By Brad Lee

I got into the lifting thing about a year and a half ago when I was a freshman in college. I mean, lifting other guys - I've been weight training pretty seriously since I was about 14 or so. I'm not all that huge, just 5'10" and 185 lbs., but it's all hard, solid, perfectly proportioned muscle, the kind that turns heads: 29" waist, 47" chest, 17" arms, a nice face, killer smile and a great ass!

Anyway, my roommate in the dorms that first year was this guy, Robert. Nice enough guy I guess, not bad looking, kinda geeky, but you know, no problem. We didn't really have all that much in common, I'm this workout freak, down at the gym every morning before classes, running in the afternoon, and he's 'Mr. Nose in the Computer", about 135 lbs. of scrawn and bones. His big recreation is smoking a doobie. Another thing, kickin' back in my own room, I wear boxers and that's about it - I mean if you had a bod like me you'd do the same thing, right? Ol' Robert's more of a big sweatshirt and baggy pants kinda guy, which doesn't surprise me, but he had no complaints about my dress code. In fact, he liked to check me out just about every chance he got when he thought I wouldn't notice. But, hey, I'm pretty used to that.

Actually, I purposely used to give him a special bonus gawk whenever I got out of the shower and he was around. I've got kinda long, thick hair, so after I'd dry off in the bathroom, I'd walk back out into our room buck naked with the towel wrapped around my head drying my hair off and my big meaty dong wavin' right in little Robbie's face.

But getting back to the point of the story. Robert and I used to watch Letterman for a while before turning in, and I got in the habit of doing some calisthenics, just some push-ups or whatever, while we watched the tube. I heard that if you got your heart rate up and a little pumped before going to bed it would speed up your metabolism all night long, and I was trying to get my body- fat down below 5%. Besides, I thought it'd give Robert a little more ammo for his wank-off sessions to see a nice sweaty muscle boy all nice and hard and pumped before he headed off to dreamland.

Anyway, one night I got Robert to hold my ankles while I did some crunches on the floor in front of the TV. Course, he got a great view of my slim waist and ripped six-pack as I pumped out the reps. But I got to thinking, Robert's such a good little helper, maybe he could help with the push-ups too? It didn't take a lot of convincing. I laid down flat on the floor and got Robert to sit up high on my back and rest his feet on my ass while he put his hands on my delts for balance. "Jeez. Can you really do this?" he asked. Daaa! I did 4 sets of 15 with perfect form and told him to get off. Actually, I think he was already getting off. Just to be sure though, I put my hands on my hips, did a lat spread and flexed my chiseled pumped pecs for him. "Dude, that was great! Look what a great pump I got with my little bud on my back - here Robert, just FEEL!" I grabbed his skinny little wrists and put his hands up on my chest. His hands were like quivering uncontrollably, I thought he was gonna faint of something. "Oh woww..." He turned around kinda abruptly and headed for the bathroom, I think maybe he came in his pants.

Well, we kept doing the push-ups with Robert on my back, cause it really did give a great pump, but that was just the beginning. I wanted to use some bigger muscles to get my heart rate up, so I'd pick Robert up across my shoulders, you know, kinda a fireman's carry thing, and do squats. He wasn't really heavy enough for squats though, I mean, I could've done those all night long. I could tell Robert liked it, cause I could feel his little dick hard as a fucking rock as it squeezed against my big meaty shoulder again and again with each rep. Instead of straight squats I tried doing lunges, and actually started just leaping off the ground with my puny little roommate/barbell on my shoulders.

When I'd jump up like that Robert's body would naturally just kinda fly up in the air, flailing around like some kind of stuffed doll, so this one time I just shifted my grip as he went up and caught him overhead by his shirt collar and the crotch of his jeans and held him there. I walked over in front of the mirrored closet doors and said, "Dude, look at you, you're my little Bob-bell!" and pumped out a few quick overhead presses. I mean, the guy was so puny it was really no sweat. "'Except I'm gonna have to fatten you up if I'm gonna get any exercise for these big guns of mine." I lowered him all the way down to my chest and gave one big heave, tossing him about three feet above my head and then caught him in my arms as he came down.

I held him there against my chest for a minute. I mean, he was breathing harder than I was! I could feel his heart pounding in his chest and I could see that pathetic little woody of his trying to tent up his pants. "You know Robbie, I'm beginning to think you got the hots for my body."

A look of stark fear sweep over his face, "I'm sorry, but I think you're the handsomest, strongest, most sexy man in the whole world!" He burst into tears. I squeezed him even harder against me, then rested one foot up on the coffee table and swung him up so he sat straddling my leg, his feet still dangling a few inches off the floor. "Hey, don't worry babe, you can't help it if big, strong muscle boys get you all hot n' bothered..."

