Big is Better

The Power Of The Pen - Dulum


By XHuge4Muscl

When I got outside the whorehouse, it was as if I was instantly sober; and to say that I was also very somber is understating it entirely. John was already in the car and of course, with a shit-eating grin on his face asked very enthusiastically, " So just how WAS it, man?"

I said it was just fine, and feigned more enthusiasm than I was feeling right at that moment. But 'freak' was still screaming in my head, as if what I'd always half-thought was now a proven fact. John read through me like a book.

"OK - Something wrong, Pete?"

"I got'ta see a doctor," was all I replied somewhat coldly.

Naturally John asked why, saying, "God this sounds serious, like it's a big deal or something!"

"Yes, it's a very big deal John - and it's kind'a personal, OK?"

I think it was the very next week I pulled myself up by my own bootstraps, swallowed hard, and marched myself into the college infirmary. Scared almost witless, I fearfully stepped up to the receptionist and asked if it was possible to see a real doctor rather than a nurse-practitioner. The receptionist of course said that would depend on what was wrong with me, and proceeded to ask about the nature of my problem.

"It's personal. It's very important- but it's definitely personal…"

"Oh, I see," she said. My immediate thought was, "Oh God, she sees? How could she see it? I'm standing up against a high counter!" But then it occurred to me that she probably thought I had a venereal disease or something similar.

"Oh, it's not what you're thinking - It's NOTHING like THAT," I quickly blurted out. "I'm not sick or nothing. I've just got a - a thing - a kind of a big skin thing - that I want to talk about with a real doctor."

"Like a growth?" she asked.

"Well yes, kind'a - that too, I guess…." I squirmed, now more anxiously waiting for these questions would come to an end.

She asked if I could show this to her, to which I responded instantly, "No. Definitely - NO!"

I eventually got in to see a male doctor. He was a fairly young guy dressed in jeans and a white coat, which made me feel slightly more at ease - well, just slightly…

When he asked me to show him my problem, I hesitated and then undid my buckle and tugged down my jeans to my knees. The doctor just looked at Johann and his Two Friends - completely deadpan and expressionless- for the longest time.

To break the uncomfortable silence, I said, "It's all… well it seems to me like it's all just… just too much!"

The doctor sort of choked a bit and then, clearing his throat a few times, proceeded to confirm that my, "male genitalia did appear on gross inspection to be unusual, but not deformed."

I took that to mean I was built like a bull, and my baseballs and the bat went proportionally well together, and all that.

"So, was your daddy a bull elephant?" he asked with a rather wry grin, intending to make light of it and just break the ice a bit.

He proceeded to take an extensive medical history and gave me a complete physical exam - the very first I'd ever had in my life, in fact. I slowly became somewhat more at ease, eventually telling him more of the sordid details - my age when this had all had started to happen to me, my nightly dreams and the ocean of cum I'd wake up swimming in routinely every morning. Then I even got up the nerve to mention my spontaneous erections that happened all the time and also cumming rather uncontrollably in my pant with some frequency, too. In the end I'd told him almost everything remotely relevant. I never mentioned to the doctor however that I got hot over men. That simply didn't seem related to the problem or any of his business particularly either.

Not surprisingly, he needed to examine my cock and balls rather thoroughly, which he did sitting down while I stood there like a fool in front of him. Of course it goes without saying that as soon as he began to touch me, I sprang an boner. Although the doctor said not to worry about it, and that it was a "completely normal male reaction" - my cock had a much bigger reaction than I think he was maybe expecting. Totally embarrassed now, I started to apologize saying that I couldn't seem to control it at all.

"That's just like what always happens to me," I complained.

"I see what you mean…"

As he continued to examine and manipulate me, my cock continued to engorge dramatically- right up to the point where I think it would have eventually smacked him under his chin if he'd continued much longer. I really do believe that he was a very straight (heterosexual) doc actually. I certainly got no 'gay vibe' from him whatsoever, and he sported a wedding ring as well. But after awhile, even he oddly began to 'bone up' quite noticeably, too, in synchrony (if not even in sympathy) with my own massively-aroused piece of manhood.

He recomposed himself quickly enough though, saying, "I've seen enough now. You can get dressed again." Then he excused himself for a moment to get a drink of water.

I was dressed by the time he returned. He proceeded to tell me that he found no evidence of tumors and couldn't feel anything that seemed suspicious or out of the ordinary to him; well that is other than the unusually large size of my 'gonads' in general. So at least he did verbally confirm that aloud to me finally - that I was, indeed, an unusually big boy. But otherwise, I appeared to him to be in excellent health. Then he added that a more extensive evaluation was definitely warranted, and he ordered a bunch of blood tests and a CAT scan of my brain as well. I was told to make another appointment with him in a week so he'd have the results of all of these test back, which I did.

So one week later I returned and got both good news and bad news. The good news was at least I had some clearer answers that finally began to explain my particular male genitalia to me. The bad news was that there were no immediate cures available, however. There were no medications that I could take - certainly nothing that could be done surgically, like a 'dick & ball' reduction. Although the doctor could really only speculate, he said that he assumed that my size was likely caused by some unusual genetics - the genes I'd inherited from my father and that were probably 'normal' for the males in my family anyway. I did however have circulating levels of several hormones that were 'off the charts' as he put it for normal males- 3 to 4 times the average levels, in fact. Although sometimes unusually high hormone levels are caused by tumors, I had no indications of any in the CAT scan results. So in all probability, he speculated, "This was just the way I was made by God." Those were the doctor's exact words. Then he tacked on, "And after He made you, I think he broke the mold…" He went on to hypothesize that since I'd been under the daily influence of extraordinarily high levels of some hormones since puberty, I had developed exactly the heavy-duty male equipment that these hormones commanded my body to grow all during my puberty.

