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The Wall (chapter 42, added 12/26).


Maxum

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I LOVE the muscle descriptions, and it adds to the intensity that the narrator, Max, loves his muscles:

 

“Okay, we’ll start with my deltoids. My sweatshirt is already torn over the left one.”  I pulled on the sleeve, and it ripped even more, revealing a bowling ball with striations, covered in sweat-shiny skin. I looked down on it myself. It was beautiful, big and strong.

 

Terrific descriptions! I really appreciate your writing, Maxum!

* One suggestion:   Please use some other color besides RED for your text. While it has high contrast, there are some types of color blindness where people are unable to perceive the color red.  Also, the contrast can be a bit hard on the eyes.  I personally found that I ended up highlighting your text  while I was reading it (as if I were going to copy it).  That temporarily changed the color to a cooler shade of blue and white, which was easier on the eyes.   The content of the words and the way they are put together is very compelling!  

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Bygones for the text color. Will fix when I have access to my own computer later today. I’ve been far back in the wilderness, and I sent the update via satellite relay and a totally sketch server. I don’t seem to be able to chose black or white.  I chose orange, but it came across red.  

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Hi guys! Well, I'm back in civilization now, and I just read chapter 9 that I composed on my iPhone in a snow tent in the back country. (I highly recommend against publishing under these conditions.) I've pulled the chapter for now and will repost it once I've read through it and made some sense of it. Thanks for your patience. -M 

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The Wall, Part 10 “Eye Candy”

He strutted onto the property as if he owned it. I had heard the truck drive up and the door slam. I looked out the window. It was like Jersey Shore comes to Long Island. The young Italian hunk was preened like a peacock, not a hair out of place. His jeans were slung so low that I could see his grunge in the front and a trail of hair disappearing into his butt crack in the back. His ass was a work of art, bouncing and flexing as he walked. His oversized belt buckle rested just above an ample bulge, and there was a two inch gap between his belt and his shirt.

What most caught my attention were the words on his shirt. The color of the shirt cloth itself was turquoise, and it was stretched across a magnificent body. Rolled up at the sleeves, it revealed the curves of round biceps and triceps, and it stretched over mountains of powerful traps and muscular shoulders. His pecs were the best part, however, disproportionately large – no, disproportionately huge -- high, thick and wide. They were so big that they were almost cartoonish. The shirt stretched tight across his massive chest, and I could make out not only his nipples, but also his large areolae. In bold white letters across that sumptuous chest were two words in white lettering, all caps: EYE CANDY. 

Were it not so absurd, were it not so insanely true, and if he were not such a cliché, it all would have been laughable. It would have seemed he was trying too hard, but since he was such a gorgeous piece of Italian male perfection, it actually worked. In fact, it worked so well that I wondered if there weren’t an adept mind and wry sense of humor behind those mirrored sunglasses. 

The front doorbell rang. I opened the door. There stood Eye Candy, mirrored glasses and all. 

“Hey, man. Nice place. You live here?”

“Maybe… Who’s asking?’

“Oh, sorry, man. The name’s Lucky, and I’m looking for the dude who is building your wall. I’m a stone mason apprentice, and I noticed he does nice work. I just finished a wall down the road at 2311, the Bernstein place. I thought maybe your dude could use some help.  I could use the dough. I’m kind of in between gigs right now, and I’ve been eyeing some new chrome rims for my rig.” He motioned to the shiny black truck in my driveway.

“Well, Lucky, I haven’t seen the mason myself, but he seems to be making quick work of the wall. If you don’t connect with him soon, I’m afraid you may miss the opportunity for any work. 

"However,… I’ve got some other odd tasks that need attention in the garden. If you’re hungry for work, I could hire you by the hour. Then maybe if my mason returns  while you’re here, you could talk to him personally. I’m Max, by the way. Max Rayburn.”

“Lucky. Luciano Francesconi Ciccarello -- Catholic Italian,… in case you didn’t notice.”

“No. It didn’t escape me,” I chuckled. “Not much does.” 

I scanned his body first down and then back up, surveying the sum total, my eyes coming to rest on his big chest. Not missing the attention, Lucky bounced his big pecs. When I looked back to his face, a crooked smile appeared, and he said, “You work out?”

“Yeh, I work out.” I replied. 

“Thought so. You look big.” His hand absentmindedly adjusted his package. “I just wasn’t sure on account of your suit. Some big guys in suits are just fat.” 

He continued, “Not me. I’ve put a lot of work into this bod. I work out, and I dress for the occasion, so to speak. No need to hide the goods. I consider it a public service to display what I got. People seem to enjoy it.” 

He wiggled his brows. 

“Mrs. Bernstein enjoyed it.” 

He paused. 

“I think that you might enjoy it.” 

