— Originally published in Torso magazine - December, 1996 —

Musclepig seeks mega-meat
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Name: Antonio

Stats: Mid 20's, 5'6", 240 pounds

Ethnic background: Portuguese

Short black hair, brown eyes, all-over black body hair

10½", extremely thick, uncut

Occupation: warehouseman

First Encounter

Antonio's a power-lifter. He's also one of the gym's shy loner types. He minds his own business and doggedly goes about his workout, letting the increasingly heavy weights he lifts speak for him. If you watch him — and the whole gym does when he's going heavy — what he loads on the bar doesn't just speak, it screams: This guy's fucking strong! 

Antonio's got what it takes to become a top world-class power-lifter. He's got the genetics, the grit, and the single-minded (more like simple-minded) determination. A weight warrior since the age of ten, he's short, squat and looks like a cross between a fireplug and a Sherman tank. There are no sharp, defined, "pretty boy" muscles on the man. It's all big, blocky, massively developed beef. That bulky, heavy-duty, no-nonsense kind of beef means he's got no neck, sloping traps, a barrel chest, corded back, cannonball arms, flared lats, a thick but solid waist, a broad butt, tree-trunk thighs and overstuffed calves. That kind of beef.

Don't get me wrong. Though most would call Antonio grossly over-developed and way out of proportion, that's exactly why I'm so strongly attracted to the guy. So much muscle and power and strength contained in one short package is an incredibly potent aphrodisiac for me. Hell, I get horny just thinking about him.

Then, there are his other charms. He's an extremely hairy man. Now, I don't usually get off on a lot of body hair (it hides muscle), but on him it's very hot and sexy. So much so that sometimes it's all I can do not to go over and run my fingers through all his swirling black fur. Front and back. I don't know; maybe it's because it gives him a cute and cuddly teddy bear look. Yeah, right. Some teddy bear!

And then, there's his biggest charm. The one between his legs. The first time I saw Antonio's cock in the locker room I damn near had a heart attack. He heard my loud gasp and gave me a big grin, as if to say, "Yes, it is big." So typical of a muscleman to admire his own meat.

It's not so much a cock as it is a spectacular, mind-boggling, whopping-huge hunk of incredible, uncut man-meat. It's a gargantuan, horse-sized dick of epic proportions. Does the size and shape of a jumbo can of shaving cream mean anything to you? Well, it's bigger than that.

How do I know? Well, after that first gasp, when I let slip I was impressed by his meat, Antonio took a more casual interest in me. Not overtly, mind you. Not that he would acknowledge or talk to me or anything like that — the power-lifters stay pretty much down at their end of the gym and rarely, if ever, mix. No, it was more like making sure I had a clear view when he flexed and posed and checked himself out in the mirror. Or he'd wait until I was resting between sets to re-arrange his basket before a lift. I swear, it looks like he's packing two oranges and a large banana in his sweat-soaked jock-strap.

Things got even more interesting when he started taking a shower after his workout. He never used to do that before. He'd finish his workout, slip on a sweatshirt and head home. But after my little slip of the tongue, he suddenly became a fanatic for cleanliness and spent what seemed like hours soaping. up. He put on quite a show. In fact, he got bolder and more imaginative when he realized that very few guys took showers late in the evening and that we had the place practically all to ourselves.

He was shameless, really got off on performing. He'd soap and lather every square inch of his mouth-watering, muscular young body, taking his own sweet time. He milked every motion and gesture for all it was worth.

What a major turn-on it was watching him lather up the hair covering his monster pecs. He soaped and played with those pumped, power-packed, hairy mounds until I thought he was going to cum from the sheer fun of it. But, just when I thought he was going to lose it, down he went. Right down between his legs.

With that big old bar of soap providing the lather and lubrication, he'd go to work on the thick, heavy hunk of meat dangling between his legs — stroking it, pounding it, pumping it — until the beast started growing with a new, almost frightening life of its own. Franken-dick, I called it. Scary, just how big it got.

