muscle growth Re-Posting: Blind Date by BBMikeNJ

[arpeejay]

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

Blind Date

By BBMikeNJ

I'd lived in Miami about two months when my friend Tom called from back home, telling me that he could hook me up on a blind date down here. Apparently, I'd been complaining about being lonely, and, not being much of a club person, was having trouble meeting people. But I'd never resorted to a blind date before, so I was skeptical. Tom didn't even know the guy. Tom's friend Chuck, who I didn't know, knew a guy who knew this guy.

"That sounds pretty removed," I said to Tom.

"Come on, what have you got to lose, Ralph? I hear he's a powerlifter." That sparked my interest, certainly, and I paused long enough for Tom to say, "Man, you are such a muscle whore."

"No I'm not," I said. "What's his name?"

Tom laughed and told me the guy's name was Malcolm. Then he gave me Malcolm's number. "Go ahead, at least text the guy," he said. "Live a little. Just make sure you meet somewhere in public, in case he turns out to be a mess. Or a serial killer."

"Thanks a lot, you're a big help. Hopefully he won't look like that kid from Malcolm in the Middle."

After we hung up, I sat on my couch for ten minutes staring at my phone, deciding whether to get in touch with Malcolm or not. I'd start a text, and then erase it. Then I'd do it again. My heart pounded faster just thinking about it. Finally, I decided that Tom was right. What did I have to lose? I typed out a text: Hey Malcolm. My name's Ralph. Am new to Miami. A friend of mine suggested we get together sometime. Hit me up if you're interested.

I hit the Send button. Ok, that's done, I thought to myself. I'll probably never hear back from him. I put the phone down on the coffee table and started to walk away. I didn't get two steps when the phone beeped. I picked it up and opened the new text: Sounds good. you free Friday nite?

Oh boy. I texted back: Friday's cool. When and where?

He answered: There's a sushi place I like in coconut grove. 6 too early? I have to work at 8.

What kinda work? I asked.

Bouncing from 8 to 4, he replied.

Oh boy. I told him 6 was ok and he sent me the address. "See you there," I texted.

 

 

My heart was pounding like a jackrabbit's as I walked into the sushi place. I'd gotten lost, and was a half hour late, but I'd texted Malcolm and he seemed cool with it. The restaurant was already busy, and when I told the waiter I was meeting someone, he nodded over to the left, and walked away. I scanned the tables in that direction. Most of them had couples or foursomes. Finally I saw a table with one person seated. It was a huge black guy in a white dress shirt. His hair was done up in long dreadlocks. I walked over toward him. His head was bent down as he finished off a sushi roll. His neck had to be 20 inches round. As I approached the table, he looked up. He took a big swallow and said, "Ralph?"

"Yeah," I said. "Malcolm?

As he stood up, his chair screeched across the tile floor behind him. He rose up and up and up. He appeared to be about 6'6", and towered over my 5'7". He put out his hand to shake, and as he wrapped his thick fingers around mine, I saw that his hand was nearly twice the size of mine. His shoulders were broad and thick, stretching out his shirt at least a yard, and his big chest pushed the buttons till they strained. He was no Malcolm in the Middle....more like Malcolm XXXL.

"Sorry I'm late," I said as we shook.

"No problem. Sorry I started eating without you, but I was starving. This is only my third roll though, so I'm still plenty hungry," he said with a grin as he sat down. His teeth were brilliantly white, despite the sushi rice that was stuck in them.

I sat down across from him, and noticed how the people around us were whispering and nodding toward my massive blind date. The waiter came over with two plates. He put one in front of me with two sushi rolls on it and one in front of Malcolm with six. "Hope you don't mind, I ordered some for you when I knew you were going to be late."

"No, that's cool," I said.

Malcolm drank his whole glass of water, then said, "Actually, I thought you might pussy out on me, but that woulda been ok, I'd of just eaten your rolls."

"Why would I pussy out?" I said, although the thought had crossed my mind as I was driving around.

"Some guys are scared off by my size. Afraid I might just beat the crap outta them or something," he said, as he shoveled his way thru another roll.

