"You can have a seat here, Pete," Sam said with a wink and patted the back of the chair, "and rest up! You're gon'na need it, I think. I need to change into somethin' else. I'll only be a minute."

I sat down, not at all sure of what was going to happen next. Sam disappeared through a darkened doorway - perhaps the locker room entrance, I thought. Moments later I heard a locker door being opened, followed a minute or so later by a locker door being closed again.

Sam emerged from the doorway wearing a form-fitting Olympic weightlifter's one-piece singlet, held up by long straps that crossed over his immense chest and shoulders from front-to-back. It was one unusually hot-looking 'outfit', too, especially with Sam wearing it. The dark-colored singlet stretched so tightly over his hulking physique that it looked as if it was spray-painted onto his body. It would have revealed even the most minor physical defect in any normal man's body - but then again, Sam also clearly had no defects in his physique whatsoever - an astonishing fact, especially for a dude as huge and heavy as Sam was. Yes - for all of his extreme mass, his physique was absolute sculpture - a fact that his singlet now completely validated. Sam also wore a thick leather belt cinched around his impressively narrow waist over the singlet. It seemed to accentuate the large, beautifully bulging curve of his crotch, making it stand out in rather bold relief. I knew that Sam was very well hung- though more from what I'd felt behind me upstairs with my hand than from what I'd actually seen, at least up to this point. There was no doubt now that he had a very hot package indeed. As I gazed at him, the shape of Sam's body silhouetted in the dim lights looked outrageously sexy to me. I started to really ogle at Sam's bared legs. This was the first time I'd seen them really exposed. The lighting where he stood seemed to make them particularly stand out, and out-standing they were; real big attention-grabbers of the highest magnitude. His thighs were stunningly immense, actually, and reminded me of trees - each thigh without any doubt was thicker than even my torso. Twin thick columns of muscle flared upward on either side of each knee. As Sam slowly walked forward, I took a dry gulp as I marveled at the absolutely huge, swollen twisting striations in his thighs appearing and disappearing with each step. I also noticed that as he walked, he had a peculiar gait as he swung one massive thigh around the other. I'd never seen anything before even remotely resembling Sam's leg muscles, so my becoming so turned-on by these two oak trees was an unexpected surprise that also absolutely thrilled me. As he walked past the platform where I was sitting, I wafted in his potently sensual manly musk like a bloodhound. I swear I felt the floor trembling too as he passed close by.

He stopped about 8 feet in front of me and turned around.

"There, Pete - this is more like it. It's comfortable - see, this here material stretches. Gives me real freedom to move when I'm liftin'." Then Sam said nothing more, and just stood there absolutely motionless, as if he might intentionally be providing me this first chance to do nothing more than to just look him over very thoroughly and slowly. And come to think about it, this was the very first time that I'd had the real opportunity to just stare and gawk openly at Sam's physique from head-to-toe. Until this moment - even if I hadn't been directly in it - I'd been at least very close to his 'personal space' certainly most of the time. Sam was just way too much man to fully take in when I was that close to him. It's really hard to get the 'big picture' of him in that way. Previously, we'd always been involved in something when I was trying to look at him, like having a conversation. There were no other distractions now - no talking - no moving around or 'doings' of any kind - and I was at the perfect viewing distance to finally get the full, genuine visual impact of this man.

A big part of me screamed to do just that - to just stare. But I had this long-standing 'rule' in my head about never looking at anyone for too long or letting them know I was staring at them. I looked discretely, always keeping my eyes moving and never letting them linger for too long. Partly, this was because it wasn't polite I'd been told - and partly because somehow it didn't always feel particularly safe to do that either. More recently, my newest life-lesson concerning 'staring' was that if I caught a guy's eye for too long, they'd seem to assume that also indicated that I was automatically interested in them. Almost unanimously, that was not however the case - except for Sam, of course - because, God knows, I could have just stared at him for many hours, if not days.

Because I wanted to so badly, I started to stare anyway - really hard, in fact. But after only a few seconds, I felt funny and I'd divert my eyes to something else. Then I'd let them wander back to Sam for a few seconds more. And then I'd find myself doing the exact same thing again. I'd find myself looking at something across the room. This battle went on - back-and-forth - back-and-forth - for quite awhile. These bouncing eyeballs of mine however had also not escaped Sam's notice.

Spreading his arms outward at a 45 degree angle with his palms facing me, Sam looked right at me and said, "Are you nervous about somethin'? Ain't nothing to be afraid of, really. Go ahead Pete. You can look at me. I think this is somethin' you need to kind'a get out of your system anyway. It's really OK!"

