m/m Deano's Summer: A Muscle University Story

[DennisFLL]

1 hour ago, muscleaddict said:

Thanks for the latest comments, guys. I'll be posting the first of the expo chapters today (it stretches across a few chapters)! 

And thank YOU for all of your hard and wonderful work!  You bring a lot of Americans out of isolation and onto the streets of Brighton with a sexy bodybuilder named Deano and his friends and family.  Looking forward your post later today.

[muscleaddict]

1 hour ago, DennisFLL said:

And thank YOU for all of your hard and wonderful work!  You bring a lot of Americans out of isolation and onto the streets of Brighton with a sexy bodybuilder named Deano and his friends and family.  Looking forward your post later today.

Bless you, mate!  Well if any of you ever come over to the UK I highly recommend a trip to Brighton. Maybe I could conduct a Deano's Summer tour? "This is the gay club Deano went to when he was drunk and kissed that guy. Oh and here's the black bin he threw up behind the next day." 

[DennisFLL]

29 minutes ago, muscleaddict said:

Bless you, mate!  Well if any of you ever come over to the UK I highly recommend a trip to Brighton. Maybe I could conduct a Deano's Summer tour? "This is the gay club Deano went to when he was drunk and kissed that guy. Oh and here's the black bin he threw up behind the next day." 

You can save that last sentence for the next tour!  I was in Brighton in 1985, just an overnight, and remember a vibrant interesting city.  Look forward to your tour down memory lane in the future! 

[Sjdmuscle]

3 hours ago, muscleaddict said:

Thanks for the latest comments, guys. I'll be posting the first of the expo chapters today (it stretches across a few chapters)! 

Looking forward to them today! Thanks MA! Have a happy Insurrection day!( I'm aware of the British term)!!!

I'm all in! Especially if it includes the cache of crispy socks! no, I'm not dropping it, it's just too funny!!!

 

[muscleaddict]

Okay, lads - the first chapter set at the weekend of the expo. There's a couple of cameos of bodybuilders who were either featured or referenced in past stories. I'm sure many of you will recognise some of them but I might give a little rundown as to who and what story they're from afterwards. 

Thirteen

“Bloody Nora!” my dad says, looking from his watch to me as I walk into the kitchen.

I ignore him, roll my eyes and grab my porridge bowl. 

“Wonders never cease!”

Today’s the day of the bodybuilding expo in London. It’s ridiculously early. I’m wearing a tight fitted black t-shirt with DEANO’S GYM written across the chest and Big Steve’s coming to pick me up in about twenty minutes. 

“I look like a right TWAT in this t-shirt!” I say to my dad as I sit opposite him at the kitchen table. 

“Are you sure it’s the t-shirt?” he replies.

I do a fake, sarcastic laugh in response. I’m complaining, but I have to say, I actually think I look pretty fucking good in this t-shirt. I could do without the text on the chest, but the fit is pretty awesome. My pecs and biceps looks pretty fucking great bulging under and around the fabric. My hair’s looking especially good today too. Okay, not quite Ryan North levels of good, but not far off. I’ve got a tan from the last few ridiculously hot weeks of the summer. And I’m wearing my light blue round earrings. I actually think I look pretty good today in general. Which makes the prospect of seeing certain people from university slightly less gut-wrenching.

I should check their Instagram profiles. I know I should. But what if that just puts me in a bad fucking mood all day? And what if I found out they actually are at the expo? I’ll be sitting there on my dad’s booth all day wondering if they’re gonna come walking around the corner, smiling at each other, nudging each other’s shoulders. It’s probably best that I don’t know. Anyway, what are the chances they’ll be there? Probably pretty slim. 

Probably.

But as nervous as I am about the prospect of seeing Woody and Henderson, there’s something else overriding those nerves. Seeing Ryan North for the first time in three days. The Ryan North who’s been sending me awesome, funny Instagram messages. The Ryan North who’s invited me to go round to his flat again. An invitation I still haven’t responded to. I wonder if that’s bothered him. The fact that I haven’t replied yet. Maybe he’s been wondering why I haven’t. Maybe he's even been wondering whether he’s done something wrong. Or maybe he’s forgotten all about the message and has been too busy prepping for his bodybuilding show tonight and being with his stunning girlfriend to give me even a moment’s thought. It’s probably the latter.

