The movement of the lawnmower under the window below brought my focus back into the room. I looked over to the other side of the bed discovering that Mike was not there. He wasn’t in the room. The bedroom door was closed, and I couldn’t tell if there was any activity in the house, considering the noise from outside. I was a bit hungry, but decided that a shower was in order. Figuring that Mike’s brother might be lurking around, I cautiously opened the door and peered down the hallway. No sign of John. I lightly padded down the hallway to the bathroom, shut the door and jumped into the shower. It seemed a shame to wash away last night’s evidence of our lovemaking, but I will always have the memory of Mike’s scent.

I quickly dried off, wrapped the towel around my waist and peeked out the bathroom door. Still no sign of John. And, no sign of Mike, either. I tiptoed back to Mike’s bedroom, pulled the towel off and tossed it over the back of his desk chair. I searched for my tennis shorts and shirt, and realized that all of my clothes were gone except my tennis shoes. In fact, I couldn’t remember when I last saw them after the first shower from yesterday evening. I stood in the middle of Mike’s room buck naked, trying to figure out what to do. And, where was Mike? The sound of the lawnmower caught my attention again, so I walked over to the window and looked outside.

As it so often did when I saw him, my heart flipped when I gazed upon Mike’s half naked body riding on the lawnmower, cutting the huge front lawn. He wore just a pair of faded denim cutoffs that hung low on his waist, exposing a strip of white flesh and a hint of his ass crack underneath his tan line as he leaned forward over the steering wheel. My vantage point from the second story window gave me a terrific view of his sun-bronzed body – his strong sturdy legs, a thin sheen of moisture covering his back which accentuated every cut of his muscles, the veins popping out in his forearms and biceps, the bleached-blond hair that fell around his face and neck. The sight of him could always take my breath away. And, my penis grew to a full-blown boner in a matter of seconds. Not even concerned that any neighbors may see me, I slowly began stroking my raging hard-on.

"What the @#%$ are you doing?"

I must of jumped a foot, and suddenly whipped around to see John standing in the doorway of Mike’s room. "Oh, @#%$!" I cried. I was stunned, struck by the proverbial "deer in the headlights" syndrome. I couldn’t move, my mouth went dry and the room began to spin. I looked at John for what seemed like ages. He was saying something, but I couldn’t make it out. He seemed to move and speak in slow motion. My eyes roved over his body in an instant, stealing my breath away. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of denim cutoffs identical to Mike’s. Apparently, this was the weekend family uniform. His legs were smooth and massive, with deep cuts in the quads and veins spreading across the tanned muscle like spider webs. The legs of his shorts could barely withstand the strain of those unbelievable tree trunks. He had the first eight-pack I’d ever seen, and it rose from a deep vee that cut between his hips and his obliques, down into the loose waistband of his denims. The only thing that seemed to hold his shorts up were his enormous quads and a huge basket that appeared to be at the bottom of the hidden portion of the cut vee in his lower belly. His broad, round, meaty pecs seemed to bounce at the slightest movement of his body, and his large nipples lay flat on the lower ridges of those magnificent mounds of muscle. His cannon-ball shoulders shared a cross section of veins with his hard chest, and the lower parts of his delts cut into his huge arms to separate the biceps from the triceps. His arms were bulging just hanging at his sides and his forearms exploded with veins. Even his hands were muscular. His thick neck grew out of his pecs and traps, with an Adams apple that helped to accentuate the contours. His face looked stern and I thought for sure he was going to kill me. It was total and complete sensory overload. I passed out and crashed to the floor.

My head seemed to be buzzing when I came to, but it turned out to be the sound of that lawnmower again. I opened my eyes to see John bending over me. "Oh, God," I whimpered. "Don’t hurt me."

"Shut the @#%$ up, @#%$."

With that, he squatted down, collected my limp body into his massive arms, lifted me up and carried me out of Mike’s room. I’m thinking I wasn’t that light, but John handled me like I was a feather pillow. My right arm was draped around his broad shoulders and I could feel his huge muscles bouncing and flexing against various parts of my body. His skin was like Mike’s – satiny smooth and hot to the touch. He pushed a door open with his foot, carried me into his bedroom and threw me onto his unmade bed. I laid there like a rag doll, too frightened to move. He went back, shut his door and locked it. "There sure are a lot of locked doors in this house," I thought. He turned and stood there looking at me from across the room. I laid there on the bed keeping very still as if he didn’t quite see me, imagining that if I moved he would suddenly pounce and it would be all over. Moments went by until he finally spoke.

"So, you like looking at my brother and jacking off?"

I remained silent and motionless.

"It wasn’t enough that he @#%$ your brains out last night, huh?"

My eyes betrayed my surprise.

"That’s right. I heard you two last night. You must be quite a lay, ‘cause my brother never made noise like that with his old girlfriend."

John moved slowly towards the bed, his enormous quads flexing with each step.

"My girlfriend wouldn’t put out last night. So, I’m thinking, ‘Hmmm. I wonder if Mike’s little faggot friend wants to suck a real dick.’ Do you, Jeff? Do you want to suck a real dick?"

He was standing at the side of the bed now. His massive body towered over me. As much as I was hating this bastard right now, my dick was thinking otherwise. My heart was pounding, and with each pump it sent more blood to my growing hard-on. I was screwed. Or, maybe soon would be.

"Mike’s going to…" I started.

"Mike’s got a lot of mowing to do," John said, with a smirk on his face. "He still has to do the backyard, and he’s only half finished with the front. So, that gives us plenty of time for you to make me happy. And, you can start by taking my shorts off."

