Showing posts with label mostmuscular. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mostmuscular. Show all posts
Cocky #67 - Art Atlas - The Pectacular Poser (Muscle Fantasy Fiction)
The autumn sun was setting as Grant strode up onto the sidewalk outside of Monzie’s Muscle Shop. It had only been a couple months since his first visit to the theater but it felt like forever and he was full on euphoric to finally make it back.
The last two months of his life had been a never ending buffet of encounters with bodybuilding beef. The unforgettable interactions included his first visit to Monzie’s Muscle Shop, two incredible muscle meetups with Mikey Matz and a multitude of masturbation marathons indulging in all kinds of muscle media from magazines to movies. He’d spent almost every day of the last eight weeks in a continuous state of amorous arousal, and the evening’s outing along with its advertised event only served to edge him up even more.
The streets around the theater were silent and still. The only sound was the muffled thumping of a booming bass that musically matched the meter of his hyped up heartbeat. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk he carefully withdrew a card from his back pocket and flipped it over to peruse the picture on the front of it. The crisp black cardboard reflected the lights of the marquee above him and illuminated the hulking form on the front of it. The photo featured the enormous Art Atlas - aka “The Pectacular Poser.”
Art was an ultra tanned, masculine, meaty muscle head with a penchant for posing, and a trail of top bodybuilding titles to prove it.
“Massive” Mikey Matz had told Grant about him shortly after their last muscle worship session. Every erotic aspect of which was still burned into Grant’s bodybuilder obsessed brain. The salacious way Mikey looked at him when he handed him the card. The way his eyebrows arched, and his luscious lips smiled. The way his white teeth gleamed and his sexy voice sounded, and the way his bicep bulged as his huge hand rested on his hip. Grant had reached for card as he pulled on his pants. It took a few seconds for him to study it as he was inescapably still stuck staring at the Mikey’s massive muscles, and the cum that was still dripping down his pecs, across his hard nipples and down over his rippling abs where it suddenly stopped at the top of his packed pink posing trunks. There it slowly soaked into the satin stitching as the muscle monster’s semi erect domed dong filled up his poser’s pouch, where it strained against the fabric as it struggled to support Mikey’s mammoth meat.
“He’s a friend of mine” Mikey said as he rubbed the cum around on his tanned skin with a towel, massaging into his abs and pecs, “someone who I think you would really like.” Mikey winked and continued, “He’s huge. He’s hung. And he gets off on guys getting off on his body. He also loves to pose.” Mikey threw the towel over one shoulder and placed both his hands on his hips then he nodded towards the card in my hand. “And it just so happens that he’ll be in town next week and I know for a fact he’ll being taking privates.” Mikey smiled seductively as he presented Grant with an abrupt ab and thigh pose with a few hip gyrations added in for good measure. He slowed his rhythmic rolling and purred, “and I know you like a good private.” He punctuated the end of his sentence by grunting loudly and tightening all eight of his abs abruptly!
Grant’s growing erection brought him back to the present. He shifted his expanding hard on with his free hand, allowing it room to grow unimpeded in his jeans. Horned up, Grant’s attention returned to the card; a mini bulletin board advertising a big bodybuilding beast. In the photo, Atlas had close cropped blonde hair and a handsome rugged face. The built bodybuilder was staring directly into the camera; his eyes brimming with a cool, cocky confidence.
Atlas was down on one knee pompously posing like a Greek god. His left hand was grasping his left knee and his other hand was balled up into a fist and rested next to his right thigh. His body bulged everywhere.
He had big boulder shoulders and bowling ball sized biceps. His back was erect, straight up as an arrow. His huge pecs protruded like plush pillows. His gargantuan thick thighs looked liked gilded granite, and his colossal calves resembled classically carved concrete. Every single solitary inch of him was pure meaty muscle perfection. The side of his tight, black painted on posing trunks peeked out over his prominently placed, pumped up quad. Beneath the beautiful behemoth in big, bold gold letters were the whimsical words: “Art Atlas, The Pectacular Poser!” and a reminder - “One Night Only.”
