I checked the American Airlines website and saw that the flight was in the air and on time and would touch down at Pearson International Airport at ten minutes to noon. I glanced at my watch and saw I still had 45 minutes. I finished filling up my silver VW Cabrio convertible with gas and walked inside to pay. One more quick errand, the bank, and then on to the 407 to the airport to pick up a guy who I had been in contact with on the internet for more than a year now.  

C.J. had first contacted me immediately after my skiing accident and we’d kept in contact all during 2002. I had injured my right quadriceps muscle, which was savagely torn from my knee, and then, after surgery and unending physiotherapy, I saw it achieve the same size and strength as my left quad, only 16 months after the fall.  

Now I was ready to host C.J. If he’d come up to Toronto during my rehabilitation, it wouldn’t have been fair, as I wouldn’t have been able to give C.J. what he wanted and needed. Both C.J. and I loved muscleplay. We loved feeling hard, defined, flexed muscle. We loved squeezing hard, defined, flexed muscle. We loved licking hard, defined, flexed muscle. And I would get C.J. to love fucking hard, defined, flexed muscle, especially my huge, hard, defined biceps!  

As I drove towards the airport, I mentally saw C.J. from all the pics that I’d been sent. First off, he was model-handsome, 27 years old, but looked younger. C.J. thought that he was too short at 5’9”, but he weighed a very solid, very hard and very defined 177 pounds now, gaining almost 10 pounds of solid, hard and defined muscle over the past year, thanks in part to adopting some of my training routine. C.J.’s biceps were now just a shade over 16” cold and flexed and he loved the added definition that doing 75 reps with a dumbbell had given him.  

His chest was now almost 44” and his lats and pecs had combined for the added two inches over the past year. C.J.’s thighs had added some fantastic definition as well, getting to almost 23½” and his calves were now over 16½” and he was finally happy with the inverted heart shape of his calves by doing one-legged calf raises for almost a full year. His abs, obliques and serratus muscles, long one of C.J.’s strengths, continued to be the stuff on which clothes could be scrubbed clean. He’d even reduced his waist measurement to just a shade over 30” and his midsection looked, in a word, amazing!  

The lone problem area that still plagued C.J. were his forearms, still stalled at 13½”, but I assured him that he was probably doing the exercises incorrectly and that, in person, I was sure that I could fix them. The one body part that didn’t need any enlarging, because it was large enough already, was C.J.’s big thick eight-incher. Not only long, but a full five-and-a-half inches around the shaft made my mouth water and my asshole twitch in anticipation.  

We had numerous phone conversations over the past 16 months, both training-related and sex-related. We had phone sex maybe two dozen times over that year and we seemed to have so much in common sexually that it was spooky. I had thought over the past month what I would plan for C.J. over the week that he would be staying with me and so many things sped through my mind. But now, C.J. was probably landing and I was still 15 minutes away from the airport, but knowing that C.J. would still have to clear Customs and Immigration and then get his baggage, I figured I’d still have plenty of time.  

American Airlines lands at Terminal 3, so I followed the signs to the arrivals level. I had told C.J. what kind of car to look out for and even my vanity licence plate, so I would keep orbiting until C.J. came out of the terminal. Only one orbit was necessary, as on my second slow-speed pass though the terminal’s arrivals area, I spotted C.J.: a large black bag slung over his shoulder, nicely tight faded jeans, a white t-shirt, sunglasses and a navy blue FDNY baseball cap. Oh yeah, and the biggest grin on earth!  

I pulled up to the curb and C.J. just smiled even bigger and said, “Hey Brad, we finally meet!”  

“It’s been too long C.J.,” I said, “Toss your bag in the back seat.” C.J. heaved the bag over the side of the car and into the empty back seat, opened the door and slid into the front bucket seat, turned to me and began to extend his hand.  

“I’m afraid that a handshake won’t do,” I said, and I put both of my arms around C.J.’s neck and hugged him hard, whispering into his ear, “I’m so glad that you are here, man.”  