With that, he stepped back from the bed and stood in the middle of the room. The shaded light from the window gave the room a hazy glow. I hesitated as I fought the urge to escape, knowing that John would pummel me if I made an attempt. And, there was a conflicting urge that commanded me to do what John told me to do, and that urge was driven by my dick, which was now at full attention, already a drop of precum appearing at the tip.

"C’mon, Jeff," John beckoned. "You know you want to. Your boner is betraying you."

A few more seconds passed before I slowly eased myself off of the bed and walked towards John. My @#%$ was like a divining rod, drawing me to the target of this incredible muscle god. As I carefully reached with my hands to the button at the top of John’s cutoffs, I noticed for the first time that the bulge in his shorts had grown considerably and outlined what looked to be an enormous dick. My hands shook as I gingerly worked the top button of his denims loose and my knuckles grazed the hard wall of his lower belly. Two solid veins pointed the way from just below his navel to what was hidden beneath a few more buttons. Looking down, I could see the bulge growing even bigger and longer as I unfastened the second button. My fingertips pressed downward and made contact with the hot throbbing flesh of his rod. I released the third button and his dick sprang out from its confinement, straining to reach his navel, which it did without too much effort. It was difficult to get at the last button because of the intense pressure of his thick member pushing against it, let alone the huge muscles of his ass and legs pushing the material to its limits.

Finally releasing the last button with some manipulation I began to tug at the waistband of John’s shorts while my nervousness was gradually replaced with utter awe at this giant stud. Working his cutoffs down over his ass cheeks was challenge enough, but pulling them down from his quads was tough. With one last tug I was able to work them down, and then guided them past his steel, veiny calves to his feet as I stooped over. He slowly lifted one leg, then the other, each rippling and flexing as he stepped out of his well-worn denims, which must have breathed a sigh of relief after the strain of having to contain all of that muscle. I grabbed the shorts and stood up holding them up for him. He took them with his right hand, then reached up with his left hand, placing it behind my head. Then he shoved his shorts into my face and rubbed them all around. "Breathe it in, boy," John growled. "This is what a man smells like." I never really thought of John being a man, since he was still in high school. But at nineteen, I guess he would be considered a man. He was certainly built like one.

He pulled the shorts from my face and tossed them across the room. His arms dropped to his sides and he stood there for a moment staring into my eyes. A slight smile creeped across his face, which softened in a way that I had never seen before. He always seemed to walk around with a chip on his shoulder that was carried by a certain attitude. But, now he looked different. For a split second, I broke our gaze and swept my eyes over his broad, mountainous chest and deeply cut abs. When I returned my eyes to his, his smile grew.

"You like my muscles."

It was a statement, not a question. John’s voice softened and the tension in the room seemed to disappear.

"I noticed that you can’t seem to keep your eyes off of my body," he continued. "I know that I turn a lot of heads when I enter a room or walk down the street. I should. I’ve worked hard enough for these babies."

He brought his right arm up parallel to the floor and slowly flexed his bicep. It blew up into a tight, round softball, accented by a sharp peak at the top. A cut appeared between the bicep and the tricep which rounded out his lower arm. Striations appeared at various points and the view was capped by little veins popping out all over. A quick intake of my breath signaled to John that I was captured by the view. With a low whisper, he said, "Kiss it."

Without hesitation, I moved forward, planting my wet lips on the hot flesh and steely ball of muscle. I sucked on it and kissed it, amazed at the unyielding hardness of that magnificent arm. His left hand came up behind my head again and he began to guide my mouth with subtle pressure at first. He pushed me lower to lick and suck on his triceps, then back up to the bicep again. Next it was the deep cleft between that hard "softball" and his round hard shoulder, and then down to his pit. He used more pressure as he mashed my face into the deep valley of his armpit where I feasted on the little wisps of hair, kissing and licking all around. He lowered his right arm, practically crushing my head. His right hand joined his left in driving my face around and across his bulging, smooth slabs of pec muscle. Placing my head between those meaty mountains, he wrapped his huge arms around my head and squeezed his chest together. I licked, kissed and sucked every dimple, striation, cut and bulge of those mounds of flesh-covered granite. No matter how long I feasted here, I knew my hunger for John’s body could never be satiated. But, I was determined to devour as much as I could. John eased his grip and moved my face to his left nipple that I eagerly nursed on. My hands began to explore wherever they could reach – groping, kneading, squeezing, caressing, fondling, probing. John’s tit hardened in my mouth as I continued to rub and lick it with my tongue, and nibble and suck it with my lips. A deep moan escaped from his lips as his head fell back in ecstasy. My hands continued to roam over his body, taking in the wide expanse of his thick, flaring back, his round, marble butt cheeks, his chiseled abs and his diamond cut quads. John’s thick fingers ran through the curls in my hair as he pushed by face over to his right nipple where I repeated my worshiping tactics on the hot muscle. He fixed my eyes with his, lust pouring from his stare, and he began to flex and bounce his right pec, challenging me to keep my mouth locked onto his tit. I could delay my urges no longer and gripped his huge @#%$ in my right hand and commenced stroking and squeezing it. It was hard to imagine, but I thought I could feel John start to shake with the tension of his passion. It was clear that he was as turned on as I was. I knew that just a couple of tugs on my dick would send me over the edge. Ignoring the urge to touch myself, I continued to concentrate on giving John anything he wanted.

Anything. •