The Barista

[Dream Big]

I’m a creature of habit. It’s a mixed blessing — possibly a little bit of a spectrum thing, or maybe run of the mill OCD. I like my routines.

I’d hoped to leverage that tendency to finally get back into shape. But I knew I needed motivation. So after I hit the gym, I’d stop by this little Indy coffee shop call Cuppa Joes, and I give myself a little treat: a coffee (black, iced or hot depending on weather) and some sort of baked thing that definitely wasn’t countering my efforts at all. (Ahem)

I’d been at it for a few months now, to the point where it felt weird if something came up and I missed my gym time, or if something disrupted the treat I’d conditioned myself to expect after. I was making decent, if slow, progress at the gym; I’d dropped nearly 15 pounds and was firming up the bits that jiggled. But I’d felt like I’d hit a plateau; I needed something to shake things up, but was resistant to major changes in my routine.

At 37, I was long past the party boy stage, and not quite at the Settled Dad phase, of my life. I had a boring white collar job for my county government, and I went to the gym three times a week to stave off the middle-aged spread. That was pretty much it — no social life really.

But things changed when I showed up one Saturday and there was a new barista.

“Hey, bra, what can I get ya?” The source of that question was apparently Stevie, a laid-back, 20-something with dimples and a friendly smile and bright blue eyes beneath his dark brown artfully messy hair. He had a bit of scruff going, but whatever DNA produced him seemed to have been a rousing success. Killer cheekbones, lanky but fit body, good teeth — it was shocking how many folks did not understand that bad teeth were a turn off.

“Black coffee, large, no sweeteners,” i mumbled, “and one of those cranberry scones.”

“You got it boss! Warm up the pastry?”

“Yes please,” i said.

“I just started a fresh pot, so have a seat and i will let you know when it’s ready. Name?”

“Caleb,” I said.

I watched him work for a few minutes. Stevie had good looks and an easy friendly manner, and he was competent. After he dealt with the other handful of customers, he poured my coffee from the new pot and grabbed the pastry with some tongs and put it on a plate. He looked around and spotted me, gestured to stay put, and emerged from behind the counter with my order. His smile was infectious.

But that wasn’t everything.

The boy had a goddamned huge bulge, and the black uniform pants did nothing to hide it.

I stared stupidly at it as he approached. I was at one of the low comfy seats rather than a table, so as he walked toward me, the thing was at eye level.

“Caleb, right?” He asked. I nodded stupidly, still staring at his junk like some kind of pervert. I couldn’t help it.

“Great! Yell if you need something,” he said through a million-watt smile, as he set my items down on the low table.

As he walked back to the counter, I noted with some dismay that his ass was pretty darned nice, too.

I was doomed.

 

[laptoper]

Great to see a new story from one of my favorite writers. Sounds promising!

Are we going to hear more from Bartholemew

 

[Puffdaddy316]

I’ve been on and off this site for years but never really checked out this story section.

I’m really glad I did.

Keep the content flowing please!

You’re a talented writer, for sure

 

[Dream Big]

Great to see a new story from one of my favorite writers. Sounds promising!

Are we going to hear more from Bartholemew

Yup.

 

[Dream Big]

Motivation is a funny thing.

My brain had already connected gym time with a reward: coffee and a pastry. That had kept me going through the early stages of getting into the habit of the gym, and through bad weather. A little caloric indulgence, my trainer had said, was worth it if it kept me on track. And now every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, I was a regular at the gym and Cuppa Joes. I wasn’t a fan of mornings, but it suited my schedule and my boss wasn’t a clock watcher so long as I completed my work.

I’d tuned out the other gym members and the baristas, keeping my focus on my own routine and burning it into my brain.

So when I got home that first night, and stripped down and began relentlessly beating my meat to the hot barista, it was he start of another routine. I did it that Saturday. And that Monday, and that Wednesday. Because Stevie seemed to be on duty every time I was there.

Weeks passed, and my beloved routine had become fixed. 90 minutes at the gym, walk to Cuppa Joes, exchange smiles with Stevie (who quickly figure out that I had a regular order), have a coffee and pastry while I pretended to play on my phone (but mostly watched the counter hoping Stevie would come out from behind it), go home and whack off for half an hour, and then go about my day.

I was meeting with my trainer, Sue, on the first Monday of every month, something I did to keep myself on track and honest. It also, sadly, meant measurements and revisions to the plan.

“Caleb, whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Down another half inch on the waist, and another couple pounds this month, but your lifts seem to have plateaued. I think you’re ready to take this to the next level, buddy.”

“Next level?”

