m/m The Pick-Up Game

[londonboy]

(My apologies to everyone looking for muscle growth . . . I'm just really into romance this holiday season)

There are a couple of basketball courts in a small park across from St. Monica Church in Santa Monica, California.  The place is usually a sure thing if you’re looking to be part of a pick-up basketball game on any given evening of the week.  I live a few blocks away and I’ve dabbled in hoops all of my life.  I can hold my own with any of the players that come there for some fun.  I also like it because the small beach community of Southern California almost always guarantees some hot eye-candy on the teams or in the crowd doing other stuff in the park.  I’m never opposed to checking out the merchandise even if I’m not planning on purchasing anything.  

I’m a fit, thirty-two-year-old, bearded, tall jock.  I know I turn heads, but I also know I’m not super-model material.  I’m just an average bloke, who likes basketball, outdoors, and checking out hot asses.  I’m not into labels, so I don’t use them – for myself or other people.  I tend to not overshare in situations, but I’m also not some tightly wound psychopath, either.  That sounded a lot like a label, didn’t it?  Bottom line – I’m just a normal guy, whatever normal means, right?

Some people freak out when I tell them I’m gay.  Not sure why, they just do.  I don’t go around blaring the fact with a megaphone, but this important information has become very useful when I’ve helped one of my elderly neighbors with a task and they want to set me up with their ‘gorgeous’ single daughter or niece.  I usually unveil my preference with a simple, ‘I’m sorry, I like boys,” which usually confuses the hell out of said neighbor who’s trying to fix me up.  I’m also not very good with the gaydar or the entire business of flirting.  A friend once told me I’d be too clueless to know if a guy ran me over with a truck to get a date – and she was probably right.  I just tend to miss the subtle signs – a glance, a smile, someone grabbing my crotch.  Okay, it’s not that bad . . . but I am pretty clueless when it comes to someone coming on to me.

This evening of basketball was ripe with eye candy.  It seemed like our court had become the United Nations of hot men . . . and women, by the way . . . who were out for a great game.  I was holding my own as lead scorer for my team when Selena, a cute girl who’d become a friend, pulled me aside during a water break.

“Don’t look now, dude, but the daddy stud at the playground is cruising you.”

“What?” I asked, breaking the cardinal rule and immediately looking in the direction she referred to.

“Okay, Mr. Obvious, deduction of points for the party foul,” Selena said, laughing at me.

“Which one . . . I see a lot of daddy studs,” I replied, not even catching on to the fact that I shouldn’t look.

“The biggest one,” she replied.

“You mean the bodybuilder with legs as big as silos?”

“Silos?” Selena said with a weird look on her face, “Oh yeah, I always forget you were a farm boy.  Who else would call legs silos?  Yeah, he’s been checking you out the entire game.”

“You’re hallucinating.  Did you have some of those special brownies you make before you came to play?” I teased.

“No!  But they do sound good right now.  Every time you get the ball, he turns to watch the game.  If he were a cartoon character his tongue would be hanging out to the ground.  He is staring at you right now.”

Again, I looked and, sure enough, the dark-haired man who was the size of a truck was looking in my direction.  When our eyes met, he smiled and tilted his head back quickly, in a way that made my toes curl and my heart beat faster.  I immediately glanced down at the ground.  God, I was so bad at flirting.  Instantly, I assumed I had been mistaken about the guy’s actions and I looked back up.  He was still looking and still smiling.  I turned to see that Selena was watching Mr. Beefcake, too.  It must be her he’s looking at, I assumed.  

“I think he might be on your team, Selena,” I said.  “I think he’s flirting with you.”

“You have the worst gaydar on the planet,” Selena shot back.  “That man is Liberace with muscles!”

That’s when we were called back to the game.  Selena walked away and I glanced back at the behemoth at the playground.  His gaze was still on me.  It didn’t follow Selena.  Again, the guy smiled and nodded his head – as if he were confirming that it was me, he was looking at.  I blushed – returned a half smile, while awkwardly jerking my head to acknowledge his presence.  This made his smile grow.  I turned back to the game.  

When someone points out the elephant in the room – or the guy as big as an elephant – you can no longer ignore it . . . or stop thinking about it . . . or stop stealing glances at it.  To say my game went downhill after the break would be an understatement.  It was like someone had replaced the previous talented player with a non-athletic stick figure who tripped over his own feet.  My team ended up losing by many points and it was definitely because I had lost my groove.  I had become too obsessed with how I might look to Mr. Muscles and got distracted every time I looked over to see him smiling at me.

“I think from now on I’ll wait until the end of the game before I mention anyone flirting with you,” Selena said as we said goodbye.

“I think that would be best,” I replied and gave her a hug.

“Message me later to tell me what he feels like.  He’s so my type.  I love muscles,” she said as she walked away.  

I glanced back to the swing set and noticed the big man was no longer there.  He was no longer pushing his kid lightly on the swing.  I did a sweep of the playground and didn’t see him – and the guy was so big that you would not have missed him.  I couldn’t believe I had not had the chance to talk to him.  I kicked myself for not speaking to him sooner.  I sat on a bench and started tossing my things into my bag – bummed about missed opportunities.

“I’m sorry I made you lose the game,” came a deep voice from behind me.

I turned around quickly to see the handsome bodybuilder standing on the other side of a fence that divided the entrance to the playground and the courts.  It was probably to keep kids from getting in the way of the game and, more likely, to keep players away from the playground.  I stood up, staring open-mouthed.  The guy was so much bigger than I thought, now that he was a little closer.  

“Um . . . no, you didn’t.  I just . . . kind of . . . lost my concentration,” I quickly replied.

“Because of me,” he added.

“Yes . . . because of you,” I conceded, smiling.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, smiling too.

“You should.  I don’t like to lose,” I answered back.

“You seldom lose,” he said, awkwardly.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“I’ve watched you play a lot . . . I hope that doesn’t sound creepy.”

“Um . . . no, it’s actually kind of flattering,” I said.  “Funny, tonight’s the first time I ever noticed you . . . sorry . . . I mean, you’re kind of hard to miss.”

“And I’ll take that as a compliment,” the big man chuckled.  “I usually hang out back there at the picnic tables with the parents.  Tonight, I decided to be hopeful and take a chance on catching your eye.”

“Oh my god, I forgot about your boy!  Where is he?” I quickly asked, looking around.

“He’s my nephew and my sister just came to pick him up.  That’s why I had to disappear for a few minutes.  I hoped you wouldn’t leave before I got back.”

“Your nephew . . . I just assumed he was your . . . oh my, I hadn’t even considered there might be a mom or another dad.  Wow, that’s crazy.  I mean, there still could be someone else . . . I don’t want to assume that there isn’t.  I mean you could be married or in a relationship,” I had suddenly started stammering.

“I’m not . . . married . . . or in a relationship,” he said, quickly and with more urgency than he probably intended.  “Um . . . are you?”

“No!  No, I’m not,” I shot back, with just as much awkwardness and urgency.  “We sound like teenagers.  I’m T.J. Henderson.  It’s short for Thomas John.”

“I’m Awan.  In my country it means…”

“This moment . . . or this time,” I interrupted.

“How could you possibly know that?” Awan asked.

“I lived in Pakistan for two years,” I replied, quite pleased with myself.  

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any hotter,” the large man said, clearly not caring how it sounded.  “Why were you in Pakistan?”

“Can’t tell you,” I answered.  “Or if I did, I’d have to kill you afterwards.”

His face shot full of confusion and, possibly, a little fear.  I immediately thought about how culturally insensitive I was.  This kind of joke might not be funny in his country.  I worried that I had already ruined the good thing we had going on.  I panicked and quickly tried to fix it.

“Sorry, I’m kidding,” I said.  “I came up with a new type of irrigation system for desert regions a few years back and I spent time in your country teaching people how to use it.  I loved Pakistan.  I’ll go back someday.  I still have friends, there.”

“I knew you were kidding, by the way.  I just wanted to make you sweat a little.  You’re even hotter when you’re sweating.”

I didn’t know what to say.  This enormous, dark-skinned, bearded muscleman was calling me hot.  I knew, instinctively, that my underwear and shorts were not strong enough to hide my erection, but I didn’t look down or adjust myself – not wanting to draw attention to the fact that Awan caused me to get hard.  I smiled, clearly a little embarrassed, and he just waited in silence – forcing me to speak.