Grant slowly slid the card back into his back pocket as he walked into the lobby of the theatre. Like the last time he had been there it was dimly lit and deserted. The glowing television screens on the far back wall greeted him with their familiar harmonious humming and their displays of erotic images of musclemen in several states of undress performing powerful and provocative poses. Grant’s now rigid hard on raged. It was stiff and swollen. Grant put his hand in his pocket and rubbed the head of his firm phallus through the fabric. He could feel a drop of dampness as a minute amount of precum dripped out of the tip.
Grant’s feet sunk subtly into the plush red carpet that stretched out before him like a royal path to pleasure as he made his way across the lobby. The gold accents on the walls gleamed in the dim light casting intricate outlines on the low ceiling. Grant, wanting to get a great seat, wasted no time and immediately approached the high glossed black doors to the actual auditorium. They were closed but as Grant drew closer he realized for the first time that he wasn’t alone. A muffled but rapturous roar erupted from within. As Grant grabbed one of the golden handles and pulled the heavy door open the previously stifled sound became uproarious. Before him stood a boatload of boisterous bodybuilding buffs. A mass of men into muscle. They were on their feet, clapping and hollering and begging for more.
A tanned blonde bodybuilder in tight pink posers had just finished his stripping set and was edging up the audience one last time with a quick most muscular and a brief double bicep. He then smiled seductively before sprinting off stage.
As the cacophony of catcalls and clapping subsided Grant made his way up the softly lit stairs that snaked vertically along the edge of the outer seats and settled into the last row. It was empty which allowed him to take the centre seat. Once settled, he enthusiastically surveyed his surroundings. He was super excited to see that the dozen rows of seats in front of him sat on a slope providing him with an unobstructed view of the stage. The energy in the room was electric. The music pulsed and the bass boomed. Several spotlights swept around the room and across the empty stage. They were coloured lights in pink and purple and green and yellow and red and blue. They painted the walls and floor in a collection of controlled chaos before finally landing at last on the master of ceremonies to the left of the stage.
The master of ceremonies was Monzie himself of Monzie’s Muscle Shop. He was a built bodybuilder in his own right with a physique just as impressive as his performers’. He was holding a microphone and smiling enthusiastically from ear to ear. His toned, tanned skin glowed. He was wearing a black bow tie, and a tight-fitting sequinned sleeveless vest with tails that sparkled under the stage lights. He was also wearing a pair of shiny black skin tight posing trunks that snugly supported a prominent pouch and hugged his built butt like a second skin.
With a charismatic smile and a deep, resonant voice, he gestured towards the audience encouragingly, "Gentlemen, let's give one more thunderous round of applause for the seductive stripper and muscular “man of the cloth”, the extraordinary… Posing Priest!"
The audience erupted in cheers, the theatre alive with delirious delight. Monzie’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he continued, "This is what Monzie’s Muscle Shop is all about—making all your masturbatory muscle fantasies come true!” He smiled contentedly as the audience roared in agreement. “Well gentlemen, let’s keep this energy going as we welcome our next amazing performer, the man with the massive muscles and a penchant for posing, the muscle stud himself, Mr Art Atlas!"
The lights in the theatre dimmed as the music swelled and the audience erupted again. Suddenly, the sporadic spotlights sprang back to life and showered the stage in a spectrum of saturated splendour. The curtains at the back of the stage then rapidly parted revealing a supersized sexy stud in silhouette. The audience rose. Grant did too. A stunning standing ovation for the bodacious beefcake before his posing performance had even begun.
Grant’s cock pulsated with revivified vigour as Art sexily strode further down the stage with the confidence of a humongous Hercules. He was dressed as a policeman in a form fitting uniform that clung to his muscular frame as if it were custom molded to his muscles. He also wore a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses that completely covered and concealed his eyes. As he strutted to centre stage he confidently carried a large leather bound nightstick.
The crowd erupted in cheers as he stopped suddenly and began his posing performance. Each movement carefully crafted to cockily display his incomparable physique. He dramatically spun the nightstick in the air multiple times before adeptly discarding it. The massive muscle man then stretched one of his legs out to the side, pointed his toe and flexed both his biceps. With a dramatic flourish, he removed his silver sunglasses rapidly revealing his beautiful blue eyes. He smiled too. Next, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. His chiselled chest and undulating abs coming into view to a chorus of guttural gasps and undulating delirious delight.
