A Surprise In A Big Package
March, 2001

By Steve
dickgib@starpower.net

This story includes sex between men.  If that's not your thing, or you are under 
18, don't read it.  Constructive comments welcomed.


Some Background		

My name is Steve.  After years in the closet, I have no regrets about "coming 
out" as a gay man.  In fact, I "came out" to myself at the same time.  Finally, 
I'm able to fantasize about men and then turn fantasies into reality without 
guilt.  I've loved looking at musclemen since I saw my first muscle magazine on 
a newsstand at the University of Michigan.  This was back when I was in 6th 
grade on a school fieldtrip.  To this day, I remember a picture of this man 
wearing this skimpy bathing suit in what I now know is a side arm and chest 
pose.  He was also bald.  One of these days I'm going to find that very magazine 
and add it to my collection.

Ever since then, I've been hooked, big time.  I like these muscle guys a lot of 
different ways.  For the last few years, I've been romping on internet muscleman 
and model sites, downloading pictures, fantasizing and masturbating myself 
silly.  At the same time, I've really gotten into muscle-sex fiction.  I bet 
I've got one of the biggest hard-copy collection of muscle-sex stories around.  
I'm talking about big guys, very masculine, built massive, cut, big cocks, 
provocative bulging baskets, hairy or hairless (makes no difference), posing, 
flexing, performing feats of strength, morphing, getting off on each other, 
competing, working out, fucking, crushing each other in massive arms.  Those are 
the basics.  I especially like it when the authors (who consistently read my 
mind) add some personality to their characters and create love stories or at 
least good friendships.  

Actually, hooking up and spending time with these guys has been a challenge, for 
many reasons.  I get shy or intimidated.  They often just want to strut, not 
connect.  I hesitate starting up conversations for fear of looking like an 
idiot.  In the meantime, I've had some great experiences with escorts who are 
definitely into muscle-sex.  But that gets expensive and is just too "cum and 
gone."  In the meantime, I certainly enjoy getting to know and be with guys that 
are just average, like me.  I'm not narrowing my partner search to a big, 
beautiful and handsome muscleman.  So, I'm still out there, meeting guys, going 
on dates, and staying in the possibility that I might get the entire package:  a 
big, tall, muscular, massive body; a great mind; a loving heart; a warm spirit; 
and emotional stability.

There's one more piece of information before I tell you what has just happened.  
I live in the Midwest and own my own executive coaching and management 
consulting business.  My office is in my home.  Much of my coaching work is done 
by telephone.  This is very convenient for my clients and me.   I have a 
coaching website that produces at least half of my prospective clients each 
year.  My picture is on that web-site.  The description of my services is 
written in a very personal style, very focused, and explains what and how I 
coach.   So, at least once a week I'll get a call from someone who has looked at 
my web-site and wants to talk with me about getting coaching.   The majority of 
these individuals are entrepreneurs - planning to start a business, starting a 
business, or already doing business.  I'm especially effective at coaching 
individuals in making well-managed transitions from one income source to 
another.

Here's my journal of what's been happening.

The Telephone Call

The week has been a very demanding one.  My clients are asking for all the 
coaching available to them.  I'm falling behind somewhat in following-up on 
leads.  Between the lack of dates with guys and a lot of work, I was feeling a 
bit sorry for myself when the business telephone rang.

" Good morning.  This is Steve Henderson."
" Hello Mr. Henderson.  My name is Russ Carpenter and I've just been looking at 
your web-site and wanted to talk about your coaching services."
(Boy, does this guy have a great voice.  I'll bet he's a dee-jay or newscaster.  
I wonder if it's a local call.)
"I'd be happy to talk with you, Russ.  In fact, I've got a 30 minute window 
right now before my next client.  Do you have the time now or should we set 
another time?"
"Now would be just fine".

We spent a full half hour together on the phone.  He told me about how he's been 
vice-president of his father's construction business for the last 10 years and 
is ready to move on.  He talked about how much he enjoyed being a physical 
education major in college and that he's stayed on top the fitness profession in 
the last 20 years.  He divorced six years ago.  No kids.  It was time to take 
the next step in living his own life, he declared.  He told me about his dream 
job of establishing a fitness company that would hire trainers and fitness 
center managers and place them in private clubs in the city (of which there are 
many) as employees of his company.  He and his staff would run the fitness 
center in the facility of the club.  That sounded feasible to me.  I explained 
how I coach and what would be involved.  He had no problem with the fees.  
Before he made his decision however, he asked to meet me in person.  This is a 
common request that I say "yes" to if I feel like we might work well together.  
Since he was local, we set a time to meet in two days for coffee.

I hung up the phone and felt excited and intrigued with Russ.  He sounds 
together and very masculine.  It's clear he has a gentle and sensitive side as 
well.  That's a great combination for effective coaching.  Then I started 
wandering off into my fantasy world.  A physical education major?   He said he's 
stayed on top of the fitness profession?  Does that mean he works out and has 
muscles?  Does he look as good as he sounds?  If he's hot, will I get 
preoccupied with him and not do good coaching?  I noticed myself starting to get 
hard.  It doesn't take much these days.  He could just as easily be a toad.  
Well, I'll find out sooner then later.


Meeting In The Coffee Shop

This particular Starbucks is big and not too crowded.  I'm at a table off to the 
side, checking my watch.   It's ten minutes after and I'm starting to wonder if 
he's going to show.  I look out the window and damn near have a heart attack.  
Coming up the walk is a huge guy, huge like in really built.  His cut jacket 
shows off his V-shaped torso.  His face.  - dark, long, well-trimmed hair - a 
classic square face and jaw line - bushy eye-brows, a sculptured nose.  He has a 
slight beard stubble that truly makes him look like a man's man, a paragon of 
masculinity. I'm having the male version of a "hot flash."  

