*** With apologies to Rex Stout (*)

I had arrived home after a very long day so I was in a bit of a grumpy mood. I get that way when I haven’t had my daily workout and now it was nearly ten o’clock and I also hadn’t yet had my dinner either. After parking my VW Cabrio in the driveway and walking around the side of the house to open the locked gate which led to the back yard and the swimming pool…and the entrance to the basement of my parent’s house, which is where I lived.  

I dropped my briefcase on my sofa and walked into my bedroom, shedding my suit coat and tie. After peeling off my shirt (it had reached 95 degrees earlier in the day) and tossing it in a pile on the floor, I slid my pants off as well as my socks. Standing in my bedroom naked I glanced in the mirror and saw my physique, lightly dusted with a combined layer of the day’s sweat and soil which gave it almost a sheen.  

Ten years of training had sculpted my body into almost exactly what I wanted. A pleasing combination of definition and size…not too big as to be classed as ‘bulky’, yet big enough that when I flexed, people noticed. I mentally shrugged and grabbed a pair of white onionskin running shorts which were my standard workout ‘uniform’. Since I train, and have trained at home for the past ten years, I am not shackled by gym “dress codes”, and because I HATE doing laundry, I wear as little as possible.  

I walked out of my bedroom to the room directly beside it, my private gym/workout room. It is a room with mirrors on all four walls and bright blue 2” foam gym matting on the floor. Against three of the walls are racks of dumbbells ranging in weight from five to one hundred pounds. My workout consists of 14 exercises each day following about 5 minutes of stretching exercises and being followed by about the same. The whole thing only takes about an hour, yet without that hour, my day just seems somehow incomplete.  

I was just finished the right-arm half of my final exercise, the concentration bicep curl, when I heard the front doorbell. Knowing that my parents were out of the country for two weeks, I silently swore to myself, dropped the 40-pound dumbbell on the padded floor and started upstairs. The doorbell again rang as I opened the door which joined my sanctum sanctorum with the main floor of my parents’ large ranch-style bungalow.  

I jogged to the front door, checked the peephole to see who was bothering me at almost eleven at night and saw a rather cute pizza delivery boy who was at once looking straight at our front door and scanning the street behind him, like a radar operator searching the skies for a ‘bogie’. I unlocked and opened the door and was greeted by a young guy, probably about 18 years old. He had blond hair parted down the center which was probably genuine as there were no dark roots. His blue eyes showed hope when I opened the door and then surprise as remember, I was answering the door practically naked, sweat dripping off me and my white onion skin running shorts almost transparent with sweat.  

“Uh, sorry to bother you, but do you know where number 19 is?” he asked.  

“There is no number 19 on our street as the lots are double lots. We are 17 and our neighbours on one side are number 13 and number 21 on the other”, I replied.  

The sun drained from his expression and the light which illuminated his bright blue eyes was switched off. “No number 19, huh?” he sighed.  

“Sorry pal, I guess somebody played a trick on you”, I said.  

“Fuck”, he said, “that means that I now owe sixteen bucks and that’s almost half the tips I made tonight!”  

“What’s on the pizza? I asked.  

“Uh, let’s see,” and he slid the box out of the thermo sleeve and glanced at the label on the side of the box. “This one has pepperoni, mushrooms, pineapple and double cheese.”  

“Well I haven’t eaten dinner yet and I’m almost finished my workout, so I’ll buy it off you”.  

“You’re kidding me, you will?” he asked.  

“Yeah I’m a sucker for a hard luck story, especially from a cute guy!” I said.  

When I said that I looked at my pizza delivery boy and he blushed noticeably, and smiled showing two cute dimples. “You’re kinda cute yourself but that body is fuckin’ amazing. How often do you work out?” he asked.  

“I train six days a week and I have just one exercise left to finish. Wanna see my workout room?” I asked.  

“Sure, man, you were my last delivery for the night anyway. I’m Chris,” he said as he extended his hand.  

“Brad here,” I said. “Follow me.”  

I led Chris downstairs and into my workout room and as I quickly sat down and picked up the 40-pound dumbbell to begin to do finish the concentration curls with my left arm. Chris was looking at the racks of dumbbells and then noticed my reflection in one of the mirrored walls and he spun around and began to stare at my left bicep, which by now, after about 20 reps, was beginning to pump up nicely. I have tried to keep my relaxed physique more ‘normal’ than your average body builder, preferring instead to have great flexed measurements and great flexed definition. After competing in one body building contest when I was 19, five years ago, these past five years have been dedicated to refining my body to a more comfortable and less bulky look and feel.  