As Atlas tossed his shirt away, he flexed his pumped up pecs and fervently unfastened his belt with a smirk. He rapidly removed it from its loops with a wave of his arm and let it fly through the air like a sinewy snake. The trousers followed. He tore them away with the seasoned skill of a sensual stripper. He then stood on stage in nothing but shiny packed purple posing trunks that highlighted his powerful legs and gargantuan glutes. The thin double stitched straps strained, just barely supporting his bulging basket.
Thick, striated muscles rippled beneath his sun-kissed skin, His chest was a mountainous range of pectoral peaks, broad and bulky, with a prominent v-shape that led down to his rippling abs. Each abdominal muscle stacked like a slab of solid stone. His obliques were similarly sculpted, tight and toned, tough and taut.
The crowd roared with excitement!
Atlas grunted as he popped his pecs and stomped his foot. With a flamboyant flourish he proceeded to place his hands on his hips, exhale sharply and re-flex his protruding pecs. His sexy smile radiated cocky confidence as he held the pose for several seconds.
Grant’s big boner begged to be brought out into the open as the striking, strutting bodybuilder on stage continued to preen and pose
As Grant sat and stared, Art slowly twisted his torso. He then grasped his wrist firmly with his opposite hand and proceeded to pull his arm up into an eye popping, bicep bulging side chest pose as a sexy smile swept across his handsome face.
Grant could now no longer ignore his own rock hard erection and rapidly unzipped his pants and freed his raging rod. It bobbed about as he released it. He grabbed it greedily and wrapped his fingers around its swollen shaft. He began to pump it as Atlas continued to pose.
The muscle stud on stage angled his muscle bound body away from the ogling audience and proudly presented his built up back and protruding posterior. As he gritted his teeth he tensed his torso and flexed both of his biceps. His entire back blew up like a bundle of beef; well developed and wide and packed with monstrously massive muscles.
Grant’s arousal nearly crested and his cock almost creamed. Its head was fully swollen and its shaft was solid steel!
On stage, Atlas had turned completely around so that his big broad back and gargantuan glutes were on full display.
As he flared his lats and flexed both of his biceps every massive muscle peaked perfectly, and Grant, completely captivated, continued to pump his rigid erection like a powerful piston!
Incredibly, the massive muscleman on stage was far from finished and continued serving up sexy shots of his beefcake bod. He placed both his hands on his hips with his thumbs stretched out across the top of his purple posing trunks. The pressure of their placement pulled the shiny fabric of his posers tight against his protruding posterior. Like a cocky quarterback, he shoved one shoulder forward followed swiftly by the other. His lats responded in kind and they spread out like the billowing sails of a bulked up battleship. He rolled both his shoulders back before slamming them forward once more and fully flaring out the wide wings of his broad back.
Grant moaned and his cock pulsed as drops of precum dribbled down his slick shaft. He felt incredible as he continued to masturbate like a maniac. A maniac for male muscle!
As if on cue, Art slowly spun around. Centering himself, he proceeded to pop his pecs and pose. With lightening speed he leaned forward and flexed; a massive most muscular. His pecs protruded as several striations rippled rapidly across his championship chest and tectonic traps. He gritted his teeth and ground out the pose all while smiling surely.
Grant’s throbbing cock raged! He continued to pump it. Lubricating it with more of his passionate precum as he slid his hand up and down its stiffened shaft. He squeezed it, kneaded it and then repeatedly slapped it against his open palm.
Art pressed on. Posing. He re-twisted his torso and leaned forward. His colossal quad engaged and flared up like a foothill, while its striations rippled downwards like bulging bands of bedrock on a rocky ridge.
As Atlas slowly straightened up he grasped his wrist and brought his enormous arm across his tight torso to the right side of his well developed waist. He curled up his arm and compressed it causing his big bountiful bicep to burst up beautifully. The massive muscle responded by popping up and peaking proudly.
Grant, completely consumed with desire for the mammoth muscleman before him continued to beat his meat. He ran his hand rapidly up and down his hardened shaft and across its swollen head as the superstar on stage strutted over to the side.
