orientation-gay The Choices We Make (Parts 1 - 4)

[Shade]

10 hours ago, arpeejay said:

I always love "what if?" stories. The Multiverse is vast, after all.

Richard, I seem to recall you having a very good one involving a man who truly got to live it over and over again. It was quite something.

[arpeejay]

2 hours ago, Shade said:

Richard, I seem to recall you having a very good one involving a man who truly got to live it over and over again. It was quite something

Good memory! It was called "Reset." A slightly different take on the general theme. Quite enjoying this one!

[dredlifter]

A new story from LB?  This is the best day!

[SeaMusc]

I love this!  You know how long I've been a fan, LondonBoy - since forever - and it always puts a big grin on my face when I see another story from you.  I'm looking forward to seeing where this goes.   

[londonboy]

(Part 3)

 

Les       

It was just a little panic attack.  Nothing that couldn’t be cured by cranking out twenty or so push-ups – executed perfectly, of course – on the kitchen floor.  Muscled Denzel from the shower, earlier, had just left.  The guy had been a little post-workout afternoon delight.  He had ridden Big Ben like a rodeo champion – causing Les to empty a massive load into a sweet tight ass that had been surprisingly as firm as rock.  The groping of Les’ hard, gym-pumped body had been rougher than usual.  Denzel had turned out to be a huge muscle pig, who had gone wild as soon as they had gotten into the bedroom.  Les was not complaining, though.  He had gotten the post-lifting release he craved.  It was something his afternoon trick had said that now caused him to sit on the floor with his broad muscled back up against the kitchen cabinets making himself take deep breaths.  The dude had told Les he wasn’t the biggest guy in the gym.  The cocky muscleman had asked cute, smaller Denzel what it felt like to be with the most muscled guy from the gym and the man had said Les wasn’t the biggest.  He had said it so casually . . . so matter-of-factly, that Les’ heart had skipped a few beats.  It seemed there was a new guy that came to the gym early in the morning . . . clearly before work . . . that was obviously larger than Les.  That information had quickened Denzel’s departure and had finally led to a panic attack on the kitchen floor.  

Les ruled his gym.  He had been the largest and most confident man in the place for many years.  There was a board near the front of the place and Les’ name appeared in every blank – beside ‘biggest arms,’ ‘thickest chest,’ ‘largest thighs,’ and every other space available.  It was Les’ claim to fame.  Yes, he had many first place trophies from competitions, but the gym was his community . . . his family . . . and it was where he needed to be number one.  The moment Les had lifted a small barbell when he was twelve years old he had felt ‘at home’ – like he had found exactly what he was destined to do for the rest of his life.  He hadn’t become a smart kid, he had become a big kid.  The biggest, in fact.  It’s not that he wasn’t naturally bright – he was – it was just that he soon found that he’d rather spend his time lifting heavy weights instead of studying the books.  He hadn’t gone to college to become a doctor or a lawyer or anything like that.  He had gone on a wrestling scholarship, barely scraped by in classes, and had simply continued to get huge and chiseled.  He had skipped graduation in order to participate in his first bodybuilding competition, which he had easily won.  Fitness modeling, more competitions, sponsorships from admirers, and personal training had been enough for him to establish a relatively comfortable life.  He wasn’t rich, by any means, but his life was good.  And he enjoyed being the king of his gym.  As his breathing returned to normal, Les committed to not going out that evening.  He would go to bed early and get up in time to make it to the gym to check out this supposed bigger guy.  He wasn’t giving up his kingdom without a fight.  

**********************

Lester

“How long?” Lester asked Frieda as she gathered her purse and shoes and he took a big gulp of the Barolo.  

“Eight months,” Frieda answered, sheepishly – knowing from Lester’s tone that he insisted on honesty.  “I’m sorry, Lester…”

“I am, too.  You were a good agent,” Lester said, shaking his head at the news of how long this relationship had been going on.  

“Maybe that partnership doesn’t have to end…” Frieda began, but the fire in Lester’s gaze said it did.  

“Il mio bell’uomo, welcome home…” Sandro said as he waltzed into the kitchen – as if nothing had happened just now in the bathroom upstairs.

“I’m not your handsome man anymore, Sandro, and this is not you home.  Please leave . . . now,” Lester said, firmly.  

“Lester, come on.  It was a mistake . . . a one time mistake.  You don’t want to throw ‘us’ away just because of one misstep, do you?” Sandro said, crossing toward the other man.

“See, that right there is the issue, Sandro.  Frieda told me it’s been going on for eight months and then you say tonight was the first time . . . just a misstep.  I believe Frieda and I’m suddenly realizing how often you have probably lied to me in the past.  I will text you some times that you can come over and get your stuff.  But right now . . . this very moment . . . if you two don’t get out of my sight, I won’t be held responsible for what I do,” Lester said, forcibly.

Not another word was spoken.  Sandro knew he’d been caught.  There was a quick look exchanged between he and Frieda.  Sandro went back upstairs to pack some things.  Within ten minutes, the two were gone.  Then, within twenty minutes, Lester was on his third glass of wine, had eaten most of the pasta sauce straight from the pot, and had downloaded Grindr on his iPad and was looking at profiles.  He was amazed at how good he felt.  The sleep he had gotten on the flight was clearly helping to prevent jetlag.  He was also surprised at how he wasn’t upset about Sandro.  Maybe it would come later, but he didn’t truly believe so.  If he was honest with himself, he had always known the struggles between the two of them had little to do with his working so hard . . . it had always been about having a problem trusting his partner.  Sandro had been too smooth at covering things up with other people, so it caused Lester to always wonder if he was doing the same with him, too.  

“Well hello, Mr. Dreamy with muscles!” Lester said out loud as he came upon the profile of some guy named, Michael.  