“What do you do?” I asked.

“I’m a professional bodybuilder,” Awan answered.

“Clearly a professional,” I said, and he knew it was a compliment.  “I’ve never known a bodybuilder.”

“Now you do.  I’ve never known a basketball player.”

“Well, I’m clearly not a professional,” I said, smiling.

“You could have fooled me.  You look pretty talented,” Awan said.

“I’m okay . . . that is, until you smiled at me,” I replied and we both laughed.  “Do you play?”

“When you get as big as me you kind of have to give up contact sports or sports that could have contact in them.  I tend to knock people to the ground when I bump into them,” the big man said.

“I can see why.  Hey, Awan, it’s starting to feel like you’re visiting me in prison.  Do you mind if we either got on the same side of the fence or, even better, went somewhere to get a bite to eat?  I’m hungry.  That is, if you have time.”

“I’d like that a lot and I have all the time in the world,” Awan said.  “I’m glad your friend, Selena, was so nice.”

“What?  What about Selena,” I asked.

“Didn’t she tell you?  After your game last week, I asked her if you were gay . . . I’m sorry if it offends you, but it’s really hard to tell with you.  Anyway, she confirmed what I hoped was true and suggested I stop by again this evening,” Awan answered.

“Why that little . . . No, she didn’t tell me.  She just said I should check out the guy flirting with me,” I replied.  “Wait until I see her.”

“Oh wait,” Awan said, laughing, “don’t get me in trouble.  I just didn’t want to offend you if you were straight.”

“I think even straight men would be flattered if you flirted with them, Awan,” I said, causing him to turn slightly red.  

We had already started walking towards the end of the fence and the gate where he could leave the playground area.  I was caught off guard by just how enormous he was when we were finally standing a few feet apart.  We were practically the same height – he maybe had half an inch on me – but his bulk was like three of me put together, and I was a decent sized guy.  My face must have shown my shock.

“Yeah, sorry about that, T.J., my size can be a little surprising,” Awan said, turning even a darker shade of red.

“Man, I just didn’t realize how big you really were until I was standing so close.  Jesus, do you live in the gym?” I said, clearly teasing and trying to make him feel less awkward.

“My friends say I do . . . especially when I’m getting ready for a competition,” he answered.

“You must have one coming up,” I said.

“No, it was last week.  I competed in Las Vegas,” he answered.

“Let me guess . . . you won,” I said, sure of his victory.

“Um . . . yeah, I did.  How did you know?” he asked.

“Just by looking at you Awan.  Just by looking at you,” I said, smiling and shaking my head at his monstrous body.  

“The good thing is – since the competition is over – I can eat whatever I want, and I love pasta!  And pizza!” he added as we started walking in the direction of Luigi’s.   

“Man, you’re really big,” I said, after stealing glances at him as we walked to the restaurant.  “I can’t imagine the kind of dedication you have to have to get to be your size.”

“I’m sure you practiced lay-ups with the same kind of dedication,” Awan said, clearly wanting to move the conversation away from his body.

“Maybe so, but my lay-ups don’t come close to matching your size, Awan,” I said, not catching on to what he wanted.  “I bet people in Pakistan went crazy when they saw you!”

“Yeah, guys my size are pretty rare, there.  It’s not like California, where there are bodybuilders everywhere,” Awan replied, chuckling at my persistence.

“I can tell you want the conversation to move elsewhere but let me just say this – even in California guys your size are few and far between, Awan.  Trust me.  And how in the hell do you deal with all the staring?  We haven’t walked more than five steps without having someone stop to gawk,” I said.

“I haven’t really noticed, T.J.,” he replied, looking around, “I guess I was too focused on you.”

It was my turn to go red in the face.  I did smile, however – genuinely touched by the compliment.  We were about a half a block from the restaurant when a group of college girls stopped us to see if they could have a picture with Awan.  I, of course, was asked to take the picture.  I was confident in my looks and, usually, enjoyed many a stare from men and women, but this evening it was like I was invisible.  One good thing about the moment was that it gave me a great chance to really look at Awan’s body.  It was overwhelmingly incredible.  I was into athletic guys and was proud of my own physicality, but never had I given huge bodybuilders more than an appreciative glance.  I’m not sure why, it was just one of those things.  However, watching the man being coerced into flexing his arms – barely contained in a dark blue polo – made me wide-eyed because of how truly huge they were.  I also cut off the tops of heads in one of the shots because I was too focused on Awan’s massive chest – stretching out the material of his shirt so beautifully.  

“Are you two on a date?” the blonde who took her phone from me asked Awan.

“I don’t know, ask T.J., here.  I hope we’re on a date,” Awan answered, looking up at me and smiling.

“So, Mr. T.J. – is this a date?” another one of the group asked me.  “We all really hope so, because you two look hot together.”

“Um . . . yeah . . . yeah, it’s a date,” I stammered back.

“Oh geez, I just love it when two gorgeous guys get together!” the blonde screamed, and the entire group chimed in with their agreement.

There were a few individual selfies with Awan and the blonde actually took one with me, making me feel a lot better.  And then they were off – as fast as they had come upon us and the sidewalk was quiet.  Neither of us moved.  I was watching the girls walk down the sidewalk, fully aware that Awan was looking at me.  I turned to see him smiling.

“What?” I asked.

“You like me.  You really, really like me,” he teasingly said.  

“Come on, crazy man,” I said, shaking my head and walking to open the door to the restaurant.  I also took off my ball cap and tried in vain to smooth down my hair.

“I like guys that do those kinds of things,” Awan said, as soon as the hostess had seated us in a large booth – noting that Awan wouldn’t fit comfortably in the small ones.

“Do what kind of things?” I asked, glancing up from my menu.

“Open doors for people and take their hats off in buildings,” Awan answered – beaming at me.

“Manners were drilled into me as a child, what can I say?” I replied.  “My mother would absolutely know if I kept my hat on in here and she lives thousands of miles away.  I do it mostly to save my hide.  And, in all honesty, one of the reasons I held the door for you was I thought it would be fun to see people’s reactions when you walked in.  I forgot, however, that your huge body would be blocking my view.”

“Why are you so obsessed with my size, Mr. Thomas John Henderson,” Awan inquired.

“Hey, you remembered my name,” I replied.

“Of course,” he said.

“I’m not obsessed.  It’s just that I’ve never known anyone as big as you.  I mean I’m friends with big guys, but none of them come close to your size.  It’s just that . . . well, I’m fascinated to find out how you manage . . . being so big.  It seems like some things would be really difficult,” I answered, honestly.

“Like what?” Awan asked.

“Oh, I don’t know . . . let’s see . . . okay, take my condo for example.  I have a very small bathroom off the front foyer . . . you know for guests when there’s a party.  I know for a fact that you wouldn’t fit in the room.  Your shoulders are too broad,” I answered, quickly avoiding other things that were crossing my mind.  

“You’ve got other bathrooms, right?”

“Sure,” I said.

“I’d use one of them,” Awan answered.  “But yes, you are right.  There are some places I just have to avoid.  Airplane bathrooms are the worst – not to mention airplane seats.  I also once got stuck in one of those photo booths with a friend.  It took me a long time to pry myself out and I think I bent the wall a little.  I used to take my nephew to see movies or things like Disney on Ice, but the kids sitting behind us couldn’t see the show . . . come to think of it, neither could the parents.”

“Now, you’re just teasing me,” I said.

“Maybe a little.  I’ve just gotten used to being big, T.J., and it doesn’t bother me.  All of our choices in life make us have to give up other things.  A bodybuilder’s life is hard, but it has its benefits, too.”

“Like what,” I asked.

“Like this,” he said, and he raised his eyes to the waiter across the room.  In seconds . . . no, in milliseconds the guy was standing next to our table, pen in hand, staring at Awan with a goofy smile that said he was ready to do anything for the big man.  “Beer, T.J.?”

“Yes.  A Stella,” I replied, trying my best not to laugh.

“Make that two Stella’s,” Awan said to the eager waiter.

“Yes sir,” the guy shot back and hurried off to fulfill the giant’s wishes.

