The G - Part 4

The G

Part 4

The Letter

Sure enough, it didn’t. 

We left the gym as it was, clothing and equipment strewn everywhere, cum and sweat absolutely drenching that last weight bench, and hit the showers. They didn’t help, however, for hot water did nothing to cool our mutual passion. He went to the showers first, and not surprisingly, used the huge corner stall. I followed immediately behind him, marveling as I watched his back, ass, and leg muscles bunch and roll in the most fantastic interplay of musculature imaginable. 

Things really got quite obvious once you knew the reason they were made that way. I always thought the shower stalls were done hastily, for all were the same width except the corner one, which was far wider, but just narrow enough that two stalls would have been too narrow in it’s place. Of course, once Joe stepped in, it was quite obvious why it was built that way. 

Soon the hot water was flowing over both of us. I stayed behind him, taking what felt like mere seconds to wash off our combined cum, so fast I was again challenging the concept of dexterity. I was almost full-mast again as I started soaping up his massive back, while he started on his gargantuan chest. But I soon got stuck going down to his ass, tracing the graceful curves and deep striations of that absolutely gargantuan muscle butt with my sudsy fingers. 

He sported a pump the likes of which had never been seen before. His arms were pushed wide by his lats, which were in turn pushed back by his triceps, so the top of them jutted out towards me. I started kneading those incredible bulges. They were so huge and so hard! It took real effort to move on, and I finally managed to do so. He moved his arms as he was soaping himself and it made all sorts of new bulges appear and move under his flawless and unblemished skin. I forced myself to move my hands downwards, but it didn’t help — I was getting hotter and hotter, going down that impossible curve towards his lower lats, jutting, not thinning out at all. Then, suddenly, as my hands felt down two huge pillars of muscle on his lower back, they reached the spectacular globes of his ass, hard and writhing as he moved, and in one second more, my cock was up his ass-crack and the head between those pillars of muscle, my chest pressing into the bulges of his upper back, my arms barely reaching under his arms around him, and there were four hands on his huge pecs, stroking, and my lips on his traps, licking, kissing, and nibbling at their astounding size and hardness. He let out a breath, a sound full of passion and concentrated power. And soon our hands went down and up, exploring, my left on his left nipple, his right over his right pec, my right down getting stuck in the bulging abs, his left helping it over to touch his thigh. Then we would move and twist a little, sending waves of passion crashing into each other, and my hands moved to touch his arms, his to reach my thighs, lathering each other with our bodies. It was like breathing fire, while he flexed every part I passed over. Huge bulges ballooned out even bigger, or jumped up forming fantastic cords and cables, and as he moved I felt everything down to the faintest shudder on my chest, my belly, my cock, my thighs. 

Then, suddenly, he turned around and picked me up by my ass, lifting me until my muscular legs were wrapped around the narrowest part of his tight and muscular midsection. The next thing I knew, his passion-engorged man meat was wedged between us, and I was licking the massive, swollen head as best I could, wrapping my lips around as much of that enormous bulb of meat as possible, and despairing that I would never be able to fit more than a portion of that gorgeous, glorious glans inside my mouth. Joe then started lifting me up and down over his hot and bloated meat, pumping up his already heroically swole chest and abs, the bulges and ridges rubbing against my own cock. I went from cock to his face, his neck, his hair, licking and kissing, as he jacked himself off with my whole body, feeling his cock with my hands and tongue alternately, fleeting moments of touch given to his pumping shoulders, triceps, and biceps. I desperately wanted to suck him, but I couldn’t, probably not even when he was completely limp, but certainly not now. 

“You’re growing…” I moaned. It was like a signal, and with my whole body I felt his cock really grow as he began cumming, his breath briefly stopping, and then becoming a deep growling sound that I felt rumble through his chest as he exhaled slowly, his eyes closed. He came with four slow, languid convulsions, and four utterly gargantuan gushes of hot cum, each containing nearly a quart of his incredible male essence! 

Then I came again, short, shocking, and blissful, shooting a surprisingly large wad of white liquid into the impossibly deep crevice between his abs and chest. Our juices flowed, slowly flushed by the hot water, and I could feel my feet touch the ground again. As soon as they did, his hands went up over my back and around me, hugging me tight as we kissed once again, our bodies pressed as tightly to one another as possible, his huge organ, still swollen, trapped between us. 

A short time later, he was gently toweling off the water from my body, from head to toe, before toweling himself dry, and we were in the locker room once again. I just looked at him in wonder, just like the day before when we had first met. He was pumped up so incredibly huge, more than ever, and as he moved, that little bit of rational thought I’d managed to regain registered that it showed, a strange and obvious loss of range of movement, and a stance which would look funny and overdone on anyone but him. He finished the job of drying us both off, and we both went upstairs to his bedroom — he with that incredible coordination of his, now only slightly hampered, and I, following, still basking in the glow of recent sex.