C.J. returned the hug saying, “Me too, Brad. I’ve been looking forward to this day for more than a year, you know.”  

I pulled the Cabrio out of the arrivals area, on to the access road and eventually out of the airport and back on to the 407 and home. I am still living with my parents in the basement of their very large ranch-style home just north of Toronto. I share the massive basement with my younger brother who was away at university. My parents were both out of the country on a buying trip to England: my father for books and my mother for antiques. The trip was silent, except for the radio blasting and the wind whipping over our heads, making conversation all but impossible.  

Every now and then, I would glance at him and smile, then we would both break out laughing. It was almost like being a kid in a candy store, too many choices and all too confusing. Where to start first? What to do first? I just resigned myself that things would happen naturally and not to put too much pressure on myself by planning anything. The best laid plans…  

When we pulled off the highway, I stepped the volume of the radio down a bit, headed south for a couple blocks, then turned east for two blocks, then south again. Pulled on to a street with only twelve houses on it, six on each side and then turned into the second house on the left, number 17 and into the huge driveway. I touched the button on the sun visor and the left garage door slid open and I pulled the VW into its spot. C.J. glanced right and saw two other vehicles parked beside the VW: my dad’s black Lincoln Navigator and my mom’s gold BMW.  

As the garage door closed behind us and we both unbuckled our seat belts, I turned to C.J., who leaned forward, took my head gently in his hands and kissed me. We traded tongues for a few seconds and then parted, knowing full well that this was only the first of what would be many more kisses and only the thin end of the wedge that would be our mutual exploration of each other’s bodies over the next seven days.  

I reached into the back seat for the bag, but C.J. was too quick and had snatched it off the seat. I glanced at C.J.’s right bicep, partially hidden under the t-shirt sleeve, but noticeable nonetheless as it bulged under the work of lifting the obviously heavy bag up over the side of the car. We walked to the door, which was in front of the Navigator, and opened it. As C.J. stepped up onto the patio, he stopped dead in his tracks. Our back yard is immense! A huge swimming pool lay directly in front of him. A large out-building stood to his left, which he would later learn contained a bathroom, shower, two change rooms, a bar and a very large built-in barbeque. To the right of the pool was a putting green with a flower bed in the center. Further to the back of the yard was a very large expanse of green lawn trimmed with a rainbow of various flowers, plants, bushes and trees. C.J. thought he was standing in an Architectural Digest shoot.  
 

“What, no butler?” C.J. asked, giggling.  

“I gave Smedly the week off, you asshole!” I replied.  

We walked to a pale blue door on the back of the house, which was beside double doors of sliding glass. I unlocked the door and we headed inside and down the stairs to my world. At the bottom of the stairs was the living room with large screen television and stereo system, couches, chairs and a billiard table. I headed left and passed an open door and as C.J. passed it, he saw that it was the workout room and even with the lights out he could see the mirrored walls and silvery dumbbells in their racks. The left hallway ended in my bedroom.  

“You can stay here with me,” I said, “If you want. Or you can use the guest bedroom at the other end of the basement. Your choice.”  

“I want to stay here,” C.J. said, “So I can be close to you all the time.”  

I smiled. “I guess that the first thing you’ll want to do is have a shower and something to drink, or in the other order?”  

“A shower would be great,” said C.J. “What have you got to drink?”  

“Practically everything,” I said as I headed to the kitchen, “Name something.”  

“How about V-8?” C.J. asked.  

“Well I have veggie cocktail, which is the same thing,” I said. “What do you want in it? Ice? Worcestershire sauce? Tabasco? Tell me.”  

“No ice and a dash of pepper,” came the reply.  

“Will do,” I yelled. “The bathroom door is on the right side of the hallway opposite the workout room. Go in and start your shower and I’ll bring in your drink.”  

