It was the middle of October in my first year in university when the phone call came.  

“Brad, it’s Jim Hixson,” the voice said.  

“Mr. Hixson?” I replied.  

“You’re not in high school anymore, so you can call me Jim,” he said.  

“OK, uh, Jim,” I said hesitantly, “what can I do for you?”  

“I was wondering how heavy your class load is?” he asked.  

“It’s not too bad,” I said. “I don’t have any problems with the work. Why do you ask?”  

“Well, I was wondering…I-I-I don’t know how to say this…” he stammered.  

“Just say it,” I said, matter-of-factly.  

“OK, Brad. Will you come back and help me with the boy’s gymnastics team?” he asked.  

“Help you?” I asked. “You taught me, remember?”  

“Come on Brad,” he said, “we both know that you practically taught yourself for the last three years. You passed my level of expertise when you were in grade eleven.”  

I laughed. “Thanks for the compliment, uh, Jim, but you don’t give yourself enough credit. I won provincials and placed fourth nationally because of YOU not because of ME.”  

“Well, I don’t want to argue, but you are far and away the most advanced gymnast that this city has produced, let alone this school.” Jim said. “I would be wrong if I didn’t try to get some of that expertise back at the school.”  

“What do you have in mind?” I asked.  

“How about once a week? Friday afternoons and you would be working only with the élite guys because they could most benefit from your coaching,” he said.  

“Sure, why not,” I said. “See you tomorrow afternoon around four?”  

“Great,” he said. “I knew that you’d give us a helping hand.”  

The next day, I packed my gym pants and singlet as well as my favourite pair of worn gloves and was back at my old school at twenty minutes to four. I pulled into the teacher’s parking lot which was mostly empty and walked into the side entrace nearest the boy’s gym. As I walked across the gym floor, memories came flooding back. Memories of my winning the provincial title on four pieces as well as overall, and at my home school too. I closed my eyes briefly and could hear the cheers when my score of 9.875 came up for my final event…the horizontal bar, sometimes called the high bar, but just called the “h-bar” or simply the “H” by us.  

I was walking across the floor with my eyes closed and when I opened them, not more than three seconds later I almost walked into three guys who must have been in grade nine, but did a quick side-step around them and we all laughed. “Hey guys.” I said.  

Mr Hixson was standing outside the gym office and he beamed when he saw me. “Brad, great to see you again,” he said extending his hand which I took. “The guys are all really anxious to work with you and there’s a new student, a transfer from Vancouver who’s probably gonna be our best gymnast and he’s only in grade ten. You can get changed in the gym teacher’s change room.”  

I walked into the change room and in three minutes came out again looking, well, looking like a gymnast. A brief personal description is due here: I’m 5’11”, 185 pounds, blond hair, blue eyes and, because of ten years weight training and gymnastics, have a very hard defined physique. Not bulky like a football player. Not inflated like a body builder. Just, well, just what I always wanted to look like. I’ve been trying for the past five years to look more ‘normal’ when relaxed and still have hard defined muscles when flexed. I think that I’ve attained it and I think that my biceps are a good example being 14½” relaxed, 17½” cold flexed and 18¼” pumped and flexed. But the nice thing about my body is that all my muscles are like my biceps, they sort of pop out of nowhere when I flex.  

Mr. Hixson was addressing the troops and near the end of his talk, he pointed in my direction and told the new guys who I was and what I had accomplished and that having me help the team was not only an honour for them, but also could maybe push the team to another winning season. While all of the guys looked in my direction the one person that I noticed in the group of about 25 gymnasts, the one person whose gaze fixed my own, fifty feet away, was a kid really. He was maybe 5’6” tall, light brown hair and piercing mocha brown eyes. He probably weighed 135 pounds, maybe 140 and all of it was muscle. Hard defined muscle. He had this very young face, which betrayed the body that it was perched atop. His body would be the envy of a 20-year-old but the face looked like he was boy.  

For almost thirty seconds were stared at each other, eye to eye. Not blinking. Not glancing away. Not even surveying each other’s body. Just locked in an unbelieveably intense stare. Mr. Hixson told three of the guys, including my young starer that they would be working with me from now on. Two of the guys, both now in grade twelve knew me and trotted over to greet me and shake my hand.  