“Sure. Let’s set some new goals, shake things up. I think for a start, we get you in here at least one more day a week. Alternate between upper body and lower body on that extra day. And let’s commit to doing more core stuff at home. Think you can do some crunches and stuff every day you’re not in here?”

“I guess.”

“You’re doing really well with this, so it’d be a shame to let go of that momentum. I’ll send you some stuff by email, okay? Follow the plan, make it a habit, and build on it, just like we agreed. Any particular areas you want to concentrate on?”

“I don’t really know,” I replied. I didn’t even know if Stevie was into anything in particular. “I guess the usual stuff. Bigger chest and arms, tighter abs, firmer butt…”

“Sounds good, we can get you looking swole, like the frat rats say.”

*****

And just like that, my routine was altered, and I found I didn’t mind in the slightest. Sue had sent me a list of supplements and dietary suggestions, including a significant uptick in protein that was likely to be a bit of a challenge, but the exercises themselves were mostly doubling up or doing variations on stuff I already did. And pushing harder on upping the poundage and resistance across the board.

Friday became my “concentrate on one area” day, and between that and the other stuff, I saw some newbie gains. Stevie wasn’t scheduled for Fridays, but I still showed up for my post workout treat.

But Stevie was there that first Saturday after adding Friday to the mix, and he noticed.

“Bro! Got your coffee. Lemon cake okay today?”

“You know me,” I said, smiling back and — oh shit, I found myself doing that thing they do in anime, where the guy puts his hand behind his neck awkwardly.

“Whoa, man, look at you!”

I panicked, looking around to see what stupid thing I’d done to attract attention. Stevie laughed.

“Nah, man, you got a gun show going on, that’s all. You got some gains!”

I looked over sheepishly and sure enough, the swell of my bicep was right there. I was still pumped from the morning workout and pretty sore, because it had been arms and chest stuff yesterday.

“I guess,” I stammered.

“Lookin’ good,” he beamed happily, handing me my order. “What gym do you go to?”

I told him, and asked where he went.

“The college has a nice one, and it’s free for alumni,” he said. “But between my work and grad school, it’s hard to find time. And it’s usually pretty crowded when do have time.”

Stevie was in grad school, but I wasn’t clear on exactly what for. He studied when things were slow, but that mostly consisted of him staring intently at a thick textbook behind the counter, from my perspective.

“I credit my trainer,” I said. “She keeps me motivated. Had me switch things up a little this week by adding Fridays to the mix.”

“Good to know.”

*****

The next Friday, my legs were aching after a pretty grueling session, and I limped into Cuppa Joes.

“Black coffee, and how about a nice chocolate croissant?”

“Stevie?”

“Yup! I switched shifts with Helen. Guess I’ll be seeing you on Friday, too!” He seemed pretty happy about it. So was I, because it meant I’d see him another day of the week.

And so it went for another couple of weeks. The Friday workouts were extra grueling, but targeting different groups seemed to be paying off. Stevie unerringly complimented me on whatever I’d been working on that day, which left me shyly pleased. Then I would Go home and blow a nice load thinking about him. I was smitten, but persisted in believing that he was just being friendly.

But in retrospect, our chaste little interactions were by now edging into the realm of flirtation. I’m usually kind of oblivious to such things but even I noticed when he reached out and — without asking, and likely without thinking — grabbed my bicep and told me to flex one Friday.

“I have GOT to meet your trainer, man, look at you!”

I glanced down, where my shirt had, after months of effort, begun to fit snugly for the right reasons. And then over at my arm, where his warm, long fingered hand was still on my bicep.

“Dude. I—“ and then he looked quite embarrassed. “Um, I gotta run to the back for something I left out,” he said, hurriedly backing away.

But not before I noticed his usual meaty bulge had shifted and gone decidedly….vertical.

*****

By the time I got home, I was ready to pop. What I’d seen in Stevie’s eyes, plus the very large salami he appeared to have in his pants, turned my crank. I was raging hard, and I was ripping my clothes off before the apartment door closed behind me.

He was into me. He liked my emerging muscles and he liked them enough to spring wood in the middle of the cafe.

And his cock was huge. I’d suspected from the bulge, but now it was confirmed. He was packing, and from the glimpse I got as it twitched its way up and over to his hip, he was likely probably very hung indeed. Best guess, at least 8 inches, but quite probably more.

My hand grabbed my own desperate cock, which was leaking enough pre to slick things up. I imagined his long delicate fingers grabbing my cock, firmly like he had my bicep. I lasted all of three seconds.

*****

 

[laptoper]

Classic stuff!

 

[Dream Big]

Like I said, motivation is a tricky thing.