C.J. went down the hall and flipped on the light switch and saw a very large bathroom indeed. Immediately to the right of the door was an eight-foot diameter whirlpool. Beside it was a fully tiled shower stall maybe six feet square with a glass door. The toilet was in the far left corner and there were two sinks in front of a mirrored wall. C.J. kicked off his shoes, slipped off his jeans, boxers and socks and then pulled his tee shirt over his head, opened the glass door and leaned into the shower stall and turned on the water.  

The water was almost instantly hot and he twisted the knob to cool down the water temperature a bit before committing his body to the spray. He had no sooner stepped into the shower when I arrived with two large glasses of vegetable cocktail and set them on the counter between the sinks.  

“Your drink is out here, C.J.,” I shouted above the noise of the shower. “Want some company?”  

C.J. opened the door and leaned his head out, which was already white with shampoo lather and said, “Sure, there’s lots of room in here.”  

I shed my burgundy Nike golf shirt, chinos, shoes and socks and then stepped out of my CKs in about four seconds and opened the door as the steam billowed out of the stall. C.J. was facing the back wall and that nozzle (there were three nozzles, one on each wall other than the door). He was letting the water rinse the lather from his hair when I entered the shower, grabbed two bars of soap and began running my hands over C.J.’s back, lathering up his nicely-muscled lats and traps. C.J. moaned as I slowly slid the bars of soap down to his lower back and then to his nice firm bubble butt. C.J. braced his hands against the wall in front of him, spread his legs to shoulder-width and even pushed his totally edible butt back a bit. I took the cue and slid the bar of soap on edge in between C.J.’s ass cheeks and pushed the bar so that it almost went into his asshole. As I lathered up the crack, he heard C.J. moaning and groaning as his ass writhed back and forth loving my ministrations.  

With one hand moving one bar of soap up and down and in and out of C.J.’s ass crack, my other hand and other bar was rapidly lathering my now-rock-hard cock. When I was finished with my cock, I moved closer to C.J., wrapped my hands around his lats and began soaping his pecs and incredible abs. My hard, soapy cock slid in between C.J.’s thighs and poked out underneath his balls. C.J. closed his legs, trapping my cock in between, while I continued soaping his pecs, which C.J. flexed for me. I then began running the bars of soap up and down C.J.’s hard defined eight-pack creating valleys of lather in the deep defined ridges.  

I began to slowly slide my huge cock back and forth in between C.J.’s thighs which also massaged his balls. When I was finished with C.J.’s abs, I dropped my hands and grabbed his hard cock with both hands and both bars of soap. After maybe fifteen seconds of lathering C.J.’s beautifully upturned cock, I took my hands off, put the bars of soap in the built in dish in the wall of the shower and spun C.J. around by his shoulder. As C.J. turned, my hard cock popped out of its warm prison in between C.J.’s thighs and now our cocks banged against one another.  

We kissed briefly and then C.J. opened his eyes, looking for the very first time at me standing in front of him, totally naked. He had dreamed of this since he first contacted me and saw my pics. C.J. had been the fat kid who got fit, while I had always been the jock. C.J. said that he never really had close contact with a really built guy and now here I stood. A foot in front of C.J., naked and hard. Hard all over!  

C.J. began by running his hands over my traps, which I flexed for him and then down my huge delts, to my upper arms. I extended both of my arms out to the side like a scarecrow, then slowly bent them, flexing my biceps and C.J. saw the baseball shape form, practically from nowhere. That was what I love about my body now: I look pretty normal—well, a fit normal—when relaxed and then my muscles almost explode when I flex them. C.J. gasped out loud when he first saw my biceps flex and then, with his hands on each one, I relaxed and flexed my biceps. I loved watching the look on C.J.’s face as he felt the muscle go from a baseball size, a baseball shape and a baseball hardness, to a soft pliable relaxed muscle.  