It never got completely hard in the showers but it was absolutely fascinating to watch because it was so big and heavy. It couldn't possibly stand straight up and out on its own. It swung lazily — no, more like obscenely — back and forth between Antonio's huge thighs, looking for all the world like an elephant's trunk. Sometimes its long, thick, rubbery foreskin was pulled down over the helmet-shaped cockhead and sometimes it wasn't. He practically could've used it to pick up a bar of soap off the floor. Either to make me even hornier or to satisfy some inner sexual cravings on his part, Antonio would frequently turn around and put on a show of soaping and lathering his ass. He'd rub that bar of soap up and down between his hairy butt cheeks and moan and groan in all the right places while he did it. He'd squat low, real low, and work the bar along his crack like he was trying to stuff it up his chute. It was downright amazing how much he got into it. Who would have thought such a quiet, unassuming young power-lifter would turn into such a wild and crazy exhibitionist? It's always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for.

We did this shower thing for two weeks. Each time he'd put on a show lasting close to half an hour. Each time he'd pump and stroke and pound that big monster meat of his until — BOOM! — he totally lost it and blew a huge thick, syrupy cum-load all over the shower room floor.

That shit was frustrating. While Antonio loved having an audience and was more than eager to show off his body, he made it quite clear I could look at — but not touch — the merchandise. And then, to twist the knife, once he got his rocks off, he left without so much as a "later, dude." Must have been some macho guilt thing kicking in. He had hetero guilt and I had blue-balls.

I was expecting the same frustrating routine at the beginning of the third week when, just as Antonio was nearing one of his patented, ball-busting climaxes, we heard a couple of rowdy guys cutting up in the locker room. Worse, they sounded as if they were stripping down for a shower. This unexpected turn of events was disastrous! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when Antonio quickly rinsed off and hurried out, leaving me with a rapidly shrinking dick and more lather than you can shake a stick at.

I got out of the showers just in time to see the muscle-stud making a beeline for the door. He'd hurriedly pulled on a sweatshirt, baggy gym pants — his big semi-erection swinging within the loose folds — and sneakers. He hadn't even dried off. Oh, sure... he did look back and give me a wink, but that did nothing for my aching dick.

Really frustrated now and more than a little depressed, I got dressed and walked out to my car. I'd just tossed my stuff in the backseat and was about to settle in behind the wheel when I heard a short whistle. Looking around the dimly lit parking lot, I spotted Antonio groping himself beside a beat-up, old, black van. Satisfied he had my attention, he ambled out of sight around the van's far passenger side. Needless to say, I quickly locked my car and followed him.

Antonio had disappeared by the time I got around the van but the side door was open a crack so I peeked inside. It was very dark, I couldn't see a thing and I was starting to get a little nervous about it all when out of the black hole a voice snarled, "What are you waitin' for? Get in."

So, I got in and closed the door. A flashlight came on and there was Antonio sitting at the back of the empty, carpeted van. He was still dressed, still dripping wet from the showers, and his legs were spread wide. The damp fabric of his sweat was clinging like second skin to his hefty boner.

"Fuck, I hate it when that happens," he groused, giving me a nervous smile. "Before I shoot, I mean."

"I'll bet. A dick like yours doesn't just snap to attention. It takes time for a schlong that big to get hard. Your balls must be about ready to... explode," I said.

"You got that fucking right," he snorted. He gave his dick a squeeze, looked me in the eye and asked point-blank, "You wanna help me do somethin' about it?"

I nodded, stunned but ready.

Antonio wasted no time stripping all the way down. He settled back on his elbows with his beefy legs wide apart, his humongous schlong flopped out before him, its large, bulbous cockhead peeking out from behind the rubbery folds of his thick, retracting foreskin, clearly eager for some oral action. He looked at his cock then looked at me and said, "I know you want it. Now, let's see what you can do with it."

I settled between his bulging legs, took hold of the awakening giant and, after first licking my lips in nervous anticipation of the incredible cocksucking adventure ahead, bent over and went down on his awesome rod.

To the appreciative accompaniment of Antonio's low moaning and groaning, I made a real meal of his jumbo tube-steak. I stuffed in as much of the delicious meat as possible because I knew that once it became fully erect even my experienced mouth wouldn't be able to take much more than the head.

The more cock I got, the more I wanted; the more I wanted, the more I got. I sucked harder, relishing the challenge. I worked the shaft with my tongue, tracing each and every vein along its length, squeezing the soft, spongy flesh within my mouth and caressing the head with my throat. Then, I alternated between pulling back the foreskin to tease the exposed cockhead with my tongue and pulling as much foreskin as possible back up over the cockhead to nibble on the tatty overhang.

Antonio's cock got bigger and harder still and I was able to get less and less of it in my mouth. Now, I had to split my focus. Either the shaft got my full attention or the head and foreskin did. I just didn't have enough mouth for both. One minute I was licking the shaft like it was an all-day sucker, the next I was polishing the head, tickling his piss-hole or chewing on the foreskin.