See, now I knew Stevie was into me, and specifically into muscle, on me. And that meant I needed more of it.

And so, I texted Sue, and told her I felt really motivated and wanted to meet with her. She had time on Saturday, and could meet me for my morning session.

“Well, Caleb, I think you’re making great progress as it stands. And you’re not in your twenties anymore, so slow and steady is the name of this game. I think the smart play is to keep upping your efforts by five pounds each week.”

“Should we consider changing up the supplements? Macros? That kind of thing?”

“I mean, sure, you can eat more protein. Maybe up your creatine, that’s working nicely for you I think. Are you looking for strength, or for aesthetics? We started this looking for health and then building up some strength, but I get the feeling you’re looking to put on some actual size now.”

“I think so, yeah.”

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, then I suggest you don’t think that. Steroids are bad news, and no legit doctor would prescribe HGH for someone in decent shape like you.”

She was right of course. So I assured her I just wanted a kick in the ass, and she responded by putting me through a very thorough workout. Each station we hit, she pushed me harder than I had been pushed before. And sure enough, I was *drained* at the end of it, but I’d added five pounds to every single exercise. I hit the sauna for a good twenty minutes, letting the sweat pour off me – and fighting a hell of a boner the whole time.

I staggered into Cuppa Joes feeling like a used rag, but I was barely in the door before Stevie told me to sit, he’d bring me my usual.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just really wiped after the workout today. Sue tried hard to break me.”

“Looks like you managed to defeat her,” he said. “Nice pump, though.”

“Thanks. I just worry I bit off more than I can chew.”

“Nah, you got this, Caleb,” he said. And then for the next 15 minutes or so, while I drank my coffee and ate my blueberry muffin, he managed to find reasons to bend over where I could see. It had to be fucking deliberate, the tease. Nobody drops napkins that often.

*****

The motivation was there, but by Friday I was struggling with the added weights. It was chest day, and my usual chest press machine was out of service. So I was using free weights. And during my second set I began to falter.

“I got ya,” said the young behemoth who was loading up his bar next to me. I grunted a thank you and tried to shake out my arms a bit.

“I’ve seen you around here a lot lately,” the big guy said. I hadn’t noticed him, though he looked vaguely familiar. I may have been a regular by now, but I was so focused on my own stuff that I kind of coasted along obliviously.

“Kind of,” I said.

“Well, you’re doing great. But,” and he looked around slyly before continuing, “I think you’re looking for something to give you a push. Or did I read you wrong?”

“Um. Kind of.”

“Thought so. How many reps you got left today?”

“This is my last set.”

“Good, I’m finishing up, too. Meet me in the sauna and let’s talk a bit. I may have some ideas for you.”

*****

In the sauna, he said his name was Leo. He was probably in his early thirties, so younger than me. He was big, beefy, but still well put together. We were the only two folks there.

“So, I work for this biotech firm, and they’ve been working on some good performance enhancements. They hit on one that actually works better once you’re well past puberty. And it’s in clinical trials now. We always need test subjects. If you’re interested, I can make sure you’re NOT in the control group.”

“Really?”

“The testing is for the FDA. This shit works, man, but they have to gather enough data to pass regulatory approval.”

“I’m not sure I–”

“Dude, it. Fucking. Works. Look at me if you need a little proof. I did my treatment about a year ago. Just one round of treatment, and I put on something like 40 pounds in two months. A year later, I’m still setting PRs.”

“No side effects?”

“Nothing I’d call problematic,” he said. “It just gets you charged up to maximize every rep, and makes it easier to pile on muscle if you’re doing the work.” He handed me a business card. “When you show up to get the trial, make sure they know I sent you. We get bonuses for referrals.”

*****

I hemmed and hawed all day Sunday. I dug into the company; it was legit – small but growing. They had a small number of supplements on their website, ordinary stuff. And Leo did work there, according to LinkedIn. He had some dumb title like Product Specialist or something, but it matched the card. Whatever drug they were trying out, however, hadn’t made it to anything public yet, but given their other offerings, it felt like it made sense.

Monday’s workout was about the same; I was really tired when I got to Cuppa Joes, and even after my treat and a nice chat with Stevie, I was feeling wiped. Still went home and masturbated and blew a load – but then I called the number on the card, and lucked out because they could see me that afternoon. I had built up plenty of time off, so I just took the rest of the day off, claiming I’d forgotten a medical appointment. It wasn’t too much of a stretch.

Half an hour after lunch – my usual turkey sandwich with loads of greens – I was pulling into a nondescript office park just outside the city line. The receptionist buzzed me in, I showed the card, filled out paperwork, and so forth. Exactly as you would expect. Thanks to modern technology, I could download and forward my latest physical results, which were recent enough for their evaluation needs. After a surprisingly short amount of time, they called me back.