"You should be smiling Peter. You're practically Superman!" the doctor said, trying again to make light of it all as well as to perhaps raise my spirits.

"So- I'm a freak then. That's what you're telling me," I responded.

He thought for awhile. "Think of yourself in more positive ways, Peter. You're a bright, young- and really- you're a good-looking guy. As an added bonus, you also just happen to be among the extraordinarily well-endowed males of our species - the real measure for manhood, I'd say," he chuckled. "And for Pete's sake- and I mean that very literally - stop beating yourself up and just enjoy these rather bountiful gifts you've been given. Hell- I would be if I were you," he said grinning from ear-to-ear.

The more I mulled this all over in my head during the immediate days that followed, the more that started to sound like increasingly good advice too. I decided I'd been isolated and alone long enough. It was time- definitely time- to start living my life as the person I was born to be- and that included a man who was hot for other men, as well. It had been almost five years since I'd felt the special magic of another man.


I hit the one and only local gay bar in town like a starving man would attack a banquet table- ravenously hungry. I was still under the legal drinking age of 21 in that state, but managed to circumvent that little problem by procuring a well-made false ID from a guy who specialized in such things around campus. He did really good work apparently because it was never questioned, even with my still obviously under-aged-looking face.

I was every bit young, dumb, and full of cum. What I lacked in 'people smarts' and perhaps common sense I more than made up for with enthusiastic horniness, at least initially- not unlike most young guys who are discovering the enticements of a gay bar for their very first time too, I suspect. Being a small town club, the clientele was very demographically limited and mostly all locals. I'd never seen the place even crowded. Of course I didn't know at that time what 'fresh meat' was, but looking back now I was unquestionably the living definition of it. Before long I found myself getting picked up with ever-increasing frequency. I admit that this really thrilled me, at least in the very beginning. But unfortunately, not too long after that I realized that I'd developed some kind of 'reputation' apparently among the small crowd of regulars that had spread by gossip like a wild fire; moreover, my sudden popularity was based completely on these innuendoes.

Of course every guy that I'd find myself going home with was older than I was. I was still underage. They were also much more experienced with sex though, and at least I did begin to pick up a few 'techniques' and other useful things.

But a few things however also became all-too-quickly apparent to me. Although some of these guys were certainly good-looking, almost all of them were on the thin side. Actually they were more on the skinny side or so it seemed to me. As time progressed I became more aware that I just wasn't seeing the kind of guys who really attracted me in that bar. Sadly, it was also becoming more obvious to me that invariably the guys who picked me up had eyes that were bigger than their… orifices. While they all clearly wanted to sample what they'd apparently heard rumored about me, it always turned out to be much more than they could really handle.

So more often than not, the actual sex was sadly unfulfilling for me. Sometimes, it was even pitiful and humiliating. I had guys go down on me in a way that felt more like I was being attacked by some crazed animal. Others seemed almost maniacally determined that they were going to get thoroughly plowed before I would be released from my sexual obligations. Still others would damn near go through a whole bottle of poppers trying to somehow cram me into their eager asses - and boy, try they definitely did. But in spite of their unbridled enthusiasm, they still could not manage to actually get me inside of them. Moreover, as they continued with their futile attempts, I began to see another pattern emerging - their attention and focus was totally on my dick. I began to notice that they often wouldn't look at my face let alone into my eyes. It wasn't me at all they were interested in. Eventually some would give up and just hold me like a club in their hands, looking rather sheepish and certainly disappointed. Others, failing to get me even through their gauntlet of teeth, would end up licking me like some kind of lollypop while they jerked them off. Still others got unexplainably outright indignant and pissed off about it.

I would hear comments like, "Hey, I like big poles, but that's a damn sequoia you've got there."

On another occasion it was, "Just what the hell do you actually expect me to DO with that thing anyway!"

Even worse, I actually heard one time, "God, your daddy must've been an elephant!"

It seemed that one phrase had a way of coming back to haunt me over and over again, as if I had it tattooed on my forehead. And as for the sex, well.. It actually wasn't very enjoyable for me. Frankly, by then end of most sessions I'd find myself raw and sore, and probably hurting a bit more than I should be. I can only imagine that some of those guys must have felt equally as beat up afterwards. So that's the way it typically went for me.

I started the bad habit of drifting off into my own thoughts on more than one occasion as my 'host for the night' continued to work obsessively for what seems like hours in a feeble attempt to somehow get my cock into him. And while the guy inevitably pounded away on me, I realized that as far as he was concerned anyway, I was just a thing to him - granted, perhaps a very big one. I usually laid there like a lump of coal watching him trying to miraculously perform the impossible with an odd reoccurring picture flashing through my mind. It was a picture of my cock and balls sitting in a large jar of formaldehyde somewhere on public display in the Smithsonian Institute, with a prominent label "Son of The Elephant Man's Gonads"….. That wasn't a particularly pleasant mental digression or all-that-effective escape for me either.

I was close to my final straw however the time when the guy just started to laugh hysterically when he got a good look at my woody, and then he said, "You've got to be kidding. - Just… just leave, please…"

That was it. Just like that, I was summarily dismissed.