I hooked one hand behind Robert's butt and slid his hot little crotch up along my pumped muscular thigh 'til he was tight against my hip. Then I slid my hand up his back slowly pressing his thin torso against my hard, thickly muscled chest. He was literally like putty against me. As my left hand reached the back of his neck, I raised my right arm guiding his lips to my hard, peaked, bulging bicep. "Go ahead baby, show me."

His soft warm lips melted against my steely ball of muscle, kissing, licking, sucking it all over, while he moaned and cooed like some animal in heat. I noticed he was also gently humping against my thigh he sat on while he hungrily made out with my flexed arm. Gradually he worked his way down 'til his face was deep in my armpit, in a daze feverishly licking and lapping with his tongue.

Finally, I took his head in both my hands and looked into his face. He was still breathing heavily; I could sense his heart racing. "That's quite a hot little mouth you've got there, Robert. Let's see if we can't put it to good use, and maybe get you a nice, high-protein dietary supplement in the process."

Robert turned out to be just an ideal roommate, going down on me 2 or 3 times a day, whenever I wanted really. And he loved it, just couldn't get enough of my big muscle stud dick. By the end of the year he'd put on 8 or 9 lbs., most of it muscle, and I like to think it was my special, hormone-rich sauce that did it. God knows he got plenty of it.

Of course, we kept up our late-night exercise regime, and added quite a few wrinkles. We picked up a few thick leather belts at a thrift store that were a big help. Wrapped around Robert's chest and hips they made great 'handles' for all kinds of lifts. I started with just one belt around his chest to do bent-over one-arm rows. With two belts I could do curls, and it made the overhead military presses a lot easier, especially because we were pretty much always naked. There were a couple other moves Robert really got off on, if you know what I wasn't so much an exercise but just a lift. I'd slip one arm between his legs and lift him off the ground in the crook of my elbow, then I'd raise my arm up to about shoulder level and he'd kinda steady himself with his hands on my shoulder. Then the part he liked -- I'd slowly flex and relax my arm while he rode my bicep on his stiff little cock. He could only take it for a minute or so before he'd shoot his wad all over my arm, then I'd let him down and he'd lick it clean. His other favorite was pull-ups, with a twist.

It had taken a long time before Robert could take my cock up his ass - I mean, its over 8" and thick too. But he really worked at it - hard. Anyway, we'd get in some pretty wild positions; he loved getting it while airborne. Like, I'd spread his legs wide and lift him up facing me with his legs hung over my forearms, lower his tight little ass on my big salami, then lock my hands behind the small of his back and just fuck him silly.

Oh yeah, the pull-ups. You can probably imagine. I'd lift him up onto my dick and he'd wrap his legs around my waist, his arms around my neck, then I'd go at it. The pull-ups, I mean. The trick was to pump 'em out fast enough so he'd piston up and down on my cock and not just hang there. Of course his hands were all over my lats and biceps and back as I knocked out rep after rep. He always came before my arms gave out though - like I said, it was one of his favorites.

By the time summer rolled around, Robert and I were a pretty expert team. Sometimes we'd head out to the beach, which is only about a half-hour from campus, and we'd do a few lifts, just for the hell of it. Actually, of course, we generated quite a bit of interest I mean, just me in a Speedo is pretty much a walking wet dream.

When it's a tan, handsome, built, hung dude (me) tossing some other dude around in the air and flexing his incredibly buff bod like all get out, well, people notice.

Robert is just about my height and with those huge fucking surfer shorts he always wore, he didn't really look all that small, so when I pressed him overhead with just one hand, you could actually hear people gasp in disbelief. First I'd squat down behind him and he'd sit back on one of my shoulders, then I'd just stand up with him on board, easy really. Then I'd put one hand palm-up under his butt and kinda shift his weight onto my hand. Kinda like throwing a shot put, you just use your legs to get his weight moving up and bingo. Looked a little like the Statue of Liberty on steroids. He'd just sit up there with his ankles crossed. Balancing is a little tricky, but of course we'd had plenty of practice.

Usually some guys would come over, fags, either trying to act cool, or almost drooling, or, you know, throwin' wood. For some reason it was like a religious experience, cause they'd always say, "Oh my God", or "Holy Christ", or "Sweet Jesus" or something like that. Sometimes I'd let 'em put some suntan lotion on me though, just cause they were SO damn appreciative. But mainly, all kinda women would come over squealing to feel my muscles and everything, with their boyfriends sitting back fucking green with envy.

I always thought about those poor women, though, going home after a day at the beach. No matter how kind and sweet and generous their husband or boyfriend might be, when ol' Fred rolls over to make love with them, they're gonna close their eyes and dream that instead it's that strong, tan, dropdead gorgeous muscle boy with that big thick cock from the beach. •

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