"How big are you?" I asked, as I watched his biceps rolling under his sleeve as he worked his chopsticks.

"Six foot seven, 290," he said thru a mouthful, and holding up his glass to the waiter, who hurried over with more water for the big man. "Probably 295 after this meal," he said smiling. After he drank half the glass, he said, "I'm aiming for 300plus. How big are you?"

"Five seven, 170." It sounded so tragically puny.

"Nice," he said, staring at me as he ate more sushi. "I weighed more than that in 4th grade. I do wrist curls with 170."

"I picture you liking a bigger guy," I said, after gulping at the thought of a 180 lb. 4th grader.

"Nah," he said. "I like little guys. Big guys are pigs. They eat too much, sweat too much, and are way too full of themselves." He winked at me as he picked up his napkin and wiped away the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead. "How old are you?"

"28," I said.

"I'm 22," he said, as he continued to eat. "You ever been curled by a 22 year old?"

My first piece of sushi dropped of my chopsticks and fell onto my shirt. "You could curl me?" I asked, as I picked up the sushi, and tried to wipe the soy sauce and wasabi off my shirt.

"One handed. I got freak strength. Look at my forearm." He stopped eating long enough to uncuff his shirt and roll back the sleeve, exposing a massive club-shaped forearm. He clenched his huge hand into a fist and made the forearm muscle bunch up into gnarly ebony granite. "I work my grip an hour every night. You should see them after that, all swole and veiny." He put his hand under the table and grab the top of my leg. "You feel it?" he said. "Feel the strength?"

"Uh huh," I stammered. I tried to pull my leg back but he wouldn't let it budge.

"You scared?" he asked. I was breathing like I'd just run a 100 yard dash. He squeezed harder. "You turned on?"

"Both," I said between clenched teeth.

"Nice," he said, and he moved his hand up my leg to my crotch. "Ohh yeah, you do like this," he said. "Bet I could make you blow right here."

"Bet you couldn't," I said.

He let go of my crotch and sat back in his chair. "Bet I could," he said and started to bounce his pecs at me. He looked like the black guy in the Planet Fitness ad, and he even started saying "Pow Pow PowPowPow," as he bounced his huge chest back and forth. I grabbed the edge of the table with both hands to keep from falling over.

He stopped pec bouncing, and pulled his shoulders back, his huge mounded chest stretching his buttons to the popping point. "You gonna eat those?" he said, nodding at my rolls. I shook my head no, and he reached over and took them. He picked up one whole roll, tipped his head back, and slowly slid 8" of sushi roll down his throat. He appeared to swallow it whole.

"holyfuck," I moaned.

He brought his right arm up in front of his chest, like he was doing a hammer curl. Then he flexed, and his huge biceps filled the sleeve, stretching the cotton so thin I could see his black skin thru the fabric. Then the peak began to rip thru.

'"hhow big??" I asked.

"23 inches," he said, knowing exactly what I was asking.

"geeezus," I groaned.

"Put your hand on my thigh," he said. I put my hand under the table. I didn't have to reach far, his big knee was almost touching mine. I put my hand on top of his leg. "You ever felt 34" quads before?" he asked. "Squeeze it," he said. I clenched my fingers down on his meaty leg. "How's that feel?" he said.

"Hard as a car tire," I said.

He laughed. "Yeah, and I ain't even flexing it. Feel this," he said, and he tightened his leg muscles. I felt them swell under my fingers. I rubbed my hand on the thick teardrop muscle that bulged up over his kneecap.

"My god man," I said.

"Let's go to my place," he said.

"What??"

"I live right around the corner."

"But I..."

"I wanna make you bust a nut, little man. You ever cum hands free?"

"No, but..."

"I'll pay the tab," he said. He scooted back in his chair and stood up. As his massive frame brushed by me on the way to the counter, I turned to watch him. He had the biggest powerlifter ass I'd ever seen, stretching his gabardine pants so tightly, you could see each huge globe of his glutes rolling as he walked. I swore I could see striations. But that couldn't be. Could it?

By the time he paid the tab, I'd unchubbed enough to stand up without making a scene. Everyone was looking over at Malcolm anyway. His massive backspread was the size of a bus. He was three times the size of the little Japanese man behind the counter, who nervously handed Malcolm's charge card back to him.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked.