He came in first, and I almost collapsed onto the bed as soon as I could feel it in front of me, still holding the towel he dried me with a minute ago. He switched on the lights and I noticed I actually barely missed the low wall. The small but powerful lights shone above the mirror wall, and he stood there, in front of it, looking at his reflection. He twisted a bit to the right, and then back again, his stunning oblique muscles creating a kaleidoscope of fantastic movement. 

“This feels so good…” he said.

“Huh?” I replied, my mind still in a stupor of lust and afterglow, while he moved to face the mirror head on. 

“Just look at me, Dave! I’m so pumped up! My skin feels so tight and I love it! It’s like it’s four sizes too small!” he said, both amazement and lust coloring his own deep voice. The bright light now showed him in all his naked glory, and I realized he’d just seen himself for the first time since his workout. I’d had lots more time to get used to him in this over-pumped state he was in, not that I’d had any great success in that department, as my aching loins could testify. He shifted slightly, and felt the skin of his right biceps with his left hand, his fingers going back and forth over the veins, which now, under the light, looked to be bulging even more. He took special attention at what could only have been a stretch mark, barely visible, but there, and another one in the deeply chiseled crevice between his pec and shoulder. 

“I haven’t had such a pump… ever!” he said incredulously. He shifted his weight and flexed his pecs ever so slightly, just making their huge bulk bounce under the skin, which really looked tight to the point of pain, looking thinner than paper. He turned so he had a side view and brought his arm down, but didn’t flex. His titanic mass of his triceps stood out nevertheless, a huge gob of muscle hanging there, defying gravity with its impossible bulk. 

“Oh yes, this feels sooo good…” he kept on saying in a sigh that was becoming a mantra. He was getting off on himself, and it made my blood churn, and his also, for his cock was swelling up again. He turned to face the mirror and flexed his thigh, which jumped up from several staggeringly huge groups of muscle into the same muscles, but only bigger, with dozens of new cords exploding all over them. It made his cock bounce from thigh to thigh as it neared horizontal, the hard on in progress as evident as the enjoyment on his handsome face. I couldn’t believe the insane amount of strength that must have been required of his mighty groin muscles to lever well over three feet of the thickest, beefiest cock imaginable into the air like that, and even as I watched mesmerized by the sight, Joe’s cock kept inching higher and higher. 

He lifted his goliath right arm up and bent it over, which made his biceps again become a huge, but still not flexed, ball, which he then felt over with his other hand, watching himself in the mirror. He noticed me ogling and I could see his realization that there was no reason for holding back. He looked at my reflection. Then he glided down over his pecs and his abs with his left hand, still holding his right up, reached his crotch, and lifted his monster cock, huge with his engorged blood, with that slide-under-and-lift motion, which only someone of his monstrous endowment would have needed. Then he flexed his biceps and started stroking his cock, which I could see getting more rigid by the second, while he continued staring right at me. His biceps, now in a proper one-armed biceps pose, was something I’ll never be able to get over, that impossible shape and super-human size. 

In a split second, I was beside him, and my hand replaced his, stroking his cock. He was getting off on himself, I was getting off on him getting off on himself, and he was getting off on me doing that. 

“Now you can flex properly,” I said, stroking his humongous cock very, very slowly. Both hands free now, he went into a full double biceps, flexing up slowly. First his magnificent abs practically extruded themselves what looked like two inches forward, and then his thighs went huge and rigid with almost a snap, his gargantuan calves following. Then he lifted his mind-blowingly enormous chest, and slowly brought his lats out as far as he could, which was inhumanly far — it looked like they would bulge all the way out to his elbows! — flexing his pecs at the same time. And then his arms went ballistic, muscles swelling larger and larger until his impossible biceps peaks reached almost to his fists, and his triceps bulged down trying to meet the bulges of his lats. I started stroking him only slightly faster at this point, but gradually increasing my speed as we both become more and more turned on by Joe’s unbelievable musculature. His cock throbbed visibly, with his slow but mighty heartbeat. As if he was reading my mind, he undid his fists and his fingers easily reached down to touch and stroke the peaks of his mammoth biceps. I could tell he was flexing for all he was worth, a suppressed groan coming from him. I could see his abs moving up and down as he stopped holding his breath and was starting to breathe, more deeply by the second. 

He relaxed a little and then went into a front lat spread, his lats filling the space between his arms and his torso completely. I was now stroking with all I was worth, feeling through all the numbness my cock becoming rock hard again, looking like a permanent bruise, an angry purplish red, matched by the even darker purplish blue of my poor overused bull balls. Joe’s own cock was slick from what looked like a torrent of precum, an amount that was even more incredible considering the number of times he had already cum. He was now moving his crotch in the same slow rhythm, in the opposite direction of my stroking, fucking my hands, which barely reached enough around of the impossible thickness of his pole to hold it. His cock was rigid enough to rival the tensile strength of a steel beam, but it hadn’t yet achieved its full length, staying small enough to let his velvety foreskin glide unimpeded over the massive cock head. I stroked him up and down, deep strokes going almost a foot in length, slow, holding his cock to the side, so that he could face the mirror while I stood sideways. 