“Please know, T.J., that I did that merely to show you something.  I do not use my size to get special attention . . . well, sometimes I do, but I don’t do it a lot.  I’m not demanding in that way,” Awan quickly explained.  “I don’t think I should be entitled to anything because of my size.”

“Well, you should be entitled to bigger clothes, don’t you think?  Trust me, I wouldn’t be sitting here if I thought you did act entitled, Awan,” I said, reassuring him.  “It was pretty impressive, though, getting the waiter so quickly.”

“He’s into muscle, so it helps that I work out,” Awan answered.

“How the hell do you know that?” I asked.

“He keeps having to adjust himself,” Awan replied, but didn’t look up from the menu.  

I turned to see the waiter doing an awkward move from leg to leg as he reached down to lessen the tension of an obvious boner – a good sized boner, too.  I got the distinct feeling the thing had actually snaked out to the top of his underwear and he was trying in vain to get it back it.  I chuckled a little and then turned back to Awan, who was a deep shade of red – clearly uncomfortable about having pointed out the waiter’s predicament.  I placed my hand on his, noticing immediately that his fingers were twice as thick as mine.  I smiled and forced myself to not look down at his huge mitt.  The beers were delivered.  

“Dude, you’re hot,” I said, “Don’t be embarrassed just because some guy sprouts some wood looking at you.  Take it as a compliment.”

“I do.  I really do,” Awan responded, quickly, “I just don’t want you to think I always want that kind of reaction . . . or, worse, expect it.”

“Well, if an elephant walks into the room, it’s going to be noticed,” I said, patting his hand and then pulling mine away – the contact was making the temperature in the room shoot up.

“Yeah, well, Mr. T.J. – you’re an elephant, too.  Most of the moms on the playground and some of the dads are always taking notice of you when you’re playing ball and saying how hot you are,” Awan said with a smile, as if he had won some contest.

It was now my turn to blush.  Awan noticed.  We both stared at each other for a few seconds and then got embarrassed at the same time, so we simultaneously took a big gulp of beer.  I glanced at the waiter – anywhere to distract me from Awan’s gorgeous eyes.  The poor man was still trying to get his hard-on in a comfortable position.  I looked back at the elephant in the room.

“How does someone have sex with a bodybuilder the size of you?” I asked, catching Awan off guard with my bluntness and he choked on his beer.

“What?” he said between coughs.

“Dude, you’re as massive as a house!  You could probably flatten a little guy like a steamroller when you climbed on top of him.  I know I’ve crossed a line, but it’s been on my mind ever since we sat down, Awan.  You’re as wide as the booth!” I exclaimed – making it clear that these thoughts had been building up inside me for a while.

Awan paused for a few beats and then smiled, saying, “I’ll answer your question, T.J., but first you need to tell me if you’re asking because the thought of having sex with me had crossed your mind.”

It was like I had been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.  Of course, the idea of doing the nasty with this humongous beefcake had crossed my mind, but still my mouth opened and closed a few times without emitting a sound.  I turned a much deeper shade of red than before and it took me a few seconds to recover any semblance of calmness I might have had earlier.  In spite of all this, I decided – immediately – that I would be completely honest with the huge man in front of me  

“How on earth could I not be thinking about it, Awan.  You’re nice, handsome, smart, and clearly a good guy.  I seriously think even straight men would have trouble not thinking about having sex with you,” I answered – and finished with a sip of beer.

“Funny, I’ve been thinking about having sex with you the entire evening, too,” Awan replied.  “So, T.J., I’m sure you’re aware of this already, but there are many different ways for two men to have sex.  Sometimes the steamroller can be on the bottom . . . supporting the other guy.”

I pride myself for not labeling people . . . not letting stereotypes seep into my brain, but the idea of someone as massive as Awan being a bottom both confused me and aroused me at the same time.  For a few seconds I disappeared into my own little world imagining holding his gigantic legs while I . . . I forced myself to stop these thoughts.  I didn’t want to ask the waiter for a bunch of new cloth napkins – requesting some of them to be wet.  Cleaning up a mess under the table just didn’t seem like first date wholesomeness.  I, myself, was very versatile – and enjoyed being both a pitcher and a catcher.  Still, the idea of having all of Awan’s colossal weight on top of me seemed like it would be a little uncomfortable.  I seriously pondered if sex with an elephant could be enjoyable.  Awan clearly saw my confusion and doubt.

“Without wanting to sound conceited, T.J.,” he said, “let’s just say these arms and legs are strong enough to support all of my weight when engaged in any kind of bodily fun.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” I replied.  “But it makes perfect sense.  Sorry, if the question embarrassed you.”

“Now, are we all done with questions about my size and references to elephants.  Can we talk about something else for a while?” Awan asked imploringly.

“For now,” I answered, “but I reserve the right to bring the conversation back to your big body any time I want.  It’s your fault since you’re the one who grew himself massive.  I’ve just never gotten to ask questions like this before.”

“Fair enough,” Awan shot back.  “But that means I can ask questions, too.  What’s been your longest relationship?”

“Whoa, that’s pretty personal, don’t you think?” I said.

“And asking me how I have sex isn’t personal?” he responded – immediately putting me in my place.

“Okay, you win.  I dated a guy named Seth for two years . . . but that was more than four years ago,” I said, thinking about my ex for the first time in a long time.

“Why did you break up?” Awan pressed on.

“Look at you, getting all personal,” I teased.  “Let’s see, he ended our relationship because he said I was too intense.  I could become so focused on things that nothing else mattered.  I became so absorbed in something that I’d forget other things . . . things, I guess, he thought were important.”

“Like what?” Awan asked.

“Like to buy coffee or our anniversary,” I quickly answered, and it made Awan smile.  “What?”

“I get that way when I’m training for a competition.  Single-minded – totally focused on the end goal.  My friends use the word ‘obsessed’ and they’re probably right,” Awan replied – making our connection deepen a little.

“I would think you kind of had to . . . but clearly all that obsessing has paid off,” I said.

“Did you ever think you’d find yourself attracted to a bodybuilder?” Awan quietly asked, knowing full well this question took us into new territory.

I stared at him . . . not answering right away.  I took a sip of my beer as we both waited for what we knew would be a ‘game changer’ reply.  We were starting to map out a future – not long-term, but possibly something in the near future.  I thought about my answer knowing fully well the weight it carried.  I liked this guy.  I liked him a lot.  But I was stepping out into unchartered territory . . . into an area of my life I had never discussed with anyone.  Awan made me brave enough to step out into the darkness.

“I used to sneak strength and bodybuilding magazines into my bedroom when I was a teenager.  There was something about the dedication of those guys . . . the way they could sculpt their bodies into something amazing that really turned me on,” I said, softly, and then added, “Um, I’ve never told anyone that.”

We stared at each other – the connection having grown even more intense.  Even the waiter picked up on it and didn’t come near our table.  I was shocked that I didn’t turn red.  I wasn’t embarrassed by what I had shared.  I thought I would have been, but there was something in this gentle giant that had made it easy . . . no, had made it safe to share something so intimate.  I smiled, feeling secure that I had answered honestly and that had pleased Awan.

“I could pose for you, sometime . . . If you’d like that,” Awan said – so shyly that I almost couldn’t hear him.

“I’d like that a lot,” I answered so quickly that it made Awan smile.

“I’ve been watching you for months, sir,” Awan added.  “Trying to get up the nerve to talk to you.”

“You know, there’s a certain amount of disconnect when hearing a man as massive as you confess he was trying to ‘get up the nerve’ to do anything.  It’s almost like you’re behaving like Clark Kent to hide your true identity,” I said.

“I’m really quite shy,” Awan answered after a couple of beats.  “I’m sure I got into bodybuilding partially as a way to become more confident.  I thought it might help open myself to conversations I was naturally too scared to engage in.”

“How’s that working for you?” I asked, chuckling a little.

“Tonight, it seems to be working better than it ever has in my entire life,” Awan shot back – definitely confident.

“Why me, Awan?” I asked without thinking, “Why have you been watching me for a few months?”