The more I flexed, the more pumped my biceps got and the better C.J. liked it. He then moved his hands to my pecs, which I obligingly flexed and I moved my hands down, grabbing both of our huge, eight-inch, steel pipe hard cocks in my hands. As C.J. ran his hands all over my pecs and abs, I was jacking our cocks faster and faster. I could feel C.J.’s balls begin to lift and we both began shooting our loads. The first spurt, you couldn’t tell whose, actually hit the ceiling of the shower stall, at least five feet above the level of our cocks! Many more shots followed as I milked our massive dicks until we almost collapsed against each other.  

C.J. leaned back against the wall and let the water cascade over his slumped shoulders and down his heaving chest, washing away the white streaks of cum. I leaned forward and we kissed briefly and whispered in C.J.’s ear, “That was just a preview of what you and I will be doing.”  

C.J. smiled and they both finished washing themselves off in the shower, this time with nothing else. I turned off the water and we opened the door and grabbed big fluffy towels and dried each other off. We picked up our drinks and I led C.J. into the living room, both wrapped in our big bath towels. Putting the drinks on the coffee table, we sat down on the couch, which faced the TV and looked at each other. Two seconds later, we both broke out laughing, me saying, “So, C.J., how do you like the place?”  

C.J. grabbed my now-hardening cock through the towel and said, “I like the plumbing and the place is very well built.”  

With that, C.J. peeled open my towel, exposing my cock which was rising rapidly and leaned over, taking the whole thing in his mouth, right to the root. It didn’t take long before my cock was fully hard, but instead of letting C.J. continue, I gently lifted his head up off my cock, slid my right arm under his knees and my left arm under C.J.’s right armpit and stood up, lifting C.J. up from the couch in the process. I carried my surprised guest—who by now had wrapped his hands around my neck—back into his bedroom and gently laid him down. The towel, which had been wrapped around C.J.’s waist fell away revealing his own super-hard cock.  
 

With C.J. laying on his back, I straddled him so that C.J.’s cock was pressing against my ass crack and my hard cock was laying on his abs and in between his pecs, pointing straight at C.J. We both moved our hands to each other’s pecs and began flexing and squeezing, flexing and massaging, but most of all flexing.  

I love to flex and love to watch the expression of the other guy when he did. Over the past six years, I have worked very hard at reducing my body fat so that it was now under 5% and also I had almost attained my goal: to look more normal at rest and then amazing when flexing.  

When I flexed my pecs, they jump forward more than an inch, and the edges of both muscles show the scalloping and striations that turn on most muscle admirers. C.J. was no exception as he gently let his fingers run along the edge of my pecs feeling the bumps and ridges. C.J.’s touch was so soft and gentle that my nipples grew hard, even though C.J. wasn’t even near them! This guy was good!  

Since my nipples are hard-wired to my cock, it began oozing precum on his pecs, almost forming a small pool. I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I leaned forward placing my hands above C.J.’s head and moved my cock towards his waiting mouth. As my massive cockhead touched C.J.’s lips, they parted and my cock slid silently forward, into his mouth and down his throat.  

I started slowly moving my huge cock in and out, always cognizant of my severe distaste of either inflicting pain on anyone, or having it inflicted on me. So I was well aware that my cock could cause damage if I am too rough or uncaring, not just because of its eight-inch length and six-inch circumference, but more because of the huge mushroom head of my cock: fully seven-and-a-half inches around. Its saving advantage, despite its girth, was that my cockhead never really gets as rock hard as my cock does, remaining slightly spongy to the touch. But I still pay close attention whenever my cock was somewhere else and C.J.’s mouth and throat was no exception.  

You could readily tell that C.J. not only enjoyed sucking, but that he was really very good at it. His hands had now migrated from my pecs around to my lats and back. While sliding my cock in and out of C.J.’s hot mouth, I flared my lats which C.J. latched onto with both hands and made low moaning sounds while sucking my cock. This added internal vibration turned a great blow job into a mind-blowing hummer and I yelled out, “I…I…I’m cummingggggggg!”  