He kept looking at both our reflections and my eyes kept darting back and forth between a real super-pumped monster muscleman and another one, in the mirror. He went into a most muscular pose, slowly, drawing out the motion for both of our benefits. It made his pecs and shoulders blow up into cords and cables and veins until the skin turned red, and I felt the inevitability of cumming, not now, not yet, but it looked like my whole body was going to cum and it was bracing itself. 

Then, all of a sudden, he changed his mind and shifted, kneeling his right knee on the floor in a novel side pose, and I moved over, holding his cock straight up in front of him. He kept his eyes on his reflection in the mirror, and I looked straight at him. Then he started doing it, and I felt I was going to cum, although I had to have been completely dry, utterly drained and spent with all the previous sex. I have no idea how I remained standing, but I didn’t cum the moment I knew what he was going to do, because I felt like a huge, hot steel ball was wedged and stuck between my balls and my asshole. As if the size of his pecs wasn’t enough, when he breathed in fully, it made him attain a shape never before conceived of on this earth. He knew I wanted to see that once more, but he decided on teasing me instead.

He breathed in, expanding his chest a little, and then breathed out, but not fully, and breathed in and out again, the same way. It made his chest heave and expand more and more with every cycle, growing steadily larger each time. He held his arm under his protruding pecs, flexed, but soon there was going to be no space for his chest to expand. I started stroking him faster, and started stroking myself as well, although I was so numb that the feeling was totally different and strange. His cock arced straight up from his crotch, which he pushed out as far as it would go, while he leaned backwards as far as possible to still be able to keep the balance. He let his arms down, and then brought his elbows apart, and his chest kept on ballooning outwards, sideways and upwards as he continued with that breathing of his, looking at himself inflate in the mirror. I thought I was going to jump out of my skin, stroking like a maniac as his chest went higher and higher. And then he started stroking it, still keeping his elbows up simply to be able to keep it expanding and keep on stroking. I knew he wanted my juice all over his gargantuan pecs, and I kept on jacking myself off faster and faster, and him unevenly but slow. It went on and on until I thought he reached the maximum capacity of his lungs, his face flushed, but the steel ball in my gut didn’t go away, it only became larger and harder and more painful, and he continued sucking air into him and flexing until his face was a purple that was verging on blue. He kept looking at the mirror, his pecs so high now he could probably not have seen the tip of his cock, which hadn’t quite attained its full yard-plus-long length but looked to be only a few inches shy of its maximum size. 

And yet he STILL stroked and tried to inhale more, until there were huge veins over his pecs, and his breastbone and ribs protruded through the huge mass of the muscles, and even his cobblestone abs were distended slightly. He looked like his chest was a huge balloon under enormous masses of muscle, ready to explode any second, ripping his chest open down the deep  crevice between his pecs. I looked in the mirror and saw on his face an almost pleading look, like he was begging me to stop exactly that from happening, and the side view of his body showed he had really inflated himself up with the air in his lungs until looked like he could burst! I cried “Oh my goooooo…!!” and the white hot ball in my guts shot out of my cock in the form of a single massive burst of cum, which seemed to me like it lasted half a minute, splashing and slashing all over the hyper inflated size of him. Where I found the cum, I’ll never know, for its seemed utterly impossible that my poor abused balls could have held even a single sperm cell inside of them by this point, let alone enough studly jizz to make the greatest porn star weep with envy. And this was my ELEVENTH orgasm in under 24 hours, by far a personal best! 

Joe closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as I hosed him down, his chest trying to expand even further and his body trying to flex at the same time. Then I felt his cock cock literally flex with the vast amount of cum that was passing through it, and I managed to grip it right below the head, squeezing as strongly as I could with both hands, bringing my lips as far as possible over the huge head of his cock. He let his breath out with a roar so loud and thunderous that I thought it would bring the building down. I felt his cum jet into me with such force that I choked and damn near drowned. I tried to swallow, but Joe’s cum was blasting out so hard and in such enormous amounts that I could only guzzle a fraction of it. I was coughing and retching as much as I was swallowing, some of his hot and sticky cum spraying up and out of my nose. It burned like hell, but that didn’t matter, for I was in heaven.

There was a roar in my head, an echo of his own, and then I came to. My guts felt warm and pleasantly full, and as I looked down, I realized that my muscular belly was looking somewhat distended again, this time with how much of Joe’s insanely thick and hyper abundant baby batter that I’d just consumed. I doubt that I had managed to swallow even half of that titanic load, though, for the man’s gargantuan cock and goliath bollocks were positively coated with the jizz that had escaped my hungry mouth. 