And two hours after I got there, I got a shot in my left glute and that was it. Didn’t even hurt.

Mindful of the reminder to up my protein, I stopped at the store and loaded up my cart. I’d refill my supplements when I got home; they were cheaper online.

*****

The results were not immediately apparent. Wednesday’s workout still saw me struggling to keep up with the added weight, but I had my coffee shop to look forward to. Friday was more of the same. Still nothing. I logged onto the testing app and dutifully entered my updates, but disappointment was starting to set in. I’d been hoping for a quicker fix.

And then, Saturday morning I woke up at 6 with the sort of morning wood I hadn’t seen in a decade. I blew a load just to get the damned thing to go down before I drank my morning smoothie and headed off to the gym.

It was immediately apparent that something positive was happening when I started my usual routine and found the weights way less troublesome than they’d been the day before. Not easy, but more…surmountable. I powered through the workout, then the sauna, then showers and a walk over to Cuppa Joes. Treat, chat, home, beat the meat, eat a meal.

On Sunday, I woke up feeling restless – and hard, once again. This time I took my time, relying on my detailed memory of my sexy barista’s tight trousers to build a very nice orgasm. Productive, too.

Sunday was my chore day, but I was feeling so full of energy that I tackled it with gusto. Rearranged the garage, for a start, which meant hauling around heavy racks and winter tires and the like. My watch informed me later that it recorded two hours of exercise.

Monday was more of the same, and I resigned myself to the idea that, much like in college, I’d be starting my day with a nice wank. Then off to the gym, the cafe (and Stevie), back home to wank and then get back to work. On Wednesday, I added five pounds to every one of my efforts, and my sexy barista’s smile grew broader along with me.

Now that I knew to look for him, big Leo really was there, somehow in the background, even though I’d never noticed him. But Friday was, this time around, chest day. And he was there when I realized that the machine wasn’t doing what I wanted, and I’d have to move to the free weights. Leo offered to spot me.

“By the way,” he said, “I saw you’d joined the study. From the looks of things, you’re taking to it pretty well. Have you noticed any side effects yet?”

“Just a little bump in the ol’ libido,” I said.

“Just wait,” he grinned back. “It took about a week for it to kick in for me, but I was REALLY happy with that particular side effect. But I don’t want to jinx it for you.”

He wouldn’t say anything else about it, though. Frustrating.

*****

Sue took one look at me at our next session, and suggested we meet in the trainers’ office.

“Okay, Caleb. What are you on?”

“Nothing illegal!”

“You’ve put on five pounds in a week,” she said. “If you’re on gear, I’ll slap your stupid ass…”

“Not gear. Not even HGH,” I said defensively.

“Then what?”

“Clinical trial. Doctors, the works. I had to sign an NDA and all that.”

She looked at me dubiously.

“I know, right? But look, it’s working!”

*****

It was working, alright. Just not ONLY on my muscles.

Virtually every day began with a wank, ended with a wank, and typically had at least one in the middle. I was beating my meat more than I had in high school.

And after a particularly stubborn morning wood, I measured it. The feeling that I’d grown a little bit bigger proved correct – by almost an inch. I dutifully logged it in my app.

Now, it’s important to note that this isn’t one of those stories where a guy gets on a mysterious drug trial and has a big reaction and grows a mega dick and huge muscles. There was no conspiracy to grow giant sex slaves, no super soldier serum, no aliens, no four foot cocks, no giants. Nobody was failing to read or follow instructions, there was no unexpected mixing of different chemicals, no magic. Just a very good hormonal cocktail and some modest growth.

Well. Mostly.

*****

 

[shutterer76]

Nice

 

[Dream Big]

By the following Saturday, I was clearly bulking up in all the right places, and I walked with a new confidence…but the same habits. I’d pushed pretty hard in my workout again, and I was there a bit later than usual, but I wasn’t going to skip that moment of happiness. And so I found myself at Cuppa Joes for my usual treat, smiling at Stevie, who smiled right back.

“Order for Caleb?”

“I didn’t order anything yet.”

“You don’t need to order,” Stevie beamed back. “I already know what you want.”

“Oh do you,” I purred back.

Yeah, we had definitely ramped up the flirting.

“You boys gonna kiss or what,” the other barista asked, clearly not caring either way.

We both blushed, and I paid and went to sit down.

“You’re late today,” Stevie said.

“Sorry,” I replied.

“Actually, you almost missed me. I get off shift in twenty minutes.”

