Date: Tue, 28 Jul 2020 22:44:33 +0000 From: Alpha Spirit Subject: Buff Gym Bitch 1 Disclaimer: This story contains graphic sexual scenes between males of consenting age 18+. It involves domineering, rough sex that both parties, at some point or another, consent to. It contains strong language and other adult situations. If the material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. If you are under the legal age to view this story, stop now. This story is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to person's living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it has been posted, without the consent of the author. Donate to Nifty, guys. There's no reason you shouldn't express your gratitude to these awesome men who purvey this phenomenal outlet for your perverted desires. donate@ http://donate.nifty.org/ Bitch Boy Breaker - Chapter 3 - Buff Gym Bitch 01 - The sun wasn't up yet; it was the late wee hours of the morning when I left my apartment and headed for the gym. Having just stayed out all night and fucked the royal hell out of a blonde bitch for over an hour, you might think I would have been tired. However, no such luck. A real man like me is only just invigorated by a fresh conquest. Not even having washed the ass juice off of my cock after fucking the latest twink, I had thrown on a sleeveless exercise shirt, shorts, sneakers, and headed to blow off some steam at the gym. True, I had exercise equipment in my apartment. There was also a small, stuffy little exercise space in the dank basement of my building. But I wanted a real workout- barbells as big as my ego and racks to really clang weights onto. Knowing the gym would be deserted at this early hour, I walked the few blocks while the city slept. Of course, the gym wasn't deserted. There was the listless 24/7 staffer, a dark-skinned girl glued to her phone who didn't even raise her eyes up as I swiped my keycard. There were a few senior citizens, early risers, on the treadmills, stretching, doing light aerobics. I waved politely to one of the older gents who gave me a nod in salutation. And then there was the ginger gym bitch. Young, fresh faced, freckles everywhere, his red hair cut short enough that it only began to curl. He was grunting and pumping away, on a workout machine that is, when I caught sight of him. Yeah, we're not out in the club anymore, remember? 'Red', as I decided to call him, was one of those muscle twinks: jacked, but skinny. With only a thin black exercise shirt on, I could see the definition in his lithe, toned body as I made my way across the otherwise deserted gym. Fat pectoral muscles, but not much in the traps department, he had corded biceps and arms. He was on a workout bench, pressing a rather reasonable 140 lbs for his frame. Somewhere under six feet and probably 170 pounds, there was not a trace of muscle on the boy. As I walked past him, the boy grunted and strained to finish his reps. Sitting up, the profile of his loose-fitting exercise shirt showed off a glimpse of marble white skin and a super-defined six pack of abs. Having just bust a nut and wanting to get my own workout on, I started to make for a bench of my own. Then the little jock bitch got up, and I caught a load of his ass. Call Scotland yard. There's something wrong with gingers, they say. It's not just the freckles or the fair eyes. There's always something uncanny about them. For Red, it was his ass: thick, fat, and juicy from numerous squats. Compared to his trim waist, the thing stuck out like a monument from his rear. I almost burst into laughter; the boy was definitely decent in the glutes and calves, too, but he had clearly been doing all the other legwork that was just making his butt bigger and bigger. Now, an ass like that on a muscle boy, you might think of a couple of hangups. First and foremost, he just might not be into other men, right? Well, sure. But keep in mind, a lot of these young gym rats are obsessed with the male physique, and it doesn't take a great departure in logic to lead towards much more than 'nice pecs, bro'. Second, and this would inevitably be the case with Red, if he's into guys, with his physique he would be a top, right? Well, sure, compared with all the limp-wristed sissies and boys his age, maybe. But Red wasn't yet a real man, not by far. And with a backside meant for breeding, there was something in the boy's DNA that screamed for male attention. He certainly had mine. And I knew just the way to gain his. Effortlessly picking up multiple of the heaviest weights available, I went about setting up my own exercise, ostensibly ignoring Red and his muscle butt. Doubling, then tripling up the weight he was doing, I set about to benchpress on the machine right across from him. With steady breaths and controlled movements, (grunting and jerking is for bitches, got it?) I banged out a nice opening set, and, when I set the bar back down on the rack with a clang, I looked over to see that I had gained Red's attention. It's inevitable, straight or gay. A guy comes to the gym to focus on his own body, but you can't help but take in those around you, competition, prey, or otherwise. Red was no different. There's something primitive in the human nature that stops everything when a larger, more imposing physical force is active around you. From the looks of it, Red had done nothing but watch me since he had caught sight of me. Busted in the middle of watching me, he quickly sprung back to action, adjusting his wireless headphones and setting something on his phone. Was this going to turn into something? I had a gut instinct... but I had also wanted to get some exercise in. Blocking the boy out of my mind, I set back into two continuous sets. Red had moved to another nearby machine, but I could tell he was slowed down, distracted by me. Good. Taking in the muscle twink while I considered my next move, I decided it was time to go for it. Again picking a machine in his line of sight, I hopped up on a pull-up bar. Flexing my rippling arm and back muscles, I propelled myself up and over the bar nearly effortlessly at break-neck speed. I could see Red below, and he was getting a better look at me than before. With the pull-ups, you end up bringing your torso up and forward toward the bar. Arms extended, your shirt drifts up and, unless you're wearing something very long and baggy, the front of your pants are being spring-boarded up into the air for all to see. Add that to my considerable cock being at half mast from Red's tempting muscle booty nearby, and I was giving Red quite the show. And he was staring at it. The young ginger wasn't just a gym rat, he was a little faggot gym rat. It was instinctive. See big man: check out big man. See that big man is hung, drool over big man's package. My dick throbbed as I did a dozen more pull-ups. When I let go, landing on my feet in front of him, I looked Red directly in