So within all-to-short a period of time, my experiences with man-to-man sex became a cumulative string of major disappointments that only reminded me again that I was, in fact, very much a freak.

As essentially these same scenarios unfolded night after night - in many ways only the faces changed - I became more convinced that I was destined to be alone forever, and with that revelation came increasingly dejection. I was to be completely wrong on both counts, for I was about to meet a man I thought could not exist- a man named simply Sam.


You may recall that I'd said in the very beginning that Sam and I were as different as night and day in about every way you could imagine. To begin with, Sam was raised in an environment almost the exact opposite from the one that I was raised in. In my world, everything was learning to conform to strict rules and understanding all the things I could not or should not do. Sam was raised without rigid social conventions or really any limitations whatsoever, as far as I can tell. In fact, he seemed to thrive on being different. His family was quite non-conventional, to say the very least. Where I was instantly chastised for going against any proscribed social conventions, Sam was actually very supported and even encouraged to be exactly who he was in the world.

We did have one thing - and only one thing - in common during our childhood, and oddly that centered around 'size', too. Samson was always much taller and heavier than other boys his same age when he was growing up. This was exactly the opposite of my own experience. I couldn't help wondering if his parents may have had the same perverted sense of humor (or crystal ball perhaps) that I imagined my own did when Sam's parents somehow selected his own first name as well. His Dad was a well-known heavy-weight professional wrestler, and it appears that he got at least some of his fundamental genetics for size anyway right from his old man. Sam was just a very big boy growing up and was commonly mistaken to be in a more advanced grade level than he actually was. No doubt that assumption contributed to his academic problems too, as Sam was naturally always perceived by teachers as being much older than he actually was. Another obvious contrast between us was that I was, for the most part, uncomfortable in my own skin usually, whereas Sam had always been more than O.K. with exactly who he was. He told me once that other kids always teased him unmercifully. I could relate to that part of his background anyway. For what I've pieced together, his dad was actually instrumental in helping Sam make a healthy adjustment and helped him see at still a young age that there was nothing that was ever going to make him a average-sized kid, and getting angry wasn't going to change that. So Sam learned well the concept of acceptance and tolerance early on, a lesson many of us actually could still stand to learn. Moreover he accepted both his physical gifts as well as his definite limitations with an ease and nonchalance - even with a certain grace - which even today is still a marvel for me to behold.

Sam was exposed to weights and physical training at a very early age. His Dad worked out both vigorously and regularly - an occupational necessity in his father's particular line of work. Sam was at 'the iron game'- and seriously too, I've gathered- by the time he was probably 7 or 8 years old. Moreover, his father was genuinely proud of his son's capabilities, and enthusiastically encouraged and supported Sam's interest in 'heavy metal'. Sam's also told me that they used to lift together- father and son. Sam's physical abilities have always been nothing short of astounding. By the time he was in junior high school, he told me that his physique was already becoming very 'unusual'. Where I had always struggled with accepting my own particular brand of freakiness, Sam absolutely thrived on being a really big guy.

"I couldn't get smaller so I decided to get bigger!"

Nature positioned him to make the absolute most out of his great physical assets - more than you could even imagine, in fact. You see, Sam genuinely believes that he had something incredibly special given to him by God, too. According to him, the miracle really started happening when he hit puberty. His bones grew into an extraordinary large skeletal framework; one that was just perfectly constructed to support huge masses of muscle. You see, size has always mattered very much to him. Lifting was what he naturally excelled at and was absolutely compelled to do by his spirit too. To his real credit, Sam has never wasted the incredible physical gifts given to him. If you met him today and asked him what he does, I fairly certain that he would never answer that he worked as a personal trainer or coached at a college, which he did as well. He'd probably just answer simply, "I lift weights…"

You'd also immediately notice if you got to know Sam personally that his most significant limitation is his 'brains' or I should honestly say, lack thereof. He just wasn't blessed at all in that department to begin with, and his family's situation growing up probably only compounded the problem. Sam's not retarded, but he is nevertheless somewhat slow. I've since gotten used to describing him as "just a simple guy" - a VERY simple, basic guy - perhaps even the simplest of guys. His family was always moving around due to the demands of having a dad who was in the wrestling game. Sam's schooling suffered accordingly. He never graduated from high school and to this day has never even thought about getting his G.E.D. Frankly, he may not even know what G.E.D. stands for.

The truth is that Sam does only three basic things in life: (1) Eating - he eats just enormous quantities of food, enough easily for three grown men. (2) he moves extraordinarily large masses of iron around so effortlessly it takes my breath away literally, and; (3) is having Sex (and that, just about whenever he's not doing either of the other two).

OK. So Sam will never win the Nobel Prize, I know. But I also know that I'll never meet a more honest and straightforward guy in this lifetime. What you see is definitely what you get and he clearly knows who he is and, more importantly, who he is not. He's got a real humility too that is just incredibly rare to find in almost anyone these days. And it's worth noting as well that I've never seen Sam flaunt his unbelievable body either. He never wears muscle shirts, preferring his old beat up flannels or just an XXXXXXXXL sweatshirt. He simply doesn't have to. Whatever he happens to wear cannot hide or camouflage what's underneath. The particularly bold shapes and sweeping contours of his body are so unlike any 'normal' man's.

