Date: Tue, 6 Oct 2009 10:38:42 -0700
From: Sean Scott <sean@buffmuscles.com>
Subject: Chad-- Chapter 1

Chad-- Chapter 1

by Sean Scott


I swear the guy could have passed for Mike Matarazzo.  Well, the Mike
Matarazzo of the early `90s when he was in the best shape of his life.  But
this guy was here.  Now.

I had been looking for a used pickup for a few weeks, and my search had
brought me to this used car lot.  It wasn't as shady as most of them are.
In fact the owner was actually the mayor of our small town.  He often hired
young guys from our town, or one of the nearby bigger ones, to sell cars.
He had a reputation as being one of the more reputable dealerships in the
area.

So I don't know why I waited so long to check out the lot, but as soon as I
got out of my car and started looking around, I was glad I had come.  Not
really because I had seen a pickup I wanted.  No-- it was because of him.
Walking toward me from the sales office was the most over-developed
bodybuilder hunk I had ever seen.  Like I said, Matarazzo would have been
proud.

Or put to shame.

The closer this guy got, the faster my heart beat.

He was smiling.  Not a shit-eating grin-- just a friendly, confident smile
that despite his imposing size and features seemed to put me at ease.  He
wore a white long sleeved dress shirt and tie, and a pair of pleated navy
dress pants that God only knows how he ever pulled up over those legs.  I
mean, it almost looked as if each of his legs' girth was close to the girth
of his waist!  Those pants had to be tailored.  But despite his freakish
proportions, he didn't strut.  In fact, his walk was fluid and-- dare I say
it-- graceful, even though I swear I could feel the earth move with each
footfall.

His hair was freshly cut in a perfect flat-top, very short on the sides.
God, his face was gorgeous.

I tried to make like I was looking at trucks, but my attention was totally
on this guy, and the closing distance between us.  I looked back at him, and
I literally had to fight not to gasp out loud.  His neck, wrapped, as it
were, by that bright white dress shirt, was as thick as a phone pole, and it
was supported by a pair of traps that were unimaginably powerful.  Fuck,
this guy was a hunk.

And still he smiled as he approached.

And then I began to attempt to take in the size of those arms.  In spite of
being fully covered by his shirt sleeves, they were impossible to
camouflage.  Fucking amazing guns.  Fucking unbelievable shoulders.  His tie
draped down over his chest and the tip of it must have hovered a good two
inches out in front of his belt.  My cock was embarrassingly hard, and I
know it must have been noticeable.


"How you doin' this afternoon," he said.  He stopped about 5 or 10 feet from
me.  I don't know if it was because he knew how intimidating he was, or if
it was to stand back and look at the rig I was standing next to.  He didn't
wait for me to answer his greeting.  He probably had an idea that I was
going to have a hard time talking.  "Nice rig," he said.  "It's actually got
low miles on it."

I scuffled my feet and made like I was going to kick a tire or something.
Shit, I was frozen in lust.

He looked over the truck and made mention of some of its other features--
which I was unable to hear because I had been tele-ported to some other
dimension.

"Wanna take it for a test drive?"

I looked at his gorgeous, smiling face and finally found a single word, from
my frozen vocabulary.  "Sure."

"I'll go get the keys, dude.  Hang on.  I'll be right back," he smiled.
With that, he got a number off a sticker in the windshield, turned and
trotted back to the sales office.  My eyes were glued to his body the whole
time.  I don't even know if I looked back at the pickup the whole time I
waited.  I think my eyes were glued on the sales office.

He called me "dude."  Oh holy fuck.  I thought I would die.  I love it when
straight guys call me "dude."  And to have this guy tag me with that
all-affirming title-- shit.

I could see him walk behind the counter of the well-lit sales office.  The
windows ran from ceiling to floor.  Even at this distance, he was amazing to
look at.

If he wasn't on to me as soon as he walked up to me the first time, I'm sure
he had to suspect when he returned with the key to the truck.  "Name's
Chad," he said, extending his hand.  The warmth and strength-- and
gentleness-- of his grip made me pretty much lose it.  I coughed and choked
when I tried to give him my name, and the whole time he just smiled at me,
and held my hand in the shake.  Finally, when I regained my composure, I
said, "Josh."

He released my hand and motioned me to the passenger side.  "I have to drive
it off the lot," he said as he climbed in.  He had to adjust the seat so he
could fit.  "Nice thing about this rig is that the seat moves way back,
giving you a lot of leg room.  I'm six-two, and I don't have a problem at
all."

Okay, maybe he was a little taller than Matarazzo too.

We drove for a few minutes and then he pulled over and unbuckled his seat
belt.  "Wanna give it a try?"  His grin was killer.

"Sure," I said.  Yeah, I had at least two words down:  my name, and "sure."


We both got out and traded sides, passing each other at the front of the
rig-- almost touching.  Our eyes met as we passed, and he smiled that
comforting, confident smile again.

I don't really remember any of the particulars about the truck, even though
I know he went through a lot of information while I drove-- horsepower,
engine size, features, etc.  Those things flew out of my head as fast as
they came in.  I was totally occupied with him.

"You a local?"

I was nudged out of my trance by his question.

"Oh. Uh, yeah.  Born and raised here," I answered.

"So, you went to Cold Creek High?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"I went to Riverdale," he said.  Riverdale was a town about twice the size
of Cold Creek, about ten miles away.  His smile grew, and he said, "We
crushed you in football last year."

"You play?" I asked

"Naw," he said.  "I was kinda skinny in high school."

My eyes grew and I gave an expression of disbelief.