Lester clicked for more details.  Michael was a nurse.  A damn huge nurse, Lester thought.  He had no pictures of his penis, thankfully, and only one picture with his shirt off.  The rest were respectful and rather tame.  Lester was not familiar enough with Grindr to figure out if the lack of risqué pictures meant Michael was a bore or not.  It seemed like everyone else did headless shots, full frontal shots, or shots of their nude backside.  Lester had simply uploaded a couple of shots of him in Tibet and at home.  Nothing spectacular, so he decided it didn’t make Michael a bore.  And besides, with a body like that he could be a bore and Lester could live with it for a night.  According to the map, Michael was less than two blocks away.  Lester ‘liked’ all of Michael’s pictures and sent a message.  He told the truth, “Just kicked my cheating boyfriend out of my place and I’m not wanting to be alone.  I have wine.”  Thirty seconds later a message came back that read, “Sorry about the boyfriend.  I just ended a horrible blind date that did not include enough wine.  Full disclosure, though, I recognize you from your picture . . . is that okay.  Also, I love your music.”  Lester stared at the phone.  He had not even thought about being recognized.  He would probably need to be more careful.  Right now, however, he did not care.  Michael with muscles was the only thing on his mind.  He messaged back, “Thank you.  I’m flattered.  It matters not,” and then gave his address.  Michael asked if there were a security code or doorman he’d need to maneuver around and for the first time in a long time Lester felt a little proud when he messaged that the place was all his.  

“Fuck!” was all Lester could say when he opened the door.

“Not the greeting I was expecting,” Michael said, smiling.

“I’m so sorry . . . it’s just that you’re so much bigger in real life,” Lester responded.

“Is that a bad thing?” Michael asked, tentatively.

“Not at all . . . crap, where are my manners . . . please come in,” Lester said, moving to the side.  

“This is for you,” Michael said, holding out a bottle of wine.  “I know it’s not that good, but there was only one corner mart open between where I was and here.”

“I happen to love Syrah,” Lester said, taking the bottle and glancing at it.  “You didn’t have to do that, though.”

“Well, my mother would not approve of me visiting someone without a present.  And if the person I happen to be visiting is the very talented Lester Taggert, I better have a gift,” Michael said, stepping into the room – his comment making both men turn red.

“Do you have to get your scrubs specially made,” Lester said, without really thinking since he was so embarrassed by Michael’s compliment.

“As a matter of fact I do . . . and that is a very strange turn you took in our conversation,” Michael said.

“I’m sorry.  I don’t take compliments well, so I usually say whatever I’m thinking.  This is my first time to ever use Grindr, too, so there’s that.  I’ve also had a few glasses of wine and I just got off a fifteen hour flight from Tibet.  Not to mention, that I just found my boyfriend of almost three years in the shower with my female talent agent of six years.  Way too much information, right.  I’m sorry, I’m just suddenly very nervous.  You’re just so freaking big and handsome,” Lester said, rambling like an idiot.  

“Let’s start over,” Michael said, holding out his hand.  “My name is Michael Clifton.  I’m twenty-seven.  I’m a nurse at St. Matthew’s Hospital.  I specialize in working with heart patients.  And, just so you know, I’ve been on Grindr for only three days.”

“Hello, Michael.  I’m Lester Taggert.  I write music for a living and I talk too much.  Shall we step into the kitchen for some wine?” Lester said, shaking the big man’s meaty hand.

“I’d like that a lot.  Your place is amazing,” Michael said, glancing around – but not letting go of Lester’s hand too quickly. 

“Well, thank Marvel Studios for that,” Lester said, laughing.  “I have some wine open, it’s a Barolo.  Would you like some of that?”

“That certainly takes the wind out of my measly Syrah.  Of course, I’ll have some of the Barolo.  Unless it’s been opened to help you forget about your cheating boyfriend and you need all of it,” Michael said, and Lester instantly noted the big guy’s generosity.  

“Actually, it was intended to celebrate this,” Lester said, taking the ring box out of his pocket and placing it opened on the kitchen island.  

“Oh Lester, I’m so sorry.  Hey, listen . . . maybe I should go.  We could do this another night, if that’s best for you…” Michael began saying as he looked at the ring.

Lester had no idea what fueled his confidence.  It could have been the wine.  It could have been his anger at Sandro and Frieda.  Or it could have been the way Michael’s big arms stretched out the sleeves of the black polo he was wearing.  Whatever it was, he leaned over, went up on his tiptoes to make his face even with the big guy in front of him, and kissed Michael passionately on the lips.  Mouths were opened, tongues explored, and two grown men whimpered like puppies from the intensity of the kiss.  

“I’d like you to stay . . . if that’s okay with you,” said Lester after he pulled his face away a minute later.

“I . . . um . . . would like that, too,” replied Michael.    

**********************

Tag

Nurse Muscles was sprawled out on the couch in Tag’s office, looking like a giant stuffed animal trying to fit onto a doll’s crib.  Bulging hard flesh was hanging off the piece of furniture, everywhere, and the tall man’s feet dangled off at the end.  The light skinned Hulk was wearing only a pair of very thin – almost floss-like – shiny, blue posers.  Mountains of tight, skin-covered stone seemed to be protruding everywhere.  It didn’t look too comfortable, but Tag was quickly undressing so he could lay down on all of that thick-as-hell muscle.  Modesty made Tag leave his briefs on, but it was also about not wanting to compare his own ample, stiff piece of meat to the giant log that was barely contained in the blue posers.  Michael’s huge body had clearly not been built to make up for any shortcomings below his waist.  Flesh touching flesh, as Tag almost swan dived onto the big man, was enough to send a wave of super-charged shock through the doctor’s body.  He had never been this close to such a fine specimen of manhood.  He had never felt muscles so thick and hard.  And as soon as crotches banged into each other, the room started spinning and Tag’s tight balls gave up any semblance of resistance.  Thick, hot, warm cum spewed forth with the same urgency of a busted water main.  That’s exactly when Tag woke up, as well.

