Date: Wed, 6 Sep 2023 04:37:51 +0000 (UTC) From: Hunter Green Subject: Chuck McGraw, Chapter 31 The continuing tale of Chuck McGraw, a big-dicked, badass mother fucker. Father. Soldier. Bodybuilder. Pervert. Please support Nifty Financially. Where would we be without all this spank bank material? I really appreciate all the messages and feedback guys. Seriously if my stories get your dick hard drop me a note at huntergreenmuscle@yahoo.com Chapter 31 2012 Drill & Ceremony Charleston, SC "Sir, you can't go out there like that." "What do you mean?" "Its obscene!" "What the fuck do you want me to do about it? I'm just the way God made me." "You can't stuff your suit like that." Chuck laughed. "Its not stuffed, son. It's all me." He then punctuated his point by pulling his hot pink posing suit down, hooking the elastic waistband under his substantial nutsack. His soft cock, still a fat, fleshy eight inches and uncut, flopped out. The functionary with the clipboard and the headset gasped audibly. "Holy shit!" the man exclaimed. Chuck McGraw was in a crowded ballroom of a hotel preparing to go on stage for the prejudging of the Master's Bodybuilding Competition he had entered. It was a State Competition, and he hadn't been on a stage for almost twenty years, but when his oldest son expressed interest in wanting to compete in the Teen Competition, he figured that it'd be awesome to do a show alongside him. Bobby was in his senior year of high school and was planning on enlisting in the Army just like his old man as soon as he graduated. All around Chuck dozens of other men were getting ready; applying tan, using bands or light weights to get as pumped as possible, and practicing their posing routines. Dozens of other men and a few women, wives or girlfriends mostly, were helping. Bodybuilding coaches, gym bros, and a few like the functionaries in front of Chuck were doing what they could to help. Outside the closed doors were the muffled sounds of the crowds. The room stank of sweat, testosterone, and tanning lotion. In the other room was Chuck's bodybuilding coach, Coach Albrecht everyone called him, a former IFBB Pro himself, keeping a close eye on Bobby during the prejudging. As part of the entourage was his other son, Tyler, 14 now, a budding teenage bodybuilder himself, and Chuck's father, Woody, down from Massachusetts. Woody McGraw had been a bodybuilder from the 70's and early 80's and had been a fitness trainer and a bodybuilding coach ever since, among a dozen other gigs. Woody was still fit as fuck, thickly muscled if not nearly as tall as his son. They were out there cheering on Bobby. Chuck had told them to go, as he worked on his pump and poses. Unlike most of his competitors, he wasn't nervous. Even before he ever arrived, he knew he'd be one of the biggest and best men there. He'd spent his life that way. He was six foot four inches tall in his bare feet. An hour ago, he'd weighed in at 241 lbs., solid muscle, his body fat cut down to 7%. He was rock-solid, then flesh stretched over taunt, hard muscle. They called it shredded, even dick-skin, since so many guys resembled the thin, veiny skin of a hard cock. His arms were 22.5 inches flexed; his skin was so thin you could see individual muscle fibers in their definition. His chest was 58 inches, hanging over his cobbled six-pack like a shelf. Usually, he had a thick pelt of chest and body hair, but he'd removed every bit of it for the contest, right down to his thick pubic bush. He'd even shaved his hairy nutsack. His waist was trimmed down to 32.5 inches. His quads swept out to the side, 32 inches around, as big as many men's waists. Most of his body was covered in black and grey tattoo work, an illustrated history of his life and service, but it did nothing to detract from his muscularity and was mostly dulled by the dark tan he'd applied in coats. Fat veins made a map of his body, including one that ran down his lower abs to continue along his huge cock. He was the biggest guy there, a super heavyweight, unusual in the Masters' Division. There was no one as tall as him or Bobby. He also knew he'd have the biggest dick. It was actually a problem in this case, where men and judges could get jealous. Bodybuilding was one of the gayest sports there was, with dozens of men judging other men on the conditions of their bodies and the size of their muscles, all while parading around on a stage in the skimpiest outfits they could fit into, a bare minimum of modesty. Still, there had been pushback in recent years, with dumb-ass conventions like the fitness categories where the guys wore huge board shorts covering half their legs, and the banning of certain poses because they were deemed too gay. One of those poses, the "moon pose" showed off the hamstrings and glutes as the bodybuilder put his back to the judges and bent over as if to touch his toes, but it was banned because it was thought that it was an attempt to sexually seduce the judges. Not that they needed it. The sport attracted a lot of fags, and a lot of guys that loved muscle and masculinity. Most, if not all the judges out there, either loved getting dick or were happy to have their cock serviced by the men on that stage. And being a bodybuilder was expensive, between the extreme amount of food required, the supplements, the other "supplements," the gym memberships, and the travel. A lot of guys turned tricks in their climb to the top, from stripping and go-go dancing to muscle worship and private flexing sessions, to out-right whoring. Chuck was successful enough to support himself and his family, but a lot of their bills were taken care of by men who were happy to help in exchange for getting occasional face or ass fucked by either (or both) men. Hell, one fag, a fairly high-up, (married) state politician, had paid for the hotel suite and the whole weekend as long as the men gave them their used posing suits afterward. The sport attracted all types, but the things they had in common were a love of muscles and not a little bit of narcissism. The functionary staring at Chuck's exposed cock was definitely a fag. He was short and very muscular, clearly a bodybuilder himself although not competing today. