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Re-Posting: Blue Collar Muscle by BBMikeNJ


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Just a reminder:

You can find BBMikeNJ's stories in the current iteration of the forum by looking here:

https://musclegrowth.net/profile/3125-bbmikenj/content/?type=forums_topic&change_section=1

Ditto, you can find his earlier stories in the pre-2007 Archive by searching the Author Index for BBMSN.

https://archive2007.musclegrowth.net/index-byauthor.html

There are a good couple dozen stories that aren't in either place. As time permits (and I'm retired, so a project like this one is right up my alley) I will be re-posting them here (Mike has kindly granted me permission to do so!) -- RPJ

Blue Collar Muscle

By BBMikeNJ

I hadn't seen Bennie for about four years. He'd been best friends with my next door neighbor, and had done some handyman work around my house. But when he and my neighbor had a falling out, he didn't come around anymore. I'd give him a call from time to time, but he never returned my messages, so I figured he didn't want to come around. I stopped calling him, and found another handyman, but the new guy was no Bennie. Bennie was a handsome blue collar guy, half Italian, half Puerto Rican, where he'd lived until he was 14, and he still had a heavy accent. He didn't lift, but he'd played football in high school, and, at 32 years old, was a swarthy solid ex-jock, albeit with some extra poundage on his gut. He had a thick meaty ass that his jeans highlighted perfectly. He had a great handshake too: big hands, thick strong fingers, his grip just right, not too strong or too weak, although I could always sense some brick-crushing strength in it. And the skin of his palms was surprisingly silky, especially given his occupation.

About a month ago, my neighbor moved away. Not long after that, I looked out front and noticed Bennie's work truck parked in the new neighbor's driveway. I heard voices on the porch, and then saw a guy walking to the truck. He was facing away from me, so I couldn't tell if it was Bennie. This guy had a tight fitting work tee on, and his back was bigger than Bennie's had been. Much bigger. Dude had a powerlifter's back, broad and thickly muscled. It vee'd down to his jeans, drawing my attention to his ass, which was stunning. It was like someone took Bennie's great ass and morphed it till it was twice as beefy as before. Rounded and high, his muscular cheeks rolled as he waddled toward the truck.

I went out front and headed over to the truck. I wanted to find out how Bennie was doing. Plus, I would have used any excuse to go and talk to this hulking handyman. By the time I got to him, he had opened the driver's door and was standing on the running board, leaning over into the cab. His tee shirt had pulled out of the top of his jeans and just a bit of his crack was showing. With my new handyman, who is fat and not attractive, I turn away when I see the plumber's crack peeking out, but with this guy, I wanted to bury my face in it.

"Hey there, man," I said as I approached. "Are you working with Bennie?"

I heard him shuffling around in the cab, and his bent head looked out at me thru his right arm pit. "Hey, Mike," he said, as he stood upright out of the cab, and hopped down to the driveway. "How the heck you been?" He put his hand out to shake.

"Bennie?" I said in amazement, taking his hand and shaking it, his smooth palm wrapping around mine. It was his hand alright, but his forearms had gotten enormous. The muscles in them swelled as we shook. His blue eyes twinkled at me as he smiled, and his perfect teeth were so white, I wondered if he'd had them brightened.

"Yeh, it's me, man. How long has it been?"

I looked him up and down, and said, "I'd guess about 40 lbs. of muscle ago."

His smile got even bigger. "Yeah, you noticed that, huh? I took up lifting after my divorce. And it's closer to 50 lbs." We broke off our handshake, and his pecs flexed in his tight tee.

"Jesus, Bennie, you are huge!"

"Yeah, right?" he said. "I started gaining size from my first workout. Haven't hit a plateau yet."

"When was your divorce?"

"Six months ago."

"You've gained 50lbs in six months?"

"Yeah, it's wild, right? The guys at my gym are like 'Man, you should totally compete'. But right now I'm just enjoying the crazy pumps I get. Even when I'm working, I get insane pumps. I was just sanding down a cabinet inside, and look at my forearms." Bennie held out his arms and turned his palms upright. There was a vast network of veins pulsing up and down the underside of his forearms.

"Whoa," I said.

"Yeah. And watch this." He clenched his hands into fists, and his forearm muscles bounced to attention, bulging up and out, shoving the veins up even higher against his taut skin.

"Dude," I stammered.

"Yeah. And it's not all just for looks either, Mike. My strength gains have been nuts. I mean, I've always had a strong grip from all the carpentry I do, but now, I could crush a brick with my bare hands." He opened up his hands and closed them again, as if he were crushing bricks. He squeezed his fists so tightly that the flesh around his fingers turned white. Then he opened up his hands and wiped them off on his jeans. I noticed how his big legs filled the pant legs tight, straining the seams. "How you been doing? The house holding up on you?" he asked, nodding toward my place.

"Huh?" I said, forcing my eyes off his bulging crotch. "Oh yeah, my place. There's always something that needs work...although you might know that if you ever returned your messages," I said teasingly.

Bennie grinned sheepishly at me and said, "Yeah, I know, I'm a dickhead about that. I should have come by more, but you know how things were with John. Why don't we go take a look now?"

"At my place? You got time?"

He looked at his watch. "Yeah, I got time. Long as I don't miss my workout," he said, grinning. He put his hand on my shoulder as we headed across the lawn to my house. His big thumb rubbed into my traps. "Two hours of hardcore lifting, six nights a week now, and I never miss it. Gets me sweating like a pig, and pumped up like someone inflated me with a hose. I can't believe I didn't get into this sooner. I love it."

We went into my house, and I led Bennie into the basement. "See that outside wall over there?" I said, pointing to the cinder block wall that was all black with mildew and mold.