“Because you exude a certain kind of comfortableness I’ve never witnessed before,” Awan said, immediately.  “I watch you play basketball with this mixed group of men – different ages, different ethnicities, different sexual orientations – and you’re comfortable with all of them.  You’ll pat anyone on the ass after a good play.  You’ve got the straightest straight men giving you a hug after games . . . just because they like you so much.  Confidence oozes out of you and everyone senses it.  The mothers on the playground talk about how they wish you’d give lessons to their husbands on how to be a man.  They call you ‘Mr. Polite,’ ‘Mr. Sportsmanship,’ and ‘Mr. Hot Ass.’  Okay, I might have been the person that actually started the third one, but it doesn’t matter.  T.J., you’re so smooth that everyone notices it . . . no matter who they are or what their background is.  I wish I could tap into your confidence, somehow.  It would have saved me a lot of frustration in the past.”

It was a little surreal having someone that seemed like the Hulk talking about your confidence and wanting to be more like you.  One glance at Awan and you’d just assume he was cocky-as-hell or just blazingly confident because of his enormous body.  I was, again, caught off guard by how much we assume things just from the way people look.  I could have spent hours arguing against all the titles bestowed upon me at the park or giving Awan examples of how I did not deserve all the positive attributes he claimed I had just from watching me.  I chose, however, to focus selfishly on one thing he had said.

“You think I have a hot ass?” I asked, toying with him, mercilessly.

“The hottest in the park,” Awan answered and then added, “The hottest I’ve ever seen.”

“Would you like another…” the waiter began, suddenly reappearing.

“Yes!” I said, loudly, interrupting him because I was suddenly so in need of focusing anywhere else than Awan.

“And you, sir?” the waiter asked Awan, emphasizing the ‘sir’ in a way that almost sounded sexual.

“Yes, I’ll have one, too.  And I think we’re ready to order,” Awan replied and we both reopened our menus having totally forgotten what it was we had decided on – distracted by other things.

“He’s still got a raging boner,” I whispered, smiling, when the waiter departed – after getting our orders. 

“He’s also packing some largeness,” Awan whispered back.

“You noticed?” I said.

“How could you not?” Awan replied and we both giggled like naughty schoolchildren.

“Well, there’s largeness and then there’s ‘elephant in the room largeness,’” I said teasingly.

“Hey, I thought we were going to move on from talking about my size,” Awan protested.

“Who said I was talking about you?” I shot back and then through laughter I added, “I was referring to what’s happening in my pants right now under the table.”

“Thomas John Henderson!” Awan said in a mock scolding voice, “You are a naughty boy.”

“There’s nothing ‘boy’ about me, Awan.  If you know what I mean,” I said, still laughing and taking a sip of my beer.

“I would definitely agree with that,” Awan said, with a serious tone that made the sexual tension sparks fly even more.  “Definitely.”

We both sat in silence for almost a minute or two – only sipping our beers.  We were like two fighters who had returned to their corners of the ring for some much-needed rest after an intense bout of punches being thrown and absorbed.  Except, this time, the punches were extremely pleasurable and exciting.  We only retreated to prevent unwanted wet stains.  It felt like millions of tiny unseeable pins were poking me all over my body.  I tingled with expectation and desire.  I also sensed that Awan felt the same way.  I wanted to move the conversation to something light and, hopefully, harmless.

“Have you ever gone stiff on stage . . . you know, only wearing posers?” I asked, making Awan choke on some beer again.

“Yes,” he said, smiling, “Tons of times.”

“Tell the truth . . . was it because of your own posing, your own body?” I asked, leaning forward to emphasize that I really wanted to know.  

“If I’m being completely honest, here, and I want to be – yes.  I’ve definitely sprouted some major wood because of my own body,” Awan answered, and I could tell he was sharing something with me that he’d never said to anyone else – and he didn’t turn red this time.

“I find that so fucking hot . . . oh, sorry about the ‘f’ word.  I hope that doesn’t offend you,” I quickly said.

“Why is it hot?” Awan asked, and I could tell he was now making me confess some inner secrets.

“Oh, I don’t know, there’s just something about a guy admiring his own big body the same way other people do . . . and being turned on by it . . . that excites me.  It’s like a painter looking at a picture he’s done and thinking it’s good.  I like that kind of confidence,” I answered.

“Do you get turned on by your own body?” Awan asked, leaning in to put emphasis on his question, too.

“Yeah . . . yeah, I do,” I answered – but I did turn a little red.

“What specifically has turned you on about it,” Awan pressed, knowing full well it was making me feel uncomfortable and smiling the whole time.  “Payback’s hell, isn’t it, T.J.?”

“Okay, big guy, two people can play this game.  I refuse to be some shy, embarrassed little boy.  I happen to like the tightness of my body.  I also think I have a hot furry chest and abs.  And if you must know . . . and I am not being cocky, I’m just answering your question . . . I do think I have a good ass.  Well, better than average ass, at least,” I answered – my confidence waning at the end.

“Ever cum thinking about your own body,” Awan asked – shooting beet red as he did.

“Now, who’s being the naughty boy!” I said – a little too loudly, causing some people to look our way.  “I might have had some celebratory emissions while looking at myself in the mirror.”

“Celebratory emissions!” Awan laughed, unable to control himself.  “It sounds like you might want to go get your body smog checked.”

This made us both laugh hard and then it was immediately time for another brief time-out in our corners, again.  As Awan sipped his beer, he didn’t let his gaze drop from mine.  I suddenly sensed a new confidence in him.  It might have been the beer or the fact that he was feeling more comfortable with me, but I definitely could see the side of him that could command the stage in front of thousands of people and make judges fall all over themselves to score him high.  I had the feeling his home was loaded with trophies.  It seemed he could summon a winner’s attitude when he needed to – and that, on top of his superior genetics, definitely made him a force of nature.  I put on my ‘game face’ an equaled his intensity.  I was could be very confident on the court.  He instantly noticed the change within me, and I could tell it turned him on.

“You aren’t intimidated by me, are you?” Awan asked and it felt like he held his breath with anticipation of my answer.

“No.  You’re huge . . . that’s for sure, but not intimidating,” I answered.  “Do I intimidate you?”

“Only before I talked to you,” Awan answered, honestly.  “Now, I just want you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” I responded – quickly.  “What if the sex is horrible?”

“Have you ever had bad sex?” Awan asked – and it sounded like he already knew the answer.

“No . . . not really,” I said.  “Just bad sexual partners.”

“Well, that ain’t me,” Awan said – sounding curiously like a southern gentleman.  “You make me want to work out . . . to burn off some excess energy.”

“We should lift together sometime,” I said . . . and then added, “In the nude.”

“Fuuuuuck, that brought me too close to the edge, T.J.,” Awan said, reaching under the table to so something at his crotch and gulping down the rest of his beer.  “Let’s call a flirting truce for a while, okay.  I’m aching in certain parts of my body more than I do after a four-hour workout session.”

“Fair enough,” I answered.  “Trust me, I could use the break, too.”

“Here you go, fellas,” our waiter said as he put down our plates – both, Awan and me noticing the poor guy was still at full mast.  “Can I get you another….”

“Yes!” we both answered at the same time and all three of us laughed.  

“Can I just be unprofessional for a few minutes,” the youngish waiter said, “and tell you both that you are the hottest couple I’ve ever seen in my entire life.  I’m not sure who turns me on the most.”

And then he was gone – too embarrassed by what he had shared to remain standing there for us to respond.  I cannot lie – his inclusion of me in his praise both shocked me and thrilled me.  I had assumed, like Awan, that he was the type that was totally into muscle and didn’t even notice me.  To be included in the same category as the trophy-winning bodybuilder in front of me was almost unfathomable – and I did not suffer from lack of self-esteem.  Awan and I stared at each other, smiling.  We felt united in a new way – as if some deity had just blessed our connection.  The big man picked up his fork, but before he plunged it into his generous plate of pasta – clearly enhanced by the cook that I noticed kept stepping out to get a glance of the huge bodybuilder – he smiled and spoke.

“That guy is so getting a huge tip!” Awan said and then he added, “As huge as I hope I will be getting later on tonight!”

And the flirting level jumped right back up to ten, instantly.     
 

[boardman]

3 hours ago, londonboy said:

(My apologies to everyone looking for muscle growth . . . I'm just really into romance this holiday season)

There’s a couple of basketball courts in a small park across from St. Monica Church in Santa Monica, California.  The place is usually a sure thing if you’re looking to be part of a pick-up basketball game on any given evening of the week.  I live a few blocks away and I’ve dabbled in hoops all of my life.  I can hold my own with any of the players that come there for some fun.  I also like it because the small beach community of Southern California almost always guarantees some hot eye-candy on the teams or in the crowd doing other stuff in the park.  I’m never opposed to checking out the merchandise even if I’m not planning on purchasing anything.  