Sam's also frankly incapable of lying. He just isn't that complicated a person, or at all devious. I would increasingly come to admire his almost child-like straightforwardness. Lying and deceit take a certain mental capacity and a desire to manipulate others, as well as the ability to look into the future to plot 'alternatives' and 'scenarios'. Sam lives only for the moment he is in, and he can actually be no other way. He's simply not that deep. To be so would just give him a headache.

He holds no grudges and bears no one any ill will at all. I've only seen him get genuinely mad a few times in fact, and once he's vented it out, he's right back to his old self again and probably even forgot the circumstances entirely by the next day. Lucky for those poor souls who might otherwise have gotten on his bad side. He's very physically formidable - an absolutely gigantic mountain of a man who could certainly be completely intimidating, if that was in his nature. I came to understand that many people avoided him simply because of his freaky size and physique. He unintentionally scared most people away. Despite his having a really pleasant personality, he had almost no real friends except a few close 'lifting buds' at his gym and the college. He never complained about it though, and seemed to take life exactly on it's own terms. If he was lifting, he was happy; therefore, Sam was always happy.

I remember him once saying to me, "I really know I'm just dumb, Pete - but I can lift really big weights…"

And so he is - and so he does- and does he EVER. Sam was just born to hoist unimaginable masses of iron skyward. (He does a few other things very well too, by the way, which I'll get to later.)

Even more amazingly, he has absolutely no qualms about his sexuality, and I doubt he ever had for that matter. It's as totally natural a thing to him as is his amazing physique. There has never been anything to even question, in his own mind. He does as he pleases and knows exactly what he likes. Sam would never think of apologizing for or even being at all embarrassed about his sexual likes and choices. If it 'feels good', that's all that matters to him, and he's always been right up front about what really turns him on - and that is 'size'. Size matters to Sam. There's no such concept of 'too big' in his book. With Sam, bigger is simply and definitely better. So you see, in at least one specific area we are, I guess, in total and perpetual agreement. We're both strongly attracted to really big guys actually. It's only our individual ideas of where 'bigness' counts that really differs. Sam is a real aficionado of big meat. He's a 'meat freak' through and through, and totally infatuated by the really big ones, almost to the point of a kind of fetish-like worship actually. Hey - lucky me! This 'big one' had no intention of ever getting away!


I could never forget the details surrounding the day we first locked eyes on each other. It was in the dead of winter on a Sunday afternoon, I'm guessing around 2 P.M., and just as frigid as a witch's titty outside. I'd spent the previous several weeks in heads-down research work for almost every waking moment. I was horny as hell and in need of some man-company rather desperately - desperate enough to even take on the risk of experiencing yet another failed attempt to connect meaningfully with another guy. So I found myself back in that local bar nursing a brewskie by myself, trying to 'celebrate' my 19th birthday. Funny how a guy can feel suddenly so lonely when he's in a bar of all places, but I surely did. My mind drifted off and wandered through it's 'historical files'. I found myself thinking about Gabe surprisingly and wondering where he was now and what he was up to. On this particular afternoon however, I was uncharacteristically sitting right at the bar rather than propping myself upright in my usual corner. That would have been more my normal 'modus operandi'. Somewhat lost in my private thoughts, I vaguely heard a voice coming from over my right shoulder…

"Hi there. I'm Samson - but please - my friends just call me Sam…"

From the close proximity of this voice, the overture seemed obviously directed at me. A part of me wanted to just say, "Please just leave me alone." That part just wasn't in the mood at all for another ultimately disappointing, if not outright embarrassing, one-night stand - or in this case, a one-afternoon stand. And then of course another part of me wanted something else entirely and was still hopeful. That afternoon though, that hopeful part of me was close to being silenced by the other.

This voice though did have a very nice quality to it, I thought. It was a deep and seductively masculine. But before I could crank my head around to check out it's source, I felt a hand on my right shoulder - and this hand was squeezing my shoulder in a very friendly sort of way. Involuntarily, I glanced directly at the hand. It was one hell of a very big paw let me tell you with prominent veins - a real man's hand. Frankly it's fortunate that I was sitting down for I would have surely fallen down in the next few seconds that followed. Naturally, I started to look up to see the rest of the man that this hand belonged to. My vision was almost completely obstructed by an in-the-flesh absolute giant of a man; a man whose body completely filled my entire peripheral field of vision. His size was so absolutely shocking - really frightening - that I reflexively bolted up from my stool.

"Whoa there!"

The steam shovel-sized hand effectively blocked my skyward launch and pushed me back down on the stool.

"Hell, I knows I'm probably a bit scary. Maybe even more than just a bit really," the giant chuckled. "Seems I always have just that affect on guys. They run away from me. But please- don't run away. Please? I'm just a regular guy, really - like you maybe. Honest, I am. Just talk with me awhile?"

I'm not sure I necessarily had any choice about it as his hand was still very strategically placed and holding me down firmly on the barstool. Not even two feet from my face, these two mountains of visibly-moving flesh stared back at me, immense in their proportions and utterly - wildly - three-dimensional. These apparitions were so alien to me in fact that it took seconds for my brain to accurately identify exactly what I was looking at. But when it finally registered that these undulating mounds were actually his chest muscles, I was instantly dumbstruck and frozen. These behemoths just continued their slow writhing movements, rather quickly also calming and hypnotizing me with their powerful magic spell. I could not seem to command my eyes to move anywhere else. It seemed that time was suddenly suspended. Finally I began to notice that these mountains were covered by a tee-shirt which, in turn, was covered by an unbuttoned flannel shirt. The shear mass of his chest plates jutted almost horizontally far beyond the underlying ribcage. I remember thinking that I could set my beer bottle on top of either of his massive 'shelves' and it would have just stood there! I'm sure that my mouth was falling slowly open - a side effect of the hypnosis, no doubt. It's a good thing that I'd pulled the stool up to the bar very closely or I'd have been immediately embarrassed by my arousal too - an undeniable sign of just how powerlessly and instantaneously spellbound I really was.