Joe’s mammoth cock was finally starting to soften in my hands, so I let it slip down onto his body. He had collapsed backwards in the midst of his mind-shattering orgasm, so that his mighty cock now sprawled sideways, soft but still huge, draped over his huge half-bent legs. His knees were in the air and splayed open wide, allowing me a gorgeous view of his utterly massive, sperm drenched testicles, which rested heavily on the wood floor, temporarily spent. His humungous arms were stretched out to his sides, his huge hands still half clenched as the aftershocks of his heroic orgasm still rocked his mighty loins. 

His chest heaved up and down as he worked to regain his breath. His handsome, dark-haired head rested on the floor, but his upper back muscles were so incredibly thick and huge that his neck had to bend backwards for his head to touch the floor, such that he was almost looking backwards instead of up at the ceiling. His pale skin looked almost translucent in the bright light, and shone with sheen of sweat, globs of my most recent orgasm painting large white stripes across the vast expanse of his magnificent pecs. 

I got on all fours and managed to get the oversized bath towel from the bed. It was still damp, which was perfect for my purposes. I crawled to the huge superman sprawled on the floor and started wiping off my juices and his sweat. Joe’s sweat held almost no odor at all, smelling surprisingly fresh and clean with just a hint of manly musk that made me want to lick the sweat off of his warm skin. All the while, he kept looking straight up, not seeing, not moving. 

I slowly toweled every inch of him I could get at, occasionally kissing his warm skin as I did so. I finished with his huge balls and his cock, which for once remained soft, draped lazily over his left hip and sprawled across the floor. I spent extra time on those massive coconuts between his legs, really exploring them for the first time. I cannot say enough how unbelievably huge his balls were, very nearly as massive as his recently flexed bicep muscles, and almost thrumming with raw male power. I had to lift his balls one by one to clean the sweat and cum from their under and back sides, and their weight was simply staggering, for they were even heavier than they looked! I eagerly looked forward to playing with those two titanic testes again in the near future, and worshipping the wellspring of this most remarkable super stud’s awe-inspiring masculinity. 

“Thanks!” he whispered, raising his head to look up at me for a moment before letting it fall back to the floor again. It sounded like his voice was pretty much gone after that ground shaking shout. I stumbled and finally struggled back onto my feet. I swear I could hear my joints squeaking in the process. I quickly realized that there was no way I could use the same towel on me. I couldn’t believe how soaked and gloopy it was, particularly from all of the jizz that I’d wiped off of his groin.

I have only a hazy memory of how I got to the bathroom. My first real recollection was flushing my mouth, my face soaked in the water. I lifted up and saw death warmed over in the mirror, and then realized it was me. I looked literally drained, dark circles under my faded eyes. I stayed that way a while, for it took time to gather enough strength even to move a little. The pain in my crotch filtered through the haze of sex, and pure, blissful exhaustion. I was so tired that the pain didn’t even register properly. 

I glanced down at my tortured genitals. I still looked almost hard, but I was totally soft, just swollen and distended from irritation and overuse. The skin of my cockhead looked like a balloon that was pumped to the point of near bursting, but then deflated, all crinkly and shriveled. The cockhead looked as large as when it was hard, or at least what I remember it looking when hard, and the shaft looked like one big bruise. My balls hung low and swollen, bigger than I’d ever seen them before, and they hurt with a stabbing pain every time I moved. I managed to move enough to dry myself off, although by that time my standards for dryness were pretty low. I was winding down and I noticed with a start I was almost shaking with every move. I started my slow journey back to the ‘bedroom’. 

When I finally got there, Joe was already sprawled on the bed, holding one arm over his cock, which stretched over his abs and into the phenomenally deep crevice between his colossal pecs. He was already sleeping with an expression of an angel, and he was so beautiful it almost made me cry. His chest rose and fell with his slow, rhythmic breathing, and I could see that he was exhausted as well. I found the light switch, used it, and lay down beside him, nuzzling up against his mammoth body and feeling his amazing heat loosen up my own exhausted form. Guided by some unknown spirit in the dark, I kissed him on his big, prominent chin, not being able to resist that sudden urge. 

I put my head on his mammoth chest, using one of those huge muscles as a pillow. The second I did that, he moved his other arm and wrapped it around me, releasing a contented sigh. Joe’s colossal arm was warm and reassuringly heavy, and I put my arms around it, clutching it to me. I listened to the slow, ponderous rhythm of his heart and let myself slip away… 

********

I opened my eyes some indeterminate time later. 

Early morning daylight peeked in through the blinds again, and at first I found that I could not move. Sensations seeped in through the morning drowsiness, and I realized I was lying face down atop his massive body, one of his arms draped across the middle of my back, our legs tangled together below. He was wonderfully warm, and his entire torso heaved with his slow and steady breath. He slept like a baby even with my heavy weight on top of him, apparently not at all affected that I was there. 

I slowly moved to release his hold, and it wasn’t easy. He was so impossibly huge, and his relaxed arm was so phenomenally huge and heavy, that I felt nearly trapped beneath its great weight. I finally managed to roll down from him — a sizable height, for he was simply enormous — and I ended on the bed with a muffled thud. I hurt all over, for yesterday’s exertions were presenting their price today. 