C.J. lowered his hands to my boulder-hard glutes, squeezed them and pulled me hard into his mouth, feeling my massive cock squirting my almost-endless load down his waiting throat. When my cock was finally spent, I leaned back and watched as it slid from C.J.’s mouth, cum dripping from his lips. I bent down and licked my cum from C.J.’s chin and lips and then we kissed and I could taste the familiar sweetness of my own cum as we dueled tongues for a bit while I laid on top of my guest. We were both covered in sweat and C.J. could feel my hard pecs against his own, our equally defined abs rubbing like two washboards.  

C.J.’s cock, still fully hard, was positioned in between the mounds surrounding my ass crack as we thrashed about. The precum was drooling from C.J.’s cock and was mixing with our sweat allowing his cock to slide back and forth easily. I lifted my ass slightly and C.J.’s cock, which was already equipped with a slight upward curve, was now aimed at my sweaty, wet hole. I slid back as I felt the cockhead and hard shaft slide in between my hard glutes and up my hot chute. When I felt my ass cheeks land on C.J.’s pubes, I sat up and wiggled to make sure that his cock was fully seated entirely within me.  

I now smiled down at C.J. and shouted, “I’m king of the world!” then laughed and hit the best double bicep pose I possibly could. My biceps burst out of nowhere into the now-familiar baseball bulges and C.J.’s hands leapt to the huge mounds like magnets to steel. With C.J. massaging and squeezing the piles of muscle fibres sitting on top of my arms, I began to slowly bounce up and down on C.J.’s hard cock. I love a hard cock inside my ass, because I feel it is the most that I can do for another guy: letting me be filled to bursting.  

Because of all the hard work I had done in rehabilitating my quadriceps injury, my glutes, once as hard as my quads, were now even harder when I flex them. Before, I could flex my glutes while being fucked and trap the other guy’s cock inside me, Now, they were so hard, that I felt I could injure someone if I flex too hard. I thought I could actually cut off circulation to an inflated cock, so instead, I prefer to massage an impaled cock by alternately flexing and relaxing my glutes, the effect being like a dozen tiny fingers running up and down the shaft of the cock while it was still inside me.  

C.J. had never had this happen to him before, indeed he said that he’d never really been with a muscleboy before, usually pairing with thinner guys who were more interested in C.J.’s great physique, not out of ego, but more because C.J. still had a bit of an inferiority complex about his own magnificent physique. He still felt that his body was average at best. But C.J. loved worshipping a hard muscular body as much as the next guy and with me perched on top of his hard cock, bouncing up and down, flexing and relaxing my glutes and with C.J.’s hands running all over my flexed biceps, C.J. must have thought that he’d died and gone to heaven.  

After perhaps ten minutes of sliding his hands from my huge biceps to my vascular forearms, to my pecs and abs, C.J. couldn’t take it any longer. I sensed the impending eruption and sat down hard on C.J.’s blood-engorged cock and flexed my glutes almost as hard as I could. That pushed C.J. over that imaginary edge and he began bucking his hips upwards further into me as wave after wave of fulfillment washed over him and spurt after spurt of his scalding cum jetted upwards into my accepting ass.  

With every spurt, C.J.’s pecs and abs, his delts and traps, his entire being, flexed to stone-like hardness. I had never seen anything like it. Another guy, so totally concentrated into oneness that all energy was channelled to one place: his cock. It was as if all the other muscles in C.J.’s body were flexing as hard as they could so they could transfer their energy to the centre, to his cock, to his oneness. The veins jumped to quick relief all over C.J.’s body as his cock spasmed again and again. It seemed that C.J. wanted to launch me upwards like a missile, as with each spurt, his hips lifted me up and off the bed. I felt as though I was riding a bucking bronco except that this bronco, although hung like a horse, and who was sweating like a horse, was so perfect in form and face that he could never be associated with that animal.  

C.J. was finally finished after what we later figured was perhaps twelve or thirteen spurts and a couple dribbles. Certainly and without question the single largest orgasm that he’d ever experienced, or probably would again.  