“Glad I finished up when I did, then.”

“Um… got plans today?”

I squealed inwardly but kept my cool. Was he asking me out?

“Nothing big, just some errands. Gotta buy some new clothes.”

“Do you maybe want some company?”

I finished the bite of pastry and realized he was sitting across from me.

“Why, Stevie, are you asking me out?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I figured we get along and I feel like getting out and doing something different. I don’t mind a little shopping.”

“I don’t know that I’m different. You see me four days a week.”

“For now.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, okay, might be fun. You can keep me from making any stupid decisions.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything but that fresh from the gym look.”

“And I’ve never seen you out of your work clothes.” He raised a cheeky eyebrow at that comment.

“Cute. You know what I mean. But I’ve, um, changed sizes a bit over the last couple of months and I a lot of my clothes don’t really fit right.”

“I bet. I could probably stand to pick up some stuff too.”

“Okay, well, where and when should I collect you?”

An hour and a half later, I pulled up outside a cheap apartment building where Stevie, leaning against a railing, awaited. He had clearly showered and shaved (as had I) and was dressed in jeans and a grey hoodie, his black work shoes swapped for a pair of well worn Vans.

“Sorry, I’d invite you in but I have two annoying roommates. Nice car.”

“No it isn’t. It’s just a basic three year old Honda.”

“I drive a shitty Prius that is falling apart,” he said. “It won’t die, but who can afford to replace it on a barista salary and grad stipend? I only use it when I have to.”

“You should have seen my college car.” And so we chatted amiably about crappy old cars we had owned as we drove to the big outlet mall. It was easy and comfortable, as though we had been friends for a while.

The plan, such as it was, was to find me some new clothes. We hit the sporting good store first, where i encountered my first problem.

“I’ve never bought a compression top before,” I said.

“Really? I have some from college, when I used to run. What size do you need?”

“I don’t really know anymore. This is a medium,” I said.

“Well, assuming you plan to stick with the gym — and why wouldn’t you? — you should probably aim for a large. But just try both on and see where you fall.” He tossed me two under armor shirts, and two pairs of shorts, and waited while I was trying them on.

It was obvious to me, that medium was not going to cut it.

“They are gonna fit tight, that’s the point,” he said. “Let me see.”

All I can say is, it was a damned good thing they make their shirts well, because that thing barely fit over my shoulders and growing chest. But I felt flirty enough to tease him.

“Okay, maybe not that tight,” he chuckled when I opened the curtain. The large was definitely the way to go — and when I put that one on and showed him, he agreed enthusiastically. I grabbed a few of those and some shorts — which I simply tried on the large. I could see the squats were paying off, that’s for sure. And the gear kept my bulge nicely contained and presentable. I opted not to show them off for now, and ignored his obvious disappointment when I didn’t show off the look for him.

On to other stores, where I quickly discovered that most men’s clothes are built expecting the occupants to fit within a rather narrow range of proportions. I was now on the edge of that range, which meant that nearly every shirt I tried on was too tight around the shoulders and chest, and too loose in the waist.

And with the pants, a different problem quickly emerged. Between my squats and my groin, and my smaller waist, I had to give up on my usual fit and size. I had gone down two waist sizes, but it took some trial and error, and a lot of help from Stevie, to find the right style.

“Yeah, I kind of have the same problem,” Stevie admitted. “I did cycling and track in school, before my course load just didn’t leave me time for them. I still run, and I usually bike to work, but I kind of have a …big butt.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and I saw you staring at it, so you don’t get to tease me. Everyone notices. It wouldn’t be quite so annoying if I were below average up front.”

“You’re clearly not.”

“I don’t like to brag, especially in a dressing room, but yeah. I’m kind of big.”

“Nice,” I said, quietly.

“It’s a mixed blessing at best,” he said.

*****

 

[mGlottalstop]

Loving this - very different feel to your other stories with such a selfconfident protagonist!!

 

[Dream Big]

*****

Two hours later, we were both ready for a break. I was jonesing for some protein, but I’d avoided food courts for at least a year. Luckily the mall had a Nandos and Stevie hadn’t tried it before. Better a beer than deep fried junk food, I figured. I insisted on paying. He enjoyed the meal almost as much as I enjoyed the company, though he did tease me about my order.

“Man, where do you put all that food?”

“I had a banana and a protein shake, worked out for two hours, had a black coffee and a pastry, and then spent the next few hours walking. If we had put off eating any longer, you were starting to resemble a cartoon turkey leg…”

“You should have said something,” he laughed. “I was hungry too! But seriously, how many calories do you need these days?”