I looked around to find something that could tell me the time. All seemed quiet except for the muffled sounds from the railway station nearby. I managed to stumble onto my feet and looked out through the parted blinds. I could make out the station building with its old facade in the middle distance, and I could see that the clock tower read just before six. With a start, I realized that the gym would be opening in an hour, and that the front door was still locked and half the floor was covered in buckets of cum! 

The next I knew, I was in the bathroom, and I managed to sort myself out in about two minutes. Although I just had to stop to look at the toilette bowl, which was, not surprisingly, built into a block of concrete and heavily reinforced. Even supermen needed to take care of the physiological needs, I thought, a smirk on my face. Well, at least it reassured me the last two nights were real. 

While Joe still lightly snored, I snuck down to the gym, naked and shivering, and tried to find my clothes that got stripped off yesterday. It wasn’t yet very easy to move, and I could almost feel my joints squeaking. I wondered what the colossus upstairs would feel like when he woke up, after last night’s mighty workout followed by… well, certainly the wildest sex I had ever had. First I found some torn and shredded rags, and realized those were the remains of Joe’s sweatpants. It took a while to recognize them as they were made in a way no one else would have needed them to be, with long zippers at the sides. This was no wonder, for the guy’s waspish waist was far smaller than even one of his massive thighs. Joe even challenged the art of tailoring with his stupendous size! 

I found my crumpled t-shirt soon after, and then my discarded shorts and shoes. There was a long stain on the front of my shorts that could have only been my dried precum and possibly more, but they would have to do for now. I put on my clothes again, happy for their limited warmth in the somewhat chilly room. The smell of cum was still heavy in the air. I switched on all the lights and went to the locker room. I knew where old Matilda kept her brooms, mops, and other cleaning regalia, so I gathered them and set to work. 

It took me the better part of an hour to clean up the enormous mess of cum we’d made the night before. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but Joe’s herculean cum shots had splashed and shot and strewn about in over a dozen feet in every direction, centered around the weight bench we’d used for our night of passion. Most of that cum had dried, but some of the largest slugs were still wet and gooey, so it took a lot of elbow grease to clean it all up. The worst was scrubbing the dried cum out of the floor mats. God, that monster upstairs really came in pints, quarts, and gallons, I thought, and I must have had a grin of a Cheshire cat on my face. 

I remembered to check the showers as well, washing down the walls of the big corner stall, where even more of Joe’s cum had made large crusty stains all over the pale tiles. But soon enough, I had mopped and cleaned up the vast bulk of the mess, and the air now longer reeked of sperm and sex. I switched off the lights again, as there was daylight enough outside, and began the heavy work of disassembling those impossible bar-dumbbells of his. He had some sort of screw-on plate retainers, which he screwed on so tightly I had to use a wrench to get them loose. But I soon had those heavy bars once again stashed inside of his heavy duffel bag, and ready for me to hoist them back upstairs. 

Finally, I remembered the magic key that was still in the outer door, together with the key to Joe’s personal locker. Racing against the clock now, I tidied up the rest of the gym as best I could, unlocked the front door, and stashed Joe’s gloves and other gear back into his locker, locking it when I was done. Then I remembered I had my old work pants stashed in my locker and quickly changed my current apparel, for even my used work pants were clean compared to what I was wearing now. Just as I was closing my locker, I heard a car pull into the parking lot out front. It must have been the manager, as the wall clock was nearing 7 a.m.. I hurried it up and closed the back door behind me, Joe’s extremely heavy duffel bag slung over one of my straining shoulders. I then hurried up the stairs and back into Joe’s apartment. 

I found him sprawled on the bed, still with that serene look on his devastatingly handsome face. I opened the blinds slightly, if only to be able to see him better. His enormous right forearm was under his head, acting as a very adequate pillow. God, he was just enormous, and I couldn’t get over it! His cock was sprawled straight down between his slightly spread thighs, completely flaccid but still impossibly huge. His narrow, muscular waist was up in the air, acting as a bridge between his immensely thick torso and his tight, muscular hips, which were lifted by his ultra-muscular glutes and his incredible thighs. He slept naked and without a bed sheet, which was no wonder — I now knew that his magnificent physique gave off so much heat that he likely only needed bed sheets and blankets in the depth of winter. His mammoth chest went up and down slowly, very slightly compared to yesterday’s heaving and panting. I almost got hard just thinking of it now. 

I set about making breakfast for the two of us, quietly going about the kitchen. He stirred slightly and sighed, stretching, and then groping around with his arm, not opening his eyes, a childish worried look on his face when he couldn’t find my lying beside him. One just couldn’t connect it with his uber masculine appearance, but it was so sweet I could have kissed him right then. 

He opened his eyes, found me standing across the room, and visibly relaxed, mumbling, “There you are…” I almost choked trying to suppress a laugh, but he stretched again, this time earnestly, which with him meant one couldn’t look away. 