"Ah, yeah, you got a problem," he said. "Hey, is that a chin-up bar?"

"Yeah," I answered. I had put one up between two beams on the ceiling.

"How many can you do?" he asked me.

"I can work up to 20 if I do overhand grip," I said.

"That's good man. I started doing one-handed ones." With that, he reached up and grabbed the bar with one hand, then pulled himself up. He did rep after rep....10...20...25. "Pull down on me," he said. I grabbed him around the waist and pulled. He did 10 more reps, then switched arms. "Hang off me," he said. So I wrapped my legs around his legs and held on. I heard the beams creaking as he did 15 one-arm pull-ups. He dropped down and shook out his arms as I peeled myself off his legs and sat on the floor. "See what I mean about my pump?" he said, and he raised his arms and flexed them. His tee shirt sleeves were pushed back by the rising biceps peaks, which had a deep split in them, and as he squeezed his arms, the split moved from front to back, then front again. His arms were huge, and, as if he knew what I was thinking, he said, "Twenty inches....and growing." I looked up at him in awe. The low ceiling of the basement made him look even bigger than he was, especially looking up at him from the floor. His double-bi shot had made his lats spread out at his sides, and lifted his shirt bottom by about 4 inches, exposing the hairy ridged abs of his lower waist.

When he reached down to help me up, I grabbed his hand with mine, and he pulled me up with such force that I banged into his chest as I stood. He didn't budge an inch. "Sorry," he said, "not used to my own strength yet." He turned and walked over to the basement wall to take a closer look. "Yeah, this definitely needs to be cleaned up and sealed." I couldn't take my eyes off his big back, his tee now stained down the middle with sweat, making it cling to his muscle from the base of his neck, down his spine, and to his waistline. He turned to me and said, "I can come back this week and get started on it, if you want."

"That'd be great," I said. We headed toward the stairs and I let Bennie go first. My face was inches away from his perfect ass, all muscled up and rounded, pulling the seam of his jeans into his deep crack. We walked out to my front porch and shook hands. I felt the smooth skin of his beefy palm pressing against mine.

"I'll call you sometime this week," he said, still holding my hand in his. "Good seeing you again, Mike. We should work out together sometime."

"That'd be great," I said again, as if these were the only words my mind could pull together at the moment.

He turned and sauntered down the steps. I looked down at his big broad shoulders and realized that he already had the development of a pro bodybuilder. How much bigger could he get?

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Part 2

Four weeks went by before I heard from Bennie. I'd begun to think he was going to disappear on me like the last time I used him for handyman work. But he finally called and said he was on his way over, he'd just finished a two-hour morning workout. He said he liked doing a 5AM to 7AM workout, that way, after a full day of manual labor, he could go back to the gym at night and do another two-hour workout. He said he'd been making a lot of gains that way.

He showed up at my place at 7:30 and when I opened the door, he was downing a Muscle Milk container. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "This stuff is good," he said. "That's my fourth one since I left the gym. I got a case of these in my truck, you want one?"

"Nah, I'm good," I answered, letting him in the door. "Bennie, you look huge!" I said to him as he came in. His work tee shirt was skin tight on him, and had crescent shaped sweat stains under each big pec and around his abs. His armpits were drenched and dark.

"Yeah? You can tell, right? I've gained 25lbs since I saw you last." He looked at himself in the mirror on my foyer wall, then bounced his pecs at himself. "These XXL shirts are way too small now, I got to order new ones." I realized as we stood there looking at ourselves in the mirror, that he was a good head taller than I was, which would make him around 6'4".

"How much do you weigh now?" I asked.

"278 this morning, weighed myself at the gym. Probably closer to 280 now, after those 4 protein shakes. Hey, why don't I bring my supplies in thru the backdoor so I don't mess up your carpet."

"OK," I said, as he headed out to his truck. "I'll let you in back there."

He came thru the back gate carrying two big buckets of a bleaching compound for the basement walls. I let him in thru the mud room and then down the steps to the basement. I went down with him and turned on some extra lights. "This stuff stinks pretty bad, so you might not want to stay down here, but can you do me a favor?" he asked.

"Sure," I said.

"Can you help me out of this shirt, it's kind of restricting, and my arms are so pumped up right now, I can't reach behind my collar. I finished my workout this morning with some heavy curls." With that, he started to curl the two 5-gallon buckets he was holding, and his big veiny arms swelled, and his short sleeves slid up to his delts. He put the buckets down and raised his arms up till they rested on a ceiling beam. I stepped up to him and grabbed the bottom of his tee shirt and started to pull it up. The tight fabric peeled up his torso like a wet suit. He twisted as I pulled, and when I put my hands under the shirt to stretch it out I could feel his muscle undulating under my touch. I got the shirt over his jutting lats, then, as I pushed it over his big left delt, I heard the shirt rip. I stopped pulling, and he said, "That's OK, just keep going, all my shirts are starting to do that." I pulled the shirt the rest of the way over that shoulder, then worked on the other side. It ripped too, exposing his boulder-sized right delt. He leaned over and held his arms straight out in front of him as I tugged the shirt over his head, and slid it off his big arms. "That's better," he said, as the shirt came off of him and he stood upright, shaking out his arms. His chest had a thick coat of curly black hair, but not so thick that his big hard nips didn't stick up thru it. "I can almost feel myself expanding," he said with a grin and a wink. I held onto his ripped shirt as if it could keep me standing upright.