Within seconds, I'm telling myself that I should just cool down.  It may not be 
him.  And, if it is, I sure don't want to look rattled or worked up.  I look 
away up towards the menu on the wall and wait.  I know the door opens.  I'm 
still looking at the menu.  I don't hear a thing.  I turn around, casually, and 
he's looking at me.

"Are you Steve?"
"Yes, and you must be Russ, right?"
"I'm sorry for being late, but the traffic was bad."
"No problem."
That's an understatement.  He could have been hours late and given what I see, 
I'd be happy to wait.  He's so tall...so big...so absolutely handsome.  His face 
makes him look both strong and gentle, and what a nice smile.  I come back from 
my reverie and get up to shake his hand.  Fortunately, I'm not wobbling.  His 
hand is so big, too.   It's more like a paw...handy for construction work, and 
other activities as well.   And look at that patch of black hairs on the back.  
His shake is warm and firm and I give him the same.

I watch him take off his jacket and I try to do that without looking weird.  My 
God, I have never ever seen such a gorgeous hunk take off his jacket right in 
front of me.  My eyes scan everything about him very fast.  First, I notice a 
very small waist, accented by a belt that makes the separation between his huge 
thighs and his massive torso a work of art.  Then I notice how his body flairs 
up into a V covered by a body-fitting long-sleeved black sweater.  On top of his 
V is a pair of shoulders that are truly gym-built and huge - big, rounded, and 
pushing the sweater to its limits.  Then I get a little more flushed as I notice 
a small patch of black chest hairs just above the line of his sweater top.  
Then, there's his neck.  Sometimes words just fail me.  It's like one of those 
roman columns with veins and cords - graceful - not so big as to make him look 
like he's a bull-dog without a neck.  The muscles twitch and shift as he moves 
to get each arm out of his jacket.

After his second arm comes out of the last sleeve, I get to see a sight that 
makes my heart race.  He's got boulders for biceps.  The separation of his 
biceps and triceps easily show through the black fabric.  The indentation that 
runs the length of these two muscles is very visible.  And these monsters are 
moving up and down as he puts his jacket down, pulls out his chair, and sits 
just two feet away from me.  Stop, Steve.  Back to earth, now before you make a 
fool of yourself.

"I really appreciate your willingness to meet me.  Hiring a coach is an 
important decision for me and it just seemed right that we meet face-to-face."
"I agree, Russ.  I like meeting potential clients as well, especially when they 
are local.  It can help develop chemistry and start the working relationship off 
very powerfully.   What'll you have?"
It's a little intimidating to be so close to him.  What if I look so distracted 
that he wonders if he's picked a jerk?  Keep the focus on his future, not his 
physique.  His future, not his physique.  Future not physique.  But, those eyes 
and that wonderful smile.  Relax, Steve.  Relax and you'll do fine.

"I'll be right back.  Do you want anything more?"
"No, thanks."
As he stands up he looks at the coffee bar, not at me.  Thank God.  I doubt 
there's an ounce of fat on him.  I watch him stand up and really get a close-up 
of his huge legs and a truly gorgeous bubble-butt.  I watch him walk over to the 
bar.  I bet he's at least 6'3".  Definitely over 225 lbs.  Damn, he must know 
that having his tight sweater tucked into his pants makes him just incredible to 
look at.  Doesn't he?  He said he's divorced with no kids.  But could he really 
be gay?  My gaydar, while not very reliable, hasn't gone off.  He looks about 40 
years, maybe a very young looking 45.  Finally, I'm calming down.

After he comes back we talk more about how he'd like his business to operate and 
grow.   He describes himself as disciplined, thorough, and good with people.  He 
tells me how he's enjoyed doing some part-time personal training of individual 
clients for the past few years.  He also talks about his life-long commitment to 
physical health.  We talk generally about his financial affairs.  He's done his 
homework and has planned this transition well.  I wonder why he needs a coach.   
Then, it's like he read my mind.

"I know some other guys that have hired executive coaches and they feel like 
they've gotten a lot of benefit.  I guess I could get this off the ground 
myself, but I really like to bounce ideas around and I appreciate a second pair 
of eyes.   Frankly, I'm just tired of doing things alone."
Jeez, he certainly seems like a together guy.  I can't stop looking.  What a 
package!  His stubble is so sexy.  His teeth are a little crooked, but that's 
nothing.  He seems very confident.  Look at those shoulders.  I wonder if he 
built them from lifting beams and hauling all that equipment around?  No, he 
works out.  God, those hairy hands are huge.  I bet they could crush just about 
anything.

"Well, those are very good reasons to have a coach, Russ.  You've done some good 
planning and it's clear you're ready for a change.  I have to say that you 
certainly have the physique for what you want to do".  Damn, was a bit too 
obvious?

"Yeah. Thanks.  I've worked at it for a long time.  It's really been for my own 
benefit.  I guess it's good advertising to be what you preach, "  he said 
somewhat shyly.
He starts looking down at his cup and goes quiet for a few moments.  It's like 
he's feeling a little sad.  Maybe he's just being reflective.  His beautiful 
hands are clasped together holding his cup.  His arms look like pythons.  His 
huge shoulders still look huge but they've drooped a bit. Hmmmm.  I wonder what 
he's thinking.  Maybe I'll find out.

"Absolutely.   I tell my clients that I make it a point to practice what I 
preach, too."
He starts looking up while I speak and a smile comes over his face.  I hunch 
he's feeling good that we are on the same wave-length.  Even though I can hardly 
ignore his size and stunningly handsome face, I find myself feeling interested 
and already committed to supporting him make this shift.  Can I do both?  Can I 
enjoy his massive and sexy physical presence, and still be a great coach for 
him?  It'll certainly be easier working by telephone.  I'd go nuts meeting with 
him face-to-face every week.

(He says he wants to work with me.  God, I can't believe this.  Is this just to 
torture me?  Yes, I'd like to work with him, too.  But, I'd rather be his lover 
or partner, not his coach.  Well, that's unlikely.  So I tell myself to enjoy 
the scenery and just be a great coach.)