“Your arms are fuckin’ unbelievable, Brad,” Chris said, “they just seem to inflate when you do your curls. I wish that I could get a pump like that.”  

As I finished the 60th rep and set the dumbbell back in the rack and did a couple stretches I said, “Maybe it’s the type of routine that you do. What kind of training do you do? Heavy or light like me?”  

“I guess heavy as opposed to the dumbbells that you use. I usually train with a couple of budz from school and they like to lift heavy. They say that they want to ‘get big’, but I don’t know if that’s what I want,” Chris said. “Can you show me your routine?”  

“Sure, slip off your shirt and I’ll show you the basics of my routine. For the next twenty minutes or so, I showed Chris how you could train practically every muscle and muscle group in your body using only dumbbells. Even though he was using a 10-pound dumbbell for most of the exercises, and only doing about 10 to 15 reps, instead of the 40-75 reps that I train with, Chris was covered with sweat after about ten minutes. He had said that this was about ten times more strenuous than an entire workout with his training budz.  

Before Chris laid down on the bench in preparation for dumbbell bench presses, he asked, “Brad, I’m getting really sweaty here. You wouldn’t mind if I took off my jeans, would you?”  

“Chris, go right ahead. You see what I wear when I’m working out,” I said.  

“Yeah, pretty tough NOT to notice,” he laughed.  

Chris slipped off his jeans and folded them in half and dropped them beside his shirt on the padded floor matting, revealing a pair of plaid boxers and pretty decent legs. Nicely muscled and definitely better than his upper body. I decided to give him the same 40-pound dumbbells that I finished my routine with for his bench presses.  

As he raised and lowered the dumbbells I could at last see some pump happening in his pecs, not growing bigger but getting better defined, so it was obvious that he had worked his pecs with his budz. Chris did 30 reps before he said, “This is a helluva lot tougher than it looks.”  

I took the dumbbells from him and said, “This is how I train, changing the angle of the movement every five reps,” and I took his place on the bench using the same 40-pounders Chris had just used. I did my first five reps with the dumbbells at shoulder width, then widened them to almost four-and-a-half feet apart for the next five, then back to shoulder width for the following five reps, then finally with the dumbbells almost touching. “Watch the inside and outside edges of my pecs when I move the dumbbells from the standard shoulder width,” I told Chris.  

He was standing right above me at the head of the bench and as my pecs got more and more pumped and more and more striated and defined, I could see that there was a definite tenting going on inside Chris’ boxers. I knew I had him, so I kept doing reps, knowing full well that the more I did, the more pumped and defined my pecs would look…and the bigger that tent pole would get directly above me. I kept up a steady stream of talking while I was doing the reps, asking Chris to pay special attention to how the edges of my pecs showed the striations of muscle.  

It wasn’t too long before his now hard cock finally poked out of the fly opening of his boxers. I stopped pressing the dumbbells and said, “I see we have a visitor, Chris!”  

He said, “Shit man, sorry about that, but watching your muscles just seem to pump up like someone had a bicycle pump just turned me on something awful. I feel like such a dork.”  

While Chris was apologizing, I was dropping the dumbbells on the floor and by the time he had finished I reached up and took his hard cock in my right hand and with my left hand folded the boxers around his balls so he was now fully hard and right above my head. “Don’t apologize, man. I consider this a compliment, and I love compliments. I sat up and spun around so that I was now facing him standing in front of me and I slowly bent forward and wrapped my lips around his nice thick cockhead. Chris moaned and his knees buckled slightly as I slowly inhaled his entire seven-incher until my nose was buried in his blond pubes.  

I reached around him and gently grabbed his nice ass cheeks with my hands and began pulling him harder and harder towards me. Each time his cock plunged down my throat, my biceps bulged and before long he rested his hands on them feeling them pop with every thrust. I guess the combination of his hard thick cock sliding in and out of my hot throat with his hands feeling my biceps flexing in tandem was too much for him because he shuddered, his knees bent slowly and then he said. “I’m gonna shoot, man!”  

I took that statement as the truth and grabbed his ass cheeks even harder and pulled him very hard deep into my throat. My biceps bulged as if I were doing my last concentration curl and he began to shoot…spurt after spurt of his hot teenage load down my grateful throat. He managed about eight shots before he almost collapsed and I had to hold him up with my arms.  
 

