Lil' Dude


By Richard Jasper

NOV. 1

Well, gosh.

I'm not sure what to think. I really didn't expect that to happen!

Philip showed up in the locker room at exactly 7 a.m. First thing we did was take his measurements: 6 feet tall (about an inch taller than I am), 160 lbs. And like I said, *perfect* proportions -- 42 inch chest, 29 inch wasit, 23 inch quads, 15 inch biceps, 15 inch cavles, 16 inch neck.

And a nice package in his shorts, but, NO, I didn't measure *that*!

It was great to be back in the open weightroom. All those guys who seemed so big and intimidating back in August kept coming up to say "hi" and "how you doing?" and "can I get a spot?" Philip seemed a little miffed, at least until we got started. The the rest of the gym disappeared, as it has a way of doing when I find my focus. I took him through all the moves, emphasizing form. He's a total natural, of course, and stronger than he looks -- he benched 205 lbs. for 10 reps, no seat.

We spent about an hour in the weightroom, going through ALL the exercises, ALL the machines. I kept a pair of 150 lb. dumbbells with me the whole time -- I figured I might as well get a workout, too! By the end of the hour I'd done about 30-40 sets and my arms were *really* pumped.

After the workout we headed back to the dorm to shower and get ready for class.

In the changing room I realized I'd overdone it a little bit. My arms were so pumped I couldn't get them over my head! I kept tugging at my white tee but it was plastered to my body like a second skin.

"Uh, Philip..." I began.

I looked up to find him staring at me in open amazement.

"Could you...?"

He came forward slowly, so that we were standing hip to hip, face to face, our noses only inches apart.

Slowly he reached down and pulled my shirt up. I leaned over from the waist, extending my arms in front of me, as he pulled the soaking wet tee from my body.

"You don't ever really look at your back, do you?" he whispered.

I straightened up and looked at him quizzically.

"Hmm, now that you mention it..."

"Come over here," he said, taking my hand. The changing room had a dressing mirror, like in a clothing shop, the kind that allows you to look at your back and sides as well as your front.

He stood me in front of it, then I turned so that I could see.


I don't have a back any more.

I have a mountain range!

Peaks and valleys.




Rolling plains.

So fucking broad!

So fucking thick!

The erector spinae twin ranges converging on Olympian traps.

I heard Philip sweating.

That's right.

*Heard* him.

It dripped off his brow and landed on the tile floor with an audible *smack*.

That's when I noticed.

My sweats were totally tenting, and when that thing gets going, well, Philip wasn't lying when he called me "Big All Over."

He was whispering something but the blood was still ringing in my ears.


He gulped, then spoke up.

"Can I see it...?"

I looked down at him, the blond curls on his head repeated by the fine blond swirls of fuzz on his strong, supple neck.


We said it as one.

I gently lowered my sweats.

Oh, God.

I didn't know anything could feel that good. Like fire and ice together. So sweet, so soft, yet so firm and insistent.

I don't know how long it went on.

Without thinking, I found myself pinching my nipples. So *that's* what they're for!

And then it was over and he was standing with his arms around me, beautiful face leaning against my massive chest, licking his lips.

I didn't know men could purr.

"Philip, I began..."

He put his finger to my lips.

"More later..." he said.

And then he was gone.

I never made it to class. I never made it to the gym -- the first day I've missed since I started in August!

Crhis came by at dinner time.

"You alright, Lil Dude?"

I didn't know what to say.

I still don't. •

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