“Mmmm…” he moaned, rolling to the side, and then back. “What’s that delicious smell?” he asked. 

“Oh, nothing special. Just making us some omelets to replenish our strength from yesterday.” I didn’t have a lot of culinary talents, but I knew I could make a mean omelet. I also had juice and water waiting on the table, for I figured we could both stand to replace our fluids from yesterday! 

He stretched again with a contented sigh, his enormous muscles bulging spectacularly, leaving me once again awestruck. He stood up deftly, already looking limber and alert, definitely a morning person. It usually took me longer than that to just open my eyes! He rubbed his large chin, which rasped with stubble, and I remembered my own. I followed him to the bathroom. 

Now, have you ever seen a naked giant take a piss? He just spread his gargantuan thighs and stepped around the toilet. His flaccid cock was so long he just sort of slipped it over the edge of the toilet bowl, the foreskin-hooded cock head hovering just inches above the waterline. I could hear the sound of passing water, sounding almost like a tap turned on high, followed by a happy sigh. You just couldn’t not notice that for the sheer novelty alone! And the shaking off, or should I say squeezing off? I admit that I must have been getting used to him, because if I’d seen this two days ago, I’d probably have passed out on the spot. We took turns shaving and washing in front of the big bathroom sink, and it was so strange having someone else in the bathroom, let alone one so huge I just didn’t know how to move. I was just putting the towel back, when all of a sudden he grinned impishly at me and said, “Last one’s a rotten egg!” And then he ran out with such speed I could almost hear the ‘whoosh.’

When I managed to catch up with him in the kitchen, the biggest omelet I had ever made in my life was already on the table, and he was at it full speed. 

“Oh wow, Dave!” he said between huge bites, “This is really good!” I come from a big family, so I know what it means to be slow at eating, so I happily took a fork and joined him. Man, did it feel good! It must have been a calorie bomb, for I just kept putting everything in I could find, ransacking the huge and well stocked fridge. Clearly both of our bodies needed a ton of sustenance after our marathon day yesterday. 

There must have been four or five pounds in the thing, but it was disappearing fast, mostly by his doing. I was soon satisfied, but he kept on eating until the last atom was gone and the plate was almost clean enough o put back on the rack. 

“Ahhhh… that was sooo good!” he said, and then went over to the fridge, took out a gallon-sized container of milk, and upended it whole in what looked like maybe a dozen huge gulps. I could just watch as it went down, and then he casually popped out the absolutely largest protein container I ever saw and mixed himself a shake with yet another container of milk, and upended that as well. I was left speechless. He turned to me and asked, “Do you want me to get you something?” 

It took me a while to answer, “No, I'm fine…” I could have gone for days on what he had consumed in a matter of minutes. I looked at his body. Were his phenomenal washboard abs of steel slightly distended? That wouldn’t be surprising considering the sheer amount of food he’d just eaten! It was hard to get over looking at him, if for nothing else other than the simple fact that I was not accustomed to watching people having breakfast naked. 

Luckily, the lingering pain in my crotch kept my thoughts away from the overtly sexual. 

He walked back to the bedroom area, his magnificent gluteal muscles rolling majestically as he went, and came back in a few minutes wearing another one of those oversized and baggy sweatpants of his. He sat down across from me, and propped his chin with his hands, elbows on the table. The heavy table creaked loudly in protest. He looked at me with a glow of satisfaction, a boyish grin on his heart-stoppingly handsome face.

“You were fantastic last night!” he said, surprising me. 

“Wha…? No… ME!?!” was all I could say, my voice reflecting how dumbfounded I felt.

“That was the best time I’ve ever had,” he said, an enormous happy smile on his face. He suddenly stood up and, almost whooping, hauled me effortlessly off the chair and into a bear hug, squeezing until I could hear my bones groan. He carried me across the room and we winded up on the huge sofa, me straddling him over the hips. I quickly got into the mood despite the ache in my cock and balls, laying down on top of him and cuddling into his impossibly massive chest, so big it was like an entire world under my hands. 

“I was good!? Me!?! God, you sound like you looked at yourself in a mirror for first time yesterday!” I said, my chin buried in the crevice between his pecs and my hands stroking his closest arm. His head was propped up by his other arm, and he looked into me, again that warm glint in his eyes. I basked in the moment. He sighed, and let his head down, and moved his hand onto my back. I could feel his heart beat as I teased him, rubbing my now smooth chin into the dark hair on his mammoth pec muscle. He stroked my back slowly, which made the huge pectoral swell and ebb with the rhythm of his stroking. I thought how funny this all looked to me, like two lovebirds, a stereotype I always made fun of, but I couldn’t have cared less what other people might have thought about me. It was a feeling of such complete contentment and bliss, and I just immersed myself into it, and it seemed like he did as well. 

“If you only knew what you do to me, Joseph…” I began, and he chuckled, making my head bounce slightly. His breathing was slow and rhythmical, and he stopped his stroking, his hand nestled on my lower back, just over my ass. 