The mess in his slacks was not the first thing to enter Tag’s semi-awake mind, although it had been over a decade since he had experienced a wet dream.  No, what struck the doctor’s consciousness immediately was that it was the first time since the death that he had not dreamed of Ethan.  His old lover’s bloodied body had not filled his head as he slept.  He also didn’t wake up tensed and angry – quite the opposite, actually.  It was as if something had been released from his body.  Suddenly, the sexy stench of cum filled the room.  And, of course, that’s exactly when there came a knock on his office door and it opened to reveal the real Nurse Muscles bulging out of his scrubs, fresh as the morning dew, standing there with a cup of coffee.  The aroma of the fresh java, however, was not able to cover up the bathhouse smell of Tag’s office.

“Oh wow . . . sorry, Dr. Taggert.  Um . . . uh . . . I have some coffee and . . . here, I’ll just open a window . . . the patient would like to speak to you, doctor.  I think I can stall him for a few minutes . . . if you need to . . . um . . . shower or change.  Yeah, I’m going to just leave this cup on your desk and go . . . sorry for the explosion . . . oh shit, I meant ‘intrusion’ . . . sorry for the intrusion, doctor,” Michael stammered out as he moved around the office, his face turning redder by the second.

And then the big man was gone – in a flash.  Tag would have thought that this encounter had been a dream, too, but he felt too damn good to not realize he was awake.  He clearly had slept soundly – more soundly than he had in a long, long time.  And then there was the calming bliss that comes after an intense sexual release.  Tag had done nothing to hide what had happened prior to Michael coming in the office.  He simply hadn’t cared if the big man saw and smelled what could happen when a normal, healthy, sexually neglected grown man met someone that turned him on.  The still-aroused doctor knew the muscled nurse would fully understand that he, himself, had caused this reaction . . . this mess.  Tag inhaled deeply, loving the smell of sex that greeted him and he moved his legs, loving how his pants stuck to his drying crotch.  Tag felt refreshed . . . no, he felt good, really good . . . for the first time in ages.  

Twenty minutes later, a smiling Dr. Taggert lightly walked up to the nurse’s station, placed his hand on the bodybuilder-wide back of Nurse Michael and said, “What do we have, big guy?”

“I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you, Dr. Taggert, but your patient is requesting to go home,” Michael said, barely able to look Tag in the face.

“Um . . . our patient, Michael,” Tag said, his smile turning even bigger when the nurse looked up.  “We knew this would happen.  And what did you tell him?”

“I told him you were the only one who could authorize his discharge,” Michael said, finally turning to fully look at Tag – the doctor’s happiness and confidence somehow infecting him, as well.  

“Bravo, nurse.  Following protocol, perfectly, I see.  I wouldn’t have expected anything less.  And I’m sure our patient took that news graciously and calmly,” Tag said, teasingly.

“He threw his cell phone at me,” Michael replied, laughing.

“He is definitely feeling better, I see.  He’s a braver man than me, though.  Your size would have made me think twice before throwing something,” Tag said.

“Well he missed, so I think he was a little nervous,” Michael answered.

“He’s either a terrible shot or a smart man – and I definitely think it’s the latter.  He’s not one to enter a battle he can’t win,” Tag said with a wink.  “I’ll go face the music.  He’s not going to like my answer.”

“Um . . . Dr. Taggert, I’m being moved to another case,” Michael said.  “There’s a patient in ICU they’d like me to help with.  They’ll be sending my replacement up this afternoon.”

“Well, that’s disappointing . . . in one sense.  It’s smart, though.  They don’t want to waste someone as talented as you just babysitting an angry elder patient – no matter how important he is,” Tag said, honestly.  

“That’s what they said.  Um, I’ve enjoyed finally working with you, doctor,” Michael added.

“Listen, Michael, about what happened in the cafeteria, yesterday…” Tag started, but was interrupted. 

“Tag . . . it’s okay.  I know what you’ve been through.  It was clear I must have said something that reminded you of . . . of . . .” Michael said, but found it hard to continue.

“Ethan.  Ethan.  It’s okay to say his name.  That’s exactly what happened.  But also, as I’m sure you’ve already figured out, last night was the first night in a very long time that I did not have a nightmare about him.  Instead, I had a dream . . . a very enjoyable dream, I might add . . . about someone else.  I feel better this morning . . . so very much better . . . and it feels good.  Earlier, I said your transfer was a disappointment in one sense – because you’re very good at your job and we are a very good . . . um . . . team.  However, since you won’t be working with me, anymore, I was wondering if Nurse Muscles would like to come to my house for dinner, sometime?” Tag asked, boldly – and the joy and healing his words brought was immediate and almost unbearable.

“I’d like that a lot, Dr. Dreamy,” Michael responded, leaning down to give Tag a quick kiss on the lips.  
 

[londonboy]

(Part 4)

Les

For the first time ever, Les was the earliest person at the gym.  His hulking presence standing by the door surprised the college kid, who worked the front desk, as he walked up to open the place.  Les barely spoke to the kid as he quickly made his way to the locker room.  Les was nervous . . . and he didn’t like being nervous.  He needed to do something to boost his confidence and he knew exactly what would help.  Staring at himself flexing in the mirror always made him feel better.  He usually liked it when there were other men in the locker area to feast on his hugeness, too, but – today – it would have to be just for his own pleasure.  He threw his stuff in a locker, lost his shirt, and went to stand in front of the full-length mirror that covered one wall.  Les raised his right gun and tensed.  The massive mound flexed to the point of splitting into two perfect peaks was enough to soothe the nervous beast.  Les loved admiring his arms the most.  He had worked hard – for years – to mold them into something spectacular.  He felt his sleepy cock hardening as he tensed his arm harder to make the peaks swell even more.  How on earth could there be a guy at this gym with arms bigger than his, he thought.  Confidence began to pulse through his body, again, like a shot of alcohol warming the body on a cold night.  Les looked at his face and smiled to himself . . . he was a handsome jacked devil.  Today was going to be his day – not the day of some new guy that had a semi-impressive body.  Les would remain the king of this gym . . . he just knew it.  He could feel it in his muscles.  He dropped his arm and decided it was time to go show off.  He had heard a few people come in and out of the locker room since he’d been in the back and he figured Mr. Big had been one of them.  Les waddled out into the main part of the gym . . . his cockiness had returned.  