My young starer walked slowly after them, the whole time his eyes locked on mine. When we were about five feet apart, I extended my hand and said, “Brad Ford here, what’s your name?”  

“Scott, sir, Scott Villiers,” he said, pronouncing the last name “Vill-YAY” as it was a French name. We shook hands and his grip was strong even though his hands were on the small side, even for his size. He held my hand for a good four seconds longer than a normal handshake, not as a test of strength, but almost as a bonding. I could feel a bolt of energy shoot up my arm while our hands were clasped. It was that palpable.  

“Well let’s start with our stretching exercises,” I said, and with that I took the three of them off to a corner and showed them how to do 13 different stretching exercises. All did them with me and it took about ten minutes before we were all stretched and warmed up. I watched all of them do their routines on the h-bar, the parallel bars and the rings mentally making notes on form, choice of moves and their general line.  

I also know full well that kids will only listen to you if you prove to them that you actually know what the fuck you are talking about, so I hopped up onto the rings after Scott had finished and did the routine that won the provincials only six months before. I even amazed myself as one move flowed into the next seamlessly and I ended with a solid stuck dismount. We then walked to the p-bars and I again did my last year’s routine, then to the h-bar, finishing with three one-handed giants and then a double sommie dismount, which I again stuck like I had crazy glue on my feet.  

While the two grade twelves, Brian and Walt already knew me and knew what I could do, the look on Scott’s face after each routine was very telling. He watched every move I made like he was a computer analyzing and taking everything in all at the same time. Like having Star Trek’s Data there, assimilating everything. I knew then and there that Scott was going to be my personal project, that I had something very special to work with and that I had already won him over and could hopefully create a gymnast that would surpass even what I had done and perhaps make the national team.  
 

That first time with the three of them set the scene for what would be a mind-blowing relationship with one of the hottest guys I have ever met. It began later that afternoon, after both Brian and Walt, as well as the rest of the gymnasts had finished and left. Mr. Hixson had also left, telling me to make sure that I locked up when we were finished. The only piece of apparatus that remained on the floor was the h-bar and Scott was having problems with his dismount. Time after time he would either under-rotate or over-rotate and with me on the mat ready to catch Scott when he landed. I would be standing with my arms open to grab him when he missed the landing.  

After almost half and hour, with Scott getting increasingly tired, he finally stuck the landing. Bang on. Crazy glue. With my arms spread open in anticpation, Scott’s landing caught me by surprise and when he landed he looked up at my face, smiling at his accomplishment, and kissed me full on the lips! I was shocked and taken slightly aback. After all Scott was only 18 years old. I said, “Scott, and you should be careful because if you were , I might just take this further than you are ready for.”  

The look of disappointment on Scott’s face was heart-wrenching, but I was firm, and law-abiding. Now comes the fun part, but it was seven months later…  

It was a Saturday in early May, early evening and I was just finishing my workout in the basement of my parent’s house where I lived, when the back doorbell rang. I yelled up, “The door’s open, come on down.”  

As I walked through the door I saw Scott hit the bottom step and walk towards me. “Congratulate me Brad, today’s my 18th birthday, and today…I…am…legal!!!” With that he gave me a full deep kiss and wrapped his arms around my sweaty shoulders, gently massaging my pumped traps and lats. I guess the forwardness of his onslaught caught me by surprise, because I initially pulled back from his kiss, then thought better of it and returned Scott’s kiss with the same passion that he exhibited.  

Scott said, “I’ve kept my real feelings to myself for the past seven months, because of what you said, but now I am 18, legal and horny beyond belief! I have worshipped that fuckin’ amazing body of yours and have been dying to get my hands on it…and all of the rest of you!”  

Scott, stepped back about a foot and in about ten seconds had his t-shirt and shorts off, exposing a body that 99% of the guys in the world would die for, or would kill for! During the past seven months of training with me, he had actually grown an inch to 5’7”. That wasn’t my, or his, doing. He also he packed on some quality muscle, now weighing 158 pounds, sporting solid pecs forming a 44” chest, tapering to a 27” waist. His biceps, like mine were peaked and, as they say, only came out when needed, all 16½” of them. Thighs and calves of 24” and 16” respectively showed that Scott trained (at my urging) his whole body, not just his upper body, like too many young guys.  