Stopping suddenly Atlas stomped his foot and placed both of his hands on his thickset thighs as he coolly contracted his core.
Mid pose, and without warning, a fanatic fan in the audience stood up to take a photo. As if on cue Atlas crunched his core and presented his prodigious pecs all while smiling like a seasoned stud for the camera.
Grant moaned enthusiastically at the sight. He was now coming very close to cumming and craved a rapturous release!
Atlas pumped his pecs! Propelling them to bounce up and down like muscular mounds of meat.
In response, Grant’s entire body tensed up and his glutes began to tighten!
The muscleman on stage wouldn’t stop and struck a side chest pose showing off his monumental mammoth musculature. He cockily capped it all off with a sexy self assured smile.
The muscle stud on stage was now too much for Grant to handle and as his prostate began to pulsate and his hips began to gyrate he suddenly surrendered! With a guttural groan his swollen cock erupted with a torrential blast of cascading cum as semen spurted and splattered out of his pulsating penis. Shot after shot of hot stock soaked his exposed abdomen as he grunted and groaned. His body bucked and convulsed as he continued to shudder for several extended seconds from the intensity of his sustained almost unstoppable orgasm.
As the last trembles settled, the “pectacular poser” presented a final shot of his rock hard rippling abs. With a kiss to the crowd, he turned and strutted towards the back of the stage and into the darkness beyond. His big wide back and glorious glutes on dizzying display as he slowly walked away.
COMMENTS WELCOMED :)
Cocky #45-2 - Mikey Matz - Private Poser! (Muscle Fantasy Fiction)
Mikey Matz - Private Poser (continued) (Part 1 here)
The screen flickered and then faded to black. Anticipation gripped Grant. The momentary darkness of the monitor gave way to a burst of color, and the opening
chords of a powerful anthem vibrated through the speakers. Bold, gold
lettering emerged: “Massive” Mikey Matz, 2-time Mr. Boston and Premiere Private Poser. Grant’s eyes widen as the image of a very massive Mikey Matz, larger than
life, filled the screen. Seconds later, the titillating title faded away and a new image emerged. A button; A golden god with massive muscles and bulging biceps. The words, “Play Video” were painted over his pecs. Grant clicked it…and a video began to play. The video was a calling card of confidence with each pose more
impressive than the last. Mikey's presence was commanding, his attitude
undeniably cocky. Grant couldn't help but sit up straight, erect, his gaze
locked on the sexy spectacle before him.
As the video faded to black, Grant’s excitement began to bubble over. He was hooked, hot and horny. He reached behind him and his fingers brushed against the bodybuilder’s black box. He pulled it closer, the number scrawled on its lid now a beacon of private posing possibilities. With trembling hands, he dialed the number, each beep echoed in the quiet room. The phone rang once, twice, then a click. A deep, confident voice answered, “Yo, this is Mikey…”
COMMENTS WELCOMED :)
Cocky #45 - Mikey Matz - Private Poser! (Muscle Fantasy Fiction)
The first time Grant laid eyes on a copy of a muscle magazine was smack dab in the middle of the sizzlingly hot summer of 1989. The glossy cover boasted a big, broad shouldered bodybuilder with tanned muscles gleaming, his biceps as big as baseballs, his pecs meaty and defined, and his waist tight and toned. His packed blue posers were like a swab of the sky wrapped around his manhood while the thin double stitched straps strained to support his superman sized shaft. Grant was instantaneously and utterly mesmerized and from that moment on a fanatical fan of massive musclemen.
A mountain of muscle mags, and a decade later, he stumbled upon an ad for “Monzie’s Muscle Shop”, a stage show scheduled for that upcoming September featuring a unique blend of bodybuilding and bravado that sexily showcased the pinnacle of the muscular male physical form. Grant, aroused and excited, knew he had to attend.
September the 6th was a Saturday night, and the theater with its mid-century modern minimalism and bright neon lights was the perfect backdrop for what Grant was sure was to be a very erotic and exciting event. The theater was off the beaten path, in an industrial area of the city where no one really went. Grant approached it as the marquee above the sidewalk bathed the street in a golden glow. A promo poster by the entrance immediately and understandably caught his eye. It featured “Massive” Mikey Matz, a two-time Mr. Michigan, showing off his phenomenal physique, a true testament to his years of torturous training.