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a uniform black polo of the event. He was tasked to make sure the competitors were following the rules and regulations of the contest, and that included making sure they had on the tightly regulated suit styles. The dark-haired, dark-skinned young man barely stopped himself from reaching for the older man's flaccid fat cock in front of him. "See, bro. Its all me." Chuck said. "But maybe its kinda plumb because I haven't gotten off today," Chuck lied. He'd woken up to his younger son Tyler sucking his cock to completion. He'd done the same for his older brother, and his grampa that morning as well, practically giddy with the incestuous loads. "Is there somewhere nearby I could, you know, take care of this? It might help." "UhÉyeah," said the volunteer, catching on quickly, and was almost too eager to lead Chuck to a small, dark utility space nearby, a side room where extra folding chairs and tables were stored. Chuck followed him after tucking his cock back into his posing suit, as much as it would fit. Most men under the physical strain of the contest and diet would have a helluva time getting it up, but Chuck wasn't most men. The functionary dropped to his knees the second the door was closed behind him, pulling the pink poser back down and quickly stuffing as much cock down his throat as he could. Definitely a fag, and a hungry one at that. Chuck's cock swelled to its full ten inches, his foreskin tight against his cockhead. The bro took it like a champ, well-practiced. He only started gagging on the meat as Chuck forced him past the seven-inch mark. "Come on, bro. Do you want this muscle-dick or what?" Chuck teased him with gym-bro talk. It worked and the man tried harder to choke down on the massive ten-incher. He stroked the shaft with his hand but was careful not to touch Chuck's painted thighs, the sign of a man who'd sucked bodybuilder dick at a contest before. "That's it, bro. Fuck your mouth feels good on my dick. Take it all, buddy." The man tried and had to pull completely back as he gagged, coughing. Chuck knew there wasn't a lot of time, as he heard the sound of the ballroom doors open, and the noise level increase. The previous group was done with the prejudging and Chuck would have to go out there soon. He grabbed a handful of the gym bro's hair, gripping it painfully, and yanked him to the side. With this other hand, he gripped his meat and slapped the man across the face forcefully. He a couple more times for good measure. "No time to fuck around, bro. You want this protein load then put in the fuckin' work!" He ordered in a gravel voice. In the end, the skull-fucked the man until he reached orgasm. He shoved half his cock down the bro's throat and unloaded into him, shot after shot of juiced-up juice down his throat. The man's eyes watered and he tried to breathe desperately through his nose as he choked on the massive cum load. He tried to swallow it all, but some dripped down his chin, staining his black polo shirt. McGraw caught his breath, used one hand to wipe his dick free of cum, and wiped that hand on the man's face, which was now also splattered with runny, bronze-colored, tan lotion. Then he tucked his cock back into his suit, which still looked slightly obscene. There was no hiding the monster between McGraw's legs. Even the custom-made poser gapped where the suit should have grazed his lower abs. There would be a dark shadow with those stage lights as he paraded and posed. He only hoped the judges were horny enough to want to see more of him and not be jealous of his body and endowment. Without looking back, Chuck swung open the utility closet door. Anyone nearby looking would see the functionary, still on his knees as the biggest guy in the room strode out, strutting to the middle where his father, two sons, and Coach Albrecht were waiting by their gear. The men were all grinning as they watched McGraw walk to them, already clear on what just went down. Bobby had done well, placing 2nd in the prejudging, and was guaranteed to win his teen category. His only bad points came from a judge who was jealous of the teen. Bobby was the spitting image of his dad, only about forty pounds lighter, without all the tattoos, and mustache, and twenty years younger. He even had the same enormous cock stuffed into matching pink posers made for him. The coach had already formulated a little plan to get the reluctant judge over his issue. He'd encountered the man before and knew that if Bobby agreed to rough him up and piss on him, that he'd forget about his own little jealousy of the teenager and treat him fairly as the superior specimen that he was. Bobby wouldn't even have to let the man touch him or fuck him or anything. It took all types to make the world go `round after all. Chuck went out next for prejudging and placed first. Then later both men placed first in their respective categories, Chuck took Overall, and Bobby got the Novice award, beating out men older and far more experienced than him. They were inundated with offers of sponsorships, advice for advancing and getting pro-cards, and sexual solicitations of all types, from men and women, everything from private muscle worship, porn videos, physique and erotic photography, and more. They took it in stride, enjoying the adulation. There was nothing Chuck enjoyed more than being watched, admired, and lusted after. Hell, he lusted after his own body and cock more than he ever had anyone else; women, men, boys, or girls, a true narcissist. It took real concentration on stage not to let his cock get fully hard right then in there and jerk off under the spotlight while hundreds of people watched. He chubbed up at the barest thought of it. They didn't turn down all the offers either. Coach Albrecht took down the notes and made the arrangements, and the men were kept busy for the next few days, extending their stay. In the end, they walked away with trophies, a number of photos and videos they would have to remember the weekend and be able to use later. They were even contacted by a Weider rep about posing for an issue or two as father and son for a couple of international Muscle Mags. They also dumped so much seed into willing pussies, asses, and mouths that young Tyler complained that he had almost never gone so long with his father or brother without getting any cum from them for himself. Not that the boy wasn't getting regularly pounded by Coach Albrecht, who had a beer-can fat seven-inch cut cock. Woody, Chuck's father and the boys' grandfather was a bit of a cocksucker himself and the two of them took care of the coach while Chuck and Bobby were busy with their other clients and sponsors. But still, Chuck told Tyler he'd make it up to him, and for most of the long drive home, the youngster nursed on the sore, but still hard cock, of his bodybuilder father. More to cum. I really appreciate all the messages and feedback guys. I know its been a while since my last chapter. Seriously if my stories get your dick hard drop me a note at huntergreenmuscle@yahoo.com