After I let his now-softening cock slide gently from my mouth, he sank to his knees, took my face in his hands and deeply kissed me. “That was fuckin’ unbelievable, Brad.”  

“I take it that your training budz don’t end their routines like that?” I laughed.  

“No fuckin’ way dude! If they realized that I like cock, they’d probably beat the shit outta me,” Chris said. “I mean you are only the third guy that I’ve even BEEN with, so I’m not exactly experienced.”  

“You wanna be?” I asked.  

“What do you mean, Brad?” Chris asked.  

“Follow me,” I said, and led Chris into my bedroom. I slipped off my running shorts and my hard cock sprang up pointing straight ahead…eight inches exactly (measured along the top too!)…and a full six inches around the shaft. The even-bigger mushroom head measured seven-and-a-half inches around which made my cock rather intimidating to guys who saw it for the first time. Chris took off his boxers and we both laid down on the bed. “I’m gonna show you how to enjoy another guy’s body.”  

With that I leaned over and slowly circled his left nipple with my tongue, then lightly licked over the nipple itself. I was glad to see that Chris’ nips were almost as sensitive as my own. Mine seem to be hard-wired to my cock, as almost anything that gets my nipples hard also has the same effect on my cock. Chris’s left nipple now jutted out proudly as I flicked the end of my tongue across the tip of his nipple.  

I looked across his nice chest and saw that his right nipple was also getting hard…good! I slowly trailed my tongue across his chest to his hardening right nipple and gave it a few quick flicks with my tongue and saw it snap to attention as well. Chris was about to begin slowly jacking himself, but I stopped him, telling him to put his hands behind his head and leave them there. I now licked up through his left armpit to his bicep and when I began licking it I asked him to flex it, which he did. While it wasn’t his best body part, it wasn’t all that bad…maybe 14” flexed with a fairly decent peak.  

After licking his flexed left bicep I let my tongue trail across the top of his chest, just under his chin to his right bicep, which seemed to me to be just a bit harder and a bit bigger than his left bicep. After licking it for a while I could tell that he’d never had this done to him before, that he liked it…a lot, and that it was having all the best effects lower down. I glanced down and saw his cock, hard and throbbing, drooling a bit of precum from his piss slit.  

I traced down between his pecs with my tongue to his abs, which were, just behind his legs, his best body part…nicely defined six-pack and quite hard. I used my tongue to outline each of his abdominal muscles and it drove Chris absolutely wild. I began squirming slightly and I looked up and he was doing his level best to keep his hands behind his head which caused his biceps to flex hard as I licked his abs. Now I turned my head southwards while I finished Chris’ lower abs and saw that his cock was oozing precum at quite a rate.  

I guess that I had finally driven him over the edge and his hips began to buck and his cock began spurting. His first shot must have been five feet above him and the next few were almost as high. Nine spurts finished him and I quickly turned my head and looked at him and his face was screwed up in that sublime combination of torture and pleasure that an orgasm brings. His eyes were shut tight, his hands clasped behind his head made his biceps bulge and, like Michael Jordan when driving for a score, his had his tongue sticking out of one corner of his mouth!  

When he was finished shooting he opened his eyes and said, “Brad, just what the fuck did you just do to me?”  

I smiled broadly and said, “Chris, I just showed you the power that you can hold over another guy by NOT letting him touch his cock and that technique is everything. You don’t have to grab and pound to get off. I mean you shot a super huge load and neither of each even came close to touching your cock. Now, Chris, it’s your turn to do me!”  

“Oh man, I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m gonna be terrible,” he said.  

I moved down to Chris’ cock and began licking up all his cum, gently taking his cock in my mouth and cleaning it off completely. Then I crawled up his body and laid on top of him and kissed him deeply. After letting him taste his own cum from my mouth, I sat up, straddling him with my super-hard cock resting between Chris’ pecs. “Chris, this isn’t a final exam. It’s more like the first day of school and this is “Manlove 101”. Just try to remember what I did to you, how it felt, and your reactions to what I was doing and then try to duplicate it on me.”  

With that I rolled off of him and laid beside him, with my hands behind my head, flexing my still-pumped biceps. Chris wasted no time and dove onto my right bicep which I flexed even harder for him and he began licking it like a four-month old puppy. This kid was a natural at muscle worship and he was getting better and better. He copied what I did letting his tongue drag through my shaved right armpit and across the top of my pecs, through my left pit and all over my left bicep.  