“A lot more than I expected. I’m supposed to get like 3000 calories a day. Over 200 grams of protein. That’s a lot of tuna, chicken, and peanut butter.”

“Whoa. Well then I’ll let you finish your protein.”

I laughed and took a swig of my beer, and he was just….staring at me through the bottom of his glass. Then he put the empty glass down and stared into it for a moment.

“Caleb,” he said, finally, “I am really enjoying hanging out together.”

“Me too.”

“Is there…” he began. “Fuck it. I like you, and I think we have chemistry. But I don’t know if this is a bromance or something…else.”

I set down the fork full of chicken slowly, keeping my outward calm while inside, I was bouncing up and down like a toddler on a sugar high.

“I think,” I said, “that it could be something. I mean, if you want it to .”

“Oh. Oh shit,” he stammered. “I wasn’t…I didn’t know if…”

“I like you too, Stevie. Have for months now.” I sounded cool and collected *even to myself*, but I knew better. “I’m really glad you suggested going out today. And I would like to do it again.”

He grinned back, suddenly fearless and cheeky.

“But Caleb, we haven’t …done it at all.” He leaned across the table as far as possible, to whisper, “but I’m game if you are.”

*****

We immediately pulled back a little, because suddenly things had heated up, and we were in the middle of a restaurant.

But those little glances turned to lingering shy smiles, or cheeky winks, for the remainder of our meal and during the walk back to the car. I realized as I was putting my bags in that he really hadn’t needed to shop.

“So, should we continue chatting at home?” I asked, a little uncertain, as I got into the car.

“I’d like to. Just not at my place, it’s full of assholes.”

“Trouble with the roommates?”

“Not really. We aren’t fighting, we just don’t really get along great. They’re young and dumb and it’s a constant struggle to get them to clean or not stay up playing fucking call of duty all night, loudly talking shit on their headsets.”

“College boys are the worst,” I agreed.

“It just got old way faster than I expected. Still, housing is pricey.”

“Then we can hang at my place. I don’t even own an X-box, and it’s not *too* much of a mess.”

I caught his grin out of the corner of my eye.

My place was a decent little 2-BR condo, and it wouldn’t win any House Beautiful awards, but it was decent for what it was. I was slowly replacing the cheap or free furniture with stuff I’d actually chosen, and I’d lived there for about five years. It felt like home.

“It’s easily twice the size of my little shithole,” Stevie said, eyes wide.

“You want the tour, or a drink first, or what?”

“Tour please,” he said. It didn’t take that long, but he was impressed that I had a laundry area. “That’s the real luxury,” he groused. “So much time and money wasted at laundromats or shared laundry rooms.”

“It is handy. My gym clothes get pretty rank so it’s nice to not have them sitting around.”

“Nice office,” he remarked about the second bedroom. “And whoa, a bathroom that was remodeled in the last 20 years? Very swank,” he laughed.

“Got the fancy Japanese toilet seat too. Came in handy during lockdown.”

“And this must be where the magic happens,” he said as we stopped at the end of the hall.

“Magic?”

“Aww, come on. The bedroom?”

“Oh,” I said. God I was dumb. “Not sure about magic, but I did spring for a good mattress.” I began to scoot past him into the room, but he wasn’t moving out of the doorway.

“Can I test you on that?” He whispered huskily. I nodded.

He grinned, then leapt into the bed, spread-eagled. “Ahh, so this is what a man’s bed feels like. I have been sleeping on a crappy futon for the last two years. If I weren’t hanging with you, I could fall asleep right here.”

He looked adorable — and I suddenly felt bold. I stood at the edge of the bed, astride his legs. He’d have to get past me to stand up.

“That could be arranged,” I said. “But where would I sleep?”

“It’s a big bed,” he said.”it might take some maneuvering but I think we could both fit just fine.”

“Oh you think so? But I’m used to taking up all the room in this big queen sized bed.” Now I had one knee on the bed.

He smiled up at me. “Only one way to find out.”

“I should warn you, I don’t wear all that much to bed.” I quickly shucked my outer shirt, leaving the t shirt on for now.

“Me neither.” He unzipped the hoody just a bit, then glanced up. “Um, are you actually thinking of taking a nap?”

“Fuck no,” I said, and leaned forward slowly. “I am thinking there is a cute guy in my bed and it would be a shame not to do something about it.”

*****

 

[Permabulger]

One of my new fav stories on here

 

[Dream Big]

*****

I honestly don’t know what had gotten into me, but it felt like we’d been slowly engaging in months-long foreplay. The flirting, the stolen glances, all of it. Months of it. Meanwhile, just in the last couple of weeks, the intensity had crept up without either of us consciously being aware of it. Couple that with my increased libido lately, and, well, I felt an urgency I wasn’t completely used to.

