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Muscle Fantasy Man
| was thinking about what my ultimate fantasy man would look like. He
be tall, about 6'3". Probably in his late 30's to early 40's. He would
black wavy hair, dark brown eyes, and skin that was somewhat tan.
looking I guess you may say. His beard would be very thick, and about
inch long. High cheekbones and full lips covering straight white teeth.
Do you think that he would be at all muscular? He would be a mountain of a man, brawny as any bodybuilder that ever lived! Not only would he have huge size, but he would be sliced and striated. No body fat beneath his paper-thin skin. His head would be set on a thick column of a neck that rose above his broad shoulders. The cannonballs that were his deltoids would cap his enormous torso. Beneath the delts would be his rugged pecs. Huge mounds of hard muscle jutting out proudly, 65 inches round. The nipples would be erect and large enough to poke through the thick, black hair that swirled over his chest. The hair would form a triangle beneath the pecs. Flaring out on either side would be the thick slabs of muscles of his traps. His torso would taper down to a tight waist, the abdominals forming a hard six pack. The serratus muscles of his side abs would be like etched granite. The tie-in between his arms and shoulders would be well-defined. The beefy arms would hang down, the horseshoe of his triceps bulging with power. The biceps and forearms would have veins coursing through them that would twitch every time he moved his hands. When his mighty arms are flexed, the peak of his biceps would stetch the tape to 24 inches. Continuing back at his waist, his thighs would be massive to support his heavy frame. The muscles of his quads would show distinctly. His calves would be hard as the diamonds that they are shaped like. Thick and muscular. His legs would have a network of veins crisscrossing underneath the thin skin, pumping the blood needed to sustain this incredible mass. His cock would be well shaped, the circumcized head swollen on the rigid shaft. "Just" about 8.5 inches long, and thick. His balls would be large and heavy, hanging from a nest of black hair.
He wouldn't have to be particularly strong. If he could only do 20-30 reps on the benchpress with 6 45-pound plates on each side, over 560 pounds including the bar, that's OK. If he can only manage 3 sets of 15 reps of concentration curls with 120 pound dumbbells I won't complain. If he gets a little tired after doing 20 reps on the leg press machine with 1200 pounds on it, I wouldn't kick his shoes away from my bed. He would do one-arm rows with a special 260-pound dumbbell to work on his back. One arm tricep extensions with 100 pounders would be child's play for him. He'd spend about half an hour doing crunches while holding a 120-pound dumbbell behind his head. Lateral raises with 180-pound dumbbells should work his broad shoulders pretty well.
He'd probably spend three to four hours a day in the gym, working out. And I'd want to spend every minute in there with him, watching him. When he's doing flyes, I would stand behind him so that I could see his massive, hairy pecs get squeezed together as he brings the weights overhead. Watching the sweat trickle down the cleft between his chest muscles would be an extra treat. Lat pulldowns, t-bar rowing, seeing his back muscles spring into relief, my cock would be stirring in my shorts. When he does pull ups I would climb on and wrap my arms up around his armpits, holding onto his Samson-like shoulders as he pulls us up, slowly lets us down, over and over and over. I'd sit on his lap while he was sitting at the leg extension machine. His whole body straining as he lifts up the entire 200 pound stack with one leg at a time. I'd watch his melon glutes and hamstrings flexing as he lay down at the leg curl machine. And my cock would be stiff and hard, because I would be thinking of riding that muscular ass. When he does behind the neck presses to broaden his rock hard shoulders, all the plates on the bar would be clanking together as he presses the bar up and down with ease. His titantic triceps would spring into bold relief as he does pushdowns with the cables. And the final body part that he would work on would be my favorite - his thick, cut biceps. Standing barbell curls, preacher curls, incline curls, concentration curls - my cock would be oozing pre-cum as I watched his arms bulge and bunch up with every rep. Sometimes when he did an extra work out at home I would crouch between his legs and suck on his cock while he pumped out the concentration curls. His big biceps would be flexing before my eyes, swelling up with every rep. Each time it bulged up, I would take the hard shaft of his cock down my throat. But at the gym I would have to control myself.