Before his shorts even hit the floor, Scott was decending in front of me, yanking my sweat-soaked, white, onion skin shorts down with him, freeing my totally-hard, eight inch cock, which he swallowed to the hilt in one motion until his nose hit my trimmed blond pubes. His movement took my breath away momentarily, until he began pistoning his hot mouth and throat back and forth along my now-drooling cock. My hands dropped to his traps and delts which, because of his ministrations were hard and striated. As my hands lightly touched the knots of hard defined muscle, I shuddered and began shooting, deep into his throat. I usually warn a partner when I going to cum, but this came on me so quickly that I really didn’t have a chance, and realistically, I don’t think that Scott would have pulled off anyway!  

When he had sucked my cock dry (a temporary condition!) he stood up and we kissed again which allowed me to taste the familiar flavour of my cum…sweet, not salty. Standing in front of me I could feel his hard cock which was tenting his CKs. An interesting aside here: I had never seen Scott’s cock, either soft or hard, as he showered in the student’s shower and I in the staff shower, so its length and thickness was a bit of a surprise to me.  

No, it wasn’t a big Italian salami, out of proportion to his height, his small hands and feet. It was totally in proportion, in both size and thickness…5¾” long and just over 3½” around. Not big by any stretch of the imagination, but, in keeping with the rest of Scott’s body, it was as hard as anything I had ever touched. No kidding either, it was as hard as any muscle on his body, or my body for that matter. It could have gone through drywall. Hammered in a nail. All the standard clichés.  

As it finally poked its way out though the stretched material of the briefs, I could feel his cockhead against my thigh and it felt hot. Hot and hard. I said, “Follow me, Scott.” And led him down the hall past my workout room to my bedroom. I turned briefly to face him and pulled down his briefs and his super-hard cock sprang up, gently spraying both of us with some of his precum. I put my hands around his waist and grabbed under his hard ass cheeks with each of my hands and lifted Scott in the air until his cock was at the level of my mouth, which meant that his cock was about five feet off the floor. Lucky that our basement had nine foot ceilings! Scott being relatively light at 158 pounds, and coupled with the fact that he placed his hands on my shoulders as I was lifting him off the floor, he was at the perfect height almost effortlessly.  

I began plunging Scott’s hard cock into my mouth by grabbing his now-flexed glutes and pulling all of him towards me. He wrapped his muscular thighs around my shoulders, locking his ankles against my back. This caused my biceps to bulge noticeably and Scott moved his hands to my biceps so he could feel them flexing each time I pulled him hard into my mouth. I guess the unique position that we were in, his hands feeling my biceps exploding in rhythm with his cock plunging fully into my mouth and throat was just too much for Scott as it wasn’t more than about 45 seconds when he squeaked, “I…I…I’m gonna shoot!”  

That was my signal to pull him as hard as I could towards me and my biceps bulged with the extra effort which triggered his cock into spasm after spasm of sweet teenage cum. Each spurt hit the back of my throat and he must have shot at least eight times. When he was finished, I sucked the last drops from his cock which was only softening a bit and hadn’t lost much of its length or girth either. I slowly lowered Scott to the floor and we kissed again, slowly and deeply so that he could now taste his cum from my mouth.  

After kissing, Scott gently pushed me back onto my bed and I scooted up to put my head on the pillows and he crawled after me. We were both covered in sweat and our hands explored each muscle of the other. His cock was hard again and he slid it in between my thighs, right underneath my shaved balls and started slowly sliding it in and out. It slid easily as our sweat was aided by his precum. I again moved my hands onto his two ass globes and squeezed. He flexed. I squeezed harder. He flexed harder. All the time his cock was sliding in and out of its newfound crevasse and his hands were kneading my pecs and gently flicking my nipples. My nipples. He didn’t know that my nipples were hard-wired to my cock, which, within about ten seconds was again hard and throbbing.  