"I better get started," he said, and he picked up one of the buckets and turned to the moldy wall, his hulking ape back spreading out like a Japanese fan. He had some dark hair on the back of his delts and traps, but then his back was smooth till just above his waistline, where a triangle-shaped patch of fur rose up and covered the thick Christmas tree shaped muscles of his lower back. As he leaned over to put the bucket down, the tree shaped muscles bulged out and rippled with power. Bennie leaned over the bucket, and just as I was about to ask him if he needed a screwdriver to open it, he put his hands on the sides of the bucket and pushed in. The lid popped off the top of the bucket, and jumped five inches up. Bennie snatched it midair like a Frisbee and laid it on the floor next to the bucket. He turned his head toward me and said, "I just figured out last week that I was strong enough to do that."

I forced myself up the stairs, my dick throbbing in my pants. I had to get ready for work, but it was hard to get my mind off the hulking muscle-head that was in my basement. As I was about to leave, I yelled down the steps. "I'm headed out, Bennie, you need anything?"

"Nah, I'm good. I probably won't be here when you get home, this stuff has to sit for a while before I wipe it down."

Shit. "OK," I said. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yep."

I left for work. I had a hard-on for the whole drive.

When I got home that night, Bennie was gone. The house had never felt emptier. The next day I didn't hear from him. Or the day after that. Finally, I called his cell. When he didn't answer, I just hung up. Four days later, he called me at 7AM.

"Hey, man, sorry about the delay, I've had some stuff going on. And I've bumped my workouts to 3 hours, so I can't get to your house till 10. You want to leave the backdoor open for me, I'll just come in and finish the job?"

My heart sunk to my knees. I ached to see him again, but I also wanted the basement wall sealed. "OK," I said.

"Cool. Catch you later then." And he hung up.

I called in late to work, but by 11 o'clock, no Bennie. I left the backdoor open and left for work, pissed off. I decided that if he didn't show up at all, I'd tell him not to bother. I'd do the work myself. How hard could it be? When I got to work, I tried to put it out of my mind. I'd almost forgotten about by the time I was driving home, but when I turned down my street, I saw his truck in my driveway. When I walked into the house, the smell of the sealant he was using was pretty intense. I stuck my head down the basement steps.

"Hey," I yelled down.

"Hey, Mike, that you? Come on down and take a look, I'm just finishing up." I went down the steps and looked at the wall, still shiny with the sealer. Bennie was at the slop sink, cleaning up. He had on a Gold's Gym string tank top and cargo shorts. He turned toward me, wiping his hands on his shorts. I'd never seen thighs so thick and muscular that they made cargo shorts look like stretch pants. "What do you think?" he asked, turning toward the newly sealed wall. His tank did nothing to conceal the broad mass of his back, and his ass looked like two globes shoved into the seat of his shorts. How could I ever have been mad at him.

"Looks awesome," I said, not really referring to the wall.

"Yeah, I know, right? That stuff is real thick and hard to put on...took me most of the day. I had to use a hand brush, and it really jacked up my forearms. Look at how pumped." He turned back to me, and held his arms outward, his Popeye-sized forearms swollen full and hard. I could practically see them throbbing. "They're so tight, it hurts. And I can barely even close my hands," he said, bringing his fingers up into a claw. He leaned down and grabbed one of the cinder blocks I had stacked next to the slop sink. "Look at this," he said, curling the block. "I can't even tell if I'm gripping it hard or soft, my hand feels so numb." He curled it up and down, his big arms muscles responding to ever move. Then I heard a crack, and the cinder block fell out of his hand in two pieces. "Oops," he said. "Guess I was gripping it hard. You know what I need is a good rub-down, so I can start to feel my hands before I try to drive home." He stepped over closer to me. "I've been going to this massage therapist since I started lifting heavy, but her hands are too weak to bust thru all this muscle." He looked up at me. "Hey, you think you could give my forearms a quick rub? Bust up the soreness before I head out?"

I swallowed hard. "Sure," I said.

"Cool," he said, and stepped up to my, his arms out. I grabbed his right wrist with both my hands and started to rub my way up. His muscle was grisly, and I dug into it with my thumbs. "Aw, yeah, that's good, Mike. Go hard as you can. Break up all that tight tissue." I rubbed harder, and stroked my way up his thick bowling pin fores. The skin on the underside of his arms was smooth as satin, and I could feel every vein and muscle fiber underneath it. I dug in harder, and he moaned. "Nice, man, you got good hands." When I got up by his elbow, I realized that I could barely wrap both hands around the girth of his thick forearms. I dug my fingers into the crook of his elbow, and he let out a deep groan, thru his head back, his big Adam's apple jutting out of his thick neck. "Awwww, yehhh. Damn, man, that's almost good as cumming! Now do the other one." He held out his other massive arm eagerly.

"Why don't we go upstairs for that?" I suggested. "I'm feeling a little faint from the fumes." Not that it was the fumes making me faint, but I was feeling like I could use some fresh air.

Bennie got a concerned look on his face. "Damn, Mike, I didn't even think of that, I guess I got used to smelling it all day. You OK? Want me to carry you up?

"No, I'm good," I said, making my way to the steps. Bennie followed behind me. I was doing OK until he said, "I benched 860lbs for 6 reps this morning, I could carry you like a twig." Then I had to grab on tight to the railing to keep from falling back into him. When we got to the kitchen, I had him sit in a chair. Then I went to the medicine cabinet in my bathroom, and came out with some massage gel.

"Let me see your arm," I said, and he held out his arm, and I squirted the gel all over his forearm.