"Say, the truth is that I came down here just to meet you, Pete. My buddy tells me your name's Pete. Right? I'd never even be in this here place otherwise. I just scares too many guys, I guess. I hardly bother coming here no more. Just ain't worth it. 'Ya maybe know what I mean? But I've been standing over in that there far corner just watching 'ya for awhile now, I has. I heard from my buddy that 'ya got a really big piece of meat on you, boy. Is it really true?"

"Say what?" I almost blurted out. Under almost any other circumstance, I would have certainly ignored or deflected that comment, or else possibly even denied it totally. I might have even bolted and ran out of the bar. But the truth was that I was being intensely turned on by these two jumbo-sized masses of mind-blowing muscle as they continued to slowly undulate amazingly. My overabundant supply of hormones immediately controlled the moment. I couldn't think straight with all that blood pounding away inside my head. I couldn't even get a word to come out of my mouth. My mouth was as parched as the Gobi Desert. I choked trying to speak in fact, and took a fast swig of beer to stop the throat spasm.

Finally, I managed to stammer out, "Yes, Peter.. I'm Pete. And ah- there's more than enough of it, I guess. I think so…. And you are definitely NO regular guy either!"

"No - guess I know what 'cha mean, well enough," Sam chuckled. "I know this all scares guys away - well, most guys anyway," he said, quickly scanning his body from side-to-side with his eyes. "Does I scare you, Pete?"

"Well honestly? Yes. You scared the shit out of me, but I was really just more startled- that's all," I replied. "You know, maybe you should like- warn a guy or something - before you just walk up behind him - especially when he doesn't see you coming!" I remembered to smile, letting him know I was at least semi-sincere.

Sam's mouth opened into a big, wide smile, showing a blazingly white and absolutely model-perfect set of choppers in his mouth.

"That'd be so great if you'd just talk to me awhile. Maybe you can just try to ignore my size for now?"

While I knew that would be virtually impossible, I nevertheless told Sam that I would try my very best to just "picture him as a Munchkin". Meanwhile, my eyes were slowly beginning to take in other aspects of this truly gigantic man. I consciously noticed the real dimension of what was inside the arm of the long-sleeved shirt attached to this hand that still was covering my shoulder and a good part of my upper back, too. His large upper sleeve was filled to capacity with a humbling mass that reminded me more of an athlete's upper leg actually than a man's arm, by its size. Without a doubt it was the biggest arm I'd ever seen - more than I'd ever imagined even in my nocturnal fantasies. I was also now very aware that my dick was still swelling up in my pant leg, still hidden underneath the bar. I felt it's weightiness. I was also more than a bit light-headed from the speed that I was growing this torpedo. Lightening-fast, intense arousal too often had that affect on me.

After very slowly passing over a mile-wide pair of shoulders whose thickness from front to back also defied description, and traversing a neck that seemed as large as my waist, my eyes finally managed to make it all the way up to top of this man-mountain standing at my side. It wasn't really a cute or 'pretty boy' gorgeous face. No, not at all. If was a completely handsome face, and in the most utterly masculine of ways. In fact he possessed every feature I found irresistible. Sam had a large square jaw. Heavy brow. Clear sparkling eyes- the type I could get lost in. Though Sam was clean-shaven, I could see that he possessed a dense beard - the kind that reeked of raw, potent masculinity to me. And this incredible face crowned a body that stood way over 6 feet - and how much over I had no way to even begin to estimate. The fact was that Sam's whole upper body was just so huge and amazingly thick that I couldn't begin to tell how tall he was, let alone what he might tip the scales at. Eventually my eyes finally made their way to the very top of Sam where we finally locked our eyes mutually on each other.

Sam had evidently been observing my eyes as I'd mapped out every last inch of his gargantuan physique.

"So, there… now you've taken a real good look..," Sam observed aloud.

I immediately felt funny somehow, like I'd done something wrong - kind'a guilty of some unknown crime. He returned again to promoting his most immediate agenda.

"Say, do you suppose maybe you'd let me just touch it - please?"

I thought his please may have been an afterthought, but I knew without a doubt what "it" was referring to. I don't think a guy had ever been so bold with me this soon in the game and that sent a cold shiver up my spine. Seemed this guy Sam didn't care much for idle chatter, although there was also something undeniably very friendly about him. I tried to say something, but my mouth failed me again. After a long pause, Sam repeated his request again.

"I really just love- you know - really big guys. I do! Really!"

There was something odd about the way that he spoke. His voice had an almost childlike quality, but there was something also exceedingly honest and straightforward about it, too. Very unusual- certainly lustful and yet very sincere. It was as weird as it was unique. I sensed immediately a kind of genuineness without any bullshit whatsoever coming from this total specimen of manhood that dominated my whole horizon. It seemed that everyone else in the bar was disappearing. There was only Sam and me left in the moment.

"And if I was to say no, Sam, then what? You could ambush me outside later and do me severe bodily injury easily in just seconds actually, if you wanted to. So do I really have any choice here?"

"Course you can say no - if 'ya want. Absolutely! I'd never hurt you. I ain't that way. I never EVER hurt no one- never. A guy my size? That wouldn't even be fair."

