Date: Thu, 2 Jan 2020 21:32:03 -0800
From: Scott Michaels <masterorsir71@gmail.com>
Subject: Tom gets what He wants - Part 1

Tom is the guy you masturbate to. He's the image you get in your head when
you grab your little pricks and beg for a minute of sexual bliss. Standing
six feet tall at 29 with dark features and a smile filled with more
mischief than friendliness he was hot. He had the type of brown eyes people
would look at question if they were truly "only" brown; they sparkled,
swooned, scored all at once. The gym was a lifestyle Tom stuck to and he
definitely didn't indulge on high calorie snacks. He loved looking at the
definition of his legs and shoulders in the mirror. How his calf curved
perfectly from the back of his knee to the heel of his foot. The perfect
amount of hair on each leg spreading like a glorious forest up his tree
trunk thighs. The leg hair was long enough that it stood out and shouted
manliness to any onlookers but not so long that it was unruly. The hair on
his chest had an hourglass shape. It started large and wide around his
collarbone before spiraling down between his worked pecs to a tended happy
trail. The very best features (in Tom's own mind) were his hands and feet.
His hands were wide and stocky. When he shook your hand, you felt it. His
knuckles had a slight notice of hair and the veins ran down from his
forearm across the back of his palm. His fingers were thick enough to make
texting in a smaller phone quite hard. He kept his nails neatly manicured
should the opportunity to insert his fingers in warm places arise. Men
would get caught staring at Tom's feet almost daily. He wore simple Nike
slides when he was out and about sometimes. He'd catch men drooling and he
didn't understand what they were so obsessed with but he liked the way that
made him feel. The idea of lesser men pining for the dirtiest parts of
Tom's body would get him curiously turned on. Maybe it was the size of
them, 11.5, or the look of his neat nails and veins running across the
tops. It could have been the hair that spread from his ankle to the small
knuckles of his toes or the tan line he had from the slides he wore but
whatever it was, men usually wanted it.

He liked to show off in the sense that he didn't mind being naked at any
moment. Tom's body was hot, his package solid and the cuts in his muscles
precise. There was apathy with his feelings towards clothing because he had
truly never felt self-conscious about his body before. He is masculinity.
He is the ideal and his image is the image lowly men see when they imagine
themselves a new person.

Paul is a 48-year-old accountant. For the most part he's fine. He has a
wife and he's a fine husband. There are two kids and he's a fine dad. He
and his wife have date nights on Saturday's and he's lost most of the hair
on his head so things can't get any worse in terms of his looks. A desk job
makes it hard for him to keep the weight off but speaking honestly, he
doesn't do much else to work on his appearance. He stands at about 5'7"
with a pretty shiny baldhead and glasses. LASIK surgery might help with the
glasses but the doctors say his eyes are still getting worse so it's a no
go. There are squiggly wrinkles around his forehead and eyes and his teeth
aren't exactly white anymore. Overall, Paul is just generally typical and
unspectacular. He takes on the shape of a squat bowling pin: round all over
with no sharp, or cut edges. Paul knows he isn't anything to look at and
that's why his New Years resolution was to join a gym. Maybe he could lose
a few pounds, and hopefully a few years. Maybe he could somehow grow some
of that long lost hair back. Maybe he could appear to be only a tenth of
the man Tom is.

Paul arrived to the gym in his BMW, which appeared more as an ironic joke
or prop for a clown with him behind the wheel. The gym, Guns n Buns, was
one of those hybrid lifting, routine gyms and boot camp types. The gym
staff would make dull eyed, toothy smiles at people like Paul and promise
them weight loss and dream bodies. Paul was there for his introductory
meeting with one of the trainers, Matt. Matt was 24 and full of
testosterone. He was another prime example of what Paul wished he could be.
The typical topics were covered: class schedule, lifting rules, dieting
importance, and that's when it happened. Out of the corner of his eye Paul
saw an almost god like man performing a squat clean on the free weight mat.
This specimen of man was veiny, thick and you could almost taste him in the
air. Paul was experiencing the first sight of the man that would change his
life. Tom saw the pudgy man staring at him and made a half disgusted face
to try and force Paul's gaze away. Paul immediately flashed red and looked
down.

"Excuse me?" asked Matt. "Are you still with me over there?" Matt inquired
while waving his hand over Paul's blank face to snap him back to reality.

"Uhm, yes, I'm sorry, I was ...uhhhhh... wondering what time of the day
would be best for me to workout," Paul quickly replied.

"No worries, man. We make sure the gym is never so overcrowded that you
can't get a workout in."

Paul quickly glanced at Tom one more time only to regret it. Tom was
standing with his hairy, baseball bat thick forearms crossed and his brow
furrowed beaming at Paul. Tom knew what he was dealing with and he saw the
BMW Paul stepped out of. Paul had no idea what kind of man he was but he
knew he wasn't on the same level as Tom; they were on different playing
fields, in different universes. Tom would show Paul just how right he was.


I welcome comments from readers who are interested in a dom-sub, fin-dom
role I am exploring in this story.

Email: masterorsir71@gmail.com

Sir Scott