"You can pay me back later," he said, shoving his wallet into his back pocket, which rode so high on his glutes that it faced up to the ceiling. "Let's go." He put his huge hands on my shoulders and led me toward the front door. I pushed the door open and walked out into the hot Miami night. Behind me, Malcolm had to turn half sideways to fit thru the door. He also had to duck.

What on earth was I walking into?

More to cum…

[arpeejay]

Part 2

Malcolm and I left the sushi place and walked down the street. He had his big arm around my shoulders. I could feel the heft of his thick muscle. He hugged me up against him as we walked, nearly lifting me off my feet. We turned the corner off the main street and walked to the front of a small condo building, the front lobby of which was all dark.

"It doesn't look opened," I said, as Malcolm opened the front door.

"Technically, it's not. The owner lost his backing when the real estate market busted, but he lets me live here to help protect the place. We gotta take the steps though, the elevator doesn't work."

"It's kind of stuffy in here," I said.

"Yeah, no A/C. Wait till we get to my apartment. Sometimes it's over 100 degrees in there." We walked thru the dark lobby to a doorway that led to an even darker stairway. "I'm on the 5th floor, so I better carry you so you don't trip," said Malcolm, and before I could answer, he scooped me up and tossed me over his shoulder, then started taking the steps two at a time. I bounced up and down on his powerful traps like I was riding bareback on a big horse. When we got to the 5th floor, he lifted me up and put me down on the floor. The hallway had windows at both ends, but it was still pretty dark. It was hot as a sauna. Malcolm's forehead was dripping with sweat.

"Man, that pumped up my quads pretty good," he said. "Who'd of thought a little guy like you would do that." He waddled down the hallway and opened up one of the condo doors. "Come on in," he said. Once inside, he flipped on a light. When I looked at him confused, he said, "I'm plugged into the building next door. Don't tell anyone."

I looked around his apartment. It was sparsely furnished, and the floor was bare concrete, but it had floor to ceiling windows and an open floor plan, with sliding glass doors out onto a balcony with a great view.

"Make yourself at home," Malcolm said. "I drank so much water, I really gotta piss." Malcolm went down a short hallway to the bathroom. He left the door open as he went, and it sounded like a firehose shooting into the bowl. "Don’t you hate how half the water splashes out when you’re taking a piss?" he yelled out, leaning back into the hall. He pissed and pissed and pissed. I couldn't believe anyone's bladder could hold that much liquid. When he finished, I heard him turn on the water to wash his hands.

"At least you've got running water," I said as I walked over to the windows and looked out over Coconut Grove.

I heard him coming up the hallway. "What'd you say?" he asked.

I turned around, saying, "At least you've got.....holy shit..."

Malcolm had stripped off his shirt and pants, and was standing there wearing just his underwear. I used to think the expression It took my breath away was just that, an expression. Now I know it can happen. As jacked as Malcolm looked in clothes, he looked even bigger in a pair of sweat-soaked bikini briefs.

"My god, your legs," I said.

Malcolm looked down at his big thighs. "Thirty-four inches, and I barely even work them. That is if you don't count squatting 1200lbs a couple times a week." He leaned over and clicked on another light, which just highlighted the size of his quads and calves. They were shiny with sweat. "Walking up and down those stairs has really made the veins start popping out all over. It bloats them up bigger than you would think it would, too. My next goal is to hit 36 inches," he said, checking out his own size as he flexed out his legs. He put one foot forward and raised it up onto the ball and turning it sideways, exposing the swelling calf muscle. "Can you believe 22 inches, babe? You wanna touch it?"

I don't know how I made my legs move forward, but I walked over to him. I got on my knees to and cupped his massive black calf muscle as he flexed it harder. "Rub your fingers into it, feel it swell. I'm gonna get them to 24 inches." Twenty-four inches was as big as my quad. I rubbed my hand up and down his smooth ebony skin. The calf muscle was hard as bone, except that it was moving underneath my hand every time Malcolm flexed. After a while, he said, "Now do the other one," and he put his left leg in my face and flexed his calf. I rubbed it hard, feeling the ridges of muscle and the bulging gastrocnemius muscle, jutting out 5 inches from his shin.

