Date: Thu, 25 May 2006 06:07:36 -0700 (PDT)
From: Sean Scott <seanscott@buffmuscles.com>
Subject: Strapping 4

"These might be a little long," John said, handing me some pajama pants,
"but I bet the waist will be okay.  You about a 30 inch waist man?"

"32 usually," I said.  "But these have elastic; they'll be fine."

"Okay."

"Shit, man.  Your waist is smaller than mine, and yet you probably have a
good, what, 70 pounds on me?"  I said.

John grabbed his own pajama pants and headed toward his bathroom.  "Is
that going to be a problem for you man?" he said as he turned toward me
and flexed his huge arm into a peak that would make just about any
professional bodybuilder envious.  He smiled.  "Cuz if you have a problem
with lots of muscle, let me know now and we'll call the whole night off.
You'll be seeing quite a bit of it."

"Yeah, I'm sure I will.  Just go easy on me.  You're blowing me away, man."

John disappeared into his bathroom.  "Sure, man.  I'll go easy on you.
But I can't be responsible for any reactions you might have to big, black
muscles.  So, no whimpering," he said as he closed the door.

"Well, I can't guarantee what my reactions will be," I laughed.  "So, if
you have to give me CPR, try to be gentle."

John laughed, then said through the closed door, "Okay, man.  Quit your
worrying and put those pj's on."

I pulled off my shirt, shoes, socks and pants, then my tighty whities.  I
pulled on the long pajama bottoms.  "Hey, John," I said loud enough that
he could hear me through the closed bathroom door.  "I don't have any top
for these pj's."

John opened the door and my heart immediately rammed hard into my throat.
I almost choked.  He stood there with only his pajama bottoms on--
shirtless.  His tiny waist flared down to his gargantuan legs-- they
pressed against the flannel fabric of his pj's, filling them with muscle.

But the throat-choking, cock-thickening image that made my head spin was
what flowed upward from that narrow, taut waist.  His abs were two rows of
river rocks, covered by only the thinnest membrane of satin, ebony skin.
Above his abs, his hairless pecs were-- well, they were indescribable!
Never, in all of my fantasies could I have imagined this much symmetrical
muscle mass-- combined with such freaky, yet erotically beautiful
leanness.   His pectoral muscles were so overly-developed that his nipples
actually pointed downward!

John's arms hung at his sides like two sentinels, guarding some kind of
muscle vault or something.  I'm sorry, but my words might not make a lot
of sense here; I'm having a hard time putting down the image of muscular
perfection that stood before me.  But back to those huge arms, they made
me almost moan aloud!  I mean, thick, beefy guns of steel!  Such size and
such definition!  A thick vein ran the length of each biceps muscle; and
they were long, full muscle bellies.  His triceps muscles pushed up
against his deltoids, and the separation between those delts and tri's was
incredible!  They were the most un-fucking-believable guns I had ever
seen-- in person or in pictures.  From now on, my fetish for massive arms
would never be satisfied with anything less.

His broad shoulders were so dominant!  The cliche "cannonballs" didn't do
them justice.  His shoulders and traps capped his physique with broadness
and power.  Man, I love thick traps!  Above the rocks that comprised his
traps, John's thick neck rose like a black tower of steel, which was
crowned by a bright white smile, then two drop-dead gorgeous, twinkling
eyes.

"I don't have any pajama top either," John said.  "We'll just have to make
due."  He stood there, letting me just look-- and lust.  He stood
motionless, smiling, giving me plenty of time to comprehend what was
before me, as if he knew it would take me a few minutes to soak him all
in.  And yet, I could have looked at that physique for years and never
have absorbed the power, the brawn, the magnificence.

I know my cock was probably sticking up so obviously that John couldn't
help but see the effect he had on me, but there was nothing I could do.
And really, I didn't actually WANT to do anything about it.  I mean,
despite my primal desire to stay in the closet, as I gazed at this black
stallion, I actually had no desire to hide.  I was so drawn to him that I
didn't care about being outed.  In a way, letting him see that he made me
hard as a fire iron was like displaying to him that I acknowledged his
supremacy.  It was like the Alpha Male asserting himself, and the younger,
weaker male rolling on his back and submitting to him.

John slowly moved toward me.  My already defibrillating heart pounded
faster.  I actually felt a little faint.  As he got to within a few feet
of me, I could see that his skin was perfect and smooth as it stretched
over the mounds and rocks of his muscles.