Les’ gaze landed on Mr. Big immediately.  It would have been impossible to miss him.  The dude was enormous.  Instantly, Les registered a new feeling inside of him.  It was totally bizarre.  He didn’t feel an ounce of jealousy and not a bit of confidence leaked from his body.  As a matter of fact, he felt empowered . . . emboldened . . . more confident, if that were possible.  He also felt his balls tighten and his rod become engorged as it turned to stone.  None of this mattered, though.  He simply walked straight over to the bench beside Mr. Big and started loading weights on his own bar.  

“Hey man, do you have a second to spot me,” came a deep angelic voice beside him.  

“Of course,” Les said, turning to look at a totally masculine, innocent, gorgeous face, which made his balls tighten even more.

“Thanks a lot.  There’s never been a guy, here, big enough for me to ask for a spot, but you’re clearly big enough to lift me, the weights, and the bench.  Maybe you could give me a few pointers, as well,” said Mr. Big – as he lay down on the bench to ready himself.  

There it was . . . a completely unsolicited compliment to Les’ body and strength, which pierced his heart in a way he could have never been prepared for.  It was simple . . . Les fell for the guy, hook, line, and sinker at that exact moment.  Les had been with big men before – getting off on the mutual muscle admiration – but he had never ever felt this kind of tug on his heart.  Les stepped to the top of the bench with a more-than-obvious raging boner outlined in his tight shorts.  He didn’t care.  It was his gift to the gorgeous man beneath him.  It was his offering to the muscle god about to bench fifty pounds more than Les’ top weight.  

“Oh dude . . . I’m so glad to see that I’m not the only one who gets turned on by lifting.  I swear I could jerk off four or five times every workout session if it wouldn’t interrupt the flow of my routine.  I actually think the bigger a guy is and the more he lifts, the more turned-on he gets.  At least, that’s been my experience,” Mr. Big said after noticing Les’ huge crotch.  

“Feel free to let the bar rub against me, down there, as you crank out your reps,” Les said, having regained all of his polished flirting skills.  “I like the way it feels.”

This made Mr. Big stop all motion and he looked up into the face of the big man above him.  Something clicked, fell into place, and some siren went off in both men’s heads.  Later, they would both confess to never having felt anything similar to that moment, before.  They were like two shooting stars acknowledging each other as they passed in the night sky, or two giant elephants pausing to share in their greatness when walking in the jungle.   There was a connection that could not be explained.  

“I’m Michael,” Mr. Big said, sticking his hand up beyond the weighted bar.

“And I’m Les,” he responded, gripping the hand.  

The two men immediately squeezed with all their might.  They knew they could.  They knew the other man wanted it.  Each of them wanted it.  Other men would have cried out in pain, Michael and Les merely gasped from pleasure.  Michael’s grip was something Les had never felt before – power and intense comfort at the same time.  Neither man let go, they just tried to increase their pressure until the other man gave.  It wasn’t done to win some imagined contest – it was done to give pleasure.  Biceps swelled bigger, cocks swelled fuller, and pecs swelled thicker.  It was intense.  Two giant bulls planning their charge.  A light sheen of sweat appeared on the arm of both men as they continued to apply pressure to their handshake.  Veins popped out on foreheads and faces turned red.  Finally, there was a hidden signal that they could stop, which they both did at the same time.  Fingers burned and bones needed to readjust from the other’s grip.  Les realized he could have shot a giant wad at that moment with almost no outside stimulation if he had wanted to . . . he would merely need to give his cock permission to explode.  He refrained from allowing that pleasure . . . for the moment . . . and rested his upturned palms lightly underneath the bar.  Michael pushed the weights up into the air and then did ten perfect reps, allowing the bar to bump up against Les’ hard-on as it went up and down.  

“You’re strong as fuck,” Les said, knowing it would make his workout partner excited.

“Only when there’s someone I want to impress,” Michael said, grabbing the bar again and cranking out a second set.

“You make me want to rip your clothes off,” Les said, softly, as Michael rested.

“What’s stopping you?” Michael responded, taking the flirting to a new level.

“Decency,” Les answered.

“Decency is overrated, don’t you think.  Who’s going to say anything, really, if two guys as huge as us want to get it on in the middle of a gym,” Michael said, smiling.

Les couldn’t help himself – he reached down and grabbed Michael’s two meaty pecs with his big hands, immediately kneading the thick, hard muscle like a professional baker working with heavy dough.  Michael moaned a little, bit his lower lip, and let his own big hands reach around Les’ giant legs and grabbed the back of his hard thighs.  Michael’s strong hands squeezed Les’ legs with enough power to make Les wobble with pleasure.  Both men needed to feel the muscles of the other – more than anything.  This lasted for more than a minute before the two of them realized they were drawing attention to themselves – because of the show, yes, but mainly because they both were making noises similar to the growls of grizzlies.  Les clamped down hard on the dense meat in his hands one last time before letting go and standing back up straight.  Michael tugged on Les’ legs one more time, causing the man’s crotch to bump against the bar in front of him.  

“What are you doing after your workout,” Les asked, totally wrapped up in the guy on the bench beneath him.

“I have to go to work.  I’m a Nurse at St. Matthew’s.  I’m about to start a three day shift,” Michael replied, his breathing hard.  

“Fuck, man, I can’t wait three days,” Les said – allowing himself to sound desperate.  “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Michael.”

“I feel the same way,” Michael replied, sitting up.  “We could retire to the sauna, now, if that’s not too forward.  Usually, nothing makes me miss a workout, but you’re driving me wild, Les.”

“Let’s go to the sauna . . . we can make it a cardio day,” Les said, smiling an almost evil grin and jerking his head towards the back of the gym.     

**************************

Lester

“So, the date wasn’t good?” Lester asked, as the two men sipped wine and played with each other’s hands across the kitchen island.

“Um . . . not really.  I mean, he was a nice guy and all . . . I think.  It’s just that all he wanted to do was talk about my body.  I was kind of hoping he’d want to know a little bit more about me . . . but all he did was ask the measurements of body parts,” Michael said, staring into Lester’s eyes.  “And whenever I asked a question about him, he immediately turned the conversation back around to my arms or chest.”