I’m a fit, thirty-two-year-old, bearded, tall jock.  I know I turn heads, but I also know I’m not super-model material.  I’m just an average bloke, who likes basketball, outdoors, and checking out hot asses.  I’m not into labels, so I don’t use them – for myself or other people.  I tend to not overshare in situations, but I’m also not some tightly wound psychopath, either.  That sounded a lot like a label, didn’t it?  Bottom line – I’m just a normal guy, whatever normal means, right?

Some people freak out when I tell them I’m gay.  Not sure why, they just do.  I don’t go around blaring the fact with a megaphone, but this important information has become very useful when I’ve helped one of my elderly neighbors with a task and they want to set me up with their ‘gorgeous’ single daughter or niece.  I usually unveil my preference with a simple, ‘I’m sorry, I like boys,” which usually confuses the hell out of said neighbor who’s trying to fix me up.  I’m also not very good with the gaydar or the entire business of flirting.  A friend once told me I’d be too clueless to know if a guy ran me over with a truck to get a date – and she was probably right.  I just tend to miss the subtle signs – a glance, a smile, someone grabbing my crotch.  Okay, it’s not that bad . . . but I am pretty clueless when it comes to someone coming on to me.

This evening of basketball was ripe with eye candy.  It seemed like our court had become the United Nations of hot men . . . and women, by the way . . . who were out for a great game.  I was holding my own as lead scorer for my team when Selena, a cute girl who’d become a friend, pulled me aside during a water break.

“Don’t look now, dude, but the daddy stud at the playground is cruising you.”

“What?” I asked, breaking the cardinal rule and immediately looking in the direction she referred to.

“Okay, Mr. Obvious, deduction of points for the party foul,” Selena said, laughing at me.

“Which one . . . I see a lot of daddy studs,” I replied, not even catching on to the fact that I shouldn’t look.

“The biggest one,” she replied.

“You mean the bodybuilder with legs as big as silos?”

“Silos?” Selena said with a weird look on her face, “Oh yeah, I always forget you were a farm boy.  Who else would call legs silos?  Yeah, he’s been checking you out the entire game.”

“You’re hallucinating.  Did you have some of those special brownies you make before you came to play?” I teased.

“No!  But they do sound good right now.  Every time you get the ball, he turns to watch the game.  If he were a cartoon character his tongue would be hanging out to the ground.  He is staring at you right now.”

Again, I looked and, sure enough, the dark-haired man who was the size of a truck was looking in my direction.  When our eyes met, he smiled and tilted his head back quickly, in a way that made my toes curl and my heart beat faster.  I immediately glanced down at the ground.  God, I was so bad at flirting.  Instantly, I assumed I had been mistaken about the guy’s actions and I looked back up.  He was still looking and still smiling.  I turned to see that Selena was watching Mr. Beefcake, too.  It must be her he’s looking at, I assumed.  

“I think he might be on your team, Selena,” I said.  “I think he’s flirting with you.”

“You have the worst gaydar on the planet,” Selena shot back.  “That man is Liberace with muscles!”

That’s when we were called back to the game.  Selena walked away and I glanced back at the behemoth at the playground.  His gaze was still on me.  It didn’t follow Selena.  Again, the guy smiled and nodded his head – as if he were confirming that it was me, he was looking at.  I blushed – returned a half smile, while awkwardly jerking my head to acknowledge his presence.  This made his smile grow.  I turned back to the game.  

When someone points out the elephant in the room – or the guy as big as an elephant – you can no longer ignore it . . . or stop thinking about it . . . or stop stealing glances at it.  To say my game went downhill after the break would be an understatement.  It was like someone had replaced the previous talented player with a non-athletic stick figure who tripped over his own feet.  My team ended up losing by many points and it was definitely because I had lost my groove.  I had become too obsessed with how I might look to Mr. Muscles and got distracted every time I looked over to see him smiling at me.

“I think from now on I’ll wait until the end of the game before I mention anyone flirting with you,” Selena said as we said goodbye.

“I think that would be best,” I replied and gave her a hug.

“Message me later to tell me what he feels like.  He’s so my type.  I love muscles,” she said as she walked away.  

I glanced back to the swing set and noticed the big man was no longer there.  He was no longer pushing his kid lightly on the swing.  I did a sweep of the playground and didn’t see him – and the guy was so big that you would not have missed him.  I couldn’t believe I had not had the chance to talk to him.  I kicked myself for not speaking to him sooner.  I sat on a bench and started tossing my things into my bag – bummed about missed opportunities.

“I’m sorry I made you lose the game,” came a deep voice from behind me.

I turned around quickly to see the handsome bodybuilder standing on the other side of a fence that divided the entrance to the playground and the courts.  It was probably to keep kids from getting in the way of the game and, more likely, to keep players away from the playground.  I stood up, staring open-mouthed.  The guy was so much bigger than I thought, now that he was a little closer.  

“Um . . . no, you didn’t.  I just . . . kind of . . . lost my concentration,” I quickly replied.

“Because of me,” he added.

“Yes . . . because of you,” I conceded, smiling.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, smiling too.

“You should.  I don’t like to lose,” I answered back.

“You seldom lose,” he said, awkwardly.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“I’ve watched you play a lot . . . I hope that doesn’t sound creepy.”

“Um . . . no, it’s actually kind of flattering,” I said.  “Funny, tonight’s the first time I ever noticed you . . . sorry . . . I mean, you’re kind of hard to miss.”

“And I’ll take that as a compliment,” the big man chuckled.  “I usually hang out back there at the picnic tables with the parents.  Tonight, I decided to be hopeful and take a chance on catching your eye.”

“Oh my god, I forgot about your boy!  Where is he?” I quickly asked, looking around.

“He’s my nephew and my sister just came to pick him up.  That’s why I had to disappear for a few minutes.  I hoped you wouldn’t leave before I got back.”

“Your nephew . . . I just assumed he was your . . . oh my, I hadn’t even considered there might be a mom or another dad.  Wow, that’s crazy.  I mean, there still could be someone else . . . I don’t want to assume that there isn’t.  I mean you could be married or in a relationship,” I had suddenly started stammering.

“I’m not . . . married . . . or in a relationship,” he said, quickly and with more urgency than he probably intended.  “Um . . . are you?”

“No!  No, I’m not,” I shot back, with just as much awkwardness and urgency.  “We sound like teenagers.  I’m T.J. Henderson.  It’s short for Thomas John.”

“I’m Awan.  In my country it means…”

“This moment . . . or this time,” I interrupted.

“How could you possibly know that?” Awan asked.

“I lived in Pakistan for two years,” I replied, quite pleased with myself.  

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any hotter,” the large man said, clearly not caring how it sounded.  “Why were you in Pakistan?”

“Can’t tell you,” I answered.  “Or if I did, I’d have to kill you afterwards.”

His face shot full of confusion and, possibly, a little fear.  I immediately thought about how culturally insensitive I was.  This kind of joke might not be funny in his country.  I worried that I had already ruined the good thing we had going on.  I panicked and quickly tried to fix it.

“Sorry, I’m kidding,” I said.  “I came up with a new type of irrigation system for desert regions a few years back and I spent time in your country teaching people how to use it.  I loved Pakistan.  I’ll go back someday.  I still have friends, there.”

“I knew you were kidding, by the way.  I just wanted to make you sweat a little.  You’re even hotter when you’re sweating.”

I didn’t know what to say.  This enormous, dark-skinned, bearded muscleman was calling me hot.  I knew, instinctively, that my underwear and shorts were not strong enough to hide my erection, but I didn’t look down or adjust myself – not wanting to draw attention to the fact that Awan caused me to get hard.  I smiled, clearly a little embarrassed, and he just waited in silence – forcing me to speak.

“What do you do?” I asked.

“I’m a professional bodybuilder,” Awan answered.

“Clearly a professional,” I said, and he knew it was a compliment.  “I’ve never known a bodybuilder.”

“Now you do.  I’ve never known a basketball player.”

“Well, I’m clearly not a professional,” I said, smiling.