Probably.

“Don’t you get bloody showing me up today!” my dad orders.

I pull a face. “What the hell am I gonna do at a bodybuilding expo?”

“Dunno!” he says. “Might be some black bins somewhere for you to throw up behind!”

Even though I wasn’t particularly looking forward to the day part of the expo, now that I’m actually here, I have to say it’s a pretty awesome event. There’s a fantastic buzz here. And it’s pretty fucking great to be in a place that’s full of bodybuilders and lads who clearly have an interest in muscle. 

Big Steve’s let me wander around a bit too. I’ve seen some a couple of famous guys. That really shredded young-ish American physique competitor Justin Hughes who everyone online seems to love. And who’s not exactly the worst looking dude in the business. And Chris “Freaky Peaks” Jackson, who I saw waddling around in a checked shirt with cut off sleeves (fucking HELL) and whose famous arms were nothing short of monstrous.

I’ve seen a couple of lads I know too through the contest circuit, including Mark Green - this six foot three bald monster from somewhere up North. And a few other lads I recognise from Instagram. I’ve definitely been getting quite a few looks from people too. I’m wondering how much of that is thanks to my Deano’s Gym t-shirt. I guess my arse doesn’t exactly small in these trackies either. But then, it never really does.

There have been a couple of times when I’ve caught a lad looking at me in a particular way and certain questions have crossed my mind. Are they like Woody and Henderson? Are they like me?

I’ve not seen anyone from Muscle University though. I keep thinking that I might. Every now and then I’ll turn a corner and wonder whether he’ll suddenly be strutting towards me. In that black vest he always wears. And his “ICON” cap. Just as annoyingly good looking as ever. Giving me this smug smirk as he nudges Henderson, who’ll be wearing his fucking Ghostbusters t-shirt, to alert him to my sudden appearance. 

And then, about halfway through the day, as I’m sat at the Deano’s Gym booth next to Big Steve, convinced that this whole expo might have completely bypassed anyone associated with the Montgomery University of Bodybuilding & Fitness, a familiar voice makes my heart jump into my fucking throat.

“Alright, Deano!”

Fucking. Hell.

“Alright, sir!”

Why do I sound so nervous? Why do I fucking feel so nervous?

“Call me Johnny!” says the Muscle University professor and ex competitive pro bodybuilder who's suddenly now standing in front of me.

Look - I don’t really mind Johnny Hoxton. But I’ve never gotten the impression that he’s ever really liked me that much. Even now, as he’s being all nice and chatty to me (because he’s always so fucking nice), I still can’t help thinking that he doesn’t really like me. That, I don’t know, in his head, he’s kind of looking down on me. Thinking how much of a twat faced, short arsed little prick I am. Unlike Woody. He seems to think the sun fucking shines out of Woody’s outrageously huge arse.

Big Steve’s all over Johnny. Calling him a legend. It’s weird. It’s awkward. And honestly, I can’t wait for him to fucking leave.

“Have you seen … anyone else from uni?” I’m so fucking nervous as I ask that question.

He gives me this look. Like he knows what I’m thinking. Fuck’s sake.

“Couple of third year guys!” he replies, with a nod. “Well, you have a good summer, Deano. See you in September!”

And with that, Sebastian Wood's favourite university professor waddles away with that ridiculously massive arse of his stuffed into those unfashionable jeans he always wears. And before I have time to think, someone else is suddenly walking up to the booth, with one clasped over his fist in that way he often does, his biceps bulging and his triceps sticking out. Giving me this big, cheeky grin. His hair styled exactly like mine. His skin ridiculously dark and bronzed with competition tan. Looking even more fucking gorgeous than he ever has. Fucking HELL. My stomach does something weird when I see him.

“Alright, Ryan, mate!” Steve says. 

“Was that … Johnny Hoxton?”