“Well, you are massive, you know.  It’s kind of hard to not focus on your body . . . I mean it’s like the elephant in the room.  Ow!” Lester squealed, as Michael squeezed his fingers, teasingly.  “I get it, though.  Usually, people I meet only want to talk about my music.  There’s a lot more to me than what I compose.”

“You really are talented, though,” Michael said – smiling.

“And you really are big,” Lester responded.  “I know this is a really stupid question . . . and it’s not something that will go with the Barolo . . . but would you mind if I made some popcorn?  I need a snack.”

“That sounds nice, actually.  I’m a popcorn addict,” Michael replied.  “Seriously.  So, Mr. Taggert . . . do you need to talk about what happened tonight.  I’m a really good listener.”

“I don’t think so,” Lester said, glancing down at the ring on the counter.  “Maybe later.  Right now, I’d like to get to know you better.  Is that okay?”

“You don’t have to ask my permission.  I’m just really enjoying the company.  I’d like to get to know you better, too.  Let’s do some ‘first date’ questions.  Here’s one . . . how did you get into writing music?” Michael asked as Lester grabbed a pot to make popcorn.  

“Wow, that’s going way back to when I was twelve years old.  I got a keyboard for Christmas and it was the coolest thing ever.  I loved writing my own songs right away.  You know, that same Christmas I got a weight set and started working out three times a week.  At some point, music just became more important that lifting weights – even though I still worked out,” Lester said, staring off into space as he remembered that day.  

“It’s clear you’re still in great shape,” Michael said.

“Not compared to Thor, here…” Lester began, but he was interrupted.

“Just take the compliment, Mr. Taggert,” Michael said, sipping his wine.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry . . . you’re right.  Thank you.  My turn for a question.  Why are you a nurse?” Lester asked. 

“I’ve always been drawn to helping people and I decided a long time ago that the direct contact offered by being a nurse was much better than being a doctor . . . for me, at least.  I’m in a special unit at the hospital.  I work with patients that have had heart surgery.  It’s always been more than a job for me . . . it was more like a calling,” Michael said, brushing his big fingers back and forth across Lester’s palms.

“And the bodybuilding?” Lester asked, clearly not caring it was the other man’s turn for a question.  

“That was like a calling, too.  I knew I was gay around eleven years old.  I had accepting parents, cool friends, and the process of coming out was pretty easy.  However, there was a group of boys at school that – for some reason – decided it was their mission to make me feel bad about my true self.  Looking back, they were just scared of something they didn’t understand, but they made life pretty rough for about a year.  During that time, though, I decided to take up weightlifting to get bigger . . . so I could protect myself.  I never expected my body to respond the way it did to exercise.  I came back from summer break in Grade 8 a different kid . . . a bigger kid.  The bullying stopped, but the growing didn’t.  I guess my subconscious connected muscles with respect . . . and that just continued to fuel me to work out.  By the end of high school, I was out and proud, while being the captain of the wrestling team and winning amateur bodybuilding competitions.  I know I’m lucky.  My story is not the story of most gay kids, but it’s made me who I am today.  And you, Mr. Lester, when did you know you were gay?” Michael asked.

“My mother says she knew when I was ten or eleven.  I’m not sure that’s true, but my parents did play an important part in my coming out at age fourteen.  After taking up the piano at age twelve and proving to be pretty good at it, my mom sent me to a certain Mr. Wade Macy for lessons.  Wade was this gorgeous, jacked piano instructor who was openly gay and a lifelong friend of my parents.  It was his assigned mission to help me ‘know’ myself.  My years of studying with him shaped me in ways I couldn’t even have imagined.  He was a role model in playing the piano and in being comfortable with my homosexuality.  I confessed my love of boys to him, first, and he helped me come out to my family – who, of course, accepted me.  He’s still a great friend and continues to be a mentor.  He even told me, a long time ago, that he didn’t think Sandro was the right man for me.  I guess I should have listened,” I replied, lost in thought, again. 

“Who knows, maybe you and Sandro will be able to patch things up,” Michael said, trying to steer the conversation back to something upbeat.

“It might be weird to say, but I hope not,” Lester said, without even having to think about it.  “I’ve known it wasn’t right for a long time.  I just thought I could make it right, though.  That tends to be my way with things . . . power through until it comes out the way I want it to.  That’s why I bought the ring.  It was like putting that on his finger would change everything, but now I see that it wouldn’t.  I’m sad it has ended, but I’m really at peace with it.  Truly.  Besides, I’m very interested in seeing where this might lead,” Lester said, squeezing Michael’s hand.  “As a matter of fact, let me do this.”

Lester picked up his phone and scrolled to the Grindr App.  He opened it and went to settings.  He moved around to stand beside the hulking body of Michael and deleted his account.  Without saying anything, Michael took out his phone and did the same thing.  The big man then turned on the stool he was sitting on and let his thick legs open.  Lester moved in.  The two men stared at each other for a long time.  

“I never knew I could be so into muscle,” Lester said after a long lust-filled silence.  “Sandro has a nice body and all, but yours turns me on in ways I’ve never experienced before.  It’s hard to explain.  There’s an obvious hardness to your muscles, but there’s this sweet, warm, comforting softness, too.  How can that be?  Mind if I touch?” Lester said, his gaze not leaving Michael’s. 

“I wish you would,” Michael answered.  

Lester was used to his mind’s ‘eye’ being expanded.  Tibetan monks, Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor, kissing a boy for the first time – all of these things had moved him in a way that he was never the same afterwards.  As his hands moved up to Michael’s body, he knew this experience would be the same.  Something was being awakened in him – something he never knew existed.  Michael’s pecs twitched when Lester’s palms pushed up against them.  Immediately, Lester pulled back, but the pecs began to heave up and down, slowly, so he placed his hands back.  It felt like, underneath the shirt, there was concrete that had been exposed to the sun for a few hours.  Hardness and heat, that’s what registered to Lester.  His fingers, strengthened from years of playing the piano, pressed into chest muscle – and the man marveled at how pecs could feel so solid, so massive.  Lester moved his hands out to the side, cupping the edges of Michael’s mounds of hard meat.  Like Lester’s fingers from piano, years of bench presses had made Michael’s chest powerful, too.  