I give him a packet of worksheets to complete.  I'm a member of a very large and 
attractive social club downtown.  So we schedule a half-day intensive coaching 
session at the club one week from now.   Neither of us have any more questions.  
Yet, he pauses and looks like he wants to say something else.  He doesn't.  I 
figure he's trying to take in what it means to have a coach.  

He stands and stretches and the banquet of eye-candy begins once again.  I look 
down at my papers so as not to stare.  Then I look back up and his right arm is 
flexing slightly as he reaches for his jacket.  I'm mesmerized.  He pulls it 
around then puts both his arms up to put them into the jacket arms and his torso 
stretches like I can't believe.  God, it's too beautiful for words.  I can see 
the rolls and mounds of muscle move in his arms, his chest, and his stomach.  
He's so graceful.  I can't tell if he's just doing this slowly or I'm just 
looking at him in slow motion.  I look back down at my papers and look up again 
and tell him that I'm going to stay and make a few calls.  He's got a big smile 
on his face and tells me how much he appreciates my time and my interest.  He 
says that he sees himself as a coach to his staff and clients now and in the 
future, too.  We say our goodbyes and shake hands.  I decide just to take my 
time and squeeze his hand a little longer and a little harder than I might 
normally.  He reciprocates.  My body is filled with electricity.  His biceps 
flex up and down as he shakes my hand.  He turns around and I get to watch his 
legs, his torso, his neck and head from the rear.  What a sight!  He seems so 
oblivious to his physical presence.  Or is he?  

I drive home in a very preoccupied mood.  Damn.  Why does this guy have to show 
up as a client?  Okay, that's better than nothing.  I could try to change the 
relationship but that would be unprofessional.  Don't go there, Steve.  Hold it.  
I don't even know if he likes guys.  

My First Fantasy

It's a long evening and I can't get Russ out of my mind.  Damn.  I try to read.  
I watch some TV.  Finally, I just give up and go to bed early.   As I get under 
the cozy covers, I know I'm at a moment of decision.  Do I feed my fantasy for 
awhile and masturbate to something that will just always be a fantasy, again? 
Or, do I turnover and try to sleep?  Oh, what the hell.
(Two weeks later)
These two weeks have been absolutely extraordinary.  I still can't believe this 
is happening.  Passionate kissing, necking and feeling each other up have been 
routine, fortunately.  We both acknowledge that we've let our cocks do the 
talking in the past so we're taking a little longer before we have some great 
muscle-sex.

One day he invites me to an "after hours" workout at his buddy's fitness 
facility.  We've both fantasized about this. Our libidos have been on overdrive 
for days. 

I thought we'd meet in the locker room and change together.  I'd get to see him 
in his full glory.  In fact, that was what I wanted.  That would be a first.  
He, however, was not in the locker room but out on the floor.  The place was 
absolutely empty, just as he had promised.  We gave each other a passionate 
deep-throated kiss and exchanged power hugs.  God, I like it when I can muscle 
him a bit.  He likes it too and has a cute giggle when I do that.

I'm back on the floor in my high-cut running shorts, a tight tank t-shirt, and I 
left my underwear on.  No jock-strap.  I just love feeling my hardness when I'm 
with him.  I feel like I carry a steel beam these days and I love it.

This is the first time I've seen him in workout gear.  In fact, it's the first 
time I've seen him out of his street clothes.   We're not shy.  We just know 
we've got something special here and have agreed it's worth the frustration to 
build the relationship from a bond other than just our cocks.  Now, given his 
extraordinary good looks and his wonderful personality, it is a small miracle I 
haven't tried to rape him.  In the meantime, I've had to buy more jars of Colt 
Cream.

He is a man to behold.  His body is very much like my favorite muscleman and sex 
idol, Pete Kuzak.  This is not a surprise.  What is a surprise is to see all 
those muscles that have just been barely hidden from view...the same muscles 
that I've been touching and feeling for days now.   Maybe we'll take our 
relationship a bit further tonight.

He's already sweating.  Wet spots are showing under his boulder-like arms, down 
the huge cleavage of his chest, and at the top of his small workout trunks.  
God, is that ever sexy.  He stops, and he gives me this relaxed, statue of David 
pose, accompanied by a beautiful smile.  "Come here", he demands.  I melt into 
his rock-like, warm and wet chest.  It's covered in a light sea of damp hair.  
My arms go around under his arms and my hands move over his back in a frenzy of 
excitement and passion.  I love feeling his hard muscles.  Meantime, he has put 
his arms on either side of my head, resting them on my shoulders.  He pulls me 
up and into his face.  Our tongues have a wrestling match over who probes the 
deepest the fastest.  His lips are so soft.  His stubble is so sexy and, 
strangely enough, not too rough on my face.  He must have shaved.  His bulging 
arms tighten around my head.  He's so warm, so hard, so moist.  Even though it 
feels like I could suffocate, I know I won't and just decide to let go and let 
him have his way with me.  He apparently senses this and it just turns him on 
even more. His whole body begins gyrating into my stomach and crotch.  Then he 
jams a monster concrete thigh into my crotch.  My dick hardens to the max.  I 
damn near explode.  I pull back.  And he pumps his thigh up against me again.  I 
pull back again.  It's too soon.  I still want more of that thigh, though. 

We both start to slow down a bit, luxuriating in our tenderness, our power, our 
strength, our passion, our juices, and our budding love.  