“You could have fooled me.  You look pretty talented,” Awan said.

“I’m okay . . . that is, until you smiled at me,” I replied and we both laughed.  “Do you play?”

“When you get as big as me you kind of have to give up contact sports or sports that could have contact in them.  I tend to knock people to the ground when I bump into them,” the big man said.

“I can see why.  Hey, Awan, it’s starting to feel like you’re visiting me in prison.  Do you mind if we either got on the same side of the fence or, even better, went somewhere to get a bite to eat?  I’m hungry.  That is, if you have time.”

“I’d like that a lot and I have all the time in the world,” Awan said.  “I’m glad your friend, Selena, was so nice.”

“What?  What about Selena,” I asked.

“Didn’t she tell you?  After your game last week, I asked her if you were gay . . . I’m sorry if it offends you, but it’s really hard to tell with you.  Anyway, she confirmed what I hoped was true and suggested I stop by again this evening,” Awan answered.

“Why that little . . . No, she didn’t tell me.  She just said I should check out the guy flirting with me,” I replied.  “Wait until I see her.”

“Oh wait,” Awan said, laughing, “don’t get me in trouble.  I just didn’t want to offend you if you were straight.”

“I think even straight men would be flattered if you flirted with them, Awan,” I said, causing him to turn slightly red.  

We had already started walking towards the end of the fence and the gate where he could leave the playground area.  I was caught off guard by just how enormous he was when we were finally standing a few feet apart.  We were practically the same height – he maybe had half an inch on me – but his bulk was like three of me put together, and I was a decent sized guy.  My face must have shown my shock.

“Yeah, sorry about that, T.J., my size can be a little surprising,” Awan said, turning even a darker shade of red.

“Man, I just didn’t realize how big you really were until I was standing so close.  Jesus, do you live in the gym?” I said, clearly teasing and trying to make him feel less awkward.

“My friends say I do . . . especially when I’m getting ready for a competition,” he answered.

“You must have one coming up,” I said.

“No, it was last week.  I competed in Las Vegas,” he answered.

“Let me guess . . . you won,” I said, sure of his victory.

“Um . . . yeah, I did.  How did you know?” he asked.

“Just by looking at you Awan.  Just by looking at you,” I said, smiling and shaking my head at his monstrous body.  

“The good thing is – since the competition is over – I can eat whatever I want, and I love pasta!  And pizza!” he added as we started walking in the direction of Luigi’s.   

“Man, you’re really big,” I said, after stealing glances at him as we walked to the restaurant.  “I can’t imagine the kind of dedication you have to have to get to be your size.”

“I’m sure you practiced lay-ups with the same kind of dedication,” Awan said, clearly wanting to move the conversation away from his body.

“Maybe so, but my lay-ups don’t come close to matching your size, Awan,” I said, not catching on to what he wanted.  “I bet people in Pakistan went crazy when they saw you!”

“Yeah, guys my size are pretty rare, there.  It’s not like California, where there are bodybuilders everywhere,” Awan replied, chuckling at my persistence.

“I can tell you want the conversation to move elsewhere but let me just say this – even in California guys your size are few and far between, Awan.  Trust me.  And how in the hell do you deal with all the staring?  We haven’t walked more than five steps without having someone stop to gawk,” I said.

“I haven’t really noticed, T.J.,” he replied, looking around, “I guess I was too focused on you.”

It was my turn to go red in the face.  I did smile, however – genuinely touched by the compliment.  We were about a half a block from the restaurant when a group of college girls stopped us to see if they could have a picture with Awan.  I, of course, was asked to take the picture.  I was confident in my looks and, usually, enjoyed many a stare from men and women, but this evening it was like I was invisible.  One good thing about the moment was that it gave me a great chance to really look at Awan’s body.  It was overwhelmingly incredible.  I was into athletic guys and was proud of my own physicality, but never had I given huge bodybuilders more than an appreciative glance.  I’m not sure why, it was just one of those things.  However, watching the man being coerced into flexing his arms – barely contained in a dark blue polo – made me wide-eyed because of how truly huge they were.  I also cut off the tops of heads in one of the shots because I was too focused on Awan’s massive chest – stretching out the material of his shirt so beautifully.  

“Are you two on a date?” the blonde who took her phone from me asked Awan.

“I don’t know, ask T.J., here.  I hope we’re on a date,” Awan answered, looking up at me and smiling.

“So, Mr. T.J. – is this a date?” another one of the group asked me.  “We all really hope so, because you two look hot together.”

“Um . . . yeah . . . yeah, it’s a date,” I stammered back.

“Oh geez, I just love it when two gorgeous guys get together!” the blonde screamed, and the entire group chimed in with their agreement.

There were a few individual selfies with Awan and the blonde actually took one with me, making me feel a lot better.  And then they were off – as fast as they had come upon us and the sidewalk was quiet.  Neither of us moved.  I was watching the girls walk down the sidewalk, fully aware that Awan was looking at me.  I turned to see him smiling.

“What?” I asked.

“You like me.  You really, really like me,” he teasingly said.  

“Come on, crazy man,” I said, shaking my head and walking to open the door to the restaurant.  I also took off my ball cap and tried in vain to smooth down my hair.

“I like guys that do those kinds of things,” Awan said, as soon as the hostess had seated us in a large booth – noting that Awan wouldn’t fit comfortably in the small ones.

“Do what kind of things?” I asked, glancing up from my menu.

“Open doors for people and take their hats off in buildings,” Awan answered – beaming at me.

“Manners were drilled into me as a child, what can I say?” I replied.  “My mother would absolutely know if I kept my hat on in here and she lives thousands of miles away.  I do it mostly to save my hide.  And, in all honesty, one of the reasons I held the door for you was I thought it would be fun to see people’s reactions when you walked in.  I forgot, however, that your huge body would be blocking my view.”

“Why are you so obsessed with my size, Mr. Thomas John Henderson,” Awan inquired.

“Hey, you remembered my name,” I replied.

“Of course,” he said.

“I’m not obsessed.  It’s just that I’ve never known anyone as big as you.  I mean I’m friends with big guys, but none of them come close to your size.  It’s just that . . . well, I’m fascinated to find out how you manage . . . being so big.  It seems like some things would be really difficult,” I answered, honestly.

“Like what?” Awan asked.

“Oh, I don’t know . . . let’s see . . . okay, take my condo for example.  I have a very small bathroom off the front foyer . . . you know for guests when there’s a party.  I know for a fact that you wouldn’t fit in the room.  Your shoulders are too broad,” I answered, quickly avoiding other things that were crossing my mind.  

“You’ve got other bathrooms, right?”

“Sure,” I said.

“I’d use one of them,” Awan answered.  “But yes, you are right.  There are some places I just have to avoid.  Airplane bathrooms are the worst – not to mention airplane seats.  I also once got stuck in one of those photo booths with a friend.  It took me a long time to pry myself out and I think I bent the wall a little.  I used to take my nephew to see movies or things like Disney on Ice, but the kids sitting behind us couldn’t see the show . . . come to think of it, neither could the parents.”

“Now, you’re just teasing me,” I said.

“Maybe a little.  I’ve just gotten used to being big, T.J., and it doesn’t bother me.  All of our choices in life make us have to give up other things.  A bodybuilder’s life is hard, but it has its benefits, too.”

“Like what,” I asked.

“Like this,” he said, and he raised his eyes to the waiter across the room.  In seconds . . . no, in milliseconds the guy was standing next to our table, pen in hand, staring at Awan with a goofy smile that said he was ready to do anything for the big man.  “Beer, T.J.?”

“Yes.  A Stella,” I replied, trying my best not to laugh.

“Make that two Stella’s,” Awan said to the eager waiter.

“Yes sir,” the guy shot back and hurried off to fulfill the giant’s wishes.

“Please know, T.J., that I did that merely to show you something.  I do not use my size to get special attention . . . well, sometimes I do, but I don’t do it a lot.  I’m not demanding in that way,” Awan quickly explained.  “I don’t think I should be entitled to anything because of my size.”

“Well, you should be entitled to bigger clothes, don’t you think?  Trust me, I wouldn’t be sitting here if I thought you did act entitled, Awan,” I said, reassuring him.  “It was pretty impressive, though, getting the waiter so quickly.”

