Mister

by Richard Jasper

Musclegod Frank doesn’t know quite what to think of the hunky Latin kid who seems to trip over his own feet whenever Frank shows up. For his part, Eduardo is trying not to cream his pants whenever he looks in Frank’s direction. Eventually, they figure it out!

Frank was checking himself out in the mirror at the gym, taking a short breather between sets. Looking back at him were barn door shoulders, hulking traps, 747-lats, pro-level biceps, all the result of 20 years of hard work in the gym.

Looking good, Mister, Frank said to himself.

CRASH!

Frank glanced to his left and saw the hunky Latin kid, blushing furiously as he bent over the 45-pound bar that had been knocked from its perch on the squat rack. From the bulge in the kid’s shorts Frank figured the kid must have walked right into the damned thing.

Oh ho, Frank thought, I wonder what he found so distracting.

Frank gave his massive chest an extra flex – and damned if the kid didn’t drop one of the dumbbells he was in the process of racking. Frank snorted and walked back to the incline bench where he’d just finished four sets of reps at 405 pounds and no spotter. He picked up the 120-pound dumbbells on either side of the seat and started a set of alternating curls, slow and strict.

This could get interesting, Frank told himself, then lost himself in the rhythmic up and down of the iron, letting the pump take over his mind. At 6’2” tall, Frank was 320 pounds of solid muscle. You don’t get that big without being able to achieve an almost hypnotic focus—and Frank was still growing.

Eduardo was sure he had never blushed more deeply in his entire life and that was saying a lot since he tended to get embarrassed at the drop of a hat.

“Estupido,” he thought. “Walking right into the squat rack like that! He will think I am an idiot!”

Eduardo wasn’t remotely an idiot but he had to admit that he was stupid for muscle. And for fur. And for big manly men. If the big manly man appeared to be hung like a horse, so much the better. And the guy in front of the mirror was all of that and more.

Fuck, Eduardo thought. He had been in Buffalo for nearly a year and he had never seen anything like the guy in front of the mirror. The stud appeared to be a bit over 6 feet tall and totally, insanely huge. Shoulders and chest and arms that went on forever and quads and calves and glutes to match. Plus fur, thick, black, sweaty, manly fur, all over his torso and legs and forearms (none on his back, though), accentuating every crevice and bulge. For Eduardo, this guy, whoever he was, personified sex!

Enough, he thought. After all that distraction, Eduardo figured he had spent enough time in the gym for one day. He headed toward the locker room, careful to pay attention to where he was headed and what was between him and there. “No more accidents!” he muttered under his breath, then spent a good 20 minutes in the shower, letting the hot water course over his perfectly smooth, naturally tan skin. He was careful to keep his hands away from his big, brown silver-dollar sized nipples – they were just too sensitive. Same with his pecs and arms and abs and, most especially, his long, slender cock. He lost himself in the warmth and feel of the water.

I’m a fish, he thought. Or a seal. Or an eel.

When he entered the locker room Frank was surprised to see that the hot, albeit somewhat clumsy Latin kid was still in the shower. “Damn,” Frank thought. “He’s even better looking than I thought.” No more than 5’9” tall, Eduardo was a totally solid 200 pounds. Broad shoulders, thick chest, big arms and quads and calves, tiny waist and a totally ripped midsection.

“This kid has striations on his striations,” Frank thought. “Nice fucking weenie, too.”

It appeared to be totally soft but it was a good 6 or 7 inches, regardless. Frank, who considered himself the world’s foremost connoisseur of cock, wondered how much bigger it would get when fully hard. Frank took his place in the gang shower to the left of the Latin kid and turned on the water. The kid opened his eyes and let out a low moan when he realized it was Frank standing next to him. Frank slowly lathered himself up, taking extra time with his pits and his crotch, repeatedly moving his heavy meat – soft but still a good 10 inches long – out of the way with his thick, powerful hands. He sneaked a quick glance at the Latino kid, who was standing stock still with his mouth hanging open, staring at Frank in disbelief.

“Kid, if you ain’t careful yer gonna turn into a prune,” Frank said, not taking his eyes off the shower nozzle. “Or drown…”

The water abruptly shut off and the kid was gone in a flash. Frank chuckled to himself.

After he managed to struggle into his tight jeans, Eduardo headed directly home, heedless of the long list of chores he had assembled before going to the gym.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” he muttered to himself on the road home. It was all he could do to pay attention to traffic signals, stop signs, and the surrounding traffic. All thoughts of hitting his favorite produce stand for some fresh fruit or dropping by Wegman’s for fresh fish were totally gone from his head.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Eduardo babbled as he struggled to undress in his bedroom, gripped by visions of Frank, the biggest, hairiest, hottest man he had ever seen, let alone stood next to in the shower.