"Well, look at you," he said. Then I started rubbing the gel up and down his arm, back and forth. Bennie arched his back into the chair till it tipped up off the front legs. "Holy muther of god," he groaned out. I rubbed harder and harder. "I was wrong," he said, "This is better than cumming! Do my whole arm," he said as he leaned forward. I squirted some more gel on his outstretched upper arm, and started massaging my way up. His biceps felt like a thigh, thick and heavy with muscle. I dug my thumbs into the deep split, and rubbed up his arm. "Jesus, you are good," Bennie said, "Where'd you learn to do this?"

"I took some classes," I said, as I rubbed him down hard. I guessed his arm size at 20 inches, and it wasn't even flexed. I was having a hard time not getting hard. I moved around behind him and massaged his arm from his big deltoid downward.

"I'm getting so big, Mike, and I love it," Bennie said. I looked down at the top of his head, at the curly black hair. I could feel the heat coming off him, and the scent of sealant mixed with day old sweat. "Sometimes, I spend an hour flexing in the mirror, and I could swear, just doing that makes me grow." He flexed his big arm and his biceps balled up hard. "Try and dent this arm now," he said, and I put my hand on his flexed peak and rubbed. "You can't do it, can you, man? It's like a cement truck backed up and filled it full of concrete." He flexed his arm harder. "Look at it man, I think your rubdown made it bigger. I never seen it so swole!" His arm was hard as a cannonball under my fingers.

I looked down at his dark Italian/Puerto Rican neck, thick-skinned and tanned, creased like a bull's. If I was a vampire, now would be the time to lean over and attach my mouth to his neck, and suck the muscleblood out of him. Suck and suck and suck. To drink his essence. I leaned down toward the muscular nape of his neck. I moved my hands to his traps and rubbed down hard, listening to him moan with pleasure. "Damn, man, you got magic hands," he said. "Make this muscle GROW." I looked down at his mounded pecs, amazed at the striations in them, even though he wasn't even flexing them.

Bennie looked up at the kitchen clock. "Is that the real time?" It was 6 o'clock. "I have to go eat, then get to my second workout. Next time, you got to massage my whole body, Mike. I need you to bust thru my fascia, make room for more growth. Could you do that?"

"Sure," I said.

He got up to go. "Hey," he said as he made his way to the door, "this weekend I'm going to the Borgata in Atlantic City...you want to come with me? I'm in a blackjack tournament, and I have a comped room. You could bunk up with me, rub me down between games. You got any plans?"

"Yes...I mean,no...." I wasn't completely sure if I had plans or not. I was having a hard time remembering what planet I was on. All I knew was I'd be going with Bennie to a hotel room in Atlantic City. "Yeah, I can go. You want to meet down there?" It was a good two-hour drive down to the casinos.

"Nah, no reason to take two cars. The tournament starts around noon, so I'll pick you up after my workout, around 8 or 9. Pack a lot of that massage gel," he said, nodding at my hand that was still holding the bottle. "I like the way it makes my muscle shine," he said, flexing his huge arm and admiring himself.

"Will do," I said as I let him out the door. I didn't follow him out to the porch because of my hard-on. I wasn't sure if Bennie had noticed it or not. I shut my front door and stripped down as I made my way to the shower. I lubed myself up with the gel, and paid homage to Bennie's superheavyweight mass. Twice.

This was going to be some weekend.

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Part 3

Bennie was supposed to pick me up at 8am that Saturday morning for the two hour ride to Atlantic City. Instead, he showed up at 11.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, trotting up my porch steps as I opened the front door. He was in a tight blue polo shirt and jeans. The shirt fit him way too tight. Every muscle on him was straining the fabric, stretching it till it was almost see-thru. He saw me staring at his arms, which had shoved the short sleeves of the shirt up to his delts. "I was doing arms at the gym this morning, and totally got into some concentration curls." My duffel bag was on the front porch. "Check this out," he said, picking up my bag and slowly curling it with his right arm. "Look at this," he said. He ran his finger across the bulging peak of his biceps. "See the split?" he asked, grinning.

I stared into the deep fine line running up his upper arm, delineating the split between his two swollen biceps muscles. His muscle arm continued to bunch up into a ball that looked hard as a meteorite. A meteorite with a thick vein snaking up and over it. "It's really popping out, right?" he said. "The other guys at the gym were freaking out, taking pictures of it on their phones."

He took my bag and headed down the steps. I shut my front door and followed him to the driveway. Instead of his truck, Bennie was driving an old red El Camino. He tossed my duffel bag into the back bed.

"Where'd this come from?" I asked him.

"You like it? I've had it for a while now. Been working on the engine some, supping it up."

"What year is it?"

"1972, back when they still made real muscle cars. And I've jacked this one up even more, just like me," he said, flexing into a most muscular, stretching his shirt to the limit, then laughing and turning to get into his muscle car. "Let's get going," he said.

"Aren't you going to be late?" I said, as I got in on the passenger side. "Your blackjack tournament starts at 12, and it's at least a 2 hour drive."

"We'll make up time," he said, shifting into reverse and peeling out of the driveway. Every time Bennie shifted, his big shoulder would bump up against me. His hulking frame took up so much space in the car that I had to lean against my door. "Sorry," he said, as he shifted in his seat and nudged me even farther over. "Guess I'm getting too big for my own good. But, goddam, it feels good." The regular steering wheel in the car had been replaced with one of those made of heavy chain. I'd seen them before, but had never actually been in a car that had one. It was somewhat smaller around than a normal steering wheel, and so made Bennie's hands and forearms look even bigger than they already were. His forearm muscles stood out like steel bands as he gripped the wheel. His hands were so beefed up, they looked like they could crush the chains into a ball. I'd never seen a hand so veiny. I could see them pulsing. We turned onto the Garden State Parkway and Bennie said, "Hold on," and his grip tightened. Then he hit the accelerator and I was thrown back into my seat. In seconds, we were flying down the parkway at 80+.