“They’re so dense and enormous,” Lester said – to no one, really – he was just stating a fact.  

Erect, hard nipples poked teasingly beneath the fabric of Michael’s polo, so Lester pinched them at the same time – causing the big man to tense all over and suck in air, simultaneously.  Lester let go, but let his thumbnail scrape over the covered nubs.  Michael’s big body shivered with delight and this made Lester scrape harder.  The thickness and hardness of the nipples seemed to double and Michael’s eyes narrowed as his head fell back a little.  Lester’s hands moved on to the colossal biceps surrounded by stretched-to-the-max sleeves.

“I find your hugeness such a turn-on, Michael.  And I have no idea why,” Lester confessed. Groping arms that were way too big for him to grab.  “Why have I never gotten with a guy with huge muscles, before?”

“Maybe you were waiting for the right one,” Michael said, softly, in return.  

“Definitely.  And you feel like the right one, big guy,” Lester responded, punching the bulging biceps with his smaller fists.  “Can I pull off your shirt?  I’m beginning to feel like I’m in a cheesy porn movie.  I just really want to feel all of you.”

“I definitely need some help with this shirt,” Michael said, reaching up to pull the sleeves down over his massive arms.

“I would think so,” Lester said, reaching out to help him.  “Good god, there’s so much of you.  And all if it is so hard.”

“You have no idea just how hard I’ve become,” Michael replied, as Lester gawked at the big man’s body.   “Now, I sound like bad porn.”

Without warning, Lester leaned forward and pressed his slighter frame against the much larger body of Michael.  It was like he couldn’t help himself . . . he just needed to feel as much of Michael’s muscles as he could at one time.  It was clear that the musician had fallen down the ‘rabbit hole’ and was like Alice in Muscle Land.  He pressed his nose and face between Michael’s meaty pecs, while his arms went from extra wide shoulders to humongous arms to corrugated abdominals, and then to thick-as-hell thighs.  Suddenly, his mouth was drawn to Michael’s poking, hard, right nipple – and he sucked with all of his oral strength.  A big hand was placed behind Lester’s head and it squeezed lightly in response to the pleasure being given to the jutting nub.  Lester’s hands now rested firmly against Michael’s bulging arms and the larger man tensed his biceps to please the groping fingers.  

“God, I’m so turned on thinking about the years of lifting in the gym that creates this kind of perfection.  I know what dedication is . . . from practicing the piano every day of my life, but I’m in awe of sweaty hours with heavy weights molding you into this,” Lester said, as he paused in his sucking.  “I can appreciate . . . and I applaud your perseverance, Michael.  It’s all just so freaking hot.”

“Want me to flex for you?” Michael whispered.

Lester’s body froze.  Michael instantly realized this idea had not even entered the smaller man’s thoughts, yet.  That made him smile.  Here was someone truly new to the muscle worshipping scene.  It was like Lester hadn’t even begun to think about how much harder and bigger a flexed muscle could be.  This made the big man adore the smaller one even more.  He then noticed that Lester still hadn’t moved.  

“I’m not sure . . . um . . . I could handle that right now, Michael,” Lester said, honestly.  “Could we save that for later.  I’m afraid I’ve got the bluest balls ever and they certainly won’t last through you flexing.”

“Of course.  You can be in charge.  I’ll take my cues from you,” Michael replied and Lester pulled back to look up into his face.

“Would you like to flex for me?” Lester asked, his face full of wonder.  “I mean, would that give you pleasure?”

“More than you could probably ever know,” Michael said.

“Why?” Lester asked, truly baffled.

“Because I know it would please you . . . and that excites me.  I’m not just big for myself, Lester. I mean, that’s a huge part of why I wanted to grow . . . originally . . . but, now, I also like the pleasure my body can give to other people,” Michael replied, but Lester’s face still looked confused.  “Do you only play the piano for yourself?  Or do you like it when other people appreciate what you play.”

It was like a light went on in Lester’s head.  He had never thought about how a man’s body might offer the same kind of joy his piano could offer.  It made sense, though.  Lester had certainly admired the physique’s of the actors that appeared in many of the Marvel movies he did the scores for, but he had never once thought about receiving pleasure from them.  Here was a body bigger and more muscular than Lester had ever encountered before . . . and the man who lived in that body wanted to show off to please him.  It was a little surreal and something totally new to Lester.  He looked at Michael’s huge arms and tried to imagine what they would look like harder and bigger . . . flexed beside his beautiful face.  They were already so enormous, that it was hard for Lester to picture them growing.  He felt like he needed to say something important before Michael did any flexing.  

“I want you to know, Michael, that I don’t like you solely for your muscles,” Lester said, staring into the face in front of him.  

“I know that, Mr. Taggert,” Michael said, laughing.  “I can tell this muscle thing is all a little new for you.  I find that adorable.  I’m happy I can be your introduction to muscle worshipping.”

“Is that what it’s called?  Couldn’t we call it muscle appreciation?  That sounds so much healthier,” Lester said, truly concerned by the idea of worshipping someone else.  “I think it would keep things a little more even . . . don’t you?”

“We can call it whatever you want, Lester.  You’re in control.  And how about a deal.  I’ll flex for you on one condition . . . you have to play the piano for me when I’m done,” Michael suggested.

“That seems totally fair,” Lester said.  “I like the idea of me earning the right to see you flex.  I don’t want you to seem so objectified or forced to do something you don’t want to do.”

“I never do anything I don’t want to do,” Michael replied.  “And it’s not objectification if I want it . . . now is it?”

“I think I’d like you to flex, now . . . if you don’t mind,” Lester said, in almost a whisper.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that, Mr. Taggert?” Michael asked.