the face as though to say, "Like what you see?" Gingers blushing is a radical thing to witness. The freckles hide the true whiteness of their skin, but they turn even more crimson than their hair. Red was no exception, completely busted, he pretended he hadn't been looking, went back into his phone for some presumptive excuse. Embarrassed, he hopped up from the machine he had barely used since ogling my crotch and started to move away. Stepping in front of him and gesturing for him to remove his headphones, I put a hand on the front of the kid's shoulder. "Spot me," I told him. Little bitch had pecs on him, a solidly developing muscular specimen who would endure the grisliest of physical abuse. Red's headphone fell out of his ear. He didn't meet my gaze as he said, "I don't need a spotter." So, this happens. Muscle pussy is reluctant, especially when they're as young and handsome as Red was. They've done well with chicks, with fags, with whatever. Self-confidence isn't an issue outside of being an obstacle to their true nature. A good looking young dude with lean muscle on him will stand up to another man, even one superior to him. After all, they know how men are supposed to be: too bad they're just not. "I'm not asking." Summoning Red's eyes to mine with confrontation, I'm pleased that he doesn't back down. Up this close, you can see he doesn't have any hair on his face whatsoever, and not from shaving. You might think this kid was underage, but the gym only allows you to exercise on your own if you're over the legal age. This kid was, but not by much at all. "Whatever," still holding onto his macho demeanor, Red tried to brush off that he had just been out-alphaed. This was nice; this usually led to the kind of struggle that made you feel alive as a top. It would likely involve a physical altercation, but I could already sense that I'd be cunting the ginger muscle bottom one way or another. "Good boy." I didn't let him doubt what I thought of him as I turned and expected him to follow. Off towards the back of the gym was the next machine I wanted: the elevated dead-lift block. "Three 45s on each side." Bossing the kid around, I tasked him to set me up on the machine. Like its name implied, the dead-lift machine stood off the ground and you squatted down off it to pick up a bar loaded with weights that start lower than your feet. You brought the weights up, going from a forward squat and carrying the bar up until, finally standing, you held it up over your head. It's an intense workout. Red loaded up 3 weights on one side. I did the same on the other and stepped up onto the block. "Hey. You gotta stand closer." Red was already pretty close, but I had chosen this machine with something more in mind than just a workout. "Bro, I'll be right up on you." Red protested, but took a step closer like he'd been told. "That's where you belong," I told him gruffly, squatting into position and grasping the fully laden bar on the floor. This made me eye-level with Red, and I drilled a no-nonsense look at him as I dared him- 'What? Yeah, you're tough for a boy. But I'm a goddamn man.' Sensing only his repressed, broiling ego, I started to exercise. This machine was terribly designed for the person spotting it. Whenever the user stood up to do a dead lift, the elevation and the positioning of the weight bar brought the user's groin right up towards the spotter standing in front. With our height difference, this was essentially the equivalent of me treating the ginger gym twink to a close-up of my package. Actually, my standing brought my dick up and towards his face, then, as I stood and completed the move, the balls swung just over his head. Anticipating his move, I barked an order to prevent Red from stepping back. "Stay right there. Don't worry, you're not getting my dick on your face just yet." Red held his ground, and, as I skillfully brought the bar back down to complete the motion, I looked deep into his light green eyes. Yeah, this muscle cunt was mine. Still, I did a couple more reps just to show him what he was getting. Looking down from above, it was a fine preview of the sculpted gym rat right with my boner throbbing through the mesh of my shorts. I was sure he could smell the unmistakable funk of man fuck from the blonde I'd just trashed an hour or so earlier. I did my sets while Red watched, unneeded. I confirmed him checking me out, especially when my meat jutted up and over his face. Rock-hard now, the bulging outline of my dick was unmistakably stretching the front of my gym shorts. Red took it all in, looking so small and vulnerable underneath me, dwarfed by my real man body. Wrinkling his freckled nose at the scent from my previous fuck, I watched him inhale my odor, greedy. He even instinctively opened his mouth as he drank in my smell. After over a dozen reps, I started dripping sweat down on the little ginger muscle stud. Hungry for any and all of my fluids, he dutifully stayed in place and continued to 'spot me'. By the time I got done, his adorable face was speckled with my perspiration. "Towel me off, boy," alighting from the machine and stepping in front of him, I threw Red my towel. He paused, glanced around the gym warily. But we were alone in a corner, and it was still so early that nobody had shown up. With devout care, he toweled off my brow, then my neck. Raising my strapping, brawny mitts over his head, I made him reach to work the fabric down my arms, flexing for him while he did so. "Down," I let him know he wasn't done yet. Red hesitated, but I had him by now. "Do it, you homo. You know you need to feel it." Red exhaled in a hiss, dropping his suddenly shaky hand to towel off my lower body. Pointless, really, but I wanted the red-headed muscle twink to get a feel of the flesh that was going to inevitably rearrange his guts. Red made a feeble attempt to use the towel, mostly running his hand up and down the considerable length of my cock. He bit his freckled lips like a whore. "You're pretty jacked, kid. I like a boy who takes care of his body." "Th-thank you." Red whispered. "But you need to step it up, get on a higher level," I reached down and grabbed his wrist, pressed him into the heat of my throbbing erection as I growled, "You want a body like this? A real man's body?" "Yesssss," Red sucked in his breath, closing his eyes. He dropped the pretense, and the towel, and thoroughly ran his hand up and down the outline of my erection. "There's a gym back at my place, only a few blocks from here. I've got just the program for you." -end chapter 3 "Buff Gym Bitch - 01" That's it for Red's introduction. Like the blonde in the first two chapters, this story works best with an introduction / initial encounter, then a separate scene where the two really get down to business. Not all chapters will follow this format. Send feedback to AlphaSpiritNY@outlook.com And don't forget to donate to Nifty.