He lowered the mirrors just far enough to peer over them, and then he flexed his pecs again and smiled wryly. 

“I’m an equal opportunity kinda guy if you know what I’m sayin’.”

‘Hmmm… well, I suppose we’ll find out. But first, let’s talk about the work in my garden. I’m re-laying a stone pathway through a part of the garden that is very old,” I continued. “It was poorly executed when it was first installed; so, we need to pull out the whole thing and re-lay it properly. I want to maintain the original look; so, let’s save the original bluestone and reconstruct the pathway without changing the design.” I added, “Some of the stones are pretty good size. It’s heavy work, but from what I can see, you won’t have any trouble at all.”

“With guns like these…” he said, raising both arms in a flex, “it won’t be a problem.”

I smiled. The hard sell was making me a little uncomfortable but turning me on at the same time. 

Moving the conversation along, I said, “Great! I already have the tools and supplies. I’ll pay you $45 per hour for the labor. I think the whole job can be done in a day; so, we’re talking about $400 total.” Then I added, “We can discuss extras and tip at the end.” 

“You can start now, or you can wait till after lunch, or you can come back tomorrow. The day is not too hot yet, but the humidity is going to get pretty oppressive.”

“I got my work clothes in my rig. I’ll get changed; then I can get started now. Maybe I can finish today and get paid.”

Lucky’s work attire was true to his code and left nothing to the imagination. He seemed to take his “public service” seriously. He wore nothing more than a pair of oversized bib overalls and some boots. From what I could tell, he had removed everything else. He had buttoned only one of the two shoulder straps. The other flapped casually open, exposing most of his torso.  The side snaps at the waist were also left open, presumably to increase ventilation, but I suspected more to expose the flex of his hips and because it gave easy access to scratch his balls and grope his package (or let someone else do that for him).

His skin was flawless and smooth, perfectly tanned with no visible lines. Since it was only March and we were dealing with Lucky, I had to assume that the tan was generated by the bulb in a booth or the spray from a bottle. Nevertheless, the effect was perfection. His magnificent chest was on three-quarter display, ridiculously thick and waxed entirely hairless. Only one of two brown-red nipples surrounded by a large areola was fully in view, but I knew the other must be equally perfect. The retro areolar soft tissue puffed slightly, a side effect from the abundance of testosterone he had pumped into his system. The effect was appealing, making his tits seem that they begged to be suckled.

Luciano Francesconi Ciccarello looked good enough to eat, and he knew it. He was also aware that I was hungrily watching.

I stayed in the house while he worked on the walkway, attending to business Zoom meetings and making phone calls. Every time I glanced out the window to check on his progress, he would seductively rise and stretch or flex or wipe the sweat from his torso.

About half past four, I went out in the garden to inspect Lucky’s work. The job site was neat, and the path stones were amazingly level and closely set. I had not expected such beautiful work from this swaggering bohunk. Behind the mirrored glasses and beneath the supped up chassis and painted on tan, Lucky was a fine craftsman. I was astounded.

He was sweeping the last stones of the path when I came upon him. Pushing the broom set his sweat-shiny muscles in motion. The angle of the sun cast shadows across his frame that accentuated his size and definition. When I approached, he seemed to give an additional flex. I felt a twitch in my groin.

“Whadaya think?” He asked.

“In a word?” I said, “Stunning!” My reference to both his work and physique was intended and presumably received. I added, “I haven’t seen perfection like that in a very long time.” 

Lucky smile broadly and shifted his weight. I noticed the pendulum motion of his free swinging cock behind the loose, faded denim. He shifted again, and the pendulum swung. The effect was like that of a hypnotist’s pocket watch. It swayed, I stared, and I surrendered my will. My own cock responded and began straining my fly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said. Then he nodded to my buldge and added, “It looks like you could use a hand with something else there, if you know what I mean. I think it might be time to talk about those tips and extras you mentioned earlier.”

With that, Lucky closed the distance between us and grabbed hold of my package. “Fuck! Max, you’re a monster down there.” He manipulated and massaged me until my full length extended to my left hip. He slid his hand in my pocket and continued to grope. He seemed to be weighing a measuring my size in his hand. 

“Fuuuuck! That’s a big piece of meat. You must have conceiled-carry permit for that thing.”

He slowly leaned in and kissed me wet on the mouth, pulling me closer and sliding a meaty thigh between my legs. I couldn’t resist and ground my dick into his quads,  grabbing his ass and pulling our bodies even together. He grabbed my ass back, pulling me both up and in tighter, grinding our crotches together and kneading my glutes in his strong hands. 

He lifted me up by my ass, demonstrating his strength and testing my weight. “Damn, Max. I can barely lift you. How much do you weigh? You are a very big boy.” 

“And you, Lucky, are not so small yourself.”