He takes me by the hand (I feel so cared for when he does that) and we go over 
to the leg extension machine.  He adjusts the weight key to the bottom of the 
stack.  I gasp at the enormous weight he's going to pump with.  He straps 
himself in and then, without a word, pulls me over so I can climb on top of his 
thighs facing him.  He must have done his warm-up reps earlier because he starts 
to really put it out.  I'm in heaven.  He alternates between smiles and 
grimaces.  I laugh and grab his biceps.  I can only grab the top.  He flexes 
those fuckers and I'm just gone.  At the same time, I'm grinding my butt into 
his incredibly hard and striated legs.  The muscle cords and tendons coming out 
from underneath his skimpy workout trunks are unbelievable.  I move my hands 
down to his thighs and start pushing and rubbing with all my strength so I can 
really feel his power.  He loves this and pushes out some more reps. I'm 
astounded at how many more muscles and cords run up and down the side of his 
thighs.  Meanwhile, my cock is jutting out like a tent from my pants.  My steel 
beam seems ready to punch through my underwear and the trunks.  That's such a 
great feeling, too.  I am powerful, too.  I push it down with one hand and jam 
it against his thigh while he is pumping these huge hard mounds of concrete. I'm 
literally fucking his thigh.  We're both heated-up like we've never been before.

He reaches down and moves his steel girder on top his left thigh and under my 
right thigh.  He gives me a wink and says he thinks something needs a massage.  
So I start grinding my thigh into his cock, pushing as hard as I can, hooking my 
foot under a side bar to get more leverage so I can push even harder.  He loves 
this.  His girder is sandwiched between his rippled cement thigh and my thigh.  
He stops lifting and throws his head back, grabs my shoulders and pushes me down 
with, fortunately, not all his strength.  I tighten my body and pretend I'm like 
a pile driver driving into his hard cock and thigh.  We both let up and give 
each other a bear hug.

Next stop, the fixed lat bar.  Now, I've read about guys doing this with each 
other.  Never thought it would happen for me.  I'm standing behind him admiring 
a back that exudes enormous power and strength.  Here I am.  Russ is all mine.  
He stretches up and his back explodes into canyons and craters of muscle, layers 
of muscle, weaving in and out of each other.  His delts twist into half 
cantaloupes with striations going everywhere.  He turns around with a grin and 
we look at each other through the mirror.  With a gush of pride and excitement 
he says "Hop on.  I'm going to give you the lift of your life."  I stand on the 
seat and he says to wrap my arms around his neck and grab my own wrists in a 
power hold.  Jeeessuss...my cock is jammed tight against his lower back.  My 
chest and stomach muscles are leaning into steel covered in satin.  My arms are 
wrapped around a huge column of cord and unmovable muscle.  My face is nestled 
into the side of his muscular neck savoring the sweat and an intoxicating 
masculine smell.  "Ready?" he asks.  I nuzzle him some more and tell him to go 
for it.

Then, he takes a long deep breath, a breath that expands his huge mountain of 
chest and body - right into my body.  My cock is still hard as a rock and jammed 
between my abdomen and his lower back wall of granite. I'm about ready to blow 
again.

Then it happens.  Lift off!!  Hanging on for dear life, my own arm, back and 
shoulder muscles do what they can to keep me hanging on.  His arm, back and 
shoulder muscles look like they are going to explode right out of his skin.  
They don't just look like it.  I feel those monsters shifting underneath every 
place where my skin touches his.  He's using a partial close-in grip so he gets 
us much higher off the floor than with a wide grip.  He pauses at the top.  I'm 
breathless.  I'm a little scared he's going to drop both of us, or I'm going to 
lose my grip and slide right off.  No way.  This is too good to miss and I power 
myself up to make sure I stay on top of my mountain of a man.  We go up and down 
five times, slowly, amazingly slowly.  He's sweating like there's no tomorrow.  
His skin is glistening.  His male heat is intoxicating and seeping into my own 
body.  I have a flash of feeling as if we are one.  He brings himself to a stop, 
lets go of the bar and stands there pumped and sweating with my arms welded 
around his massive neck.

"Waddya think?"  I look at him through the mirror.  I'm standing on the seat.  I 
move my hands up around his face, and then start massaging the back of his hot 
thick moist neck.  I tell him what a turn-on he is for me.  How much I love that 
he loves showing off for me...how I appreciate how willing he is to turn me on.  
I give him a kiss on the back of the neck, step down and take his hand and we go 
over to the mats near the far wall.

I sit down first with my back against the wall and invite him to sit in between 
my legs and lay back with his head on my chest.  Without a word he does just 
that.  He's panting slightly.  I put my hands on his chest and just hold them 
there - I guess to help center him.  He lifts those fabulous arms and puts his 
hands on mine as if to say "thanks".  I spend the better part of the next half 
hour massaging his satin-covered steel delts, his arms, and his chest.  I push 
him forward a bit and work on his back.  He's been sweating so hard that I don't 
need any oil to make sure I slide around.  His relaxed muscles are as awesome as 
when they are pumped and flexed.  My cock is still as hard as a rock and every 
once and awhile he pushes himself back into my cock.

As I begin to wake up, we're still seated on the mat, his massive brute body 
between my legs, resting on my cock and chest.  My arms are wrapped around him 
on his chest and he's got his corded pythons resting on top of my much smaller 
arms.  Quite a contrast.  Quite a moment of ecstasy.  

I'm as hard as a rock.  And I am both excited and discouraged.  Excited that I 
had such a wonderful dream.  Discouraged because it looks like it's going to 
stay just that, a dream.


A Half-Day Together

We meet in the lobby of my club, the one I mentioned earlier, where we'll spend 
a half-day setting business transition goals for him.  He greets me in the lobby 
with a big smile.  And, he looks around the lobby a bit nervously.  

"This is the first time I've been in this place.  I've heard it's really upper 
crust," he remarks.

"It's a great place for meetings with clients.  It has a great fitness facility 
that I'll show you later.  A company, like the one you want to build, manages 
the center," I observe in an encouraging tone.

This first impression is very powerful, too.  He has got his apparel absolutely 
nailed for such a big guy.  His slacks are pressed and his shoes have a polished 
contemporary look. He has a tailored blue jacket that really helps him look 
graceful, not bulky.  He's wearing a dark blue sport shirt, the kind with two 
buttons down the front.  Just a hint of chest hair is showing.  I wonder if he's 
wearing a short or long-sleeved shirt.  Clearly, he's taking care to look his 
best.  God, I love that.  I compliment him on his appearance and tell him that 
so far as I see, he makes an excellent first impression in business casual.  