"Malcolm," I said, looking up at him. I could hardly contain my hard-on.

"Yeah, little dude?"

Then I noticed something on his leg. "What's this mark on your quad?" I asked.

"That's a tattoo," he said. "It's hard to see cause my quad skin is black as night."

"What's it of?" I asked, looking at it closer.

"It's the UnderArmour logo. I got that when I was a kid. I started powerlifting when I was 12. By the time I was 14, I'd outgrown all the weights at school, so I started training at the university. The strength coach took a special interest in me, and by the time I was 16 I was out-lifting all the college dudes. Then one day the coach and I got into a fight. I told him I wanted to get into bodybuilding, and he got all ghetto on me, told me bodybuilding was for faggots, and it really pissed me off. I told him he was just mad ‘cause I lifted so much more than him and was twice as strong. He took a swing at me and we started going at it. That's when I found out I was about ten times stronger than him. Fighting him was like taking on a little kid. I muscled out of every hold he tried to put me in. I toyed with him for a while, then pinned him to the floor. Then I put him in a leg scissor and started squeezing. God, it was fun. That's when my UnderArmour sweats starting tearing up the side of my quads. Then I squeezed him harder and they tore all the way up to the waist. It was like I was morphing. When I stood up, I flexed out over him until the shirt I was wearing ripped up the back. That's when I realized that I liked flexing outta clothes. Total head rush, hearing that sound. I kept flexing till the only thing left on me was a tattered piece of my sweats, and the UA logo was hanging down by my inner thigh. That's when I went out and got it inked onto my inner thigh." Malcolm turned his quad outward, exposing the tattoo some more. "I'm kinda tired of it now. See if you can suck it off."

"I can't suck off a tattoo," I said.

He flexed his quad, and his sartorius muscle made the tattoo bulge out and roll right at my nose level. "Give it a try," he said.

I put my mouth over the tattoo and started to suck. Malcolm let out a deep "Oh yeahhh," and put his big hand on the back of my head. His inner thigh tasted and smelled like roasted chestnuts. I sucked harder. He reached into his briefs and pulled out his dick. He let it flop out, and it was so big and heavy that it hit my back like a billy club. I started sucking the tatt like a lamprey eel, and his already engorged cock starting rising into the air. I felt it slide up the back of my neck, and then push my ear lobe out of its way as it swelled.

"Suck that fuckin' ink, little fucker," Malcolm growled, then as I sucked harder, he let out a strong deep groan. I swear I heard his windows rattle. I hung onto his sweaty thigh as I sucked on him. He tasted so good, and I sucked so long, I started feeling like a vampire. Finally, I pulled my mouth off and leaned back to look.

"Any luck?" he asked.

"Tatt's still there," I said, "but I gave it a pretty good hickey." I looked up at Malcolm, towering over me. Sweat was rolling down his huge torso, pouring out of his pits and down his lats, and dripping off his jutting nips. It had to be 100 degrees in his apartment. I'd taken hot yoga classes that were cooler than this. I was breathing heavy and drenched in sweat myself.

"You wanna use that hot mouth on my big knob?" he asked me, stroking his thick hard-on.

"I barely know you," I said coyly.

Malcolm leaned over and lifted me like a pillow. He stood me up on his coffee table. Now we were face to face with each other. He lifted the bottom of my sweat-soaked shirt up over my head. I lifted my arms and let him pull it off me. "What do you want to know?" he said.

"You like to kiss?" I asked. He leaned into me and planted his big full lips on my mouth. We kissed slow and deep and hard for almost a full minute. At one point I opened my eyes, and the sight of the sweaty thick muscle on his huge neck almost made me cum in my pants. He pulled off of me just in time.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"How strong are you?

Malcolm stepped back and put his hands on his hips. He reared his shoulders back and heaved out his chest. His pecs mounded out at me like two sweaty medicine balls.

"Forearm smash these hogs, Ralphie," he said. When I hesitated, he said, "Come on, you can't hurt me."