My hands traveled up the curve of his arms, over the bulge of his shoulders and down the curve of his back and his rump, coming to rest under the curve of his ass and lifted him off the ground in return. He was solid. “Mmmmmph

“Let’s take this inside.” 

I opened the door to the pool house, and we stumbled inside. We entered the bedroom, and he pushed me down on the bed and backed away slowly. My eyes were wide with anticipation. If he wanted to give me a show, he had my attention. 

First, he kicked off his boots and took of his socks. Then, standing fully erect, he faced me and cupped his one exposed pec in his hand. He massaged the thick muscle, letting it flex and relax. He twisted the nipple and moaned softly as his other hand slid into his pants. I could tell from the outline on the front of his pants that his cock was now fully erect. He jacked it slowly. The muscles in his big shoulder and arm came alive with his manipulations.  

With his free hand, he then reached up to his shoulder and unhooked the remaining strap, releasing the bib and revealing the full mass of his torso. The overalls fell as far as his groin but then stopped, hung up on his massive erection.

Lucky stood fully erect and perfectly still, allowing me the time and luxury to survey and absorb the full depth of his beauty. He was exquisitely carved. Were is not for the subtle rise and fall of his chest, I might have mistaken him for a statue. His muscles were large and round with deep cuts between each muscle belly. His grace of his symmetry transcended perfection. In his current condition he could easily win any number of amateur shows.

He swept his hands up in an arc over his head and then pulled them down slowly into a very powerful, symmetrical double biceps pose. He held the pose few seconds and then redoubled his effort. Then he shifted his hips just slightly but enough to free the overalls and send them cascading to the floor. Huge rippling thighs were now revealed and he flexed them into a frenzy of striations as his hardon bobbed up and slapped him in his tight abs. An shiny strand of precum fell like honey across his left hip.

As his posing continued, I rose from the bed. My hands ran over his arms and his shoulders. His biceps were high and round and surprisingly wide. He pushed his arms down by his sides and I felt his thick triceps. His pecs flexed seductively, rising, twisting and flexing in to hard mounds.

I grabbed his flexed pecs and started to rub. He relaxed them for my inspection. They were firm and wide and impossibly thick. I measured their size with my hands. They were heavy and dense. I lifted them up and let them drop back to his chest. They bounced slightly. Occasionally he would flex, and the flesh would transform into granite before relaxing again.

As I continued my rough pec massage, more precum appeared at the slit of his cock. I groped him more firmly, and he threw back his head. I squeezed even harder, and he writhed with pleasure and kissed me deeply and urgently. My hands like a vice on his pecs. My rough thumbs found his nipples, and he roared.  

He unzipped my pants and extracted my cock. I had not yet adjusted to my increase in size, and when I looked down at myself, I gasped.  Lucky was right -- I was a monster down there. It was huge and imposing, throbbing and red. We were still kissing when his hand wrapped around it. The kiss suddenly broke.

“Fuck! You are huge.”

He pulled free from our embrace and dropped down to his knees. 

“Fuckin’ goddamn. That is a big fuckin’ dick… Fuck!” 

Then he dove on my hardon and started to suck. God, he was good. He used all of his mouth and both of his hands. He sucked away with abandon and deep throated me to the base. I was spit-slicked to the pubes, and the front of my pants was covered in a mixture of precum and saliva. 

My balls were starting to tingle, but I wanted to last longer. Reluctantly, I extracted my dick from his mouth. I pulled him up to my mouth, and he kissed me. His mouth was pure magic. He kissed as well as he sucked, and my hands explored his big body while he sucked on my neck and my jaw.

I refocused my attention on his huge pecs. He clearly enjoyed the attention as much as I enjoyed giving it. I started really working them over, squeezing them hard when relaxed and pounding them hard with my fists when he flexed. He tightened his grip on our cocks. He jacked with more urgency now. His breathing grew ragged, and I knew he was close. As his balls pulled up, I grabbed hold of his nipples and twisted them roughly. He bellowed, and started to blow. 

It was quite an explosion. The first shot painted my shoulder and cheek, and the second one went even higher. The next shot was a relative dribble, but the fourth, fifth, sixth and tenth landed half way across the room. He started to falter, just as I started to blow a seemingly unending fountain of thick, white lava. He dropped to his knees and swallowed my still-pumping dick, using every last ounce of his will to milk me dry as a bone. 

Afterward, we collapsed to the bed and both briefly enjoyed the deep sleep of complete satisfaction. I woke to him leaving. I was passed out on my back, still dressed in my suit. I reached in my pocket and pulled out my wallet. He had worked for 4 hours. I paid him for 8. He raised an eyebrow  to question the amount.

 “Tips and extras," I reassured. "You do beautiful work. I hope you’ll come back sometime and work in the garden again.” 

He smiled as he left and said, “Fuck, I love sucking cock.”

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