“He’s into muscle, so it helps that I work out,” Awan answered.

“How the hell do you know that?” I asked.

“He keeps having to adjust himself,” Awan replied, but didn’t look up from the menu.  

I turned to see the waiter doing an awkward move from leg to leg as he reached down to lessen the tension of an obvious boner – a good sized boner, too.  I got the distinct feeling the thing had actually snaked out to the top of his underwear and he was trying in vain to get it back it.  I chuckled a little and then turned back to Awan, who was a deep shade of red – clearly uncomfortable about having pointed out the waiter’s predicament.  I placed my hand on his, noticing immediately that his fingers were twice as thick as mine.  I smiled and forced myself to not look down at his huge mitt.  The beers were delivered.  

“Dude, you’re hot,” I said, “Don’t be embarrassed just because some guy sprouts some wood looking at you.  Take it as a compliment.”

“I do.  I really do,” Awan responded, quickly, “I just don’t want you to think I always want that kind of reaction . . . or, worse, expect it.”

“Well, if an elephant walks into the room, it’s going to be noticed,” I said, patting his hand and then pulling mine away – the contact was making the temperature in the room shoot up.

“Yeah, well, Mr. T.J. – you’re an elephant, too.  Most of the moms on the playground and some of the dads are always taking notice of you when you’re playing ball and saying how hot you are,” Awan said with a smile, as if he had won some contest.

It was now my turn to blush.  Awan noticed.  We both stared at each other for a few seconds and then got embarrassed at the same time, so we simultaneously took a big gulp of beer.  I glanced at the waiter – anywhere to distract me from Awan’s gorgeous eyes.  The poor man was still trying to get his hard-on in a comfortable position.  I looked back at the elephant in the room.

“How does someone have sex with a bodybuilder the size of you?” I asked, catching Awan off guard with my bluntness and he choked on his beer.

“What?” he said between coughs.

“Dude, you’re as massive as a house!  You could probably flatten a little guy like a steamroller when you climbed on top of him.  I know I’ve crossed a line, but it’s been on my mind ever since we sat down, Awan.  You’re as wide as the booth!” I exclaimed – making it clear that these thoughts had been building up inside me for a while.

Awan paused for a few beats and then smiled, saying, “I’ll answer your question, T.J., but first you need to tell me if you’re asking because the thought of having sex with me had crossed your mind.”

It was like I had been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.  Of course, the idea of doing the nasty with this humongous beefcake had crossed my mind, but still my mouth opened and closed a few times without emitting a sound.  I turned a much deeper shade of red than before and it took me a few seconds to recover any semblance of calmness I might have had earlier.  In spite of all this, I decided – immediately – that I would be completely honest with the huge man in front of me  

“How on earth could I not be thinking about it, Awan.  You’re nice, handsome, smart, and clearly a good guy.  I seriously think even straight men would have trouble not thinking about having sex with you,” I answered – and finished with a sip of beer.

“Funny, I’ve been thinking about having sex with you the entire evening, too,” Awan replied.  “So, T.J., I’m sure you’re aware of this already, but there are many different ways for two men to have sex.  Sometimes the steamroller can be on the bottom . . . supporting the other guy.”

I pride myself for not labeling people . . . not letting stereotypes seep into my brain, but the idea of someone as massive as Awan being a bottom both confused me and aroused me at the same time.  For a few seconds I disappeared into my own little world imagining holding his gigantic legs while I . . . I forced myself to stop these thoughts.  I didn’t want to ask the waiter for a bunch of new cloth napkins – requesting some of them to be wet.  Cleaning up a mess under the table just didn’t seem like first date wholesomeness.  I, myself, was very versatile – and enjoyed being both a pitcher and a catcher.  Still, the idea of having all of Awan’s colossal weight on top of me seemed like it would be a little uncomfortable.  I seriously pondered if sex with an elephant could be enjoyable.  Awan clearly saw my confusion and doubt.

“Without wanting to sound conceited, T.J.,” he said, “let’s just say these arms and legs are strong enough to support all of my weight when engaged in any kind of bodily fun.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” I replied.  “But it makes perfect sense.  Sorry, if the question embarrassed you.”

“Now, are we all done with questions about my size and references to elephants.  Can we talk about something else for a while?” Awan asked imploringly.

“For now,” I answered, “but I reserve the right to bring the conversation back to your big body any time I want.  It’s your fault since you’re the one who grew himself massive.  I’ve just never gotten to ask questions like this before.”

“Fair enough,” Awan shot back.  “But that means I can ask questions, too.  What’s been your longest relationship?”

“Whoa, that’s pretty personal, don’t you think?” I said.

“And asking me how I have sex isn’t personal?” he responded – immediately putting me in my place.

“Okay, you win.  I dated a guy named Seth for two years . . . but that was more than four years ago,” I said, thinking about my ex for the first time in a long time.

“Why did you break up?” Awan pressed on.

“Look at you, getting all personal,” I teased.  “Let’s see, he ended our relationship because he said I was too intense.  I could become so focused on things that nothing else mattered.  I became so absorbed in something that I’d forget other things . . . things, I guess, he thought were important.”

“Like what?” Awan asked.

“Like to buy coffee or our anniversary,” I quickly answered, and it made Awan smile.  “What?”

“I get that way when I’m training for a competition.  Single-minded – totally focused on the end goal.  My friends use the word ‘obsessed’ and they’re probably right,” Awan replied – making our connection deepen a little.

“I would think you kind of had to . . . but clearly all that obsessing has paid off,” I said.

“Did you ever think you’d find yourself attracted to a bodybuilder?” Awan quietly asked, knowing full well this question took us into new territory.

I stared at him . . . not answering right away.  I took a sip of my beer as we both waited for what we knew would be a ‘game changer’ reply.  We were starting to map out a future – not long-term, but possibly something in the near future.  I thought about my answer knowing fully well the weight it carried.  I liked this guy.  I liked him a lot.  But I was stepping out into unchartered territory . . . into an area of my life I had never discussed with anyone.  Awan made me brave enough to step out into the darkness.

“I used to sneak strength and bodybuilding magazines into my bedroom when I was a teenager.  There was something about the dedication of those guys . . . the way they could sculpt their bodies into something amazing that really turned me on,” I said, softly, and then added, “Um, I’ve never told anyone that.”

We stared at each other – the connection having grown even more intense.  Even the waiter picked up on it and didn’t come near our table.  I was shocked that I didn’t turn red.  I wasn’t embarrassed by what I had shared.  I thought I would have been, but there was something in this gentle giant that had made it easy . . . no, had made it safe to share something so intimate.  I smiled, feeling secure that I had answered honestly and that had pleased Awan.

“I could pose for you, sometime . . . If you’d like that,” Awan said – so shyly that I almost couldn’t hear him.

“I’d like that a lot,” I answered so quickly that it made Awan smile.

“I’ve been watching you for months, sir,” Awan added.  “Trying to get up the nerve to talk to you.”

“You know, there’s a certain amount of disconnect when hearing a man as massive as you confess he was trying to ‘get up the nerve’ to do anything.  It’s almost like you’re behaving like Clark Kent to hide your true identity,” I said.

“I’m really quite shy,” Awan answered after a couple of beats.  “I’m sure I got into bodybuilding partially as a way to become more confident.  I thought it might help open myself to conversations I was naturally too scared to engage in.”

“How’s that working for you?” I asked, chuckling a little.

“Tonight, it seems to be working better than it ever has in my entire life,” Awan shot back – definitely confident.

“Why me, Awan?” I asked without thinking, “Why have you been watching me for a few months?”

“Because you exude a certain kind of comfortableness I’ve never witnessed before,” Awan said, immediately.  “I watch you play basketball with this mixed group of men – different ages, different ethnicities, different sexual orientations – and you’re comfortable with all of them.  You’ll pat anyone on the ass after a good play.  You’ve got the straightest straight men giving you a hug after games . . . just because they like you so much.  Confidence oozes out of you and everyone senses it.  The mothers on the playground talk about how they wish you’d give lessons to their husbands on how to be a man.  They call you ‘Mr. Polite,’ ‘Mr. Sportsmanship,’ and ‘Mr. Hot Ass.’  Okay, I might have been the person that actually started the third one, but it doesn’t matter.  T.J., you’re so smooth that everyone notices it . . . no matter who they are or what their background is.  I wish I could tap into your confidence, somehow.  It would have saved me a lot of frustration in the past.”