Bennie zigzagged thru traffic like a Nascar racer, passing everyone on the road. He took one hand off the steering wheel and reached down into a bag he had next to him on the floor. He pulled out a protein shake, popped the lid with his big thumb and downed the whole thing. Then he pulled out another one. As he tipped his head back to drink it, we closed in on the back end of a bus. I pushed my feet into the floorboard, anticipating a crash, but at the last second, Bennie veered into the other lane, barely missing the bus.

"Nervous?" he asked me with a grin as he tossed down the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his big hand. "Just wait. Once we get south of Toms River, I'm gonna really open her up." I knew that at that point on the parkway, the road narrowed down to two lanes, but it also flattened out and there were more straightaways.

As soon as we got thru the toll at Toms River, Bennie floored it. The car flew back up to 80mph, but then kept going, past 90, past 100. I'd never driven so fast. At 110, the car started shuddering pretty hard. Bennie had both hands on the wheel now, and gripped it so hard that his big knuckles were turning white. I could see the chain links under his fingers denting in.

"Really gets your adrenaline going, doesn't it?" he yelled over at me, because in spite of us only being a few feet apart, the noise inside the car was almost deafening.

I could barely lift my head up off the seat. "Geezus, Bennie," I yelled.

He laughed. "Hold on," he said, then zoomed around a few cars that were ahead of us, and, with the roadway clear ahead of us, he sped up. I could see the speedometer needle pinned to 120mph. My seat was vibrating so hard, it was stimulating my balls, and making me hard. That, and the sight of Bennie's huge forearms and triceps, hard as steel, bulging as we drove, and the sight of the steering wheel, now misshapen by his grip. I could see the sweat stains showing thru on Bennie's tight polo. Then I realized that my shirt was soaked thru with sweat too. It was so thick and hot inside the car that the windows were starting to steam up. I could see on the dashboard that the car had no air conditioning, and, at this speed, I didn't want to risk cracking the window open. Instead, I just breathed in the heady stench of man sweat, Bennie's overwhelming mine with ease. It made me even harder. As I shifted myself around in my seat, I noticed that our exit was coming up fast.

"Hey, Bennie, slow down man," I yelled. "We have to get off up ahead." Bennie took his foot off the gas some, and we immediately slowed down. As the car stopped shaking so much, I realized that my heart was pounding wildly. We were still going 60 as we approached the exit for the Atlantic City Expressway, and as we curved around the ramp, I thought we might tip up on two wheels. We were about halfway around when I looked down the embankment and saw a car down there. "Hey, did you see that?" I said.

"What?"

"That car down there."

"Probably abandoned," said Bennie.

"Nah man, I think I saw a lady getting out of it."

Bennie pulled over quickly and came to a stop. He got out of the car and looked backed. "Yeah, you're right, there's a lady down there. I'll go see if she's OK." Bennie jogged down the embankment toward the car. I saw him talking to her. She seemed OK, just sort of agitated, waving her arms as she talked, pointing up to the road. I saw Bennie checking out the car. I got out of the car and walked along the shoulder, looking down at them. Bennie looked up at me and yelled, "She swerved to miss a deer, and she can't find her phone. I think her back axle is broken. I'm gonna push her up to the road."

I have my phone, I almost yelled down. But I was too curious to see what he was going to do. Bennie waddled around to the back of the car as the lady got back in on the driver's side. Bennie crouched down behind the trunk, then deadlifted the car up and started pushing it up the embankment, slowly at first, but then at a slow jog. He got the car up to the shoulder and waddled it over to the front of his car. As he passed me, he said, "I'm gonna get her off this ramp. Follow me to the toll booth in my car." I looked down the road toward the toll booth. It was about 200 yards away. I hear him huffing like a locomotive.

I got into Bennie's car and followed behind him as he waddled the lady's car down the road. I watched his big rounded glutes roll up and down as he pushed the car on its front wheels toward the toll. His pants were so tight on his ass that I could see the striations in the muscle even thru the fabric. His back muscles mounded with power, and pulled the bottom of his shirt up, exposing the tree-thick lumbar erector muscles of his lower back. I almost busted in my shorts just seeing them bulging.

When we got to the toll, he put the car down and went over to her window. I saw her try to hand him some money, which he waved away. I heard her ask him something, and he laughed, then flexed his right arm in her window. She reached out and felt it and I heard her squeal and giggle. Bennie laughed, then came strutting back over to his car. I got out and look at him. His traps had swollen up huge and were pushing aside the collar of his polo. Thick veins pulsed on the sides of his neck.

"Let's go," he said, "now we're really running late." I got back in the passenger seat wondering just how much faster he thought we could go. As we pulled thru the toll, Bennie said, "I am really gonna need that massage now man. Feel my legs." He grabbed my wrist and laid my hand on his right thigh. His pant leg felt like an overstuffed sack of hard cement.

"Oh, man," I groaned.

"Tight, huh? My quads feel like they've swelled by 4 inches. You're really gonna have to work these suckers hard."

"Uh-huh," I stammered.

After a pause, he said, "You wanna cum to this muscle, don't ya?"

"What?" I said, pulling my hand away in surprise.

"Come on man, I know you want it. I ain't blind," he said, nodding to my crotch. "Don't worry, I don't mind. I bone to this muscle too. Just wait till later in the hotel room. I'll give you a show that will blow your mind. I brought oil."

Now my heart was pounding harder than it had when we were going 120+ down the parkway. I could see Atlantic City in the distance, and I could hardly wait to get there.