Was it just pent-up lust?  

Was it sixteen months of expectations?  

Was it the fact that here was a genuine muscleboy, right in front of him? A guy who had no ego, no apparent expectations himself and was so totally into giving, that C.J. was overwhelmed.  

Or was it simply that this was the very best fuck he’d ever had?  

C.J. briefly debated the above multiple choices in his head and chose (e)…all of the above!  

I leaned forward to kiss C.J. and felt C.J.’s cock slowly slide out of my ass, allowing the huge load of C.J.’s cum to empty between my thighs. As our sweat began to dry slightly, it almost stuck them together and I said, “How about a quick rinse-off in the shower and then maybe a swim?”  

C.J. looked up at the guy he had been dreaming about for the past year plus and said, “Anything you want,” He smiled and sighed. I rolled off C.J. and took his hand to pull him up off the bed and we walked into the bathroom and back into the shower we’d left less than a hour before. I turned on the water and we both entered and soaped each other, quickly let the water wash away the lather, sweat and cum from our bodies and were finished in a couple minutes.  

Grabbing towels for both of us, I led C.J. out of the bathroom, casually lobbing a towel backwards over my head, landing squarely in C.J.’s face.  

“What about swim trunks?” C.J. asked.  

“Don’t need ‘em,” I said, “As nobody can see into our property with the tree-lined perimeter.” We headed up the stairs and onto the back patio, where I tossed my towel on one of the many chaise lounges that surround the pool. I then took about a ten-foot run toward the side of the pool, jumped up in the air, tucked my feet in a perfect somersault position and did a double sommie before opening up just before I hit the water. As I surfaced near the opposite side of the pool, I pivoted so I faced the house and watched as C.J. smiled and just shook his head.  

C.J. took a short run and cut into the water almost silently and surfaced beside me. “Is there anything that you can’t do?” C.J. asked.  

“I was a gymnast for more than a decade C.J., so I have pretty good control over my body,” I said, spitting water towards him.  

I spun, placed my hands on the pool deck and hoisted myself out of the water, jogged to the deep end and got on the diving board. I took aim, positioned myself and deliberately stepped to the end of the board, planted my feet to charge the board and as the spring of the board launched me upwards, I did a double-twisting front sommie, cutting into the water like a knife.  

I swam underwater, my eyes set on C.J., who was still about mid-pool near the side away from the house. As I approached from the floor of the pool, I saw my target, C.J.’s hardening cock. As I got within five feet of C.J., I stretched out his hands and aimed them for C.J.’s armpits, lifting him clear out of the water. As C.J. was momentarily suspended out of the water all the way to his knees, my face was at the same level as C.J.’s cock and I took full advantage of the coincidence, inhaling C.J.’s cock to the root while still holding him at arm’s length.  

C.J. was both startled at my torpedo approach and amazed at the control I exhibited in not only holding him firmly but gently, and also having the co-ordination to suck his cock into my mouth…all in one motion. As I kept C.J.’s cock in his mouth, I sat him down on the pool deck without ever letting his cock slide out of my mouth. I now began in earnest sucking C.J.’s hard cock, feeling my nose hitting his pubes as his cock slid all the way down my throat. I looked up as C.J. had leaned back a bit, placing his hands on the pool deck. I moved my own hands up to squeeze C.J.’s triceps which were flexed, defined and very hard.  

I let C.J.’s cock slide out of my mouth and said, “I guess I just can’t keep my hands off you.”  

C.J. leaned forward and we kissed briefly. He said, “I would never have dreamed that a guy built like you would ever say that to someone built like me.”  

“Someone built like you?” I questioned, “I have wet dreams about guys built like you every night and now, here he is in front of me, staying at my house, a living wet dream.”  

With that I pulled C.J. back into the pool and we swam and horsed around for the next fifteen minutes or so, dunking each other, kissing, grabbing each other’s cocks and each other’s muscles, diving and racing from one end to the other. In short, acting like kids in a pool.  