Holy shit.

His entire body was blemish-free.  Hairless black muscle rippled before me
as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  He stopped about two
feet in front of me.

He started to talk softly, and slowly.  "So," he said as one hand moved up
onto his abs, "what do you want to do?  Maybe arm wrestle?" he smiled.

I looked down to his fingers as they caressed his abs.  In my peripheral
vision I could see my boner sticking up diagonally toward the elastic
waistline of my gray pajamas.  The oozing moistness of my precum made an
obvious, dark spot at the tip of my cock.  It was a huge spot-- so big and
wet that it encompassed the whole of my circumcised head.  You could see a
visible penis line where the wet cotton hugged my head!

I couldn't remember ever being so hard.

"Uh," was all I could say.

"Okay, maybe I'd have a slight advantage in arm wrestling," John smiled.

"Uh. Yeah."

I fumbled with my boner, but there was no hiding what effect his muscles
were having on me.  Any attempt to fix my display of pure, unadulterated
lust only compounded the problem.  Shit, my penis was like a steel pipe!
It ached as I tried to adjust it.  But, as I said, anything I did to make
it less visible, made it worse.  Everywhere I moved it, the precum just
flowed heavy onto anything that was dry, making the fabric dark with
wetness.

John could see my problem, but he ignored it as if it weren't there.  I
mean, it was pretty obvious what was happening, but he just looked back up
at my eyes and started talking again.

"I'm glad you're staying over tonight.  I like spending time with you," he
said.

You know, in retrospect, that was kind of a weird thing for one guy to say
to another.  But it actually made me feel at ease.  But despite not being
quite so nervous, I was still paralyzed in lust.

"You okay man?" John said.

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay," I whispered, my voice cracking.

John smiled.  "You going to need that CPR now?"

"Uh.  What?"

John moved forward and put one hand on my shoulder and the other on my
waist.  The hand that was on my waist rested just above where my cock was
pointing.  John moved closer, almost close enough to touch me with his
pecs.  His hands formed firm, but gentle grips on me.  I got the message
that I wasn't going anywhere.  He was in control of the situation, and it
was going to proceed at his pace, his pleasure.  As inches separated our
chests, it was obvious that all of the jockeying and maneuvering was over.
 There was no turning back now.  We had made physical contact-- and it was
more than platonic.

John's face moved closer to mine.  Our eyes were locked.  Slowly, the
thumb of his hand that was on my waist moved downward.  He retracted it
and then ventured it downward again, over and back on top of the wet
fabric near the tip of my cock.  Then, he moved it lower and the tip of
his thumb touched the fabric that covered my piss slit.  He slowly swirled
his thumb over the wet cotton that covered my cock head.

My whole body tightened.  The fullness and firmness of my erection moved
ever-so-slightly against the movement of his thumb.

John moved his body closer to me.  His pecs touched mine.  His three or
four inches of height over mine made his nipples touch the top of my
chest.  I could feel his warm breathing on my forehead.  His chest rose
and fell with each slow breath, making his nipples brush against my skin.
He just stood there.

I felt his thumb slowly move inside my waistband.  He stuck it down,
nestling it in my pubes.

My whole body tensed.  My hands moved onto his giant, tight arms.  At the
sensation of feeling his hard, football-size triceps, I gasped.  John
stood motionless, save the gentle breathing that continued to brush his
nipples against me.  Involuntarily, I made a soft, quick, squeaking,
moaning sound; then a sigh, capped with a sudden intake of breath.

John moved back slightly, and without thinking, I moved my hands onto his
beefy, thick pectoral muscles.  We locked eyes.  His were kind, loving and
strong eyes, twinkling with acceptance.  Mine must have been wide and
unsure eyes, stricken both awe and fear.  I couldn't believe this was
happening.

My hands cupped John's chest and almost imperceptibly, he seemed to flex
them for me.  They hardened into stone, and then rippled with slow,
flowing waves.  My hands shook at the sensation.

Oh. My. God.

It was the most sensual, powerful thing I had ever experienced.  I had to
call upon every ounce of strength to keep myself from lapsing into an
involuntary orgasm, right then and there.