I crouched over Stevie like he was prey, and it was immediately obvious that he was turned on. His big cock was outlined in his jeans, and his eyes were lidded with lust as he beamed up at me. I dove for his mouth and we began to kiss — not tentative sweet little nibble-kisses that built to something more; these were aggressive, lips locked and tongues dancing and spit swapping. It was like were fucking each other’s mouths with our tongues. The feeling was electric and overwhelming, and I suddenly pulled away.

”Wow,” Stevie said. “I guess that answers the question of whether you were really into me.”

”I am SO into you.” Well, yeah, but I kinda wanted him IN ME.

“Awesome. You, uh, wanna do that some more, or you want to go a little further? I mean this is technically our first date—“

I responded by yanking my shirt off, revealing the torso I’d been working so hard to create. Stevie clearly liked what he saw.

”…okay then,” he said, grinning, and shrugged out of his own clothes. I could see he was lean, decently fit without being particularly sculpted, if that makes sense. I found myself aggressively kissing his face, his ears, his neck, breathing in the scent of him, tasting him.

”fuck, man….that’s so nice…”

Yeah, it was very nice, and as i kissed my way around his torso, to the faint hints of abs he had, I made my goal clear. We made eye contact and he nodded, and I was hastily pulling his jeans off him. Black Calvin Klein briefs, a classic. But within, a straining length of pipe and hefty balls that threatened to break free at any moment, desperate to be free of their cotton prison.

It was my duty to help that valuable prisoner escape.

”Damn,” I said. “That is a nice big cock you have there.”

”I know,” he said. “It’s been a problem for a while.”

”I think he likes me.”

”I know he likes you.”

I yanked his undies down and his hefty cock sprung up. Jesus, he was a big boy.

”How big is this thing?” I wondered aloud as I reached for it.

”Like….nine?” He said, as I brought my head closer to it. “Okay, maybe like nine and a half.”

”Impressive,” I said. “Statistically speaking, there are maybe 1 in 10 or 15 million guys with a dick this big.”

”Really?”

“Really.” It was fairly girthy, too, and it was clearly going to be a challenge. So then I began to lick it, and soon it was in my mouth (a very tight fit!), my tongue swirling and stroking for all I was worth. Slowly I worked my way about halfway down the wide shaft, willing my gag reflex away so I could make the final approach.

I soon had him squirming and moaning, as I choked my way down the shaft. The biggest guy I’d ever managed to deep throat was maybe 7, 7 and a half. But motivation is important in most things, and I was motivated.

Touchdown: my nose was firmly in his neatly trimmed bush, and it felt like his cock was endless. He gasped, and I would have too if I didn’t have his dick occupying all the necessary space for that. But as soon as he neared the edge I pulled away (with some difficulty) and sat up.

”Oh shit,” he said. “I was so close…”

”Not. Yet.” I growled. I stood at the foot of the bed and began to shuck my own pants, and he watched with that grin of his as I struggled to pull the jeans down over my own butt and aching rod. I’d thought about trying for sexy, but when the moment came, I just wanted those things OFF me.

”Damn, I think you’re as big as I am!” Stevie said, his eyes wide with wonder.

That couldn’t be right, could it?

He pulled me beside him, and wrapped his hands around each of our dicks; mine burped up a little pre at his touch and I shuddered. But when I looked down, there was nearly as much of my dick sticking out past his hand as there was his own.

“I still have you beat,” he said. “But that’s still a hefty package. You could, like, tie a boat to that or something.”

”Hush” I said. And then his mouth was on my cock, and it became clear that Stevie was either well practiced or a very quick study. I managed to hold back, barely. Because while this was nice, I needed his dick in my ass more than I needed oxygen.

*****

We made love for what felt like hours, and it was the sort of carnal exchange where literally everything was in sync. We were both happily verse, and had no hang ups about oral or anal or foreplay or raw pounding sex — so we did it all, with (not just to) each other. Tender, but fierce; giving and receiving; teasing and fulfilling. We both wanted the other, on a deeply physical level, and there is magic in that. Or maybe it’s just biology.

Basically, our lust for each other that night brought about what was probably the best sex I’d ever had. And once we were thoroughly, utterly spent (and that took some time), there was the comfortable drowsy cuddling, which began the process of converting our physical relationship into something I dared dream might mean something more.

*****

 

[viscountwxyz]

I'd tell these two to get a room, but they're a step or two ahead of me.

