the building reverberated - the thing was just utterly massive! But I wouldn't even know how to describe the kind of strength I'd seen. Qualify? Beyond a doubt. The dude's just a mountain of a man certainly, but I thought about just asking him some things. Granted, I didn't know jack-squat about weightlifting, but... there were things I saw... As I was thinking, my eyes were also scanning over the crouched vision of a Hercules in-the-flesh, still stripped to the waist, in front of me, and my questions just didn't seem all that important anymore. This man was hot as the surface of the sun! So- completely uncharacteristically of me, for once I did exactly what I was feeling inside of me; more importantly, I showed it to Sam too. "You're the strongest man I've ever seen," I simply said, and left it at that. Then moving off the chair, I closed the distance between us, and I actually- kissed- him! For me to take the initiative was definitely something brand new. And in the process of me kissing Sam, I also pretty much wiped my cum clean off his upper body with my sweatshirt. God, his chest is just so massive! Sam just kept looking into my eyes after that kiss, tilting his head slowly from side-to-side occasionally, and alternately stroking my hair and head gently again with his massive paws. I had these tingles running all through me. He made me feel really good inside somehow, and the way he was looking at me was kind of special, actually. Sam seemed to really like me, and that was coming through to me loud-and-clear. As for me, well- I knew I could never get tired of looking at Samson, this strikingly handsome man with absolutely the biggest qualifications I'd ever seen, or would ever see, for that matter. Then Sam straightened up and said, "Well, I don't know 'bout you Pete, but I know's I'm mighty hungry. I ain't eaten in 'near 4 whole hours, I reckon. I'm near starvation! I need me FUEL!! What do 'ya say I gets us some grub?" "That'd be great, Sam. I'm hungry- I could definitely stand something to eat, too," I said, rubbing my stomach. "Can I help you?" Shaking his head rather emphatically, Sam replied, "No. Absolutely not. There's no way I could tolerate that. There's here's your birthday, Pete." Then he added, with a devilish grin, "Then after we's done eatin', maybe you'd be wantin' to open another present? I sure hopes so... 'cause I been savin' the best. Somethin' special! I'm real strong, Pete. I've got big muscles..." I nodded my head in total agreement, and then decided I wanted to correct Sam on just one specific point. "But you're wrong about just one thing. You don't have big muscles. Sam, you've got the biggEST muscles!" Sam turned his head away slightly, smiling almost bashfully. Moments later, I saw his whole face slowly break out in one very prominent big red blush. "Ah... I think I needs to grab me just a quick shower first..." THE END