"Thanks.  I've had a lot of years of practice with the construction company.  
Since I've gone back to working out, I'm even more conscious of how I look.  I 
make sure my clothes fit," he says proudly.  

As much as I'd like to walk behind him and admire the scenery, I take the lead 
up the stairs and over to our meeting room.  As we walk, he asks me a few 
questions about the club.  He seems interested in it.

Our small but well-appointed meeting room is ready for us.  I close the door and 
take off my jacket.  As I move over to where my papers are, he takes off his 
jacket as well.  I'm nearly speechless.  He is wearing a short-sleeve polo 
shirt.  The beautiful body I saw in the coffee bar is now much less covered.  As 
he pulls some papers out of his briefcase, I'm momentarily transfixed.  Even 
though it looks like he's wearing an extra-large size shirt, his biceps and 
triceps have already pushed the shirt up and over the top of both biceps.  His 
arms are huge.  His forearms are amazing.  He's got a combination of ropes, 
cords, and sinew that pulse and move around with every movement.  There's just 
the right amount of dark hair growing up and down his arms.   Then, his waist.  
His shirt, belt and slack top work together without wrinkles or bulges.  His 
bulk actually looks slim.  His torso flairs up and he flairs down from his waist 
to his thighs.  I had no idea I could love well-dressed muscle, too.

We both sit down and start to talk about what he wants to accomplish in this 
half-day.  I go in and out of being focused on what he's saying and then getting 
lost in admiring and lusting after his body.  I put my peripheral vision to work 
to make sure he knows I'm focusing on him, yet I still am taking in an awesome 
sight of shoulders, arms, and a very handsome face.  As the morning goes by, I 
get better at focusing on him and his future, not his physique.  It's not easy, 
however.  What does make it easy, though, is how open and candid he is with me 
about his work life and his planning for his new business.  I always look for 
how and when trust develops between a client and me.  It certainly is developing 
between us.  

His eyes are clear, focused, and exude confidence.   My blood rushes every time 
he raises his hands or arms to make a point.  For the life of me I can't tell if 
he really understands what an effect he is having on me.  Can he really be blind 
to that?  If he is conscious of his physical impact, he's hiding it extremely 
well.  Every once and awhile he takes one his hands and pushes his luxurious 
dark hair back on his head.  I get a glimpse of that split between his bicep and 
his tricep.  God, I've never felt so easily affected by a man's face-to-face 
appearance before.  I begin to wonder if I can really coach him well.  I've 
learned the hard way that if I'm not comfortable and focused, coaching is just 
too damn hard.

Mid-morning we both decide that we need to hit the can.  I say it first and he 
agrees.  Oh, my God.  This could be the first time I freeze peeing while he pees 
in the urinal next to me.  As we go to leave the room, he opens the door and 
gestures so that I go first.  Oh, a gentleman, too.  As we walk 25 feet down the 
hall, I am very aware of how good I feel walking and being next to him.  God, he 
is big and so darn handsome.  And, again, his clothes just make his bulk look so 
graceful.  While I'm anxious, I also have a sense of security.  It's clear he 
both values and respects my work and is truly glad that he's started working 
with me.  We get to the door of the john and he opens the door again!  I'm so 
easy!

As we move up to the urinals and unzip I decide that I'm not going to try to 
sneak a peak at what he has for equipment.  That would just be too damn obvious.  
Standing next to him is awesome.  It is so cool that he helps me bring out even 
more of the man in me.  We stand in silence for a few moments looking at the 
blank wall or down into the urinal.   Not much is coming out of me.  A gusher is 
coming out of him.  Then he mentions how uncertain he had been about hiring a 
coach. But, now, he's really glad he's picked me and he can see how people feel 
its money well-spent.  I guess that was all I needed and I start a good pee 
myself.

For the remainder of the morning, I just decide to be very focused on him and my 
commitment to be a great coach.  In some way, I guess I'm getting used to having 
him near me.  I can look at him without going off somewhere else in fantasy.  
None of that is easy, however.  It's work.  I continue to have flashes of doubt 
about whether I really should have him as a client.

As we wrap-up the this half-day, he asks me if it would be possible to schedule 
another half-day.  This comes as quite a surprise to me.  I've never had a 
client suggest that nor have I offered it.  He outlines what he would like to 
accomplish and we agree to meet again in a week.  I thought that this half-day 
would be the end of seeing him face-to-face and we'd work from now on by phone.  
These half days are an excellent income for me.  But, I'm not so sure I want to 
spend another half-day feeling so torn, attracted, and distracted, all 
simultaneously.

As we leave, I've gone pretty quiet.  He reminds me that I'd offered to show him 
the fitness facility.  That's all it takes to get my blood rushing again.  In 
the fitness center, some of the staff and guys greet me by name and I introduce 
Russ as a guest.  I chuckle to myself as a couple of these guys are clearly 
taken with Russ, probably his build more than anything else.  

As we survey the layout of the equipment, he asks about what the trainers do and 
the usage levels of the facility.  Fortunately, I know something about that 
stuff.  Boy, I feel great showing him around.  I watch folks watching us.  I 
know they're more interested in him.  That doesn't matter.  I flash back to my 
dream of a couple of nights ago.  Here we are in just the kind of place where we 
got into each other's bodies.  

He dwarfs some of the other guys that I consider pretty good size. He walks over 
to a couple pieces of equipment and examines them.  For a moment I think that he 
might take off his coat and "test" some of the equipment.  That would be 
something else.  He looks like he might be thinking about it as he moves closer 
to the bicep curl station.  He pauses and then turns around and comes back over 
to me.  I guess not.  At least not today.