The poster was striking. A visual feast for the eyes designed to capture the muscular make up of its star attraction. It featured “Massive” Mikey Matz doing a side chest pose in a tight, tiny pair of packed posing trunks, so snug they appear painted on. The posers did an excellent job of emphasizing his well-developed physique and beautiful backside. His bicep, flexed, was bulging as big as a boulder, a testament to his strength, and his service to the gym. The thin straps of Mikey’s white stringer were stretched over his broad shoulders, doing little to cover his massive pecs, which weren't just huge but sculpted with deep striations, highlighting the two mounds of muscle. The oil coating his skin caught the light, giving his tan a glossy sheen that accentuated every curve and contour of his muscles. Mikey’s Italian features, close-cropped black hair, and confident, inviting smile, all contributed to his captivating charisma. The poster was a preview of the performance that awaited inside—a showcase of muscle, movement, and the artistry of bodybuilding.
The neon lights around the marquee danced across Grant’s face, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across it as he studied the poster. Grant snapped a pic of it and stepped slowly into the lobby.
The silence of the abandoned space surprised Grant. The stillness only served to amplify the soft sound of three bright screens on the far back wall. The displays were alive with motion, each cycled through promotions for the evening’s performances. On them, a parade of built bodybuilders flexed and posed, their tight, tiny trunks leaving little to the imagination. Their tanned and cut physiques glistened, enhanced by the screen’s glow, with each muscle group presented to perfection. The bodybuilders moved with a cocky assurance, each flex a testament to their confidence, and the endless hours of hard work etched onto their bodies.
As Grant’s gaze lingered longingly on the screens, something glistened on the first one that quickly captured his eye. A massive musclemen, a terminator in trunks, tossed away his fictitious firearm. In sunglasses and gloves, he spun around. He was brazenly bedecked in a black leather jacket, and a tight, tiny, black pair of posing trunks that clung to his body like a second skin, sculpted and seamless, shiny and slick, accentuating every curve and contour of his gargantuan glutes. The beautiful bodybuilder stripped off his jacket and stood still for inspection. Posed and presented. His back, broad, his quads, huge.
He strutted across the stage as if he was up for auction. Each stride a request for recognition. Each pose a plea for a higher price, and a final bulging bicep displayed for a bigger bid.
Grant felt a thrill of anticipation; the bold bravado and stylish showmanship was no doubt a teaser of the performances that would soon unfold on stage. The sexy show promised to be an unforgettable display of muscle, charisma, and the art of "fantasy flexing".
On the second screen, the dramatic possibilities of a posing performance continued to unfold as a bulging bodybuilder took center stage. He too was a vision of strength and showmanship, and his presence effortlessly commanded attention. With a flair for the flamboyant, he began to gyrate - swinging his hips is a circular motion, his muscular body mimicked his movements. Tanned and toned, cocky and confident.
The muscleman's movements were unrestrained and full of erotic energy. It was a display of raw power, pumpin’ pecs and an unbridled passion for performance. His body moved with a rhythm that was both intimate and intense. His shellacked and shiny blue posing trunks served as a stark contrast to his suntanned skin, which made his performance all the more striking.
The third screen featured yet another captivating clip. A huge, built bodybuilder turned his big back to the camera. He was dressed in camo shorts, a nod to a rugged, battle-ready aesthetic that was no doubt about to give way to something more revealing. With a taunting and teasing motion, he flexed his lats and stripped off his shorts, unveiling the perfect pair of posing trunks. Black, taut and oh soooo tight.
Once inside, Grant found it anything but empty, the seats were filled with eager others. Fellow flex fanatics! All, male muscle mavericks! He chose a spot right in the center, the prime vantage point to take in the spectacle that was about to begin. As he settled into his seat, the reality of the moment washed over him. He was about to witness a show like no other, a celebration of muscle and movement, manliness and meat, and he could hardly wait for the curtain to rise. The stage was set for a spectacle of strength and sexy swagger, and Mikey Matz was going to be at the heart of it. 