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Part 4

Bennie and I pulled up to the valet parking at the Borgata and got out of the car. We grabbed our bags out of the back of his El Camino. Bennie's shirt was soaked thru with sweat. Bennie put his bag down curbside, lifted his right arm and sniffed his pit.

"Man, I stink like a barn," he said. He leaned over and opened his bag, pulling out a new shirt. A young valet kid walked toward us as Bennie stood upright and peeled off his soaked polo. The valet stopped dead in his tracks as he got an eyeful of Bennie's hulking mass. "Whooa," he said. Bennie looked over at him, then tossed him the keys to the car. They bounced off the kid's chest, which made him blink and shake his head. He leaned down to pick up the keys, but never took his eyes off Bennie.

As Bennie put on his fresh shirt, he said to the kid, "Be careful hitting the gas, bud, she responds fast." The kid gave Bennie his parking voucher, then got in the car, and, despite Bennie's warning, peeled out on the paving blocks before backing off on the gas.

We rushed into the hotel to find the sign-in desk for the blackjack tournament. It was almost noon, and we found the desk just as they were closing up. "This where I sign in?" Bennie asked the guy behind the desk, who, before looking up, started to say, "We're closed for registration," but when he looked up and saw Bennie towering over him, he stopped. His jaw dropped open, and why wouldn't it. Bennie was standing there in a white Joseph Abboud polo, his huge rounded pecs straining the fabric, and the bottom of the shirt so tight on his stomach that you could see the outline of his thick ab wall. His arms were huge and throbbing with veins. Bennie put his hands on the desk and leaned in toward the guy. His hands were twice the size of the sign-in guy's, who shakily handed Bennie a pen and said, "Sign here." Bennie signed, turned to me and said, "Let's go." As I followed him into the casino floor, I looked back at the sign-up guy, who, as he stared at Bennie's glutes, was sniffing the pen Bennie had used.

The tournament was just getting started, and Bennie found the table he was assigned to. It didn't take long before the dealer started dealing out cards. Bennie won his first 4 hands, and seemed totally focused in on his game. I started to wander off to check out some of the other tables, but I didn't get very far before I felt a powerful hand grab me by the wrist and pull me back.

"Don't go anywhere, Mike, you're bringing me luck," said Bennie. So I stayed. And I don't know if I was his lucky charm, or if he was just really good, but he kept winning. He won enough to advance to the second round of tables, and then he won there. Then he won his third round. At 2 o'clock, they paused the dealing for a two-hour break. They gave the players who would be in round four a voucher for the buffet.

"Let's go eat," said Bennie, getting up from the table. "I'm starving."

At the buffet table, Bennie headed right for the sushi. Instead of taking a serving or two of the sushi, he just lifted up the big fish-shaped serving platter that had all the sushi on it, and walked over to a table with it. I thought the Japanese lady behind the counter was going to faint. Bennie ate roll after roll. I managed to get in a couple myself, although Bennie acted like he was going to stab my hand with his chopstick when I went for his favorite ones. His mouth was too stuffed with rice and fish to speak, so he just grunted and shook his head. After the sushi, Bennie just kept going up for more food. Round after round of roast beef, chicken, pasta, potatoes, pizza, vegetables, fruits. I'd never seen anyone eat so much. When he caught me staring at him with concern, he said, between mouthfuls, "I'm bulking up," and then continued to eat. After an hour of eating, he seemed to be slowing down some. I said, "Should we go check in?" He sat back in his chair and put his hands on his bloated gut. "Why don't you go do that, I'm gonna sit here and let it settle in for a bit."

"No problem," I said, laughing and shaking my head. Big freaky stuffed ox. I could almost hear him growing. I walked out of the buffet, and turned toward the lobby. I looked back at Bennie, only to see him getting up and lumbering back for more food.

It took me about 20 minutes to check in, then I went back to get him. "You finished?" I asked as I approached the table. He was leaned back in his chair, wiping his brow with his napkin, and had a glazed look in his eyes. He grunted out a yes, then pushed himself up. His muscle gut bulged out like an over-inflated tire, hard and tight. He thumped on it with his big index finger, then he winked at me. "Get me to room," he grunted out like a Neanderthal.

When we got up to our room, Bennie said to me, "You know what I like about being this stuffed?"

"What's that?"

"I feel so freaking strong...." he grabbed me into a bear hug and lifted me off the ground, wrapping me in his big thick arms and crushing me up against his swollen pecs.

"Bennie," I said, my face pressed up against his thick sweaty neck.

"You feel it man? I'm barely even squeezing...I bet I could crush you like a grape." He squeezed me tighter. "You feel it?"

"Harder, Bennie," I said.

"Yeah? You like that? You like feeling Bennie's strength? Aw yeh, man, am so STRONG...feel like I could lift a truck! How much you weigh?"

"220," I said.

"Nice...nice weight to pump up with." Then he shifted my weight in his arms and power pressed me up over his head. "Good thing there's high ceilings in here," he said as he pumped me up and down. He walked over to the dresser mirror as he held me overhead. "I lift things up and put them down," he said, as he watched himself in the mirror and bounced me up and down off the top of his head. After 20 reps, he tossed me onto the bed. "You gotta help me outta this shirt," he said. He leaned over, his arms outstretched and I crawled on the bed over to him. I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up, exposing his big gorilla back and gut. I pulled it up over his head, but the shirt was super tight over his arms. I had to tug and tug to get the sleeves over his biceps. It finally came off and I fell back on the bed, looking up at him.

'Holy jesus," I said. He turned back to the mirror and flexed.

"Look at these delts," he said, turning side to side and inspecting his own cannonball shoulders. "Think I look like a heavyweight bodybuilder?" he asked me.