“Yes . . . I’m sure.  I want to see what you look like tensed . . . harder, bigger,” Lester answered.  “You’re so fucking huge now, I’m wondering just how much more those arms can grow.”

“To twenty-three inches . . . to be specific,” Michael teased.

“That’s incredible…” Lester said – even before Michael did anything.  

“Mind if I squeeze you with my legs, Lester,” Michael said.  “I wouldn’t want you to fall over or anything.  But mainly, it’s because I want to touch you.”

“Squeeze away,” Lester said, moving in closer.  

**********************

Tag

Tag operated on people’s hearts, for goodness sakes.  He was known to have some of the steadiest hands of any surgeon around.  But tonight, for some unknown reason, he couldn’t keep them from shaking no matter what he did.  Truth be told, Tag was nervous.  He was more nervous than he’d been in a very long time and he didn’t like it.  It felt like he wasn’t in control and he was always in control.  He kept looking over at the bottle of prosecco chilling in the ice bucket.  He longed to open it and have a big gulp right now, but he forced himself to refrain.  He wanted to open it when Michael arrived.  Michael.  The entire reason he was nervous.  Nurse Muscles was coming over for dinner.  Tag instantly felt embarrassed by the fact he had opened a new toothbrush and placed it in the cup beside his in the bathroom upstairs.  How presumptuous could he be.  He started to think about going upstairs to put it away in a drawer, but that’s the exact moment the doorbell rang.  Tag knew he’d be thinking about that toothbrush the entire evening and trying to analyze what it meant.  How he worried that it was a betrayal of Ethan.  The doorbell rang again and Tag realized he was taking too long to move – it was like his feet were cemented to the floor.  He forced his legs to work and he moved down the hall to the front door.  There, looking hot-as-hell in a blue polo and thigh-hugging jeans was Nurse Muscles.  

“Hello Dr. Tag . . . oops, forgive me.  It’s just hard to break a habit.  Hello, Tag.  How are you?” Michael asked.

“Nervous as hell, to tell you the truth,” Tag blurted out, before he could do anything to filter his thoughts.  

“There’s the doctor we all know and love.  Your honesty has made you a celebrity at the hospital.  These are for you,” Michael said, holding out some beautiful flowers.  

“They’re beautiful.  Thank you.  I’m sorry . . . come in.  Let’s get these in some water.  Straight down the hall there,” Lester said, his nervousness obvious by how quickly he was talking.  

Both men walked down the hallway – Michael taking everything in as he moved and Lester taking in the humongous Michael as the big guy walked in front of him.  Tag was blown away by just how wide the guy’s shoulders were – emphasized by the fact that the hallway wasn’t that wide.  Michael would have had to turn sideways to let anyone pass.  Thankfully, the hallway opened up to a very large kitchen and living space in the back of the condo.  Tag was instantly less intimidated by Michael’s size.

“This is a beautiful place, Tag,” Michael said, turning to his host.  

“Thank you.  Ethan did most of the remodeling.  I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to bring him up so soon.  How rude of me,” Tag said, busying himself by looking for a vase.  

“Tag, stop.  Please.  Take a few deep breaths.  You’re a wreck . . . and you don’t need to be.  If it helps, pretend we’re at the hospital and you’re ordering me around.  Trust me, I’ve never seen such confidence in anyone . . . the way you can stay calm in the most intense circumstances.  Like the way you put a certain important patient in his place when he wanted to leave the hospital before he was ready.  I don’t think anyone has ever made that particular patient speechless, before,” Michael said, placing a hand on Tag’s shoulder.  

“Fill this with water, Nurse Muscles,” Tag ordered, pretending to be stern.

“That’s also the doctor I know,” Michael said, laughing, but taking the vase to do as he was told.  “And know that it’s fine to talk about Ethan any time you want.  I get the feeling you don’t do it a lot and I’m thinking it would help.”

Michael was facing the sink.  He missed the grateful look that shot across Tag’s face.  The doctor’s body immediately calmed – both because Michael said talking about Ethan was fine, but also because the nurse encouraged Tag to take the lead.  Tag loved being a surgeon.  He also loved being in charge.  He tried hard to not take advantage of his position – especially with nurses, but he also knew whatever team he was working with wanted him to be confident . . . in charge . . . and to lead.  Tag knew, instinctively, that he was a good leader – compassionate, kind, firm when the situation called for it, and easy to communicate with.  But above all of that, feeling Michael’s big hand on his shoulder had eased Tag’s nervousness the most.  It was as if some special energy had shot forth from the big man and soothed every fiber of Tag’s tensed body.  Suddenly, he was sure he could do this.  He knew his favorite meal would be nice, the conversation would be stellar, and the eye candy was going to be more than he had ever dreamed about.  He also could feel Ethan pushing him . . . no, shoving him towards Michael.  For some reason, it was time to move on and it had become so because of this huge, gorgeous nurse.  

“Am I really respected by the nurses,” Tag asked when Michael turned around.  

“Stop fishing for compliments, Doctor,” Michael responded, “You know you are.”

“I guess . . . it’s just that none of them ever talk to me . . . well, until you,” Tag added.

“We’re trained that way – both by our instructors in school, but also because there are some real jerks who are doctors that ruin it for all of you,” Michael said, arranging the flowers – expertly – in the vase.

“To be fair, Michael, there are some nurses who are jerks, too,” Tag said, smiling.

“Touché, Tag.  You are so right.  Yes, you are respected and adored by many nurses,” Michael said, staring down at the doctor.  

“Funny, I like being respected, but I am really only interested in being adored by one specific nurse,” Tag answered – with a confidence that sent a charge through both him and Michael.

“Would that be Mabel?  Cause, she really does have a thing for you,” Michael shot back.

“Oh my god, Mabel.  Yes!  That’s exactly who I was talking about.  Because as a young gay man I’m so into the obvious stereotype of being drawn to a fifty-something, big busted, southern belle who constantly sings Dolly Parton songs,” Tag joked in return.

“I thought so.  She IS a great nurse, though,” Michael said.