The performance had ended, and the air off to the side of the stage was thick with the scent of suntan oil and the sound of heavy breathing. Grant made his way to the edge of the side of the stage, his heart racing. He had never been that close to a bodybuilder before, and the sight of his idol, Mikey Matz, was almost overwhelming.
Grant’s brain began to buzz as “Massive” Mikey stepped into the spotlight, his proud presence commanding attention. Bulging and big. Massive and muscular. The brazen bodybuilder was draped like a dream in a white stringer that hugged his sculpted frame. The letters ‘USA’ were emblazoned across the front of it and they stood out as an accurate endorsement, a true testament to his cocky confidence and national pride. His pink posing trunks, were packed and perfectly presented, leaving little to the imagination. His super human size showcased the results of his relentless and rigorous training routine. Mikey’s eyes gleamed with a mischievous spark as he surveyed the seats in front of him, his stance exuding an air of arrogance as intoxicating as it was arousing. With a sexy smirk, he raised his arms, the muscles rippling like waves of water, his biceps bulging into behemoth boulders. Two twenty tonne twin peaks of pure power.
“You want me to take this off?” he taunted, tugging at his tight tank top, "You want this? You want
this?" his voice boomed from the stage. The men in the crowd responded with a mixture of cheers and challenges. Mikey soaked in their reactions, his ego swelled with
every shout and whistle. He teased them, tugged on the stringer, only
to stop short, which only served to elicited more begging and pleading. The tension was palpable, a
dance of desire and in return, a repeated rebuttal that Mikey orchestrated all-powerfully with the mastership of a muscular maestro. Finally, with a dramatic flourish, he tore the stringer away from his torso and tossed it into the stands. The packed posing pavilion erupted as he launched into a pulsating posing routine.
His muscles flexed and shone under the stage lights, a living sculpture of human potential. He transitioned from pose to pose, each movement a challenge to the posing obsessed posse in attendance to admire him, to envy him, to want to be him. He commanded and cajoled them. “Massive” Mikey was not just a muscleman; he was the perfect performer, a provocateur, a titan in pink posers who knew exactly how to leave a bunch of bodybuilder addicts breathless and constantly coming back for more.
As the routine reached its climactic conclusion, Mikey asked the muscle maniacs if they wanted to see his muscles “one more time?” Biting his bottom lip and pressing his fists into his sides, his packed pink poser prominently presented, he posed. A pec protruding, large and luscious lat spread.
He then proceeded to present his final poses, two most musculars and a smug side serving of his bulging biceps. Grant noted his own basket bulging too. The applause was thunderous, a cacophony of cat calls and adulation which washed over Mikey Matz like a victory chant. He took a bow, flexed a final time and stepped off the stage.
The performance had ended, and the air off to the side of the stage was thick with the scent of suntan oil and the sound of heavy breathing. Grant made his way to the edge of the side of the stage, his heart racing. He had never been that close to a bodybuilder before, and the sight of his idol, Mikey Matz, was almost overwhelming.
Mikey, fresh off the stage, was a vision of victory. His pink posing trunks, set off against his skin, seemed to pulsate with every breath he took. Grant watched, captivated, as Mikey’s pecs rose and fell, the front fabric of his pink posing trunks, big and bulging.
Summoning his courage, Grant approached Mikey, his voice barely above a whisper. “Incredible performance,” he managed to say. Mikey turned, his eyes locking with Grant’s, a second of silence passed and then a knowing smile spread across his face. “Thanks, man,” Mikey replied, his voice a deep rumble. He noticed Grant’s gaze fixed on his arm and, with a playful wink, flexed his behemoth bicep. The muscle peaked, solid and impressive, and Grant felt his knees weakening. Not missing a beat, Mikey stood tall, his eyes still locked firmly on Grant, he punched his fists into his sides and pulled off a sizeable, sweeping lat spread. His back muscles flared out like the wings of a mythical creature, and Grant’s mouth fell open in awe. He was speechless. Mikey started to slowly spin, still holding his lats spread, his back muscles fanned out like the wings of a mighty eagle. His muscles pulsed as he pumped his pecs. Grant was completely captivated by the sheer breadth of him, as every muscle fiber stood up and out in bold relief. Spinning swiftly back around, the mammoth muscleman brought his veiny arms up and folded them into a front double bi, his biceps peaking like bulging boulders. With a confident smirk, Mikey added a subtle gyration of his hips, a playful yet powerful addition to his already impressive display. The pink posers, stretched over his well-defined lower body, left little to the imagination, their contents boldly outlined. Grant still in absolute awe, his eyes drawn to the spectacle before him, steadied himself against the stage. Mikey continued holding Grant’s attention hostage with his commanding presence and cocky charisma. But their interaction was suddenly cut short when a fellow bodybuilder came over, gesturing for Mikey to follow. “Time to get measured for your golden gladiator costume,” the costar said, a hint of candid craving in his own voice. Mikey gave Grant a wink and a nod before being whisked away, leaving Grant in a daze of daunting, delirious desire.