From his facial expression, he appeared to me to be surprisingly hurt. Callously, it never occurred to me that this King Kong could have real feelings too. I felt ashamed for having even hinted at that being even a possible outcome.

"Hey that was a stupid thing for me to say, Sam. I'm sorry. Really, I am."

I reached up just to pat him to reinforce that I'd meant no harm either. My good-will gesture landed smack on his mega-chest, easily the biggest and most accessible target I could reach from where I was sitting. My palm contacted something with a mass and density that just stunned me. It felt more like I was patting the rump of a trained thoroughbred.

"That's O.K.. I didn't wanna really do nothing else but look at it - maybe feel it a little. I didn't mean no harm at all. I thought that 'ya might be that kind'a guy who'd- you know- might like me. Maybe even kind'a special-like. I must've done figured you wrong though… I ain't the smartest guy in this world. Suppose you can already tell that, huh? But I'd thought maybe the way that you was lookin' at these… "

Sam put his hands on each hip and slowly inhaled as he spread his elbows outward from his waist. Like two Phoenix's rising, hard hemispheres of muscle rose up, forcing the front panels of his flannel shirt aside and sending them retreating into the deep recesses of his arm pits. His white tee-shirt underneath stretched tighter, perfectly hugging two swelling mountains of muscle. Huge nipples became clearly visible as the cotton threads pulled uniformly apart from each other, making his tee-shirt more transparent to me especially at this very close range. They were larger than silver dollars and pointed almost straight down at his shoes- each suspended under a shelf of ballooning muscle. It was like watching two Zeppelins inflate. The two titans just continued to rise both upward and outward, finally reaching within only inches of my chin. Then the two tectonic plates of muscle began very sensually move completely independently and in opposition to each other. Amazingly, Sam commanded each one alternately to reach out even more and brush against each of my cheeks. The affect on me was instantly stunning; a fact that must have surely been written across my entire face, too. But for some absolutely idiotic reason, I thought I needed to "be cool" and not appear to Sam to be at least outwardly as totally swept-away as I actually felt inside.

By now Sam must have had some hint from my difficult-to-conceal reaction that he may have actually pegged me quite accurately. I was totally spellbound and seduced, and my mouth may have even betrayed me by opening rather widely at moments. I don't know which excited me more - his massy mammoth chest muscles or the unbelievable command and control he exercised of each one of them. Regardless, I couldn't begin to control the seismic tremors of lust that were coursing through my entire body.

As the massive beasts continued their slow dance, Sam continued exactly where he'd left off conversationally.

"It was just the way you were lookin' before - at these. I was hopin' for just a second that maybe you liked 'em - you know - big on a man?"

It was difficult to keep any outwards semblance of being non-chalant or unimpressed in the face for such powerfully erotic visions, especially when I was thinking to myself, "Big? Those aren't big - they're fuckin' gigantic!"

I finally got my mouth to move only with some concerted effort.

"I… I guess I do kind of like them. They look…ahh… good, actually…" That was a reasonably well-delivered intentional understatement, I thought. Positive feedback, but with a deliberately subdued enthusiasm. I wasn't sure that Sam necessarily bought it as the completely unabashed truth.

With my interim answer to his question in hand, Sam ended his hypnotizing display and relaxed, backing away from me slightly.

Still overwhelmed completely by Sam's unusual seductive skills, I stupidly asked, " How… ahh… big are they really?" Then catching myself being a bit to 'interested' for my own comfort, I quickly tried to recast and disguise my meaning.

"Err, I mean… You… Tall. How tall are you? How much do you actually weigh?"

Very matter-of-factly, he said, "Does it matter? Y'all can see I's really a big dude, can't 'ya?"

His stats, in fact, probably didn't matter. He was a monster. I thought to myself, "You're being picked up by funking King Kong! And I bet he could too, if he wanted to, and with just one hand. Who cares about his stats!" I also thought briefly that this monster would squash me like a fly if he was ever was top of me -whatever the reason!

Sam again returned back to his original conversational objective.

"So Pete. Will 'ya let me touch it?"

I whispered, "Do you mean touch it right here? Now? In public?"

Obviously trying to encourage my cooperation and I supposed to also reassure me, he said, "Ain't no one paying no attention. No one's goin' to even notice…"

Strangely, in the next moment I found my head involuntarily gesturing down towards my crotch.

"Sure. You can touch it, if you want to… It's OK. Go ahead. Do it 'discretely' though, OK?"

Sam's hand left my shoulder and came down on my thigh, which was still for hidden under the overhang of the bar anyway. Not moments later, his hand found my bloated pant python, which was not particularly an overtaxing challenge to locate in it's current condition. It came to rest on top of it.

He continued to look right at me as he sampled my wares very privately and discretely underneath the overhang of the bar. I noticed that his eyes seemed to glass over and his pupils became just as dilated as if emerging from an opthamologist's office after an eye exam.

"God, I don't believe it… It's so… " He stopped mid-sentence, appearing suddenly completely dumbfounded and unable to speak. He seemed as personally awestruck now as I was feeling myself.

The look on his face reflected some genuine astonishment - perhaps even initial disbelief - as he instantly figured out that the fantastic rumor he'd heard from his buddy about me was no rumor at all. While he was 'checking me out', I was also actively exploring the many large visible shapes underneath his clothes again. I was increasingly aware of just how much this guy really totally dwarfed me. He was no man at all, by any previous measure I had anyway. He was a real King Kong - a powerful, huge and stunningly handsome man-beast who had amazingly large, erotic shapes everywhere that I looked. Those special shapes that screamed 'superior strength' to every fiber of my being.