 “One of the best.  No, it’s not Mabel.  I’m into breast that are even bigger and a hell of a lot more harder.  Like the ones stretching out a certain blue polo shirt in my kitchen right now,” Tag added, his confidence bounding back in spades.

“Funny, I’m into slightly smaller men who exude a confidence and charm way beyond their smaller stature,” Michael purred back.

“Um, I think ‘slightly smaller’ is a grave understatement.  It would take three of me to equal you,” Tag said.  

The conversation ended . . . just because both men were staring into each other’s eyes and words seemed to be unneeded at the moment.  Tag found himself loving the fact that he had to tilt his head back to look Michael in the face.  Ethan had been an inch smaller than Tag, so there had only been looking straight ahead – but, this giant in his kitchen meant tilting must happen.  Tag let his eyes wander down Michael’s body – not even worrying about how obvious it was.  
He took in the bulging pecs with nipples poking against the material of the shirt, the enormous vein-covered arms that clearly had stretched all the tightness out of the short sleeves, and the thin waist that obviously had tremendous power to hold up such a huge torso.  Tag refused to let his eyes wander further south.  He wanted to show that he hand some decency.

“Nice trip, Tag?” Michael asked, smiling and clearly loving the fact that the doctor had felt comfortable enough to take his body in.

“It was very hard and there were a lot of mountains,” Tag said, as if he were complaining.  “Okay, that sounded better in my head, but just weird as soon as it was out of my mouth.  Would you like some wine or a cocktail?”

“I’d love something with vodka, if you have it, sir,” Michael answered.

“Oh good, a vodka man.  How about vodka tonic with lime?” Tag offered.

“That sounds good,” Michael said.  

“How come you’re so big?” Tag asked as he started making the drinks.  “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Michael answered.  “I’m afraid it’s a big of a cliché.  I was bullied in junior high – kids thought I was too effeminate and liked all the wrong things – music, theatre, retro disco music.  I got labeled pretty quickly and in ninth grade I shot up a few inches.  I thought it might be good to add a few inches all over to equal the new height.  It turned out that the weights liked me.  I guess the rest is history.”

“Bet you’re not bullied now, huh?” Tag asked, smiling.

“No . . . not at all,” Michael replied, laughing a little.

“I’d say the weights more than liked you, Nurse Muscles.  I’d say they kind of hulked you out,” Tag said, flirting even more.  “You have a gorgeous body.”

“I can see by the pictures on the mantle that Ethan had a very nice body, too,” Michael said – knowing he was treading into dangerous territory, but he thought it was important to include Tag’s lost lover in their developing relationship.  

“Yeah, he did,” Tag responded, amazed by how a conversation about Ethan did not make his chest tense up.  “He was nowhere near the size of you, though.”

“Do you like muscles on your men, Dr. Dreamy?” Michael asked, steering the chat in a new direction.

“I do, yes, but it’s not the first thing I notice about a guy,” Tag answered.

“And what is the first thing you notice, sir,” Michael continued, taking a sip of his drink but not dropping eye contact with the doctor.

“A guy’s generosity with his smile.  Guys that easily offer great smiles melt my heart.  Ethan had a great smile and he flashed it every chance he got.  You, Nurse Muscles, smile all the time – even when you’re just sitting by yourself at the computer in the nurse’s station.  I, of course, noticed your biceps right away – who wouldn’t – but it was your smile as we shook hands that made me really notice you,” Tag said, surprising himself with his honesty.  “What’s the first thing you notice in a guy, Michael?”

“His hands.  I like them to look manly, with a bit of little fur on the knuckles.  But I also want them to look soft and easy to hold.  You have exquisite hands, Doctor.  I have to force myself to not stare at them,” Michael answered.  “And what do you notice next?”

“Pecs . . . especially huge ones covered in hair,” Tag said, motioning to the three open buttons of Michael’s polo.  “What’s next for you?”

“Honestly?” Michael asked and Tag nodded.  “A guy’s crotch.  I love seeing a full, mouth-watering pouch . . . like yours.”

The two men stared at each other and let the silence envelop them.  They both knew two crotches were becoming more full at that exact moment.  Neither man felt comfortable with glancing down to watch, however.  It was too early in the evening for that kind of blatant move.  Just the knowledge that the other guy was getting hard was good enough for right now.  It seemed like they had a lifetime for crotch glances . . . even though Tag knew a lifetime could be taken from you quickly.  He pushed that idea from his head . . . or maybe he allowed Ethan to erase it . . . and just focused on the beautiful man in front of him.  

“Would you find it weird if I suggested we both take off our shirts?” Tag asked – breaking the calm silence with a wild request.  “It’s just something I suddenly really, really want.”

“Certainly not, but I might need some help taking mine off.  I haven’t worn this shirt in a while and I’ve gotten a little bigger.  I’m afraid I wanted to impress you with a really tight shirt,” Michael confessed – and turning a little red.

“I was certainly impressed . . . as a matter of fact, I still am,” Tag said, unbuttoning his own shirt and slipping it off his body.

“Whoa!  Who knew Dr. Dreamy was so dreamy underneath his clothes.  That’s even better than the fantasies of what I hoped you would look like.  Let me guess – lots of swimming, um . . . I think cycling . . . and a little bit of weight training.  Am I right?” Michael asked.

“A little cycling.  I mostly swim and jog, though,” Tag answered, turning red, himself.

“Ah, a runner.  Nice.  We’ll have to do a nice jog through the park one day,” Michael said, pulling the shirttail from his tight jeans.  

“Maybe tomorrow morning?” Tag suggested.

“Maybe . . . but I also think we might be busy at that time doing another kind of cardio,” Michael teasingly said, as he pulled his shirt up – revealing a physique that could only be called herculean.  
 

[MrMeanour]

I didn't realise I was such a fan of romance until I read your stories. Please let there be a happy ending.

[londonboy]

Ahhh, but who gets the happy ending, @MrMeanour?  Les?  Lester? or Tag?  I seriously don't know, yet.  

[dredlifter]

LOVE THIS.  All of them.  3 stories in 1, it's a great bargain!