I slowly straightened and flexed my left arm, pumping my bicep for Chris and he was amazed at how when I flexed it, the bicep just seemed to balloon out of nowhere. He stopped licking for a second and asked me, “How can you get your bicep to just appear out of like, thin air Brad?”  

I said, “It’s the training routine Chris…light weight dumbbells, high reps and quick tempo. Stick with me kid and you to can make your biceps do this!” With that I relaxed both biceps with my arms still folded behind my head and then flexed them hard. Both biceps exploded going from 14½” relaxed to over 18¼” pumped and flexed. Chris’ jaw dropped when he saw the difference between my relaxed and flexed biceps. After licking both arms until they were dripping, Chris then went to work on my right nipple, not knowing that getting it hard guaranteed getting my cock super hard as well.  

As he traced his tongue between my pecs he glanced down at my now pulsing cock and made a beeline for it. Even though it wasn’t exactly in the scenario, I wasn’t about to complain. He immediately wrapped his lips around my huge cock head and began probing my piss slit with his tongue. Then he started down on my cock, letting the thick shaft slide into his mouth and down his throat. He went slowly at first, but I guess he got turned on himself or just too energetic, because he tried to swallow all of it and gagged a bit.  

“Go easy Chris and relax your throat and don’t forget to keep breathing through your nose,” I said.  

He obeyed and gradually was able to take almost all eight inches down his hot teen throat…not bad for a rookie, huh? Then he got his rhythm and began pistoning up and down on my cock. The sight of this 18-year-old guy who had shown up at my house unannounced not more than an hour ago, giving me a terrific blowjob in my own bed was too much for me. I said, “Chris, I’m gonna shoot, so pull off now.”  

Chris disobeyed, clamping down even deeper on my spasming cock, trying to swallow spurt after spurt of my cum down his throat. He couldn’t. Primarily because he was, of course, a novice at this and also because when I cum, it usually lasts between 10 and 15 shots. In short, I cum in quarts! Always have. I can’t explain it. When I wear a condom, it occasionally overflows because there’s just so much. This time the cum drooled out of Chris’ mouth and down his chin, pooling on my lower abs. When I was finished shooting, Chris slowly licked and sucked my cock clean, remembering how I had done the same to him.  

Before too long I reached down and pulled him up towards me and kissed him for a full two minutes, our tongues dueling, probing each other to see if the other guy still had his tonsils! For the record, we both did! Now he was lying on top of me with my arms hugging him tightly around his upper back and we were gazing into each other’s eyes. Neither of us could erase the smile from our face. Chris just felt so right lying there and I guess that I felt just as right to him because we stayed there, staring into each other’s faces and occasionally kissing each other for what must have been almost half and hour.  

By now, I could feel that Chris was again fully hard and I could feel his cock rubbing against mine, which was also hard again. I said, “Chris, you feel like trying something that I just know you’ve never done but will love?”  

“What’s that?” he asked.  

“Ever fuck a bicep?” I asked.  

“No, but how the hell do you fuck a bicep?” he looked at me with one eyebrow higher than the other, signifying a question.  

I leaned over to the table beside my bed, opened the drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. I then laid on my stomach with my right arm extended on the bed, handed the lube to Chris and said, “Now squirt some lube on my bicep and forearm and make sure you cover all the inside parts of both muscles. Now put some on your cock. Now rest your cock in the crook of my arm and when I flex it, you begin sliding your cock back and forth.”  

He did what I asked and when I flexed my bicep and tightened the muscles of my forearm, I had effectively locked his cock in the crook of my arm. He started slowly at first and I could tell that he was loving the feeling of my huge hard muscles against his nice hard cock as he picked up the pace. I really loved having my bicep fucked, especially if the other guy’s cock was either really thick, or super hard and Chris’ was of decent thickness and was as hard as any 18-year-old’s cock, so I was in heaven. He began to get into a nice strong rhythm but I guess he was as human as any other guy who’s fucked my bicep. The position and the scenario is usually too much for them and they almost always shoot after about a minute, and no one has lasted longer than two minutes, and I’ve probably had more than fifty guys fuck my bicep!  

I could tell that he was enjoying the scene as much as the feelings and I saw his abs tightened and then he began cumming, shooting four good-sized ropes of cum before having another four shots ooze out of his finally deflated cock. “That was fuckin’ A, Brad. I couldn’t help myself from shooting, the feeling was just too fucking fantastic. Where the fuck did you learn all this shit?” he asked.  