I walk him back to the front door.  He thanks me for the coaching and the tour.  
Once again, I decide to shake his hand just a bit longer and with more squeeze 
then I normally might.  He, once again, reciprocates.  He turns around and I 
watch this mountain of masculinity walk out with an aura of confidence and 
energy.  He's such a nice guy, too.

I let out a deep breath...a breath that I didn't even know I was holding in.  It 
feels like I'd been, in fact, holding it in all day.  I probably was.  It is a 
breath of relief, a breath of accomplishment, and a breath of resignation.

I didn't feel like cooking dinner and I'm exhausted.  I didn't do much this 
afternoon except think about Russ.  I replayed our time together, enjoying the 
sound of his voice, his questions and responsiveness to coaching, his smile, and 
picturing that powerful body of muscle.  The evening wasn't any different.

So, early to bed it is.  This time, there's no question about whether I'm going 
to fantasize and masturbate.  Fantasyland here I cum.

A Different Kind of Dream

We've been like two muscle-sex mad animals since we fucked the first time two 
weeks ago.  His sexual enthusiasm literally takes my breath away.  God, how I 
love it when he climbs on top of me like this, crushing all of his hardness into 
my hardness - chest to chest, abs to abs, cock to cock, thigh to thigh.  After 
his hardened body lands on mine, he reaches down and takes that corded nine inch 
pile-driver of his and pulls it up on top of my steel beam, just a little cross-
wise so it stays on top. And then he starts power grinding into me and that's 
only after he's taken my arms in his huge hands and pinned me down above my 
head.  That puts his massive hairy chest right into my face.  My nose is pushed 
against his crevice between his pecs.  He is so warm.   His man smell is 
intoxicating.  He starts to push his cock and pelvis into mine hard, very hard.  
It sends me into ecstasy.  It's like he's doing a reverse arch into me, with the 
arch "peaking" at our jamming cocks.  Then, he does this combination rotation 
and grind that makes me shudder with delight.  He sure as hell knows how to use 
his hard-built muscles.  He loves to see me get so turned on.  I reciprocate the 
arching and grinding and, while I'm pretty powerful myself, he clearly has the 
upper hand and I love it. 

We both look at each other with a kind of love that I have never before 
experienced.  This is more than just two guys getting off on each other and 
having great sex.  It is two guys who have been waiting for each other for many 
years, two men that see the possibility of a relationship that goes well beyond 
our insatiable physical drives.  It is beautiful to see how, in just this short 
amount of time, we have opened ourselves up to each other and shared what we 
want in a partner.  In many ways, we've been "interviewing" each other these 
past weeks.  We're in awe over how much we seem to have in common.  

We're both dripping with sweat.  I never thought I would enjoy being so sweaty 
myself, let alone being drowned in sweat from another guy.  He moves his hands 
from my arms to my shoulders and then pushes himself up so I get a full view of 
his gorgeous chest.  His nipples are hard and surrounded by light swirls of soft 
hair.  Each pec is thick, square and pronounced, looking like they are is carved 
from stone.  Further down I see the top of his six-pack standing out like a 
relief map.  The crevice in between his pecs extends down into his abs and is 
covered with soft though wet and matted hair.  I want to reach up and lick his 
chest, nibble on his nipples, and just explore, explore, explore.  He knows I do 
and he just isn't going to let me, right now.  God, he can be such a tease.

We don't talk much during these moments.  We've said what we needed to say 
earlier.  Now, it's just a matter of listening with our heart, our bodies, and 
our cocks.  And we do that effortlessly.  

In the last couple of weeks, I've cum a couple of times now with Russ without 
fucking or masturbation.  Just being damn near melded into his body is usually 
enough to get me off.  He knows this, too.  He gently pulls back and gets off 
the bed.  He's going to pose.  His rock-hard massive man-meat is bouncing as he 
gets up.  Mine is standing up straight and aches for release.  As I put my 
elbows behind me to prop myself up, he spreads his legs far apart, takes his 
thumb and pushes his cock down so its pointing straight down between his legs.  
His other hand goes up to his nipple and he starts flexing each pec, back and 
forth.  The whole time he's examining himself and really getting into his 
posing.  He is truly an Adonis.  The inside of his thighs are clearly visible, 
slightly whiter then the front.  Veins, the size of pencils, circle around each 
muscle.  The "tear drop" muscle on the inside of each leg is huge.  At the top 
of his legs it looks like he's got two thirty-pound hams the size of my waist.  
And I know from first-hand experience that these things are damn powerful.  I 
fucked his thighs a few days ago and it was like being caught in a satin-covered 
vice.  

With his legs spread, his sweat-matted hairy abs and chest glow.  His six-pack 
is in full relief.  It is mind-blowing that his hair doesn't hide the separation 
between his cobblestones.  Both his arms are flexed but for different reasons.  
I can't stand being separated and jump to the end of the bed and he moves in 
close.  One of my hands squeezes his corded thick forearm to no avail.  It's 
like granite.  I try to press each of fingers into the back of his forearm.  
That doesn't work either.  He lets out a self-satisfied laugh.  My other hand 
goes up to his hand that is squeezing his tit.  I start sliding my hand up that 
forearm, squeezing again.  As he squeezes his tit, I actually feel his forearm 
muscles and cords slither back and forth under his skin.  I move up to his elbow 
and then over on top of his flexed bicep.  His arm is indescribable.  He has 
thighs for arms.  I move my hands up to his deltoids.  My own arms are stretched 
out to accommodate the massive width of his shoulders.   I shudder, feeling 
first-hand, his enormous size.  At the same time, touching a pair of delts that 
are like coconuts.  

While I'm taking all of Russ in with my hands and my eyes, he lets himself 
really get into his posing and flexing.  There's no question he loves showing 
off and feeling his own body.  He told me last week that up until a few years 
ago, he really didn't "own" his masculinity, his build, and the power of his 
body.  His former wife wasn't really interested.  At some level, he was afraid 
that if he got into his body, he'd have to deal with his sexuality and he wasn't 
ready back then.