As Mikey disappeared into the flurry of activity, Grant, hard and horned up, spotted a table with forms and pens. It was a sign-up sheet for Mikey’s fan club. With a new found sense of purpose (and pleasure), Grant strode over and filled out a form, his hand steady despite the excitement that was coursing through him. With the form completed, he proudly became part of Mikey Matz’s legion of faithful fans, and he couldn’t wait to see what the future held for him and his new found bodybuilding buddy.
Weeks passed.
The sun was setting as Grant returned home from work one day and there, sitting on his doorstep, was a peculiar sight—a package wrapped in parcel paper. His name was written on it in big, bold, black letters. Curiosity piqued, Grant picked up the package and went inside.
In the solitude of his apartment, he slowly started to examine the package. It was lighter than it looked, but something about it felt significant. The beige wrapping paper crinkled under his fingers as he carefully removed it, revealing a shiny black box beneath. The top of the box was emblazoned with the words “Mikey Matz” in golden letters that seemed to dance under the light, followed by “Boston’s Premiere Private Poser” and a phone number. Grant’s heart skipped a beat. His body started to stiffen. His palms began to sweat and his heart raced. Grant took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and slowly flipped open the lid of the box.
In the solitude of his apartment, he slowly started to examine the package. It was lighter than it looked, but something about it felt significant. The beige wrapping paper crinkled under his fingers as he carefully removed it, revealing a shiny black box beneath. The top of the box was emblazoned with the words “Mikey Matz” in golden letters that seemed to dance under the light, followed by “Boston’s Premiere Private Poser” and a phone number. Grant’s heart skipped a beat. His body started to stiffen. His palms began to sweat and his heart raced. Grant took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and slowly flipped open the lid of the box.
Inside, resting on a bed of black satin, was a business card. It bore the image of “Massive” Mikey Matz, a colossus of a man, muscles rippling as he flexed his lats in nothing but a pair of black posing trunks and a black bow tie.
Grant's excitement grew. On the back of the card, it read, “Mikey Matz, 2-time Mr. Boston” and “Muscle Fantasies are my specialty!” Below that was a website address and a password. Grant was too stunned to speak. This was no ordinary package; it was an invitation to a world he had long admired from afar. Looking deeper, he reached into the box and pulled out a pair of stretchy, silky, shiny black posing trunks. As Grant ran his fingers over the fabric, he was struck by the smoothness that greeted his touch. It’s was like nothing he had ever felt before - supple yet strong, a paradox in textures. The material was cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his hands, and it slid under his fingertips with an ease that was almost fluid. The stretchability of the fabric, especially around the basket, was remarkable. Grant tested it, pulling gently at first, then with more confidence. It gave way beautifully, not straining or warping, but hugging back against his balled up fist as it returned to its original shape. The stitched straps felt like a couple of cords. They were textured, taut and tactile to the touch, with a texture that spoke of quality. The pair of posing trunks smelled of coconut and charisma, and power and pride. A label inside confirmed their original owner: Compliments of “Massive” Mikey Matz.
Moments later, under the dim lights of his apartment, Grant sat himself at his computer, the soft hum of the machine buzzing. His heart raced as he typed. First the website address and then the provided password, a string of characters that felt like the key to another world. The "ENTER" button below, a golden barbell, stacked to the max with weight. He breathed deeply, exhaled completely, breathed in again and...clicked the enter button…
Click the enter button to move to part 2!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)