“You are just…” I started, but realized I didn’t have words. I shifted a bit and played with the soft, short hair on his mounded pecs.

The last two days had been a puzzle, and I simply couldn’t get over that. He was like a god and compared to him I felt so insignificant, and yet for some reason he seemed to like me. Like really like me! He was all my wildest dreams and fantasies rolled into one person, and he was so huge and so strong, so handsome and so hung — he was superman in every respect. But at the same time he was so gentle and kind and caring to me, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. I felt the guilt in even pondering this, straining to savor the moment for as long as it lasted, trying not to think about when it would end. I knew I was a hopeless realist, and it saddened me to think about it now. For all that I knew that I was an alpha male of the highest caliber — handsome and muscular and gorgeously well hung — Joe Fiedler was something far beyond the normal bounds of humanity. He could have chosen anyone, or any number of people, but for some reason he’d chosen me. I had never been the religious sort, but I silently thanked the man upstairs in my thoughts, hoping that he would allow this to last for at least a little while longer, and that I would be thankful for every second that I could have with him. It seemed so unfair I was even thinking such thoughts but, after all, I knew that nothing as perfect as this could last… 

“Why did you wait for me Saturday evening?” I finally heard myself vocalize that nagging thought, that question that had perplexed me since we’d met two nights before. My own voice startled me, and I looked up. He didn’t move. I waited for a reaction, but it didn’t come. His huge chest just kept on rising and falling, slowly, rhythmically. I propped myself up, carefully, and saw that Joe was fast asleep, his face so peaceful and content. I almost laughed at the thought that came — great, now I know how interesting I really am — but at the same time I felt comforted as well. I let my head down onto him, continuing my pondering, looking through the window at the sunny morning outside. 

Then I noticed there was a clock display on that fancy music system of his, and it showed 10:20. 10:20!?! OH SHIT!

I quickly broke contact, moving off of Joe’s slumbering form in a flash. Shit, shit, and double shit! I was supposed to be at old Kelloway’s place fixing the damned press controller! I had already completed half of the job and taken the money, so he might be really mad if I didn’t show up on time to complete the work. I had ten minutes to get there, and I still had to go home to get into some proper clothes and take my tools and… oh shit. No phone. I moved as fast as I could. It was so difficult to leave, but I was brought up with a very strong work ethic. As much as it pained me to leave Joe’s side, I had to fulfill an obligation to my client. 

When I had thrown on my clothes and was ready to leave, I paused for a long moment and just looked at his indescribably handsome face. You don’t even know what you already are to me, I thought, looking at him with a bittersweet and aching need. I was so sad I was going to leave without a word, but waking him up somehow seemed more wrong. So I found a pen on his desk and hurriedly scribbled a message, why I was leaving, my address where I was staying in town, my cell phone number, and that I’d be back in the evening. If he would have me, I thought, a ball of uncertainty making itself known in my stomach.

Joe never stirred the whole time, the rhythmic breathing of his peaceful sleep threatening to mesmerize me and root me in place yet again. 

With a final effort, I padded to the door and let myself out, the sound of the latch clicking having an element of such finality about it. I forced myself not to think about that and ran to my parked car, rushing home to quickly change clothes, grab my cell phone, and rush off to the Kelloway’s business. Amazingly, I was only 15 minutes late. I apologized profusely to Mr. Kelloway, but the kindly old gentleman didn’t even seem to have noticed, just smiling and patting me on my broad back, and thanking me for helping repair his machines. 

The work day went by with surprising slowness, as I kept getting distracted with my recollections from the previous 36 hours and my almost overwhelming desire to rush back to The G and jump into Joe’s huge arms. Hell, I’m amazed that I didn’t electrocute myself, as I think I spent more time concentrating on my near constant boners than the work in front of me! My whole body throbbed with a not unpleasant ache, particularly my well plowed ass and my ridiculously overused and abused genitals, constant reminders of the incredible two nights I had just spent with a true muscle god. As tired and achy as my body felt, though, I realized that very few other men could have kept up with Joe last night, or even survived our Olympian lovemaking, and realized not for the first time how grateful I was that I was built like such a big and strong ox myself. 

But in time, I completed my work and said goodbye to a grateful Mr. Kelloway. It was late in the afternoon by then, so I rushed home, showered with incredible speed (trying not to remember another recent shower), and got into some proper clothes — a nice polo shirt that really accentuated my broad shoulders, big arms, and beefy chest, and a pair of dark blue jeans that really hugged my muscular ass. A glance in the mirror confirmed that I looked sexy as hell, boosting my somewhat flagging confidence that muscle god Joe Fiedler would indeed want to see me again. 

I was just about to leave my apartment when my cell phone rang. It was the office number from The G. 

