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What Happened to Ken
|It was Super Bowl Sunday, and I was at a game day party. There were lots of handsome men, good food and plenty of beer. The crowd was playful, and, being that we were all Californians, no one really seemed to care too much about the game between New York and Baltimore.
I knew only a few people at the party -- a couple of good friends and a few more gym acquaintances. I was getting a little buzzed about the time I heard a couple of guys talking about Ken.
"He's done it right this time -- gotten the diet and workout in sync, and he's fuckin' huge and ripped...." My ears really perked up. Ken and I had had a little trist about 2 years ago. Ken was an increadibly handsome, swarthy, muscleman with a great coat of fur, huge pecs, great ass, and a nice dick. The trouble was, he was always either eating so much for size that he was a little too fat or too depressed about being fat to work out regularly. I had seen Ken a few times over the past couple of years, but he was always covered up by an oversized sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants. I hadn't known if he was still working out or had given it up for good. I wanted to find him now and see the transformation that had occurred.
I didn't have to wait long. As I was reaching for another beer, I heard a deep, sexy voice behind me say "Hi there, handsome. Need some help opening that up?" There was Ken, ever charming, warm, and freindly. Deeply sexy, lean or not. I grinned back from ear to ear and stood up kiss him hello. My cock flushed a bit from the familiarity of his 5 o'clock shadow. "Well, hello to you, too, handsome man. You're sure a site for sore eyes." Ken reached for my beer bottle and effortlessly pulled the cap off -- which wouldn't be a big deal if it were a screw cap, but he had just opened a regular bottle without using an opener, without any signs of effort or exertion. My dick flushed a little fuller.
We made some small talk and caught up on our respective lives over the next couple of beers, and all those old warm feelings I harbored for Ken floated up from my subconscious. He really was a wonderful guy, smart, funny and warm. I also knew he still carried a half-lit torch for me, and I caught him stealing glances at my muscular body and straining crotch bulge as we talked and carried on.
Ken was wearing a big fisherman sweater that did a good job of hiding his body from my inspection. But because I had heard about his transformation, I knew he'd be more than happy to share his results with me. When we were going out two years ago, I had been his mentor in the gym. I brought up the topic by saying, "So, Ken, are you still working out? I remember that fantastic body of yours, but I can't tell shit with you in that baggy wooley." "Yeah," he replied non-chalantly, "I've been puttin' in the time." Then he smiled devilishly and added,"I think you'd be impressed."
With that, he lifted up the front tail of his sweater just enough to let me get a glimps of the most amazingly chiseld, fur-covered eightpack I had ever seen. "Shit, Ken, what have you been doing?"
"SHHHH! Don't make such a racket. All I need is for these muscle queens to see me, and they'll all want in on my secret. You, on the other hand, are the best fuck I have ever had, and I want you to see what I've accomplished."
He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the back of our host's house, back to the master bedroom-bathroom-dressing room. He closed the door. Without a word, he grabbed my wrists and place my hands on his chest. I could feel the heat rising from underneath the sweater. His pecs felt huge, and I began massaging them with circular motions. He let out a little moan, and then began flexing his pecs underneath my touch. The movement was incredible. I thought his chest felt big relaxed, but as he flexed, my hands were lifted higher and higher, as if he were pumping up right there. I reached to pull his sweater off, but he again grabbed my wrists and stopped me. He then layed my hands upon his arms as he leaned forward and gently kissed me. The kiss was as gentle as it was erotic, and his heavy whiskers sanded my face as his tongue gently probed my mouth. Meanwhile, his arms were huge in my hands, and he began pumping them, alternately flexing biceps and triceps as I felt them grow. My dick was rapidly engorging, and I stepped into him to press my crotch into his. As I did, he again grabbed my wrists and placed my hands upon the globes of his ass which felt like flexing steel as I kneeded it.
I was really hot and bothered by now, and I didn't think I could take much more of this erotic play without ejaculating down my pantleg. I pushed him away and said,"come on now, Ken, let me see what you've got hidden there." With that, he slowly and silently took one step back, and slowly pealed off his sweater. FUCK!! He was wearing a skintight t-shirt over the most massive, ripped body I had ever seen. His torso was huge, and his pecs jutted out about 5 or 6 inches. His traps were massive, and the sleaves of his t-shirt were pulled up high by the mass of his rounded deltoids. The arms that hung out of the sleeves were tanned and pumped and looked to measure at least 23 inches, and his forearms were thick and covered with crisscrossing veins and thick black hair. I could see the hair peaking above his shirt collar, too, which was pulled out a bit by his huge, thick pecs. Just the act of removing his sweater had set his muscles in motion, and I could still see them flexing and relaxing as he assumed a comfortable posture.
"Not bad, huh?" he asked as he casually flexed his pecs through the t-shirt. "My chest is up to 59 inches and these babies are 23" each," he said raising his arms into an incredible double biceps pose. "You thought you were big. Look at me now. Look at these arms, these traps, and these huge pecs. I could crush you with my power or I could just make you do whatever I say." With that, he reached over and rubbed his flexed right biceps with his left hand, then reached down and grabbed his crotch for a quick grope, and then pulled his sweater back over his head. "Let's get out of here."
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