While he's pinching and pushing his tit, my hands move up to his enormous traps.  
Because his whole body is so big, they're not out of proportion.  So he still 
has a muscular and graceful neck, as opposed to looking like a neck-less 
Neanderthal.  I put my fingers on the back of each trap and, keeping my thumb in 
front, just squeeze and squeeze some more.  I move my hands back and forth, 
close to his neck, and then back to near his shoulder.  These traps just barely 
give under the pressure of my hands.  Though I know all I'm doing is moving some 
very hard muscles around slightly.  There's no "denting" these muscles, either.  
God, he is so handsome and so powerful.

He's breathing pretty hard but softly asks me if I'd be willing to lay back down 
on the bed.  In an instant he's back on top of me only, this time, kneeling over 
my aching cock.  He reaches for the lube and starts lubing my dick with soft 
squeezes and sexy strokes.  Having his powerful hands squeeze and massage my 
cock sends me damn near over the top.  Then he asks me if I'd be willing to try 
something new.  I can only nod a "yes".  He lifts his butt up and starts to 
gently push himself down on me.  His huge grin tells me everything I need to 
know.  I stay motionless so he can be completely in charge of how far and when I 
go into him.  As he works his ass-hole down my dick, he throws his head back and 
puts his hands back on my legs.  I feel so damn powerful as he now uses me for 
his own pleasure.  I'm amazed at how hard I'm staying.  I shouldn't be.  I've 
never been so turned on for so long in my life, let alone by such an extremely 
handsome and loving muscleman.

In one final push, I go all the way into him and he's just about sitting at the 
base of my cock.  We're both groaning like crazy.  I rotate and grind my pelvis 
just a little bit and he lets out a very loud "ahhhhh".  Then he comes forward a 
bit and with one hand back on my left thigh, he brings his right hand around and 
starts to pump his own steel pipe.  I grab some lube and lube his cock for him, 
though I really don't need to.  His pre-cum is already well in evidence.  He 
grabs the top of my hand and we slowly move up and down his vein-covered 
missile, together.  I take my other hand and grab the nipple he was just working 
on.  Now, he's as completely "gone" as I was a few minutes ago.  

He told me when we first started going out that he really liked the fact that I 
had a strong and powerful body.  He didn't have to be so concerned that he might 
hurt me as he evidently was with other guys.  So I'm really putting my body to 
work right now.  My pelvis is gyrating so my cock moves around inside of his 
ass-hole.  My left hand is working overtime to start to bring him to a climax.  
My right hand is working his nipple.  Both of his hands are now in back of him 
on my legs and he's on sensory overload.  

I'm having a great time pushing all his buttons at once.  Not surprisingly, he 
starts thrusting himself into my hand.  In moments, a gusher of white cream 
starts spurting out of his engorged cock.  Each spurt arches and comes down on 
my face or chest.  I love it.  It is so warm and it's all him!  After the third 
spurt, Russ starts to slow his thrusting down.  He's breathing is very deep and 
very fast.  I let up a bit on his tit.  But he covers that hand with his and 
pushes it into his chest.  He moves both of our hands around his slippery hard 
pecs, just like he was doing it all by himself.   All the action pauses for a 
few moments as we catch our breaths.  I'm still fucking the hell out of his ass.

I start to move my pelvis up and down gently.  He's ready.  His hands are back 
on my thighs and he holds himself up just enough so I have some pile driving 
room.  Now it's my turn.  I start pumping and he gets in sync with me.   It's an 
amazing feeling of the two of us being one.  I focus on his chest, shoulders and 
ruggedly handsome face.  That just turns me on even more.  The workout that his 
ass is getting has gotten him hard again.  It doesn't take long before I'm ready 
to explode.  In one final drive up his ass, I keep my hips off the bed and he 
squeezes the muscles in his ass-hole, holding me tight.  I explode inside him 
and completely lose myself in the moment.  

All of a sudden, I'm sitting straight up in my bed completely confused.  Where 
is he?  I'm sweating and breathing hard.  As the fog starts to clear, I realize 
that I've been dreaming.  But this was different.  I was not only in the dream, 
but I was watching myself dream!  It has happened a few times over the years and 
it's weird.  It's like dreaming for real, if you know what I mean.  As the last 
of the fog lifts I smile to myself at how cool it is to have been with Russ and 
then to have watched myself be with him at the same time.  It's double muscle-
sex!  Then, I remember that it really was a dream.  The resignation starts to 
creep in again.


The Second Half-Day Together & Confessions

I'm early and he's a little late for this second half-day that he requested.  I 
have been giving some serious thought to coming up with a good reason for him to 
find another coach and drop me.  My dreams about him have been so real and so 
erotic.  It seems like it would be much easier to not have contact with him than 
to coach him and not have the intimacy I'd love to have with him.  Then I remind 
myself, I have no sense whatsoever that he's gay.  Nothing.  So why even go down 
this road, I ask myself.  There are plenty more guys out there.  It will just 
take a little more time.

I glance up from my chair in the lobby of the club and he strides through the 
door.  His smile is missing.  We shake hands firmly and exchange pleasantries.  
He's looking so studly, so masculine.  I take the lead and he follows me up to 
our meeting room.  Just like before, his tailored clothes, even though casual, 
create a sense of power and grace that makes my heart race.

"I've given some thought to our agenda, Russ, based on our last coaching 
session," I report.  "Here's a copy.  Tell me your thoughts and we'll get 
started".  About all I want to do right now is to be all business.  I've shut 
down everything else.  I do my best to ignore his eyes, his lips, his face, his 
huge hairy arms, and his sculptured body.

"Well, Steve, I've been doing some thinking," he observes with his head looking 
slightly at the table.  "I haven't been telling you everything that has been 
going on for me.  You've been being very straight and honest with me.  I want to 
be that way with you."   My heart is jumping up into my throat in a spasm of 
general anxiety.