Scott, could feel my thick cock get pumped with his abs and then he glanced down and saw my cock snaking its way upwards towards him, so he stopped his fucking motion and with all the grace that gymnasts have, opened his legs to bracket my thighs and hoisted himself up and towards my face. Before he sat down he looked back between his own rock-hard thighs and saw my now totally erect cock, standing straight up. He positioned his ass directly over my cock and sat down until his ass cheeks were flat against me and all eight thick inches were buried deep inside him. The move caught me by surprise, both by the grace with which it was performed and also by the relative speed that he did it. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds from him gently and slowly sliding his hard cock in between my thighs to him sitting fully on my cock.  

There wasn’t a hint of pain or discomfort on his face, just sheer bliss and contentment. He smiled sweetly, closed his eyes and began bouncing up and down on my huge cock. With Scott sitting in front of my face, his cock was spraying me with his precum, but I also had a perfect view of his unbelievable body. His eight abdominal muscles were now standing out in full relief and I traced the perimeter of each one with my fingers. His pecs were hard and glistening with sweat, which dripped off his eraser-hard nipples with each bounce, mixing with my own sweat on my abs and pecs. His hands landed on my delts which he gently squeezed and with the straightening of his elbows, his triceps exploded into view. It seemed that this kid just didn’t have any weak parts!  

Sixteen years old with the body of a gymnast six years older, Scott’s hard defined physique was, in itself, a complete and total turn on for me, but when I moved my own hands up to his nipples and began to gently play with them, pinching them and rubbing them, he took that as a cue and moved his hands from squeezing my hard delts to my pecs. As they brushed over my nipples, I let out a gutteral moan and that was all Scott needed. He used my own sweat which covered my pecs and began to play with my nipples, lubing them and brushing against them with the backs of his hands and then pinching them gently.  

That was all it took and I began shuddering as I placed my hands under his ass cheeks and lifted him off my about-to-erupt cock. As his glutes rose and my cock popped out of his tight teenage chute, my cock began to explode. The first spurt hit his abs and as he moved further down towards my feet, the second, third and fourth spurts all rose above the level of his head, landing on my pecs and pooling in the sharp ridges of my tensing abs. The final eight shots created such a load of cum on my abs and pecs that it looked as though I’d been in a white paint fight!  

Almost on cue, as I finished and without either of us even touching Scott’s steel-pipe-hard cock, it began to pulse. Due to the angle that he was sitting, slightly back with his hands made into hard fists, just outside of my quads which not only had his beautiful triceps popping out, but also his striated forearms also tensed. His cock fired a shot which looped and landed on my pecs. Then he groaned and began to tense his glutes and thrust his pelvis and cock upwards and forewards. Shots landed and pooled on my pecs, three shots hit my face and one shot hit the headboard behind me!  

After Scott had finished, he started to lean forward and I figured that he wanted to kiss again, but he dove down and began licking up all our combined cum from my abs and pecs, making his way up to my face, which he also cleaned with his amazing tongue. Then he laid on me and we kissed. We must have sucked on each other’s tongues for the best part of ten minutes, all the time writhing and exploring each other’s bodies with our hands. Before too long, that’s right, Scott was hard again. Ah, the joys of being sixteen again. The nirvana of the perpetually horny. I said, “Scott, your choice, would you rather fuck me or fuck my bicep?”  

“Your bicep?” he asked and smiled devilishly.  

“Yeah,” I said and leaned over to the bedside table grabbing a bottle of lube. I pushed him up to a sitting position. “Move down to the end of the bed,” I said, “and get on your knees.”  

I flipped onto my stomach and popped open the bottle of lube, squirting a big dollop onto my right bicep and rubbed it all over the bicep, inside of my forearm and the crook of the elbow. I then aimed another squirt at his hard cock, and made sure that it was totally greased. His cock was still hot to the touch as I smoothed the lube all over its heavily-veined surface, its skin stretched almost to the point of breaking. I laid down and told Scott to put his cock in the crook of my arm, which he did. I then flexed my bicep and forearm and his hot hard cock was trapped in the angle that had formed. I didn’t have to say another word as he began sliding his cock back and forth against my flexed muscles. He position was unique too: almost a beginner’s push-up position, spanning my flexed arm with his upper body, yet on his knees. His cock pistoning against my bicep and his triceps again popping out with each thrust.  