Every once in a long while, for a refreshing change of pace, Antonio would take hold of his dick and pump away so I could lay flat and play with his balls. He loved it, went absolutely fuckin' ape-shit when I went to work on those Grade-A nuts. I'd lick them, slurp them and suck each into my mouth for a serious washing. When I stuffed both of them in my mouth at the same time, he hit the ceiling.

Sometimes, Antonio would pound his own pud and let me play with his hairy pecs. I could tell he didn't really get off on the pec/nipple stuff but it was nice that he'd indulge me from time to time. Then too, I never met a bodybuilder or weightlifter yet who wasn't proud of his pecs and eager to show them off. Antonio was no different. He got right into flexing and posing those massive, furry mounds for my enjoyment.

My own cock was, by now, rock-hard and hurting like hell. I had taken a moment to pop open my jeans to give it some relief but I had to accept that I was not going to get any help with it. Hey, that's how it sometimes goes when you crave bodybuilders.

I'd been sucking on Antonio's cock forever, but though it was fat, it still wasn't rock-solid. I gripped the base of the shaft tighter (which got a satisfied groan from Antonio) and really went to town on his big, beautiful cock-head.

It was about then that Antonio decided to do something about the hardness thing himself. He fumbled around in the van for his gym bag, reached inside and produced a hand-tooled leather cock-ring and ball harness. He snapped one part around the base of his cock, which seemed to work wonders immediately, and the other part around his nuts, which stretched his sack out to the max. In no time flat, Antonio had an enormous, rock-hard cock that would do King Kong proud.

Antonio's cock got so big and hard I thought for sure it was going to burst right through its skin. Pumped up, it bordered on the inhuman. I immediately redoubled my efforts at showing it the respect and admiration we both felt it deserved.

With my mouth clamped over as much of the gigantic cockhead as possible, sucking away like an industrial-strength vacuum cleaner, I gripped the monster meat tightly with both hands and pumped the huge, vein-popping shaft as hard and as fast as I could. Going by all the loud moaning and groaning, Antonio clearly got off on the extreme, heavy-duty workout. No wimpy blow-job for this major muscle-stud. He was hung like a fucking horse and he wanted the savage beast rearing between his legs ridden long and hard like one. I gave him what he wanted.

It must have been the added tension and pressure provided by the harness because suddenly Antonio's loud moaning down-geared into some really deep, heavy-duty growls. The more — and harder — I worked on his cock, the deeper the growls got.

Then, Antonio started gasping for breath, his chest heaving up and down. He arched his back, thrust those big pecs of his towards the roof, rolled his head from side to side and let out a gravely, demonic growl. He took a deep breath, sucked in his gut, flexed his arms in a kind of double biceps pose behind his head, spread his tensed legs in a wide V and — BOOM! — he came. Big-time. The explosion went off in those big bull-nuts of his and detonated a gusher of churning cum. His pumped, vein-laced cock seemed to surge just that fraction of an inch bigger as cum raced up the shaft and erupted in a thick, creamy, jizzy rain. It spurted and spewed out the wide piss-hole like lava from a volcano.

Antonio's whole body jerked and contracted like he was getting punched in the gut by invisible fists the entire time his balls spasmed and his cock shot its heavy load.

While I was squeezing the last of his cum from his smoking shaft, I scooted in close between his legs to lay my own aching cock against his and jack myself off. Fuck, it felt so hot pressing my meat up against his that I became a maniac. I was terrified that Antonio's macho straight guilt thing would kick in before I came, but I was too frenzied to stop. It didn't take long before I had a mind-blowing, cum-spurting, heart-pounding orgasm of my own. You wouldn't believe the huge load I shot all over that hunky muscle-stud. Gallons of the stuff.

Turned out he didn't mind me drenching him at all. In fact, he said later that he really got off on it. Took a big weight off my shoulders, believe me. Last thing I wanted to do was piss off old Donkey-Dick.

Outcome:

We went hot and heavy for a while after that, getting together in the back of Antonio's van or at my place at least twice a week. But he never did get over the macho thing so it was always a one-sided affair. A couple of months ago, he finally found a woman who could take him between her legs and our get-togethers came to an abrupt halt. We still say hello in the gym, but that's as far as it goes, now.

THE  END