Sometimes we'd hit the showers before going home. Many times we would be so horny that we would race out in our sweaty workout clothes, the manly scent from the exertion acting like a heady perfume. Once home, I would slowly approach him as he stood there like a statue of Hercules. Some days I would go slowly, pulling the shirt out from his shorts, easing it up over his wide shoulders and arms, exposing the hairy chest, the ridges of his abs. I'd work his tight shorts down past his knees, past his calves, so that he could step out of them. I'd kneel before him, reaching up to the jock that held his thickening cock and big balls. Slowly I would free his hard on from the jock, letting it bounce free in front of my face. Other times the heat of our passion would drive us to get naked as soon as we were in the door. Maybe he would be extra turned on by his own body because he was able to increase the weight on his benchpress to 600 pounds. He would grab the front of his tee shirt and rip it down the front, exposing the brutal chest muscles, the nipples hardening as he anticpated my mouth on them. He'd grab me and tear the shirt and shorts off of my body in his eagerness to get at my own tight buns and hairy chest.
But however his clothes came off, he would treat me to a long session of sexy, hardcore muscle posing. All the work he had done in the gym would be revealed for my admiration, worship, and reverence. He would revel in the power and size of his own body. No matter how many times I saw him show off, each time would be more exciting than the last. His dense, vascular arms would be flexed over and over for me to feel, nuzzle, and lick. When he straightened his arms behind his back, the triceps would be striated and huge. His chest would swell up as he flexed it for me while I ran my hands through the thick hair. I would rub my face against those hairy manly pecs, rubbing my beard around his nipples. Turning his back to me, he would spread his wings wide, the traps and back an enormous display of power. Facing me again, he'd squeeze and roll his abs, the six pack hard and unyielding to my touch. When he flexed his quads, the muscles would spring into distinct relief, each vein and striation clearly visible. Rising on his toes to flex his calves, he would give a side chest pose to follow. And all the time he would have a wicked smile, knowing that he was great and I was enthralled by him. "Feel that muscle," he'd say. "You saw me working hard for this body. I moved tons of steel today and for years before so I could get these muscles. WORSHIP THEM!" My hands would be all over his body, feeling every inch of his firm, bulging muscles. "FEEL THE POWER!" he'd command. And I would be moaning in ecstasy, acknowledging his superhuman form. "Yes, yes, my incredible musclestud. No one else on earth is your match. Please let me feel your body. Let me see you flex all night. Big man. Powerful man. Let me worship you!" And he would flex with all his might in a most muscular pose, then step closer and do it again, his monstrous arms around me, my face close to his bearlike chest.
Maybe we would make it to the bedroom. Often we wouldn't. I would grab onto his gargantuan biceps as he flexed them, and I'd pull myself up and wrap my legs around his wasp-waist. I'd hang on to those arms as we rubbed our beards against each other, along our necks and faces. He'd bend forward and thrust his tongue into my mouth, kissing me hard. Sometimes he'd hold me in one arm as he jerked my cock with the free hand. I'd be feeling his hairy chest and baseball-sized biceps, safe and secure in his strong arms. Other times I would start with my mouth at the base of his neck and slowly, slowly start moving my mouth down over his godlike body. Down through the fur on his chest, pausing to suck on one nipple, then moving across to the other. Continuing down past the ridges covering his stomach, til I was on my knees, facing his rigid cock. His hard on throbbing before me, I'd take his cock into my mouth. He'd be groaning as I tongued the shaft, slurping on his manhood. One of my hands would cup his balls, pulling on them slightly, twisting them just a little. My other hand would be stroking my own dick, stiff with wonder at the incredible guy I was blowing. His cum would blast into my mouth and I'd shoot my own load, spurts of cum arcing through the air. Sometimes he'd carry me into the bedroom, where he would pin me down on the bed. His powerful hands on mine, pressing me down with no effort. He would gently lube my ass, then grease his shaft. Carefully he would press his big dick into me, until I had taken it all the way. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, he would fuck me. My hands would be roaming all over his massive body, high on how hard they felt. The veins popping out, the striations flashing into view as he pounded my butt. I'd hold on as long as I could, but eventually his fucking would make me shoot my load all over my stomach and his. The tightening of my ass would bring him over the edge and I'd feel his sperm shooting deep into me. We'd spend hours enjoying each other, me getting off on his muscles and strength, he getting off on my getting off on him. That's my fantasy.
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