"More like a superheavyweight," I said.

He laughed and turned back toward me, bouncing his huge pecs back and forth. They were so thick and rounded, it was unbelievable that he could heave them up and down so high and fast.

"Bennie," I stammered.

"Oh yeahhh," he said, bouncing them even faster. "Why don't you hit these suckers?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, come on, punch them a couple times."

I got on my knees on the bed, facing him. Then I hit him in the pecs. BAM BAM BAM. The sound, oh my god the sound. It was like hitting a side of beef. I hit them harder.

"Aww yeah, man, I don't even FEEL that....," he said. "It's just making them feel bigger and harder." He turned back to the mirror. "Look at these hogs. Bigger than ever." I looked around him at his reflection and he was right. His pecs were welted where my fists hit him, and had swollen up bigger than ever. "You know what I want, Mike?" he said, flopping down on the bed next to me, nearly knocking me to the floor. "I want that massage. I want the hardest rubdown you ever gave. I want you to bust up this muscle so it will loosen up and grow out even bigger. Can you do that?"

"Sure, but first you gotta take off your pants."

"Help me unbutton them."

"Your gut's too swollen." He sucked his gut into the most intense vacuum pose I'd ever seen. It was like his waist went from a 38 to a 30. His abs jutted out inside his concave belly, the muscle looking like the rungs of a ladder. His jeans went from being way too tight to being slack. They unbuttoned with ease. I slid the zipper down and started to pull his pants down. At first I thought he had on red briefs, but then I realized...."You have on...." I said.

"Posers," he finished. "I put them on for you." I pulled his pants lower as he bucked his hips upward, and I saw his junk rolling around in his posers, like two big eggs and a flopping log, like the hottest swag bag on the planet. The thick musk coming up off of him didn't hurt any either.

"Oh man," I groaned as the top of his thighs were exposed. His quads were so big, they were almost disorienting and unreal. Like a thick rugby player's legs, if he had site injected them with the most powerful steroids ever...for a month. Bennie's thighs were oversized, even on him. "How...?" I asked, and he seemed to sense that I was asking how he got his legs so big.

"I don't know, man, they just seem to respond so easy."

We finally finished wriggling him out of his pants. "Do my back first," he said, flipping over onto his stomach. The back of his posers had pulled up into his ass like a G-string. His glutes mounded up high and round. "Damn thing," he said, reaching back to pull the poser out of his ass crack.

"Why don't you take those off?"

"Yeah, good idea, they're too tight anyway." He grabbed the side strap and snapped it with his hand. Then he pulled the poser out of his ass and out from under him, and tossed it onto the floor. It looked like a broken red balloon, so tiny it was hard to believe it ever fit on him. "Ah, yeah, that feels better already," he said. I started straddling him on the bed, but with my 220 and Bennie's buffet enhanced weight of probably 300+, the bed creaked ominously.

"Maybe we should do this on the floor," I suggested.

"Yeah, good idea," he said. "You'll be able to go good and hard that way." He pushed off the bed with me on him, and as he stood up, I slid off him, my nose ending up pressed into the deep muscle valley that ran down the middle of this thick back. I breathed him in deeply, then stepped back.

"Let's pull the bedspread off and put it on the rug," I said, and as Bennie did that, I watched his huge naked body ripple with power, like a big draft horse, his hindquarters thick and muscled from years of heavy labor. When he leaned over to spread the bedding out, his hamstrings stood out on the back of his legs like ship ropes. He laid down on the bedspread face first, and as he adjusted himself, he said, "Bring it on." He turned back and looked at me. "Why don't you get naked before you start..."

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Part 5

I opened up my duffel bag and pulled out the body gel I'd packed for Bennie's massage. Then I stripped out of my clothes, went over and straddled Bennie as he lay on his stomach on the floor of the hotel room. His naked body was piled thick with hard muscle. I lowered myself down on him, my ball sac coming to rest on the small of his back. Right where the big mounds of glute muscle merged into his back, there was a flat hard area just below his spinal erector muscles. My cock and balls fit into it like a pouch. I let out a groan as I lowered my weight onto him and felt how hard his body was. I took the massage gel, poured some into my hands and rubbed it into his upper back. His tanned skin was surprisingly smooth, especially as I spread the gel around on the thick back muscle.

"Geezus, Bennie," I said, "your back is massive."

"Yeah," he said, his head turned sideways on the bedspread he was laying on. "Imagine if I was on steroids."

"You're not? Geezus, Ben."

"Not yet," he answered. "But I'm plenty strong without them." He started doing pushups with me on his back. I rubbed my fingers into the back muscles as they rippled and swelled with each push. I could feel his skin stretching out under the thick muscle. He stopped after 25 easy reps, and I poured more body gel on his broad shoulders. I rubbed the gel across the rugged contours of his big traps, then spread it down until I covered each big delt. I ran my hands to the edge of his jutting lats, then underneath, into his deep pits. I felt the heat of those pits as I lubed up his thick lat wings.

"Feels good, man, but can you go harder?" he asked.

It was going to be hard to bust thru his dense back muscles with just my fingers. "You want me to use my elbows?" I asked him.

"Aw yeah, do that."