“Oh…my…god,” Eduardo shouted as he lost his load, splattering the bathroom mirror. He hadn’t even touched himself.

He slept for hours.

That night at Buck’s Eduardo stood on the patio with his friends Chris (the short round one) and Jake (the tall skinny one), telling them about his morning at the gym (although not what ensued in the bathroom.) As usual, they were laughing and joking and egging him on. For whatever reason, these two Buffalo boys seemed to think he was special, an idea Eduardo had a hard time appreciating. Suddenly, they stopped talking. Their eyes grew big, their mouths fell open.

“Leave.”

It was one word but it was so deep and masculine Eduardo could see the little orgasmic shake it produced in Chris and the quick tenting of Jake’s loose jeans. They were gone before he could open his mouth. He turned. It was him. He’d been hot in gym clothes and hotter still naked. But now. Fuck. Skin tight jeans and a sleeveless flannel shirt. It wasn’t buttoned. It couldn’t have been buttoned. There’s no way a flannel shirt could cover up that magnificence. The thick, swirling fur that somehow managed to enhance rather than obscure the big man’s Herculean muscle.

“You got it bad kid, I can see that,” he rumbled. Eduardo gulped. The man moved closer and Eduardo backed up a step, and then another, only to find himself against the brick wall of the patio. “What’s your name, kid?”

It took a few seconds for Eduardo to absorb the question and then he had to think. Think. Think. Name, he thought. What is MY name? My name is…

“Eduardo.”

Frank took another step closer, his massive pecs only an inch or two from Eduardo’s.

“Let’s get this straight, kid,” Frank said. “When I ask a question, I expect an answer—fast. Got that?”

“Yessir!”

Frank grinned to himself. This is gonna be fucking fun. “Kid, you can knock off the ‘sir’ stuff. That doesn’t do a damn thing for me, got it?” Eduardo stared at Frank, once again immobilized. Frank’s tree trunk forearm shot out and before he knew it Eduardo’s back was a foot further up the wall, his muscular 200 pounds resting on what felt like a concrete telephone poll.

“Yes, yes, I’ve got it,” Eduardo blurted. “But what do I call you, sir?” Frank grinned on the outside this time. “Mister,” he said. “You can call me ‘Mister.’” Eduardo let out a soft whimper. “I can tell you need a lot of guidance, kid,” Frank said. “It must help that you’re so fuckin’ good lookin’ because you act like you don’t know how to tie your shoelaces.” Eduardo didn’t know whether to cower or wag his tail. Fuckin’ good lookin’?!!

“Yes, Mister,” Eduardo said. “I am very inexperienced.”

Frank dropped Eduardo to the ground and lifted up his massive right arm, flexing his awesome 25-inch bicep. “Lick that pit, son,” Frank ordered. “And don’t be a pussy about it, do it right.” Eduardo hesitated. Here?

“Here,” Frank barked. “You don’t think the rest of these SOB’s wouldn’t be creamin’ their pants if I offered this to ‘em?”

Eduardo dove in. He wondered how he’d know what to do next, then Frank’s rough paw encircled his neck and led him across the vast furry torso that filled Eduardo’s world. Eduardo’s mouth moved from one sensitive spot to another. In some extrasensory way Eduardo was aware that Frank’s obscene bulge was threatening to rip through Levi’s. “Hot mouth, kid,” Frank grunted, using his free hand to let loose the monster the jeans were struggling unsuccessfully to contain. Eduardo froze.

“Holy Mother of God,” Eduardo blurted. The python had to be 13 inches long and at least 8 inches around, maybe more.

Frank snorted. “Yeah,” he said, “I figured you’d be too much of a pussy to handle this monster. Better and bigger men than you have tried it on for size and failed.” Eduardo moaned.

“Please, Mister, I’ll do…”

Frank started to turn but Eduardo dove on his cock. In less than 10 seconds he had swallowed Frank’s python to the hilt! It was Frank’s turn to gasp. “Damn, kid, how’d you do that?!” Eduardo pulled off Frank’s battering ram with an audible pop.

“I sing opera, Mister, and a good opera singer knows how to unhinge his jaw. It is a useful skill – in more than one way!”

Frank pulled Eduardo up from his kneeling position and wrapped his huge arm around Eduardo’s neck. “Fuck, kid,” Frank said. “I think it’s time we got out of here.” Eduardo realized things were about to change, permanently.

“Yessir, Mister!” Frank began to make a noise like a bulldozer purring. “And Eduardo,” he said, taking the handsome young man’s strong muscular hand in his own.

“The name is Frank.”

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