“Hi, Grady here,” said the gym manager on the other end of the line. “Mr. Fiedler left an envelope for you here, and told me to tell you that he’s sorry that he cannot see you this afternoon. But listen, I’ll just leave the envelope on my desk here, and you can swing by whenever you get a chance to pick it up, okay?” 

I must have mumbled something in the affirmative before hanging up the phone. I was trying not to think the worst, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was feeling crestfallen. Actually, broken hearted may have been a more accurate description. It was looking like my worst fears were coming to pass, and that Joe was having second thoughts and didn’t want to see me again after all. My stomach felt queasy with that butterfly feeling, and I grabbed my keys and rushed out the door, racing back over to the gym so that I could find out the contents of this mysterious envelope. 

When I got there, no one paid any attention to me as I went into the manager’s office, but even more importantly, I paid no attention to anyone else. The ‘big’ guys were all there, as it was the prime evening workout hour, but I couldn’t have cared less. Big — that simple three-letter word — had an altogether different meaning now. 

I found the envelope on Grady’s desk and virtually ripped it open. I ended up with a smaller part in my left hand and a larger part in my right, while, slowly, a check floated down to the floor, spinning as it fell. My heart stopped. I couldn’t believe it. A check?! Was I being paid off, paid to leave?! My legs suddenly felt all wobbly and I had to sit down. The clang of the chair must have been loud as a few people looked towards me through the glass. I felt hot, bitter tears welling in my eyes, and I knew that I was about to start crying for the first time in years. And I was angry, angry at myself for allowing my heart to open, angry at myself for being so trusting, angry at myself for being a fool enough to believe that a godlike creature like Joe would want some mere mortal life me. 

I crumpled the torn envelope in both fists, hot tears streaming down my face, and that’s when I felt it — something hard and sharp in my right hand. I opened it up and tore through the manila paper and found a key. No, not a key — THE key! 

I reached down and scooped the fallen check off the ground so fast I nearly toppled forward in my chair. The face of the check was blank, but when I turned it over, I saw a short message written in a neat and precise print, saying, “The pool, 10 PM sharp. Wear something… appropriate.” 

I cried again, but this time in joy and overwhelming relief. Part of me was embarrassed at allowing myself to get so emotional about a guy, especially a guy that I’d just met, but the rest of me just ignored that doubting inner voice. I mean, hello, it was Joe Fielder we were talking about here, for crying out loud! 

Laughing at myself, I grabbed a nearly clean gym towel off of the manager’s desk and wiped the tears off of my face. I then collected myself and left The G, careful to not let anyone see that I had recently been crying. I then drove back to my apartment, grinning like an idiot the whole way and feeling like I was on cloud 9. I spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening in my apartment, happily trying on a series of skimpy bathing slips that I owned and checking myself out in the mirror. I cranked my music up loud, dancing around my flat and doing my own Pavarotti impersonation, passing the time until my appointed rendezvous with my beyond big bull. 

At half past 9, I stuffed a big beach towel into my duffel bag, and then threw a t-shirt and shorts over my swimsuit and grabbed my keys. It only took less than 15 minutes to get across town, but I didn’t want to be late. I was just about to run out the door when I noticed the mail that had been slipped through the slot in my door. I’d been playing my music so loud that I hadn’t heard the postman come. I quickly sorted through it all, mostly junk mail and bills, but then I saw a very official-looking letter and knew I’d better open it. 

‘Dear Sir,” it read. ‘We are pleased to inform you that we have found a buyer for your assets. We would like you to attend…’ and then rattled off a time, location, and date not three days hence in New York. Fuck! The timing couldn’t have been more off! It was a letter from my solicitor, and it wasn’t something I could handle remotely — I’d have to show up in person. In fact, I had known that such a letter was likely forthcoming soon, which was why I’d taken this series of short jobs in this small, rural town, so that I could pick up at a moment’s notice and head back to New York. And since my family lived in Upstate, I had already secured a flat out there so that I could make a prolonged visit. I had been so busy with work that I hadn’t seen my parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews in almost four years, so the plan had been to spend five full weeks back east. Time enough to resolve outstanding financial matters and have a long visit with my family before traveling to my next gig. 

My heart sank like a stone as I re-read the letter, and then I turned my face to the heavens and silently cursed the powers that be for sending someone like Joe into my life just when I had personal and business obligations that I couldn’t get out of. At best, I might be able to shorten my New York trip by a week, but that still meant I’d be gone for at least a month. 

I leaned against the wall, banging my head softly on the doorframe, and stayed there for minutes, fists uselessly pressed to the wall. Well, I said to myself, there was nothing for it. I’d have to pack up tomorrow and drive to the nearest airport, which was more than 4 hours away, and then catch the first flight back to New York. Tonight would be my last night with big Joe Fielder, at least for a month. I couldn’t believe that I’d finally found the man of my dreams, and that I was going to have to leave him! I resolved to make the most of my final night in town, not thinking about tomorrow and simply living for today, but I knew that the bittersweet feeling in my chest was only going to get worse the closer and closer it came to dawn…