We met up under the diving board, and began kissing again, feeling each other’s cocks, now fully hard, rubbing against our thighs and against each other. I smiled and said, “You ready for round three?”  

“And four and five and six!” C.J. said.  

We climbed up the steps and out of the pool and walked to our towels. We picked them up off the chaise lounges and began drying ourselves. As I opened the door to downstairs, C.J. grabbed me from behind, wrapping his strong arms around my pecs, which I flexed. I could feel C.J.’s cock bumping against my ass crack and I could also feel that it was still as hard as a steel pipe. I turned my head and we kissed as we went through the door to the upstairs landing.  

As we headed downstairs, I said, “Meet me in the workout room, I have a surprise for you, OK?”  

C.J. walked into the workout room and turned on the fluorescent lights which were set flush with the ceiling tiles. They flooded the room with light as three walls are mirrored and the racks of dumbbells are all chrome plated with only their grips, wrapped with blue foamed-padded tape, not reflecting the light all over the room. The floor was covered, wall-to-wall, with inch-thick gymnastic padding, so it was soft on C.J.’s feet and the sound dampening of the padded floor made the room feel almost warm and cozy, despite its size of twenty feet by twenty feet.  

C.J. was absent-mindedly stroking the black padding of the incline bench when I appeared in the doorway wearing a t-shirt that looked as though it had been painted on. It looked new, not an old, threadbare shirt that was being held together with hope. No, this one looked as though it could have been bought that very morning, (it had actually been bought the previous day, but you get the idea).  

I said, “Wanna workout?”  

C.J. smiled at me and said, “You remembered?”  

I said, “Of course,” And picked up a pair of forty-pound dumbbells and sat on the end of the bench and began doing alternate dumbbell bicep curls. C.J. planted himself on the floor at my feet and just watched as my biceps began to be flooded with blood as, with each repetition, they got more and more pumped. I passed forty reps, then fifty, then sixty. I usually did biceps at the end of my routine, but this wasn’t an ordinary routine, this was more of a performance and I was full of energy.  

I dropped the dumbbell from my right hand to the padded floor and continued with only the left, as I the ninety rep mark. My left bicep was pumped to over 18” and the vascularity in both my bicep and forearm were a sight. C.J. skiddled over a bit to get a better look at my left bicep, which was straining against the sewn hem of the sleeve of the t-shirt. C.J. wanted to get a good close-up look at what he knew was about to happen. As I curled the dumbbell for the 114^th time my bicep finally became too big for its sleeve and the hem split with a sound that C.J. would remember for the rest of his life.  

C.J.’s cock was hard and drooling precum all over the blue floor padding as the sleeve separated right along the top of my baseball bicep. I smiled at C.J. and said, “Ready for the right one?”  

C.J. could only nod, as he was doing his level best at NOT cumming right then and there. I switched the dumbbell to my right hand and began doing concentration curls. I guess the right sleeve was sewn better than the left one because it didn’t split until my 129^th rep. Possibly the two or three-minute rest that my right bicep got while I was concentrating only on my left arm may have had something to do with it, but this right sleeve split in a different way. C.J. had risen to a kneeling position beside my right thigh and watched closely as the muscle become more and more gorged with blood and the veins swelled to an almost super-human size.  

This sleeve, totally filled with my bicep, actually burst directly above the baseball-shaped bicep with the huge vein on top leading the way. The threads, even though they were new, were being pulled apart in four directions at once and as my bicep filled with more and more blood, it seemed to separate the very weave of the fabric. As my huge pumped bicep burst its way up through the body of the sleeve, the added pressure from the hem seemed to accentuate the peak of my already super-pumped bicep and as I curled my 142^nd rep, the hem gave way, causing both flaps of what used to be the sleeve to fall on either side of my huge, hard defined baseball, the veins still pulsing.  

