Mentoring Muscle


By Londonboy

I couldn't believe my bad luck. It was Saturday morning and I had no hot water. That is one thing that I cannot stand - taking a cold shower. A full hour late I had determined that my hot-water heater was completely gone. Just my luck. I decided to head down to Home Depot and get a new heater since I had nothing better to do that day and I knew I would want hot water soon.

I am not fully aware of where all items are at the Home Depot near me so I was wandering around for a few minutes and stumbled into the back area where workers were unloading some pallets full of crates. I heard two workers talking about the guy before I even saw him. Little did I know that my life would be changed completely that day.

"He really makes us look bad." The first guy said.

"I know," said the second guy, "he unloads an entire shipment before we can get half of a pallet unloaded. He really needs to stop making us look so lazy."

It was that moment when the guy being discussed came into view. He was returning through the swinging doors to the back part of the store and I gasped out loud when I saw him. He wore a light blue polo shirt, shorts and the requisite orange Depot apron. His shoulders were so wide that it looked like two people were entering through the doors. His biceps filled the polo shirt sleeves completely. His chest stretched the shirt forward so much that it caused a deep crevice and made it impossible for him to ever make the three buttons be able to be fastened. And then I looked down at the tree-trunk legs that fully filled his shorts. Every step he took caused each leg to ripple with hard muscle. I was mesmerized. The other two guys noticed him and then rolled their eyes at each other. The giant walked over to the crates stacked on the pallet and put his huge arms around a wooden box that was the size of small refrigerator. He lifted the crate and his arms exploded with veins and obviously hard muscles. As he lifted the crate off the pallet he turned and walked away from me. His back flared out even wider from the strain of lifting the box. Even through his polo shirt I could see a muscled back that most men only dreamed of. The v-shape was unbelievable. It seemed as if he was not even straining from the weight of the crate. He exited through the double doors again.

After he left the two other workers walked to a crate and one said, "He really should use the dolly!" With that the two guys both pressed against the side of a crate to lift it enough to slip the large red dolly under. After counting to three one guy push on the side of the crate as another guy pulled on the dolly to lift the crate off the floor. It was obvious that they were straining hard just to get the crate tilted enough to push it through the double doors. My mind was racing faster than I could ever remember. The display of strength by the huge man had caused me to start getting hard. As he walked back through the doors I knew I would have to act fast.

"Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me where the hot-water heaters are? I've been looking for a while." I stammered my question out to get his attention and noticed his nametag said Jack. He turned to me and I was able to take in how huge he was. I am about six foot and it was obvious that he had about three inches on me. His shoulders and the size of his arms made him look much taller and larger than me.

"Sure," he said smiling a big smile, "let me show you."

My knees were a little weak as I started following him. From behind I could tell he has an ass to die for. I believe I could have balanced a couple of glasses on the shelf that bubble butt made. It also looked as hard as stone. And those legs. I had never seen calves that thick. They looked like he had stuck small watermelons into his skin. His thighs looked as wide as my waist. It was obvious that I would not be able to slide even a piece of paper between those mountainous thighs. I imagined placing my hand between them and asking him to squeeze. I was day dreaming so much that I did not notice he had stopped and turned toward me. I walked right into his chest. It was like hitting a wall of concrete. I kind of bounced off him and stumbled backward. He reached out with one hand and grabbed my shoulder. His hand engulfed my whole upper arm. He was able to steady me immediately.

"Sorry," I said.

"No worries," he shyly said back. "Here are the water-heaters. What size are you looking for?"

"I guess I want to just replace the 50 gallon one I have now."

"How bout this one," he said easily lifting the box from the top shelf and setting it in front of me.

"It looks good," I said as I watched his relaxed biceps. I was harder than I ever remembered being. It was so obvious to me that he had no idea how much he turned me on. He was talking about why this water heater was a good one to get. I wasn't listening to a thing he said. I was just imagining sticking my hand down the front of his shirt and feeling one of those mounds of pec muscle. They both bounced as he move his arms while talking.

"So, do you know how to install one of these?" he was asking.

Once again I was glad that I could think fast on my feet. I had installed a few water heaters over my 31 years, but something led me to say, "No, I guess I'm going to have to get some help."

"Well, we can send someone out to install it for just a little more money."

"Can you install it for me?" I blurted out a little too quickly. He looked a little taken aback. For a split second I feared I had been a little too impulsive.

"Well, sure, you can request a specific worker if you like," he said a little hesitantly.

"Great, Jack," I said acknowledging his name tag, "That would be great. When could you do it?"