I nod. I almost can not believe how fucking hot he looks right now. 

“Guy’s a fucking legend!”

Ugh. A legend who suspended me from university. But as soon as I have that thought, I realise how ridiculous it is. It wasn’t Johnny Hoxton’s fucking fault. It wasn’t Woody’s either. Or Henderson’s. I got myself suspended. I made that fucking Facebook post. I posted that picture of the illustration Woody drew of him kissing Henderson on the cheek. I outed them to the whole university.

“I had a poster of him on my bedroom wall when I was a teenager,” Ryan confesses.

And now I’m smiling. I don’t know why, but I kind of love that Ryan just confessed that. He looks at me, his eyes going down to my t-shirt and, I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but he has this look on his face. Almost like he’s noticed how good of a fit the t-shirt is? And that maybe I look better than usual today? 

Big Steve asks Ryan what time he’s competing tonight and Ryan says he should be on stage about eight.

Steve pulls a face. “Hmmm. Should still be here!” 

I feel a pull in my stomach and shoot a glance at Steve. “Don’t wanna drive back too late, mate!” he says to me.

For fuck’s sake. 

“You had a walk around, D?” Ryan asks, biting his lip. I nod in reply. God - I can’t believe how fucking sexy he looks in his tight t-shirt. His dark bronzed tan contrasting with the red material. Everything’s so bronzed. His forearms hairless, brown and veiny. He looks like a such a beast right now. A bodybuilder hiding slabs of shredded to fuck, competition conditioned mass under his clothes. He’s a total fucking muscle freak. And it’s such an incredible turn on. 

“I’m just about to have a wander,” he says. “What ya saying, Steve? Can I borrow Mini D for a bit?”

Bloody hell. I'm suddenly finding it really hard not to smile. Ryan makes eye contact with me and smiles back. This really kind of cute smile. I don’t think I’ve ever thought a guy’s smile was cute before. But that’s probably the best word I can think of to describe it. 

“Yeah - go on!” he replies. "I'll be fine by myself for a bit."

Steve’s a good lad. I’m sure I can persuade him to stay and watch Ryan compete tonight. Fuck it - I’ll stay and get the train home if I have to.

And now me and Ryan are walking away from the Deano’s Gym stand and through the venue. I can’t get over how bronzed he is. He smells different to how he usually does too. I think it's the tan. It’s like he has even more of a presence than usual too. People are definitely looking. At him. At us.

“Having fun so far?” he asks me.

“Actually … it is a pretty cool expo!” I admit, nodding.

He raises his eyebrows at me in surprise and smirks.

“Shame I’ve been forced to wear this t-shirt!”

Ryan bites his lip. And now he’s got this look on his face that I can't work out. Like maybe he’s already had some thoughts about my t-shirt. That he’s already noticed how good I actually look in it. Unless (again) that's just what I want to believe.

“I’m going for the pale look today,” he jokes, stretching out his arm. His huge, jacked, bronzed arm. The arm of a fucking freak.

“So … your Johnny Hoxton poster. Was that next to your Goonies poster?”

Ryan looks over at me and beams. This big fucking gorgeous grin. I feel like we'd actually make a good looking couple. Six foot monstrous Ryan with his small waist and cartoonish lats and huge biceps. And me. A short, blocky pocket rocket with his wide shoulders and thick biceps and wonky shaped abs. 

“I’m still waiting for you to do the Sloth face!”

I smirk and roll my eyes in response.

If Woody and Henderson are here, I want them to see me now. Next to this absurdly sexy bronzed monster. Alright, Woody. Yeah - I’m good thanks. I haven’t checked your Instagram in almost a week. Oh and I’ve thought about this insanely hot bodybuilder next to me more than I have you. Let’s call him an upgrade. How do you feel about that?

“Do I have to give you some shots first?”

I smirk and roll my tongue around the inside of my cheek.

Ryan grins back at me. And then his expression suddenly changes. He’s clearly spotted someone he knows. And when I see who that person is, a heady mix of nostalgia and excitement hits me like a fucking truck.