Sam's brought his mouth very close to my ear.

"God Pete, it's… it's just way bigger than I'd… Now I've just GOT to really see it. Please, please, pleeeaassseee? I want us to go somewhere so's I can REALLY play with it. Just how big IS that thing? Wow… "

Well this conversation was as absurd as it was completely juvenile… and strangely, also as erotic as hell. It kind of reminded me of more like a boy talking actually, in that moment anyway. My eyes however were telling me that every inch of this guy was definitely 'all man'. These two perceptions didn't quite fit together neatly in my mind. But what I found even more ridiculous was that being in such close proximity to such a gigantic and powerfully-built man was turning me on so much that I didn't actually care. So I end up finishing his thought for him.

"Yeh, I know it kind'a freaky. I'm… I'm not really normal. I mean my dick… it's just not normal. It's some kind of genetic thing I probably inherited. A doctor told me so. It was caused by some weird hormonal thing. I don't even get hard-ons the same way that other guys do."

What I was thinking during this self-confessional moment was that it actually takes me relatively much longer to get fully erect than other normal-sized guys. With me it's a process, not the quick 'event' it is with other guys.

"Wow. Hey that's OK! I mean that's just PERFECT! Say, we maybe even got something in common. I ain't exactly a normal guy either, case you ain't noticed. I figure there's always been somethin' different 'bout me, too. Maybe it's got somethin' to do with them whore-mones you mentioned before. Just I don't know anything 'bout that, really. All I knows is that I'm very big and all that I seem to want is to get even bigger! But better yet Pete - Truth is that I'm just made for big tools, too. Honest," he said with a certain mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

I missed his meaning completely because at that moment I was busy thinking to myself, "Sure. That's what they all think."

I'd heard such bravado too many time before and had learned to be very skeptical about these macho claims. Every guy I'd know had always had fallen way short on his 'capacity-limits' in the real moment of truth.

But God was I also ever completely turned on by this guy. I stared into his big beautiful puppy-dog eyes as I thought Sam's proposition over in my head. Should I really be going home with this guy? What's the worst that can happen? God he's dangerously big - but he also seems like a decent enough guy otherwise. You know you're never going to meet another guy who's built like this again in a whole millennium. Maybe I should go ahead and take a chance. It's my damn birthday, after all…

So I'd made up my mind on the spot to go through with it, although I'm not sure my brain was doing the thinking anymore. Frankly, at that particular moment I was ready to drop my pants in the middle of Main Street in the height of Xmas shopping season for this man, if he wanted me to. My dick was in total control and I was completely over-the-top in lust.

I leaned into his ear, and said very privately to him, "Your big hand feels perfect… right there." Then I pushed down on the back of it to emphasize where 'there' was, just in case he'd missed the reference. "That feels really good. I'd really like you to play with it a lot more, actually, if we can go somewhere else. Maybe we can go to your place, Sam? You see, I've got this roommate situation…"

"Great! Let's get out'ta here right NOW!" Sam said with wild-eyed enthusiasm.

I suddenly had this wild impulse right on the spot and contemplated momentarily if I should directly ask Sam for something, too. It was to be a 'special' request of sorts. I think Sam's stunning directness was trying to rub off on me a bit. At least for a very brief moment I'd thought that if he could be so open then why couldn't I? But I felt my face beginning to flush with embarrassment as I considered the advisability of making my request known to him. I was genuinely concerned that my doing so might blow it totally and that Sam would just walk away from me in disgust.

"So, ah… Sam… I have a question first before we leave. I was wondering if… if maybe… you'd be willing to…". Then I hesitated, suddenly unsure if I should actually continue this.

Sam looked outright puzzled. "What do 'ya have on your mind, Pete?"

I could feel my face turning crimson.

Sam grinned. "Say, look at you. You're blushing! What 'cha want?"

Just Sam's noticing that I was getting red-in-the-face made me even more embarrassed.

I chastised myself for a moment and then gave myself a quick silent pep-talk. "Damn Peter," I though to myself, "just SAY it. Ask him! What's the worst that can happen? You'll go home alone. Ugh. That's all."

I decided to take a more indirect and perhaps safer approach. I would lead him a bit, not quite trusting yet that he'd be OK and non-judgmental with this somewhat secret wish of mine. Even thinking about it obviously still embarrassed me greatly.

(Eventually, I would come to understand that taking such a circuitous and obtuse route was unnecessary with Sam. In fact, more often than not, he would completely miss such vaguely-disguised requests. Moreover, in time he taught me to say exactly what was on my mind.)

"Sam, you said that big ones turn you on?" I asked, already knowing his answer.

"Surely they do. That is THE truth," he replied without hesitating. Then he added for unneeded emphasis, "A great cock just makes me crazy!"

I found myself hoping that Sam meant that metaphorically and not literally. I continued to lead him cautiously.

"OK, ahhh… Then you'd probably like my erection to get as big as possible. Is that right?"

"Absolutely! I can't hardly even wait to see your cock with my own eyes!"

"O.K. Sam. Then it would help me a lot to get really aroused and all if maybe you'd… you'd maybe…" I started to stumble badly, again feeling too embarrassed about expressing this openly.

"If I would what?" Sam asked, seemeing a bit perturbed now with my continuing hesitation to clearly state what was on my mind.