It was a little surreal having someone that seemed like the Hulk talking about your confidence and wanting to be more like you.  One glance at Awan and you’d just assume he was cocky-as-hell or just blazingly confident because of his enormous body.  I was, again, caught off guard by how much we assume things just from the way people look.  I could have spent hours arguing against all the titles bestowed upon me at the park or giving Awan examples of how I did not deserve all the positive attributes he claimed I had just from watching me.  I chose, however, to focus selfishly on one thing he had said.

“You think I have a hot ass?” I asked, toying with him, mercilessly.

“The hottest in the park,” Awan answered and then added, “The hottest I’ve ever seen.”

“Would you like another…” the waiter began, suddenly reappearing.

“Yes!” I said, loudly, interrupting him because I was suddenly so in need of focusing anywhere else than Awan.

“And you, sir?” the waiter asked Awan, emphasizing the ‘sir’ in a way that almost sounded sexual.

“Yes, I’ll have one, too.  And I think we’re ready to order,” Awan replied and we both reopened our menus having totally forgotten what it was we had decided on – distracted by other things.

“He’s still got a raging boner,” I whispered, smiling, when the waiter departed – after getting our orders. 

“He’s also packing some largeness,” Awan whispered back.

“You noticed?” I said.

“How could you not?” Awan replied and we both giggled like naughty schoolchildren.

“Well, there’s largeness and then there’s ‘elephant in the room largeness,’” I said teasingly.

“Hey, I thought we were going to move on from talking about my size,” Awan protested.

“Who said I was talking about you?” I shot back and then through laughter I added, “I was referring to what’s happening in my pants right now under the table.”

“Thomas John Henderson!” Awan said in a mock scolding voice, “You are a naughty boy.”

“There’s nothing ‘boy’ about me, Awan.  If you know what I mean,” I said, still laughing and taking a sip of my beer.

“I would definitely agree with that,” Awan said, with a serious tone that made the sexual tension sparks fly even more.  “Definitely.”

We both sat in silence for almost a minute or two – only sipping our beers.  We were like two fighters who had returned to their corners of the ring for some much-needed rest after an intense bout of punches being thrown and absorbed.  Except, this time, the punches were extremely pleasurable and exciting.  We only retreated to prevent unwanted wet stains.  It felt like millions of tiny unseeable pins were poking me all over my body.  I tingled with expectation and desire.  I also sensed that Awan felt the same way.  I wanted to move the conversation to something light and, hopefully, harmless.

“Have you ever gone stiff on stage . . . you know, only wearing posers?” I asked, making Awan choke on some beer again.

“Yes,” he said, smiling, “Tons of times.”

“Tell the truth . . . was it because of your own posing, your own body?” I asked, leaning forward to emphasize that I really wanted to know.  

“If I’m being completely honest, here, and I want to be – yes.  I’ve definitely sprouted some major wood because of my own body,” Awan answered, and I could tell he was sharing something with me that he’d never said to anyone else – and he didn’t turn red this time.

“I find that so fucking hot . . . oh, sorry about the ‘f’ word.  I hope that doesn’t offend you,” I quickly said.

“Why is it hot?” Awan asked, and I could tell he was now making me confess some inner secrets.

“Oh, I don’t know, there’s just something about a guy admiring his own big body the same way other people do . . . and being turned on by it . . . that excites me.  It’s like a painter looking at a picture he’s done and thinking it’s good.  I like that kind of confidence,” I answered.

“Do you get turned on by your own body?” Awan asked, leaning in to put emphasis on his question, too.

“Yeah . . . yeah, I do,” I answered – but I did turn a little red.

“What specifically has turned you on about it,” Awan pressed, knowing full well it was making me feel uncomfortable and smiling the whole time.  “Payback’s hell, isn’t it, T.J.?”

“Okay, big guy, two people can play this game.  I refuse to be some shy, embarrassed little boy.  I happen to like the tightness of my body.  I also think I have a hot furry chest and abs.  And if you must know . . . and I am not being cocky, I’m just answering your question . . . I do think I have a good ass.  Well, better than average ass, at least,” I answered – my confidence waning at the end.

“Ever cum thinking about your own body,” Awan asked – shooting beet red as he did.

“Now, who’s being the naughty boy!” I said – a little too loudly, causing some people to look our way.  “I might have had some celebratory emissions while looking at myself in the mirror.”

“Celebratory emissions!” Awan laughed, unable to control himself.  “It sounds like you might want to go get your body smog checked.”

This made us both laugh hard and then it was immediately time for another brief time-out in our corners, again.  As Awan sipped his beer, he didn’t let his gaze drop from mine.  I suddenly sensed a new confidence in him.  It might have been the beer or the fact that he was feeling more comfortable with me, but I definitely could see the side of him that could command the stage in front of thousands of people and make judges fall all over themselves to score him high.  I had the feeling his home was loaded with trophies.  It seemed he could summon a winner’s attitude when he needed to – and that, on top of his superior genetics, definitely made him a force of nature.  I put on my ‘game face’ an equaled his intensity.  I was could be very confident on the court.  He instantly noticed the change within me, and I could tell it turned him on.

“You aren’t intimidated by me, are you?” Awan asked and it felt like he held his breath with anticipation of my answer.

“No.  You’re huge . . . that’s for sure, but not intimidating,” I answered.  “Do I intimidate you?”

“Only before I talked to you,” Awan answered, honestly.  “Now, I just want you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” I responded – quickly.  “What if the sex is horrible?”

“Have you ever had bad sex?” Awan asked – and it sounded like he already knew the answer.

“No . . . not really,” I said.  “Just bad sexual partners.”

“Well, that ain’t me,” Awan said – sounding curiously like a southern gentleman.  “You make me want to work out . . . to burn off some excess energy.”

“We should lift together sometime,” I said . . . and then added, “In the nude.”

“Fuuuuuck, that brought me too close to the edge, T.J.,” Awan said, reaching under the table to so something at his crotch and gulping down the rest of his beer.  “Let’s call a flirting truce for a while, okay.  I’m aching in certain parts of my body more than I do after a four-hour workout session.”

“Fair enough,” I answered.  “Trust me, I could use the break, too.”

“Here you go, fellas,” our waiter said as he put down our plates – both, Awan and me noticing the poor guy was still at full mast.  “Can I get you another….”

“Yes!” we both answered at the same time and all three of us laughed.  

“Can I just be unprofessional for a few minutes,” the youngish waiter said, “and tell you both that you are the hottest couple I’ve ever seen in my entire life.  I’m not sure who turns me on the most.”

And then he was gone – too embarrassed by what he had shared to remain standing there for us to respond.  I cannot lie – his inclusion of me in his praise both shocked me and thrilled me.  I had assumed, like Awan, that he was the type that was totally into muscle and didn’t even notice me.  To be included in the same category as the trophy-winning bodybuilder in front of me was almost unfathomable – and I did not suffer from lack of self-esteem.  Awan and I stared at each other, smiling.  We felt united in a new way – as if some deity had just blessed our connection.  The big man picked up his fork, but before he plunged it into his generous plate of pasta – clearly enhanced by the cook that I noticed kept stepping out to get a glance of the huge bodybuilder – he smiled and spoke.

“That guy is so getting a huge tip!” Awan said and then he added, “As huge as I hope I will be getting later on tonight!”

And the flirting level jumped right back up to ten, instantly.     
 

Damn that’s a hot story. Please say you will add more.

[divis24]

I love it when you go all romantic!

[tobebig]

I’m all about some holiday romance right now.. I don’t have any, so might as well enjoy reading about it lol 

[Psuace]

Wow, that was great.  Chapter 2 please.

[londonboy]

I saw it as a stand alone, but you never know. Thanks for reading it.

[dredlifter]

Aww this one was great!  It had everything.  Humor, romance, sweetness...BIG FUCKING MUSCLE.  I also like how the big muscle guy is actually kinda shy and timid in this one too.  Very sexy. 

[gogr2]

Awesome! More please!

[wolfram456]

I like the convo. It was playful. LOLed in many places. 

[MadDog]

Very sweet! Love the shy muscle guy in this! There’s more to bodybuilders than just cocky so-and-sos!