“Fucking hell!" Ryan calls out. "Alright, Liam, mate!”

And now Liam “The Guns” Watson - the recently crowned pro bodybuilder who used to train at my dad’s gym and who I was completely obsessed with a couple of years ago is heading straight towards us. Now even bigger than ever, and, if possible, even more ridiculously sexy. With his big jug ears and cheek dimples that put Luke fucking Henderson’s to shame.

I feel a pinch of envy as they link hands and embrace in a friendly hug. I feel nervous too. It’s such a blast from the past. Before Ryan, before Woody, there was Liam “The Guns” Watson. My very first real life muscle crush.

Liam looks at me and does a little double take. Then he spots my t-shirt and his expression changes. “Hang on. Bloody hell. You’re not … Deano Watkins’ son?”

“Yep!” I say, with a little nod, my chest tightening. 

“Shit - this is mad! I used to train at your dad’s gym!”

I nod. God - he’s still so fucking hot. “I remember.”

Boy, do I fucking remember.

“You were like a tiny little dot the last time I saw you,” Liam says. “Now you’re like a miniature version of your dad!”

Ryan gives me this warm, affectionate grin.

“Blimey, mate. Good to see you!” Liam says.

We go over to the booth Liam’s on (a big named muscle supplement company he’s a sponsor for) and he and Ryan exchange small talk about what they've both been up to and about Ryan's competition tonight. I notice lots of people looking as they walk past. Some probably at Ryan. Most at pro muscle beast Liam “The Guns” Watson.

Ryan asks Liam for a picture of them together and now I’m holding up Ryan’s phone and looking at these two ridiculously hot muscle monsters (both of whom have occupied more space in my thoughts than necessary) standing before me with their hands clasped together in a friendly embrace.

And now I’m being asked to take another picture. And before I know it, both Ryan and Liam are lifting up their arms and both flexing their biceps. Ryans gorgeously bronzed peaks. Liam’s famous nickname earning guns. And it feels like the two of them are flexing just for me. Shitting hell.

“D, get in here!” Ryan calls. (Shitting. HELL.) Ryan shifts away from Liam and hands his phone to another guy at the booth and before I know what’s happening, I’m stood in between Ryan North and Liam “The Guns” fucking Watson. Two insane monsters towering over me. 

“Shall we do a crab most muscular?” Liam says to Ryan.

People have started crowding around to watch. And now, sandwiched in between Liam and Ryan, I’m leaning forward and cranking down into a crab most muscular. My guns exploding around the sleeves of my black Deano’s Gym t-shirt. Liam letting out a little, grizzly growl. And Ryan, whose elbow knocks into mine. And stays there. Fuck. I’m flexing in between two out of three of the bodybuilders I’ve been attracted to the most. And one of them has his elbow against mine. I’m touching Ryan and I feel I’m about to burst. Skin on skin. Instant chemistry. It’s something so small, but it feels so big. I haven’t felt anything since, well … since I was sat on Sebastian’s Wood that day after we posed for each other.

And now we’re done. And I can’t seem to look at Ryan. I don’t for one minute think he purposely pushed his elbow against mine. It happens sometimes on stage. But God - if he knew what was going through my mind while it was happening. And what’s still going through it now.

“Bloody hell. That was mental!” Ryan says after we’ve said goodbye to Liam and we’re walking away. 

“Bet your uni mates will be impressed when you post those to Instagram. Or are you still on a break?”

“Erm. Nah. I caved the other day,” I tell Ryan, not looking at him. “Had loads of DM’s from some nerd doing Sloth impressions!”

I cautiously look at Ryan and he’s grinning. This big, warm smile. We carry on walking. “That's funny. Cause I don’t remember you replying!”

Shit. I feel a tug in my chest. I look at him and his eyebrows are raised. But he’s giving me this teasing smirk.

“Oh. Erm ... I forgot!”

He nods, but his smirk fades. Like, I don’t know, maybe he’s actually a little bit bothered that I didn’t reply to his latest Instagram message.

“Don’t fancy being converted into a Dom and Cole fan then?”