"As you know, when I was looking for a coach last month, I found your website 
with your picture on it.  Between your picture and how you talked about your 
coaching work, I got really turned on.  Now, what I mean by "turned on" is less 
about being coached by you as your client, and really..."   He stops.  I'm 
motionless.  "...more about you as a man."

Oh my God, is this going where I think it is going?  No, it's got to be about 
something else.  "I hope you won't be mad at me, Steve, but I really just wanted 
to meet you and get to know you personally, man to man.  You see, I'm gay.  So, 
if you want to fire me as a client, I'd completely understand that.  I won't ask 
for any of my fees to be returned.  I'm sorry that I led you on this way."  He's 
looking embarrassed and alone.

"Russ, I can't believe this...I can't believe this," I literally shout.  "Mad??  
Hell no!!  This is very unexpected, but I am absolutely thrilled that you told 
me!"   He looked very confused.  I was up out of my chair and, pointing to 
myself, I said "I'm gay, too!!"   "You're kidding me, aren't you?" he implored.  
"No, no, I'm not.  I've been going nuts the last month thinking about you.  I 
was almost ready to tell you today that I didn't think I should coach you 
anymore.  I haven't wanted you as a client since we met.  I wanted you as 
boyfriend...maybe even a lover".  He looked completely shocked, "I don't believe 
this either.  You mean to tell me we both have been faking it this last month?"  
"It looks like that to me," I said. 

"When I met you at Starbucks, something just clicked for me.  I really liked 
that we were meeting not because you just had the hots for my body, like so many 
other guys and women do.  The first half-day with you just got me more 
interested in you.  That's why I wanted a second half-day.  I know I misled you, 
but I couldn't help myself," he confessed.

"You know, I actually wondered why you said you needed a coach.  But I decided 
not to question that.  I also wondered if you were gay.  I just figured you 
weren't."  God, it is just unbelievable that we are talking like this.

"Well, that's been a part of my life's struggle.  I was in a marriage that I 
should never have gotten into.  Being in the construction business, surrounded 
by masculine men, I let that keep me in the closet.  Yet, I've always loved 
developing my physique.  It was only a few years ago that I saw how men were 
drawn to me for my body.  I was into that for a long time.  That got pretty old 
after a while.  So when I saw your web-site and then met you, I knew something 
was really different."  He said all of that with a sense of relief.

Never one to miss a leadership opportunity, I asked him "I'll forgive you if you 
forgive me.  Deal?"  I jumped back in surprise as he leaped out of his chair and 
bolted over to me.  He threw his huge arms around me and damn near crushed me in 
a wonderful suffocating bear hug.  I could just barely get my arms around his 
lower chest but I squeezed him as hard as I could, too.  We just held each other 
tight, nestled in each other's shoulder and neck.  I couldn't believe this 
wonderful guy - inside and out - was hugging me as if he would go on forever.  I 
couldn't believe that I, finally, had a chance to show him just a little of what 
I have been feeling towards him.  

"So," he said, "who's gonna fire whom?  Do I fire you or do you fire me?"  We 
pulled back a bit from the bear hug and looked in each other's eyes.  I said,  
"How about if we both agree to fire each other?"  "Done!" he announced with 
great finality.  

He wasn't stopping.  "Now, what do we do?"   I wasn't missing a beat either.  
"First, let's close up these notebooks.  Then, I'm going to invite you to lunch 
in a very private cozy spot here in the club.  Then, we can decide where we go 
from here.  How does that sound?"  I was pretty enthusiastic at this point.   
"You're on!" he said definitively.  

While we held each other and looked into each other's eyes, I told him how much 
I appreciated his honesty and his courage.  Without thinking, I gave him a light 
kiss on the lips.  He gave me one back.  I was in heaven, truly.  

We packed up our stuff and went to the club's café and found a table off to the 
side.  We had a wonderful time at lunch.  It was like two floodgates had opened.  
He told me about how he'd always struggled with looking so masculine and knowing 
inside he was gay.  We both agreed that is just great to be masculine, love 
masculine men, and have a heart that was bigger then the stereotypical male.  We 
shared our coming out stories and laughed over how many men and how much muscle 
had been part of our passions.  

Towards the end of lunch, I got very bold and thought out loud,  "Russ, I was 
wondering if we might like to spend some more time together today?"  "I'd like 
that.  I didn't schedule much for the rest of today, thinking I'd be wiped from 
a half-day of coaching with you!" and he laughed.  Then I thought to myself that 
we might both be wiped this afternoon for other reasons.  "We could use the 
fitness center, and enjoy the saunas and steam-baths," I offered somewhat 
hesitatingly.    "That sounds good to me," he said.  

Then, the moment of truth arrived.  I had a very fast debate in my head and then 
said, "There is another option too.  I don't mean to be too forward, and my 
apologies if I come off too strong, but I could easily reserve one of the great 
overnight guest rooms in the club for us this afternoon, at least."  Damn, that 
was a mistake the moment it left my mouth, I thought.  

"No problem.  I like your directness, too, Steve", he countered.  "Actually, I'd 
just as soon skip the fitness center and see if we can get one of those rooms 
now."   Being a little gun-shy over my initiative, I asked,  "Are you sure?"  
"Look, I've been thinking a hell of a lot about you, too.  So I think the room 
is a great idea, Coach!" and he laughed.  My immediate thought was that he was 
far more of a coach in the sex department than I was.  "Maybe we can mix some 
coaching in with other things," he said with a sly smile.

My cock was now as hard as a rock and pushing hard to get down my pant leg.  I 
knew I didn't need to think about going home to the Colt Cream.

Was all of this a surprise?  It was more like a shocker, a wonderful one.  Was 
it all in a big package?  Not only was it in a beautiful, massive, muscular 
package, but there was a huge heart there as well.  I couldn't have asked for 
more!



This is my second muscle-sex story.  Constructive comments welcomed.  Flames and 
spams ignored.  Steve at dickgib@starpower.net.




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