I just knew that he’d never done this before and I was right. It took only about a minute and he was tightening up all over. I saw his delts and traps tense, his thighs spread open a bit more and then his cock shoot it’s first spurt which hit Scott in the chin as he was looking down at the scene of his cock sliding back and forth against his gymnastic teacher’s massively hard and defined bicep and vascular forearm. I guess he liked what he saw as he fucked my bicep even harder and with the upturn of his cock fired most of his spurts onto his pecs and abs.  

Finished, he rolled over, his chest heaving and his washboard abs covered with yet another layer of cum. That was my signal to clean him up so I rolled over to Scott and began licking his hard abs clean of its latest load. Scott was grinning so wide I couldn’t believe it. “That was amazing,” he said, “I’ve never felt that in my life. It was…it was…amazing.”  

“Happy Birthday, ya little stud,” I said. “Now aren’t you glad I made you wait?”  

“Sure am,” said Scott, still beaming at me. “Now how about fucking this?” Scott flexed his right bicep which resembled a baseball placed on top of his arm.  

“I thought you’d never ask,” I said, reaching for the lube again.  

“Well you’ve been giving me a helping hand for the past seven months. So I thought I’d begin to repay the debt.” he said.  

With that I squirted some lube on his right bicep which he had been pumping for maybe 20 hard flexes and began to coat his rock hard bicep and forearm. Then he took the bottle from me and lubed my now-pulsing cock, laid down as I had and I placed my cock in the crook of Scott’s super-defined arm. He flexed and the pressure on my hard cock was amazing and a terrific turn-on. I began to seriously pound my thick cock back and forth and Scott was straining to try to keep his forearm and baseball bicep continually flexed, not an easy task if you’d never done it before, but he was damn good as I knew he was trying as hard as he could because the sweat dripped off the tip of his nose.  

It didn’t take long for me either to begin shooting and as I started, Scott screwed his head sideways and tried to intercept my load and managed to open his mouth and gather in maybe half of my third load in the past hour. I only shot maybe eight spurts this time and when I was done I collapsed beside Scott who hungrily lapped the pooling cum from my abs and cock, took my now-softening cock in his mouth and just tongued and gently sucked on it for maybe five minutes.  

I pulled his head off my cock and up towards my own face so that he was lying directly on top of me. My arms encircled his still sweaty torso and I could feel his cock getting hard yet again. So I opened my thighs and his legs slid down in between mine, his hard cock now poking against my asshole. I moved my hands down to his ass cheeks and gently pulled him upwards so that his granite-hard cock slid inside me. Scott slowly pushed his cock all the way in and then, just using his hips, began slow-fucking me. I could feel every inch of his cock, even though it wasn’t either long or thick, but because it was angled slightly upwards, as it slid along the sides of my chute smoothly.  

Scott was able to continue this for a good long time, perhaps as long as fifteen minutes but eventually, he picked up the pace and then he was using much more than just his hips and I could again feel a sheen of sweat on his glutes and back. I slid may hands down to grab his flexed ass cheeks hard and thrust them…his hard cock…fully and deeply inside me and held him there. I then flexed my own glutes hard, released my grip with my hands and I had Scott’s cock trapped inside me. He didn’t try to pull out, preferring to leave it deep inside me as I alternately flexed and relaxed my glutes, effectively massaging his cock while it rested inside me.  

It was too much for my young protégé and he started bucking and I could feel his hard cock begin pulsing as he shot his fourth load up inside me. When he was finished he just stayed put, totally exhausted on top of me, his cock still resting up inside my asshole. I looked up at his tired face, still smiling, hair plastered with sweat to his forehead. I gently brushed back his wet hair and we hugged and fell asleep. About an hour later we both opened our eyes, and began laughing. he said, “Thanks for the helping hand Brad. I hope that this won’t be a one-hit wonder.”  

“Not if I can help it,” I said, “let’s grab a shower.” We walked out of my bedroom and into the bathroom and into the huge shower. As the hot water cascaded over our bodies, Scott grabbed a bar of soap and began soaping my back…but that’s another story!