I get a weird feeling in my stomach as I remember Ryan’s invite. I don’t know what to say. I look over at him and we lock eyes. He’s biting his lip. It’s like he’s trying to keep it casual, but I can tell he’s a little bit nervous. Why the fuck is he nervous?

“Mmmm. Maybe if there’s alcohol again!” I reply, my stomach clenching. I nervously look at him. He looks happy, like he’s trying to keep from smiling.

He gasps. “We could do SHOTS! And you know what that means …” he says, leaning into me while doing one of his goofy grins. I shake my head and laugh. He’s never going to let me rest until I do a fucking Sloth impression with the face. Not that I want him to. At all.

The rest of the afternoon drags like hell. I don’t see Ryan again. And I don’t see anyone else from Montgomery University either. To be honest, I don’t even really think about it that much. About the possibility of bumping into Woody and Luke. Me and Big Steve pack up the stall and head for something to eat, then go back to the venue for the bodybuilding competition. He’s agreed to stay until the end of the show. As long as it doesn’t drag on for too long. 

And now, after hours of watching the competitors in the other weight classes, the commentator is calling for the final Super Heavyweight class to come on stage. This is it. I’m about to see Ryan North PT shredded and bronzed in only his posing trunks, which I’m now pretty sure WON’T be velvet.

As the bodybuilders start walking on stage, my stomach clenches. My chest tightens too. Fucking hell. This is ridiculous. I can’t believe how excited and nervous I am at the prospect of seeing Ryan appear.

The competitors continue to waddle on in a line from the side of the stage. Like a herd of bronzed bulging freaks. There’s some BIG lads. And then I spot him and my heart blows up in my chest. He looks fucking phenomenal. Bronzed and smiling. Pecs round and pumped. Those perfect abs shredded to fuck. Six gorgeous blocks of ab muscle. Crazy lats. An impressively small waist. And his quads which have the most beautifully curved sweeps and seem to hang from his thighs. And no - he’s not wearing his Union Jack posing trunks. They’re red. And okay - they’re shiny. Really shiny. But I kind of don’t mind. I weirdly don’t mind at all.

He’s by far the best looking freak on stage. With that smile. And that haircut. God. It’s not just that though. There’s something about him. It’s like, he owns the fucking stage. Even though there are bigger lads up there. None shine brighter than he does. I honestly can’t tear my eyes away from him.

All of the lads are standing relaxed, but Ryan cheekily puts his fists together and flexes out a little most muscular. My dick twitches in my trackies. I’m so fucking hard. The crowd around me start cheering and some of the other lads start copying Ryan and flexing too. Almost like it's contagious. 

“No posing please, lads!” the show's commentator instructs.

But Ryan ignores him. He leans forward into a cheeky crab most muscular. Bloody hell. His traps erupting up to his earlobes. The whole of his upper body exploding with mass. The crowd start cheering in response. A total disrespect for the rules. I fucking love it.

“Come on lads. No posing!”

Ryan relaxes. But he’s got this big, mischievous grin on his face. Like he’s pleased with himself. Like he's getting a kick out of breaking the rules.

I sit mesmerised as I watch Ryan flex and show off his insane physique. All the time I stay as hard as fucking rock. He clearly loves being on stage. He can barely wipe that smug grin off his face. And God - I wish I could be up there with him. Giving him a run for his money. Standing next to him as we flex our huge biceps and blast out side chest poses. Standing side by side as our pecs pop and bulge for the audience to marvel at. Then spinning around to face the rear of the stage and showing off our wide backs and pumped lats as both of our massive fucking arses blow out of our posing trunks. Two jacked up, bronzed up, pumped up muscle bulls flexing and squeezing. And, of course, we’d push our foreheads together and give the crowd what they want during the posedown. A head to head most muscular. Mouths open wide. Muscle exploding. Feeling the heat from Ryan’s mass. Seeing that sweat soaked, gloriously bronzed muscle up close. Squeezing and squeezing. Both of us secretly so fucking turned on as we flex for each other. Maybe we’d cum. Maybe we’d both just blow our fucking loads in our posing trunks. At the same time. Trunks drenched with sweat, tan, oil and cum. I want it so fucking badly. Right in this very moment, it’s pretty much all I fucking want.