 

[Dream Big]

Stevie and I became a regular item almost immediately. When the sex is that good, you almost have to try for more, right? But there was more to it, from the start.

Two weeks went by and we carved out time where we could,trying our best to be responsible. I had work, and gym goals to manage, and he had work and grad school to manage. There was a lot of texting, a naughty photo or two, and every couple of days our schedules aligned and we would have mind blowing sex. Aside from that, there was a lot of masturbstion on my part. My libido really had ramped up, but I didn’t find the wanking as satisfying as playing with Stevie, so I channeled what I could into other things.

It was toward the end of the second week when I had a particularly annoying day at work, staying up late for a project that frustrated me no end. The next morning, I called out, and angry-jerked myself for almost an hour before unleashing a torrent of cum. I prowled around my house, still grumpy and unsatisfied, ate a pile of eggs, then pounded out another big load. My dick felt supercharged, and also… bigger.

I thought back to my most recent gym measurements, two days ago. Sue had shaken her head in disbelief. She said I was piling on muscle like a 19-year-old. My flabby middle was gone, and even the loose skin was mostly tightened up. I’d gone up 34 pounds in the last two months and added inches to all the right places (well, all the ones she was concerned with at least). But no acne, no stretch marks, no bloating, none of the usual indicators of illicit stuff. More and more of my time was spent with free weights. My shirts and pants had become satisfyingly tight — including the ones I’d bought with Stevie.

I was due for a follow up with the study folks on Monday, and Stevie was finished with his semester after today, so we had a weekend to look forward to. Aside from a vague plan for dinner, we had by silent agreement decided it was going to be a decadent weekend of sex, cuddling, and more sex. Just a few errands that we would do together, to break things up and get us out of the house. It sounded like bliss.

*****

“Jesus, mister. Every time you come in here, you’re bigger,” said the snarky girl behind the register. I blushed, but that was probably truer than she realized. By now the staff were unavoidably aware that I was their most predictable regular customer, and that Stevie and I were a couple. We had become less and less discreet in very short order.

“Stevie’s getting his things together to clock out,” she said, handing me my usual order. “Otherwise he’d be taking care of you.”

“I have no doubt.”

“Naughty,” she said with a wink. “Running a little late again, huh?”

“Yeah, had a big morning at the gym.”

“Are you aiming to compete or something?”

“Nope.”

“Good. Spray tan would look stupid on you,” she said.

“Good to know.”

“How big are your arms now, anyway?”

“I don’t really know,” I lied. I’d hit 20 inches recently. But they felt extra big today.

“Maybe you can get Stevie to measure for you.”

“Caleb!” Stevie said, emerging from the back room looking even more fuckable than usual.

He was wearing kind of tight trousers, and his healthy bulge was very noticeable, as was his bubble butt. His lanky torso and arms were engulfed in a dark blue turtleneck that made him look a little dangerous, and he shrugged on a sleek leather jacket.

“Damn, you look good in that,” I said.

“You look good in that, too,” he grinned. I was wearing a tight black tee under a burgundy dressy shirt. I’d bought it about two months ago and it was probably the last time I’d be able to wear it. I hadn’t been able to fully button it past my chest, and my arms put strain on the seams.

“It’s a little snug,” I said.

“But it’s such a good color on you!”

*****

We grabbed a bunch of food and headed back to my place to drop it off, chatting as we put the food away. It was giving off a very domestic vibe, which I liked.

“God damn, Caleb. You look proper big today,” he said. “Seriously, that shirt is probably going to explode. Shame.”

“You don’t think I’m getting too big, do you?” I said, frowning.

“If you’d asked me six months ago, I might have a different answer for you. But now? Apparently I have a taste for muscle guys.”

“That just sounds weird,” I said. “About me, I mean.”

“You should be used to it by now, you’ve been at this the whole time I’ve known you and you just keep getting bigger.”

“I’m glad you like it. Seeing you react is a great motivator. That and my 40th birthday looming ahead.”

He laughed and pointed down, showing his straining bulge. “Honestly I thought you were cute before but now you’re kind of hunky, and clearly I dig it. But even I can’t believe you’re pushing the back half of your thirties. If I hadn’t seen your license, I would have thought you were full of crap.”

“Nonsense,” I said.

“You really have no idea. Especially lately. You barely look thirty. People probably assume we’re the same age.”

He wasn’t wrong, I’d just tried not to notice and shrugged off the compliments out of habit. I felt so lucky to be around him that I didn’t want to jinx it by playing at being younger.

“You blush like a kid,” he laughed. “Heck, if you shaved off the beard, you’d look even younger.”



*****

 

[viscountwxyz]

Is their thing de-aging Caleb?