I reared my arm back high, and swung it down into his chest. Sweat splattered off his huge pecs, but he didn't budge.

"Not bad for a little punk," he said. "Try it again." I swung at him again, hard as I could. He didn't budge, but at least it made his dreadlocks swing a little. "Nice," he said. "You could use a baseball bat on these suckers without hurting them, that's how thick and strong they are." He looked down at his huge muscle shelf and began to bounce them, one at a time. The pecs thickened and rolled at his command. I got down on my knees on the coffee table and watched his superheavyweight chest swell and heave, then drop back down, then heave up again. Then I went down on him. I had to. I had to service him, to taste him, to feed off him. I worked on him as hard as I'd worked on his tattoo.

"Awww yeahhhhh," he said. He put his hands behind his head and started to buck into my mouth, fucking my face with short powerful thrusts. I took his big knob as deep as I could, but his dick was so thick I couldn't go much farther. It didn't seem to matter to him. He was leaking pre like a water fountain, and I was swallowing it just as fast as he pumped it out. His sweat was dripping on me, and my own sweat was running down my forehead and into my eyes. It didn't matter. Nothing else matter but being with Malcolm. I put my two hands around the base of his shaft and started stroking him and pulling him deeper into me. He put his hands on my ears and worked my head around. Finally, he held my head still, and stopped bucking. His big knob swelled even more as he came. He didn't groan or yell, he just came, and came, and came. So much hot paste shooting down my throat. When he finished, he slid himself out of my mouth and got down on his knees. He reached out and undid my belt buckle, then pulled my belt out of its loops.

"Step out of those pants," he said, putting the belt down. I pulled my pants down and kicked them off the table. My hard-on was pushing against my underwear. He grabbed the waist band and ripped it like tissue paper with his beefy hands. He pulled them off of me and tossed them aside. He put his hands on my pelvis and lifted me off the table. He held me in the air and stood up. I put my hands on his ox yoke sized traps to balance. His tight black skin was slick with sweat and hard as ebony. Sweat dripped off both of us into puddles on the floor.

"Lift your arms," he said, "I'll hold you up."

Tentatively, I lifted one arm at a time off his huge traps. He held me in midair. I felt like I was flying. He lowered me down until my cock was in his face. Then he took me in his mouth. I gasped with pleasure. Airborne, and being sucked off by a behemoth powerhouse, he pumped me up and down, like he was doing half range shoulder presses. I watched the striations in his delts ripple as he worked me. I watched the mountain range of muscle on his back surge and swell, from his bull neck clear down to the waistband of his briefs, which were so soaked with sweat that they were nearly transparent, and his big bubble butt had pulled most of the fabric into his deep glute crack. I tried as hard as I could not to cum too fast, but when he took me in his mouth like he had with the 8-inch sushi roll, sliding me into him slowly and smoothly, I felt my balls churning with ecstasy. Seeming to sense that, Malcolm lifted me up, popping me out of his mouth, and held me high overhead. "I love tea bagging," he said, and lowered me down till my sac was against his lips. Then he sucked one ball into his mouth and started lolling it around with his big tongue. He popped that one out, then took the other one in. Then when he was done with that, he took them both in his mouth. He sucked hard as he lifted my pelvis upward, stretching out my sac till the skin was tight. I almost shot my load right over his head, but at the last second, he popped my balls out of his mouth and went down on my cock again. I exploded with such a powerful orgasm that I almost lost consciousness. He sucked on me so hard it was painful yet highly erotic, as I felt myself drained drier than I'd ever been drained.

He lifted me up, then lowered me down to the floor. I laid back onto the bare concrete, which felt amazingly cool on my sweaty skin. "Fuuckk me," I said, more as an expression of exhaustion than anything else. But Malcolm straddled me on the floor, letting his still-engorged cock flop onto my stomach. "That comes next," he said, flexing into a double-bi shot and admiring his own arms. "You got me more pumped up than a two hour hardcore workout. Look how swole these monsters are." His arms did look even bigger than earlier, and the skin stretched so tightly over the peaks that it looked like it might split.

"Think you can handle more of this?" he said.

"Try me," I answered.

The End?