I swear I could hear my heart pounding.  My cock, now being entertained by
John's adventurous thumb, was aching.  He swirled my precum around my cock
head.  Slowly, he pried the elastic of my pajamas away and downward,
allowing my stiff boner to spring free and point up.  It was an erection
that would have made any porn star proud.  Harder and stiffer than it had
ever been, my steel pole stood at attention, saluting the musclegod who
had given it more rigidity than any mere mortal ever could.

I gazed into John's eyes, slowly opened my mouth and tried to speak.
"John, I-- I-- don't know wha-"

John brought the hand that was on my shoulder up to my lips and put a
vertical finger over my mouth to shush me.  His eyes reassured me.  No
words now.  None could add anything to this moment.  No words.  Just love,
just muscle worship.

John's other hand explored farther into my pajamas, moving along my erect
penis, down the shaft.  Oh God.  His powerful fingers were gentle and soft
against my hopelessly hard cock.  They tickled as they traveled down it's
length.  As the tips of his fingers reached their destination, the base of
my shaft and ultimately, my balls, my body shuddered and shook.  Fuck.  I
had never felt anything so good in my life.

With the back of his fingers, John pulled back the elastic waist of my
pajamas and moved them down, allowing my turgid manhood to float free--
suspended in air, gently supported by his gentle, almost tickling touch.

It was at this point-- the point where John's fingers allowed my penis to
escape the bounds and restrictions of my pants, that I knew an orgasm was
imminent.  There was no way I could control myself any longer.  It was
inevitable.  As my hands caressed the warm, hard, hairless beef of John's
pecs, his thumb and four fingers gently closed around my shaft.  He didn't
press down on it.

He didn't need to.

Unable to hold back the torrent of lust, my cock began to erupt with
explosions of cum.  Pointing straight at the object of all my desire, my
penis catapulted glob after glob of cum up onto John's abs and chest.  The
ropes of jizz shot hard onto his pecs, spraying him with violent bursts of
my white, milky offerings of worship.  The cum dribbled downward, white
milk slithering over dark brown brawn.

My body jerked uncontrollably.  More semen sprayed upward.  One volley
alighted on John's chin.

He didn't move; instead, he stood still, respectfully allowing his subject
to shower him with garlands of warm, white essence.  It was worship.
Adoration.  He was the ultimate man.  He was the ultimate man-- for ME.
He was mine.  I was his.  This was love.

His hand caressed my convulsing cock, but he didn't grip it hard.  The tip
of his middle finger was tickling my sweet spot behind my testicles,
making his palm cup my balls.  I moaned.

And I moaned.

With his fuck finger tickling my underside, he gently pressed the base of
his palm against the root of my fuck pole and closed his palm and fingers
around it.  He pushed.  Gently.  This caused the skin of my shaft to
tighten and pull downward, making my cock head swell against this gentle
pressure.

Oh, fuck.  Oh fuuuuck.

The result of this added torque on my cock was that I shot even harder,
casting rope after gooey rope higher and higher.  One burst made it onto
John's face, dribbling into his mouth, where his tongue seductively
intercepted it and pulled it inside.

I was near exhaustion.  A river of semen moved downward over one of John's
bulbous, thick pectoral muscles and dripped off his nipple.  I leaned
forward.  My cheek brushed against his chest; my knees buckled.  John held
me up.  I began to lick my semen off his nipple, and my lips quickly
closed around it.  As I suckled, his hand continued to hold my balls and
tease my sweet spot at the base of my scrotum, forcing the skin of my
shaft to pull taut.

More bursts of sperm-filled semen spewed forth, splattering on the river
rock of his abs, forming little streams between them, around them and over
them.

When will it end?  How can I be producing this much liquid?

He seemed to be pulling it out of me-- milking me dry.

I continued to suck on his nipple, until my orgasm began to subside.
Then, in utter exhaustion, I leaned totally against John's muscular body.
He held me up, moving his free arm around my shoulders.

"It's okay, man," he whispered in my ear.

Holy shit.  The warmth of John's muscular body enveloped me.  He
surrounded me with his big, strong arms.  It felt so good, so safe.

I whimpered.

I looked up and our eyes met.

What I saw in John's eyes gave me such unbelievable comfort and peace that
I didn't believe it was true.  As our lips locked, I knew I had moved past
infatuation.


Your comments are requested!
Please write to seanscott@buffmuscles.com

--
Check out my web site!   www.buffmuscles.com