"Well, we are pretty slow today. I bet I could get clearance to do it right now," he said already lifting the box. "Here, let me take this to the front for you and we can find out."

I was on fire with excitement. The thought of a few more moments with this giant was too much. We made our way to the front and he placed the box on a flat cart.

"I'll be right back," he said as I got in the check out line. he came back a few minutes later and said, "Well, I can come and help, but our delivery trucks are out on runs right now. Can you wait until later on. It might not be me, but someone can do it this afternoon."

Before I knew what I was saying I quickly added, "I have an Explorer and this thing will fit in it perfectly. Can you just ride with me and I can bring you back? It is only about three miles away." I knew I might be treading on thin ice, but I knew I could not miss this opportunity. I was ready to risk anything to see this chiseled god for a little longer.

"Let me check," he said a little quicker than I thought he would. A few minutes later, as I finished checking out, Jack came back and this time he did not have on the orange apron and I gasped for the second time. He was the most perfect man I had ever been this close to. He smiled and said, "I am actually off work in about thirty minutes so they said I could just go home when I'm done at your place. I usually take the subway, so do you mind just taking me home when I'm done. I don't live far from here either. I felt that my dick would explode right then.

"Hey, that's not a problem. This works out perfect. My name is Stephen, by the way," I said holding out my hand. His hand engulfed mine completely as he roughly grabbed and shook my hand. It was as if electricity has surged through my body. Never had I talked this much to someone so completely covered in muscle. All my jerk-off fantasies were coming true at this moment. Jack pushed the cart to the parking lot and followed my directions to my car. He easily lifted the box into the car and walked to the passenger side of the car.

"I really appreciate this, Jack," I said as we got in the car.

"My pleasure," he said. He had no idea that the pleasure was completely mine. As he reached up to pull the seatbelt across his powerful chest his bicep peaked slightly and I got a glimpse of what it must look like flexed. I had become completely oblivious to the raging hard-on in my tenting my jeans. I had no idea if he noticed it or not.

I had been brave so far so I decided to not stop now. As we were driving the short trip to my house I looked at his thick legs and wondered what it would feel like to grab them as he flexed. I imagined me running my tongue up and down the perfect grooves that ran up and down his slightly exposed thighs. It looked like granite covered in skin. I knew I had to try and get him talking about his body. I needed to find out how this muscle stud had created this beautiful body. I resorted to the dumbest statement ever, but I somehow knew it would work.

"Jack, it looks to me that you must like to work out," I said glancing at him.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said gently. After a slight pause he added, "I guess you could say it is what I like to do more than anything in the world."

"Well, it shows," I added cautiously. Then I added, "It shows a lot and it looks good." I could tell this made him a little nervous, but I don't think it was because he was uncomfortable from what I said. I got the feeling he was uncomfortable because I complimented his body.

"There are some people who get a little intimidated or who I think I am a little freakish sometimes," he said looking out his window.

"Well, Jack, I think it is pretty impressive - what you have accomplished with your body. There are many people in the world who would give anything to have a body like yours," I blurted out without thinking. Jack laughed a little and I could tell he turned a little red in embarrassment. My mind was spinning. Was it possible that this man covered with muscles upon muscles could actually not realize how georgeous he was? I also wondered if he realized how strong he must be. I bet he had never tested himself. I decided to push a little further and asked, "Jack, why do you work out?"

"Well, Stephen, I've always been big. I can't remember a time when I wasn't bigger than everyone around me. And I've always worked out. My dad had a weight set when I was growing up and he began me on those when I was about six years old. I just do it because it makes me feel good. I get a rush all over my body by lifting heavy weights and straining my body. I hope that doesn't sound weird or like I'm all caught up in myself. It's just that I like to lift - it's almost spiritual for me."

I couldn't tell Jack what I was thinking. I couldn't tell him that not only did it not sound weird to me, but I could think of nothing that I would rather see than him lifting and straining every perfect muscle of his body. I couldn't tell him that I wanted to feel every part of his body as he flexed and pushed his muscles to the extreem. I merely said, "Jack, none of that sounds weird. You have built one great body and you have nothing to be ashamed of. You put any man I've ever met to shame. You be happy with the gift you've been given. You have a great body and you have worked hard to make it that way. You have nothing to be ashamed about." I could tell he was turning a deep red and he looked away from me. After a second I saw him run his left hand over his right bicep looking at the peak as he did it. I saw a tiny smile come across his face. Jack obviously needed someone to help him see how perfect he was. I was more than happy to help. I knew this day was only going to get better. •

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