"If you'd… maybe take off your shirt, so I could just see… I mean,- you just look so… "

Apparently catching on now to what I might be getting at, Sam just finished my sentence for me.

"Big, maybe? I look so BIG? It's just all muscles. But I's a real strong guy, Pete. Really!"

I was relieved that Sam had more-or-less correctly guessed where I was generally headed. He momentarily spared me having to come right out with it myself. Inside, I'd always known I was totally into muscle and that embarrassed me too much, just like the size of my dick. I just couldn't own that part of me yet, so I couldn't put that out to Sam either. I did note that Sam hadn't reacted negatively to my strange request; in fact he didn't seem particularly bothered by it at all. I felt kind of good about that, if only for a moment. But his mere matter-of-fact comments that 'it's just all muscles' as well as his admitted strength were causing my sex drive to just surge.

"Sam, it's my birthday today. Honest, it really is - and it always excites me more when a guy is naked when… when- you know- he's diddling with me. That's all I meant by that…"

Right. Sure… but only a half-truth at best. A guy with great big MUSCLES is what jet-propels my erections best, but I couldn't seem to just say that aloud.

Sam just smiled. "Pete, well I got no problem t'all takin' my shirt off in front of anyone. I want 'cha to just think of me as a big birthday present. So tell me now, just how big does that 'ol dick of yours get anyway?"

"Oh - probably too big to be of much use… " I said, telling him now a whole truth with a forced half-smile. The blood was already starting to pound in my head at the thought of this guy even having agreed to peel off his shirt for me. I still had no way to know just how stunning Sam's body actually would be, however I was about to get a whole new concept about what 'big' really meant - and actually so was Sam, for that matter.

Sam was beaming from ear-to-ear. "O.K. Pete, we got us a deal! Boy, I think I'm a lucky man!" Then he got quiet as if thinking about something else.

"You seem like a nice boy, Pete. I mean a real nice boy. Just the kind'a guy I'd like to be friends with. I mean - I'd hoped maybe even real special friends. Say Pete, do 'ya like touchin' this? I mean r-e-a-l-l-y like it?"

He took my hand and placed it on his the upper part of his other arm that was hanging relaxed by his side. He obviously wanted me to check it out so I cautiously ran my hand around the back of it slowly and then along the side. My hand couldn't begin to even cover one-fifth of it's mass. His arm was just that huge and felt just as rock-hard as granite. When my palm finally paused momentarily on the especially huge muscle in front, Sam slowly began raising his hand up toward his head and what I felt happening underneath his shirt-sleeve got my dick hard as granite, too. It was the most powerfully erotic thing I'd ever felt. I may have even started to moan involuntarily, if only for moment before I caught myself and tried to stifle it.

"You really ARE Samson! That's HUGE!... And it feels so HARD…"

Sam acted almost relieved at my unmistakably enthusiastic response, but still replied rather modestly, "Oh, that's really nothing. My arms are puny right now. You should see 'em AFTER I've been liftin'. I like 'em when they get huge! You can come over to my gym sometime so's you can see 'em when they's REALLY big. But this here ain't what I'd call really big right now."

He was sincere and even a bit oddly apologetic - and the guy was also clearly dillusional if he really thought his arms were at all 'puny' at that particular moment. Again, there was something just unusually honest about even the way he spoke about himself.

I mean this dude was already super-sized, and I practically creamed at the mere thought of watching Sam actually lifting. An ocean of pre-cum was steadily leaking from my inflated hog. Sam's hand was right back there 'on the jobsite' too, so he couldn't help but notice the expanding area of dampness in my jeans.

"Oh jeez, no! Did 'ya really cum already?" he asked, clearly concerned and obviously disappointed.

"Ahh- No, not yet… I didn't cum yet..," I muttered a bit breathlessly. I was actually difficult to speak with such veritable tidal waves of erotic energy flowing through my body. "That's all just my pre-cum actually… "

"That's just PRE-cum? WOW!!" he exclaimed, appearing somewhat stunned by this disclosure. Granted, the size of the area of wetness in my pants was probably larger than most guys would be if they'd shot their full load. The fact was that I was just beginning to get warmed up nicely, but he had no way of judging that. His was a very understandable misperception of the situation.

"You're makin' me SO hot!" With that, Sam excitedly grabbed me under my armpits and effortlessly lifted me right off of my bar stool - and let me tell you that I was not exactly a welter-weight either. In the blink of an eye, he had me literally airborne. My legs almost automatically reached out and wrapped around his waist to steady my trajectory. My hands could only find his two wide shoulders to grab on to which I used to steady myself momentarily. His shoulders were just monstrous and as rock-hard as his arms. I was suddenly face-to-face with Sam.

"I gotta kiss you…" he announced, catching me completely by surpise. It wasn't so much a request as it was a statement of his intentions - which he followed through on immediately, too - a quick bit of smooching right on my lips. And his mouth was hot… amazingly hot. His rough sexy beard stimulated every nearby nerve-ending surrounding my own lips. I'd never been just passionately taken - actually more seized - by any man. I more than liked the feeling of being kissed; actually it's rather amazing that I didn't shoot my load right on the spot.

He pulled back momentarily, and looked me in the eyes again grinning, "Boy, you are just SO hot! We're gonna have a great time doin' the wild thing, I just know it! We need to get out of here pronto!"

In the blink of an eye, we were outside the bar and headed off across town to his apartment. •

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