“Chris, I’ve been out since I was 14 and that’s 10 years ago, so I’ve had plenty of experience. I’ve always played safe and I have no interest in the kinkier side of gay sex and hate pain. Sex should be fun. Enjoyable. Shit, it’s just playing with the toys that Mother Nature gave us. I don’t want to influence you. No that’s wrong, I DO want to influence you, because pain hurts and kink can be dangerous, so yeah, I do want to influence you. But once you make your decision, I won’t try to change you. If you have any questions, ask. I won’t jerk you around, because I always tell the truth. It’s a character flaw of mine!”  

He said, “How about a shower?” and he grinned at me.  

“Great idea,” I said, “Follow me.” I rolled out of bed and padded down the hall across from the door to my workout room, which was my bathroom, flipped on the light and walked to the huge shower stall. It was big enough for four guys although we have had nine in there, but that’s another story for another time! I turned on the water so that it was in between warm and hot. After my workout routine, I love really hot showers then step the temperature down during the shower, but this time I settled on warmer than warm. We both got in and shut the door. I grabbed the bar of soap and turned Chris around so that he faced one of the four nozzles and began to soap his shoulders, back and ass cheeks, I made sure that I ran the bar deeply in between his cheeks and followed the soap with my fingers, sliding first one and then a second finger slowly up inside his asshole.  

He instinctively tightened his asshole and I said, “Relax and trust me. I will never do anything to you that you don’t want to happen.” He relaxed his grip on my partially buried fingers and I began to slowly slide them in and out making sure that the soap cleaned him well. I turned him around again, kissed him and began soaping his pecs, under his arms and then his nice hard abs, which he tightened for me as I ran the bar of soap across them. The kid was getting into it!  

I knelt down, soaping his gradually hardening cock and his balls and then down both of his legs. He flexed his quads, which showed nice definition and good hardness, but his calves needed work. When I stood up Chris turned to face the water and rinsed the soap off. He then turned back to face me again and gently took the bar of soap from me. I turned so I presented my back to him. He started with my traps, which I flexed for him and as his hands ran the soap across them I heard him moan.  

I did a full lat spread to give him access at my back and again I could almost feel him going weak in the knees again. I raised my arms and let him run the soap along the full length of my forearm and bicep before flexing them for him. When he encountered the flexed bicep he spent about a minute soaping the flexed muscle over and over until it was covered with layer of lather that looked almost like shaving cream. Then he knelt down and began soaping my ass cheeks and, as I had done to him, he first ran the bar of soap deep in the crack between my ass cheeks, then he followed the soap inside with two of his fingers.  

I let him probe as deep as he wanted and then I flexed my glutes…hard! He tried in vain to pull his fingers out, even though they were covered with soap. I had him totally trapped. Chris said, “What are you doing, Brad? Give me back my fingers!”  

“I just wanted to show you that ALL my muscles are hard…when I want them to be!” I laughed, and relaxed my glutes and his fingers slid out of my asshole with an audible pop.  

Then he began to soap my hamstrings and calves and I flexed my calves for him. They jumped into a huge inverted heart shape with an edge at the base of the calf muscle which was perhaps an inch-and-a-half in depth.  

“Christ, I’ve never seen calf muscles pop out like that before,” said Chris. “I want to feel them and run my hands over them for hours. They are such a fucking turn-on. I can’t believe this night. I feel like I’m having the most incredible dream of my life and that I gonna wake up.”  

I slowly turned to face him, still kneeling, and by now my cock was raging hard again. Chris looked up and opened his mouth, but I bent forward and lifted him up so we were standing facing each other again. I gently took my hands and embraced his head and kissed him deeply. “It’s no dream, Chris. I’m the real thing and so are you.”  

We took about two full minutes to rinse each other off and then I reached up and turned off the shower, then turned to face Chris again and kissed him, drawing him near and holding him tightly. He responded by wrapping his arms around my shoulders and hugged me as if he never wanted to part.  

I can never remember connecting to solidly and so quickly to anyone before. I mean here was an 18-year-old pizza delivery boy who had been sent a bad address and rang my doorbell purely by chance. I usually trained around seven in the evening but work had kept me later today so when he called I was just finishing my workout. All these coincidences conspired into Chris and me getting together, simply by a whim and then magic took over.  

There is a moral to this story…always answer the door…no matter what you are wearing!  
 

*** (*) One of the last “Nero Wofe” stories by Rex Stout was titled “The Doorbell Rang” and this has NOTHING in common with his novel.