I leaned into him and put my elbows on his shoulder blades. I began to roll them around on his muscle, and he let out a groan of pleasure. As I leaned more of my bodyweight onto him, grinding harder into his grisly muscle, he groaned more deeply. "Aww yeahh, man, harder," he grunted. I rubbed my elbows up and down his wrist-thick spinal erector muscles. I could feel the muscle fibers slipping and sliding under my elbows. By now, my cock was hard and resting along the muscle valley formed by his hard erector muscles. I poured some gel inside the valley and rubbed it up and down his spinal column with my erection. I was leaning onto my elbows with almost my entire bodyweight of 220. On a normal man, I'd say he had freakishly hard knots, but on Bennie, his back was just freakishly hard MUSCLE. I worked it harder and harder, till sweat was dripping off my brow and nose and chin, and as it poured down onto him, I rubbed that into his back too, making his skin even more slippery. I went back and forth across his broad expanse of a back, my elbows leaving ruddy welts on his satiny skin. I rubbed and rubbed and rubbed, until finally I had to take a break. I sat up and looked down on his shiny welted back. Bennie pulled his shoulders back and flexed his back muscles, and thick rolls of sinew popped out like a rugged mountain terrain.

"My god, Bennie," I said as the muscles swelled.

"Aw yeah man, I can feel myself growing. Can you feel it? Put your hands on my lats."

I put one hand on each side of Bennie's huge V lats. He tensed them and I felt them respond, expanding under my grip like an inflating tire.

"Oh my fuckin' god bro," I said. I felt my fingers spreading out as I held onto the sides of his thick swelling lat muscle....3 inches, then 4 inches, then 5. "Ben...." I stammered.

"Oh yeah," he said, "Now I'm going to turn over so you can do my front."

"I wanted to do your ass first," I said hopefully.

"You can do my ass later," he said as he started to turn.

"Bennie, I ..." and I started to apologize for my hard-on, my raging hard-on that was leaking pre all over his back valley, but as he turned underneath me, I felt his own erection flopping onto my thighs. "Whoa..." I said, as his hard dick slapped against my leg. I lifted my weight off him some as he could turn completely over. Our swollen cocks bounced off each other as he rolled over onto his back. I tried to adjust mine on his bulging, hard ab wall.

"Don't pay attention to that right now, man, I haven't had sex since my divorce and am so horny I could fuck a goat," he said.

"Baaaaa," I responded.

He laughed and ignored my plea. "Work my chest like you just did my back," he said. "I gotta feel it."

The fur of his chest was already wet with sweat and curled up into ringlets. I turned the gel bottle upside down and squeezed it till it shot all over his pecs. I rubbed it into his muscle and down into his cleavage, rubbing my fingers up and down the 3-inch deep cleft. I cupped his pecs and rubbed into them hard, lifting them upward, then I let them plop back downward under their own ponderous weight. I did this again and again, until I could see them swelling with pump. They grew harder and rounder. Fuller. And rubbed his delts and arms till they bloated so full his skin tightened like cellophane wrap.

"Ben, fuck," I stammered out as I watched his veins throbbed and pulsed across his chest and shoulders and into his swelling arm muscles, pumping more and more size into them. "Geezus, you're huge."

He flexed his arms. "Think I could go on stage with muscles like these?" he asked me. His biceps practically had a triple peak rising out of them they were so swollen with size.

"You'd crush everyone up there with you," I said.

"Oh yeah I would," he said, kissing his peaks. I almost shot my load just seeing him do that.

I ran my hand down to his abs. Then I poured more gel into my hand and grabbed his cock, stroking it. I couldn't keep my hand off it any longer. He let out a deep groan, and arched onto his neck in a wrestler's bridge. I stroked him harder. He lowered himself down, then grabbed me and lifted me into the air. I held onto his dick as he sat up and came face to face with me.

"I thought I could wait. Who was I fuckn' kidding," he said. "I'm so jacked up, my head's about to explode. Both my heads." He stood up, lifting me right along with him. He held me out at arms' length, my feet barely scraping the carpet. Then he tossed me onto the bed. "I hope you don't mind getting raped by 300-plus pounds of muscle," he said, grabbing the bottle of gel from me. He squeezed the bottle so hard that the cap flew off. He poured the contents into his hand and then shoved his hand between my ass. I felt 3 of his thick fingers enter me.

"Oh yeah, I am gonna fuck the hooves right off you, goatboy," he snarled, as he worked his fingers deeper into me. "I never done this to a dude before, but feels smooth as pussy to me."

"Smoother," I snarled back at him.

Bennie pushed my feet up behind my ears and popped his big cockhead into me. "Aw yeahh, it is smoother," he said as he slid himself deeper inside me. I could feel the veins on his thick dick as I clenched down on him. He let the massage gel work its magic as he slid into me, clear down to his the big root of his cock. Then he started pounding into me. BAM BAM BAM. I could feel the power of his jacked up body behind each thrust.

BAM BAM BAM.

"Bruise my fuckin' ass," I said to him.

"Oh YEAH," he said, grabbing hold of me and lifting me off the bed, then pounding me up and down his shaft with his powerful arms, the huge muscles rippling as he used my 220 lb. body as his toy. "Gonna bruise you deep," he said. He plowed into me even harder, the bed creaking and shifting underneath us, sweat flying off both of us. He pounded and pounded into me, his arms swelling even bigger. They looked 25 inches, unflexed...big as my thighs. I dug into them with my hands, feeling their power moving me up and down.

"Man, I'm gonna cum," I said.

"Me too," he grunted. "Gonna cum inside you, then you cum," he ordered. Then he shoved me down hard onto the base of his cock. He growled like an animal, and I felt him unloading inside me. And I shot all over his chest and the underside of his chin. Both of us spewed and spewed. He squeezed me as he pumped his cock empty. Then he lowered me onto the bed, and slid himself out of me. "Damn did I need that," he said as he stood up. "I gotta shower."

I watched him as he strutted off to the bathroom, his big glutes rolling. Next massage, I was going to hit those suckers hard, see how swole we can get them.

The End?

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