Predictably, Ryan’s routine is a show stopper. He poses to some old school dance tune. He’s cheeky. He’s cocky. He grunts and groans a bit (I can forgive him that). He pulls off the whole cocky thing better than Woody too. It doesn’t feel like he’s doing it because he has something to prove. And the crowd love him. They really, really love him.

And I feel pretty smug. Because that freak up there, that incredible monster with the big round glutes (Fucking HELL those glutes) who’s now taking the third place trophy is a mate of mine. He sends me pictures of himself pulling stupid faces on Instagram. He invited me round to his fucking house to watch his favourite childhood film. He had his elbow pushed against mine earlier when we were cranking out crab most musculars. And there’s a chance (there’s an actual fucking chance) that that very stupidly handsome Super Heavyweight monster with the big round glutes has the same thoughts and feelings about bodybuilders as I do.

The class is over. The champion has been crowned. And as Ryan North PT files off stage with the other top six lads, I feel a gutting sinking feeling in my stomach. Because it’s all over. And I probably won’t get to see him again now until we're both at work on Monday. 

But just as me and Big Steve are grabbing the banners from our stall to take back to his car (dad would fucking kill us if we left these banners again), my heart jumps into my throat when I suddenly spot a now clothed Ryan, suddenly bouncing up to us with his third place trophy clutched in his hand. 

Fucking hell. 

“Lads!” he calls, excitedly. 

It feels like my body is set on fire as Ryan approaches us. We tell him congratulations. He’s clearly still on a high from being on stage because he can’t stop fucking smiling. 

“Are you heading back to Brighton?”

For some reason, my chest does something weird. 

Big Steve answers for me. “Yeah, mate!”

“Well, erm … me and some of the lads from Infinity Fitness are gonna go for some food. If you two wanna come?”

Oh my fucking GOD I wanna come. Ryan’s biting his lip. He’s got this look on his face.

“Not sure what the locals’ll make of this tan though!” he jokes.

Steve blows out air. “Nah, mate! We gotta head back. The Mrs would kill me!”

My heart drops. Ryan gives me this look.

“Deano, mate - you go!” Steve says.

Ryan bites his lip. He looks kind of excited.

“You can come back with me and the lads,” he says. “There’ll be room in my car.”

“Okay!” I say, trying my hardest not to smile so fucking much.

“Just don’t forget to text your dad!” Big Steve says.

Then he picks up the carrier bags with the banners and says his goodbyes, leaving me alone with Ryan again. Gorgeous bronzed competition conditioned muscle freak, Ryan. Who I just sat and watched on stage - the whole time with the biggest fucking hard on.

He bites his lip, widens his eyes and smiles at me. This excited grin.

Fucking shitting hell.

[BrzNLA]

A-M-A-Z-I-N-G chapter MA! From beginning to end it felt like I was at the expo with Deano, checking the insanely jacked guys and walking around with Ryan. Plus the sexual tension  keeps getting higher. Can’t wait for the next chapter mate!

[crushme99]

5 hours ago, muscleaddict said:

A head to head most muscular. Mouths open wide. Muscle exploding. Feeling the heat from Ryan’s mass. Seeing that sweat soaked, gloriously bronzed muscle up close. Squeezing and squeezing. Both of us secretly so fucking turned on as we flex for each other.

Dammmm, that is HOT.  Great work start to finish, MA.

[biggymnast84]

DUDE!! The chemistry you are building between Ryan and Deano is just insane!! I love it! You are definitely one incredibly talented writer and as always...I'm sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for the next chapter. Keep it up man! Can't wait to see what comes next! 

Evan 

[brawnygods]

8 hours ago, muscleaddict said:

A head to head most muscular.

A head-to-head most-muscular will definitely make a crowd go bananas  but the mouth-to-mouth most-muscular will tear the roof off every time.

[WrestlejockCT]