He grinned.  "Really," he said.  "I didn't start working out `til after I
graduated."

"Shit," I let slip out.

I pulled the truck back onto the lot.

"So, you interested," he asked.

I so wished I could take that question for the meaning I wanted.

"Oh, I don't know," I said.

"Yeah, it's kind of a big decision.  How `bout I give you my card.  If you
decide you're interested, just give me a call."  He pulled out a single
business card from his shirt pocket-- a pocket that was backed by the
biggest, thickest slab of chest meat I had ever seen in person-- and handed
it to me.  "My cell number is on it too, dude.  If you find a rig somewhere
else, give me a call-- anytime-- and I'll bet I can give you a better deal."

"Thanks," I said.  Shit, the conversation was winding down.  I never wanted
to leave this guy's ominous presence.  I guess I must have gone ozone again,
because after a few seconds, I noticed that a lot more than just a few
seconds had passed.

"You okay, dude?" I heard him ask.

"Uh.  Oh-- yeah, sorry.  Just thinking," I said.

Another moment of silence.  And then, as I sat behind the steering wheel and
he sat to my right, he moved his left hand onto my right knee.  "You sure?
Seems like something might be wrong," he probed.

I looked at his hand on my knee, and then at his face-- it was comforting
and relaxed.

"No, man.  I'm fine."  I tried to make like I was just a normal guy.  "Just
trying to figure out what I want.  In a rig."

He took his hand off my leg.  Oh I wished he hadn't.  "Yeah," he said.
"Sometimes it's a big decision."

We finally opened our respective doors and got out.  He lifted the hood and
we poked around under there for a few minutes, but the only thing I can
remember was the inhuman "V" taper of his back as his mammoth lats flared
out above his svelte waistline.  I swear I came as close to involuntarily
creaming myself as I ever have.  His slacks wrapped around his glutes like I
was wishing I could do with my hands.  I don't know if he knew what I was
looking at or not, but he did seem to take a long time pulling out the
dipstick and checking the fluid level as I watched from behind.

He lowered the hood and turned around to me.  He leaned back against the
hood, resting those perfect glutes against the grille, and placing his hands
on the edge of the hood.  "Anything else you want to see?" he smiled.

Usually I'm pretty adept at making like I'm cool with things, even when I'm
overwhelmed with a muscle guy.  But this Chad dude had me totally thrown.  I
just looked at him.

Finally, he broke the ice and looked around the lot.  "We've got some
full-size rigs, if you're interested in looking."

"I think that's all the size I can handle," I smiled, looking at the hood of
the truck, but close enough to Chad's body that it might have been difficult
to tell what it was that I was really talking about.

He didn't let on like anything was amiss.  "So, Josh, you going to school?"

"Naw, I just graduated from State.  Decided to come back to Cold Creek and
take over my sister's business.  She owns a couple of coffee huts-- one here
in town and one over in Farmington.  She wants to open another one in
Riverdale.  I'm taking over the one here."  I shuffled my feet on the
ground.  Chad just held his beautiful position against the front of the
pickup.  "Might try to expand a little later, after I get the hang of the
business."

"Cool, dude," he smiled, still not moving.  His radiant blue eyes sparkled.
He seemed genuinely interested.  "Where's the coffee hut at?"

"Oh, over on Burleson, next to Hank's Hardware."

"Oh yeah," he said.  "I know the one."  He lifted his left hand up and ran
his palm through his flat-top.  His watermelon-sized biceps muscle bunched
and the shirt sleeve tightened against the mass.

Oh, fuck.  I was so close to an involuntary orgasm just watching that.  I'd
never come by accident, but for the first time in my life, I thought it was
definitely possible.

He scratched his head and his muscle bulged.  "I don't get over to that side
of town very often, but I'll have to make a trip and check it out.  I'm a
freakin' caffein monster.  Love to have a big coffee before a workout," he
smiled.  He lowered his hand and looked right into my eyes.

I had no choice but to avert my gaze.  He was simply too much.  Too much
manliness.  Too much muscle.  Too much power.  And gorgeousness, if that's
even a word.  I swear, if he had said "Come.  Now.  In your pants,"  I would
have had no power to resist his command.  But he didn't say that.  Instead,
he just looked at me.  Smiling comfortably-- he seemed totally content to
just hang there with me.  No pressures.  No need to talk if I didn't want
to.

Finally I had to break the silence.  "Well, thanks, man, for the ride.  And
thanks for the no-pressure sales.  I really appreciate it.  I'll have to
think about it."  I looked down at his business card that I'd been fumbling
in my fingers, then back up at him.  He was as intimidating and gorgeous as
the moment I had first seen him.  "And I'll give you a call."

"Cool," he smiled.  He leaned off the front of the truck, then stuck his
hands in his pockets.  Shiiiiit.  His triceps pressed out at the already
exhausted sleeve fabric (exhausted from fighting against his biceps) nearly
causing them to rip.  He pushed his hands into his pockets, straightening
his arms.  He looked almost-- almost coy and shy.  He smiled back at me.
"I'll look forward to hearing from you.  Like I said, call me.  Anytime.
Day or night."  Then he grinned and said, "You know-- if you have a car
buying emergency in the middle of the night."  Then he laughed at himself.

I laughed too.

"Yeah, if I have a car buying emergency in the middle of the night, you'll
be the first guy I call," I joked back.

Chad extended his hand once again and we shook.  Did he have any idea of the
effect he had on me?  Was I able to hide it, or was it totally obvious that
I was overcome with lust for this guy...


to be continued...

*Your comments are welcome.*

Please email me at the following address:

sean@buffmuscles.com