That was finally too much for C.J. to bear, and, without even touching his cock, it began spurting its hot load of sweet cum all over my pecs, abs and right leg. After perhaps ten or twelve shots, C.J. fell back on the floor, exhausted and covered with sweat. I let the dumbbell fall from my right hand, as my sweat soaked the skin-tight t-shirt and dripped from my nose and chin.  

“Get up babe,” I said and C.J. complied as we both stood up. “Stand behind me and watch.”  

With that C.J. moved behind me and watched as I began to flare my lats, flex my traps and expand my pecs at the same time. The soaking wet t-shirt, already straining to contain my upper body, split in between my shoulder blades as my lats spread to resemble wings. As C.J. saw my skin bursting through the fabric of the t-shirt, he grabbed his still-hard cock and began rapidly jerking it. In only a few seconds, C.J. shot yet another load of cum, this time all over my exposed back.  

C.J. then hugged me from behind, feeling his cum smearing all over his own chest and abs as he slid up and down, back and forth against my back, his hands gripping firmly on to my hard flexed pecs through the wet t-shirt. C.J.’s cock, although discharging two huge loads in the past couple minutes, took its own sweet time to deflate and I could feel it, still thick and creamy with cum, sliding against and in between my hard ass cheeks. I pulled at the neck of the t-shirt from the front and it split the rest of the way down the back as it came off in my hands. I let it drop to the floor and then turned toward C.J.  

My cock was now leaking precum as we kissed and C.J. could feel the huge thick cock pressing against his hard thighs. C.J. opened his legs a bit and my hard cock slid in between C.J.’s thighs, lubed by my precum and by our combined sweat. I slowly let his cock pump in and out as we kissed and C.J. let his hands roam all over my huge back. From the top of my traps and delts down to my equally hard glutes, C.J. alternated his touch. From gentle fingers running across the vast expanse of my flared lats to C.J.’s fingers and strong hands squeezing my traps and lats, I was enjoying the muscleplay, and so was C.J.  

When C.J. let his hands drop down to squeeze my glutes, he began sliding his tongue in between my flexed pecs and down the rows of abs, to my hard thick cock coming to rest at the tip. As C.J. licked up the precum from my piss slit, I moaned and then C.J. wrapped his lips around my massive cock head, probing the piss slit with his tongue, causing even more precum to ooze out. C.J. allowed it to mix with his saliva and drool out the corners of his mouth.  

As C.J. let my cock slide in his mouth and down his throat, he gripped my glutes even harder. Pulling me hard towards him made C.J.’s own impressive hard, defined biceps explode to baseball dimensions. my hands dropped to C.J.’s biceps so I could feel them flexing past the 16-inch mark as they thrust my hard cock deep into C.J.’s throat. I flexed my glutes when C.J.’s hands were there, his thighs when C.J. moved his hands down a bit and when C.J. dropped his hands to my calves, I went up on his toes so that C.J. could feel the huge shelf that was created when I flexed them.  

C.J. ran his hands all over my calves and pulled me even harder down his throat. The feel of the striations in those huge inverted hearts caused C.J. to groan and that hummer was all the trigger that I needed to empty my full-to-bursting balls and fill C.J.’s throat with a hot load of sweet cum.  

C.J. gladly took every inch of my massive cock and seemed to pull him harder with each thrust. I seemed to move up on my toes even higher as I was pulled into C.J.’s hot mouth. This caused my calves to pump up even more and C.J. delighted in their expanding size by pulling me toward him with more power. With each spurt, my calves seemed to grow even bigger and C.J.’s biceps bulged with the added work of pulling me harder and harder toward him.  

When I was empty, I lifted C.J. up and we kissed, exchanging the sweet flavour of my cum. C.J. wrapped his arms around my big back, hoisted himself off the ground, and locked his legs around my narrow waist once again. I felt totally comfortable in this position as we could kiss and I could walk both of us back into the shower for our third shower in the past two hours or so. At this rate we might run out of hot water, but not likely.