"But I am looking at you, Sam," I said slightly defensively, knowing that while that was probably technically correct, it was none-the-less only another half-truth at best. Of course even as I was saying this, I also automatically turned my eyes away from him again no less.

When I looked back, Sam was looking down at the floor as if he was exasperated momentarily. Then he looked up at me. "Peter, I LIKE you for Christ sake! And I thought you said 'ya liked me too. There's something mighty strange goin' on here, I'm startin' to think. Pete, people stare at me all the time 'cause I'm different. They don't even know me, let alone like me. But believe me, they definitely ain't got NO problem lookin' at me - not at all. They outright gawk! And the funny thing is - seems you like me but you AIN'T lookin'! Not really, anyway. And I knows I like lookin' at you - a lot! Fact is, I can't barely take my eyes off of you, truth be known. And you said 'ya liked muscles, too, right? Well, I got big muscles... and I'm real strong too, Pete. Really, I am! I knows I ain't very bright, but I just don't get it. Not at all. Seems if 'ya really liked me, Pete, then you'd look at me so's I'd know that with your eyes, that's all."

Boom! There was an atomic explosion inside of me. Sam's words descended on me like I had a building collapsing on my head. I felt like a complete and total jerk - and a bit of a bastard, too. I needed to say something - and fast, too. I sensed that if I did not, it would suddenly all be over - irreparably over. But I seemed to only be able to get words out of my mouth by talking to my feet again. God, I hated myself when I was like this! Moreover, it was also taking one giant step backwards for me. Nevertheless, I found myself doing it all over again - doing the exact same thing I'd always done whenever I felt this way - talking to inanimate objects whenever I had 'big feelings' going on inside of me. But saying something was at least better than saying nothing at all. So while addressing my left sneaker specifically, I spoke honestly nevertheless, although my words came out painfully slowly.

"Sam, I like you - a lot. That's really the truth. And I want to look at you, too. Really, I do! You're whole body is completely amazing... and God, those muscles of yours are just... just... so unbelievably big. Honestly Sam,... you're just... just the most handsome... the hottest... man that I've ever seen... and God strike me dead if I'm lying..."

Strangely, my left sneaker remained mute, but after some long moments of silence, I did heard Sam's voice.

"O.K. Then all 'ya have to do, Pete, is let the genie out of the bottle. I've got big muscles, and it all right if you wan'na look at 'em, too. It's OK that 'ya like 'em the way you do. Go ahead, Pete. You look just as long as 'ya want now. Let that 'ol genie out. Let go. I want 'cha to let it out for me. So, you look up at me now, O.K.?"

I took a very deep breath, and then I pictured in my mind opening a bottle and seeing strange-colored vapors rushing up out of it, and then I repeated this several times more in my mind. I saw myself opening an actual bottle. Finally, something seemed to fundamentally shift inside of me, and I felt I could trust my eyes to now more faithfully tell Sam everything that I felt about him inside of me. I slowly looked up - and when I finally was able to truly 'see'- it was one hell of an eyeful, let me tell you. For me, it was the difference between watching Star Wars on TV versus seeing it at a movie theater. The full sensory impact of Sam's physique could only be experienced on my 'big screen.' I allowed myself to gawk openly. I gave myself permission to stare blatantly. And somewhere in the middle of ogling every part of him, I passed some point of no return. In fact, I wondered if I could ever stop staring! Sam must have certainly felt the heat from my lasers searing his skin as they scanned over every inch of him slowly, again and again. It didn't take a great deal of time before my continuous uninterrupted staring was making me feel flushed. Sweat formed all over my body and blood began to throb in my temples.

There were just muscles everywhere I looked - massive and huge, rippling, powerful-looking things; some appearing and disappearing behind others it seemed. Sam hadn't lifted so much as a pencil yet, and I was turned-on powerfully, but I know Sam fundamentally understood that already. He knew what made my motor run, and he possessed it all - absolutely everything last attribute that I was attracted to in a man. On a scale of 1 to 10, I rated Sam about 1,000. I like my men T-D-H. And no - I don't mean 'tall, dark and handsome', although he certainly was all of those too. I mean 'Totally-Developed Hunk'. And from what my eyes were feasting on, he fit all the criteria multiple times over, Sam was more like a 'Titanically-Developed Hunk', in truth.

My eyes didn't waiver, and I let Sam see right into me. And as I continued to stare at this magnificently-muscled, brutally-handsome monster still standing there motionlessly before me, the image of Sam transformed clearly in my mind into the 'Samson' of the Bible, whose phenomenal strength was of divine origin, and who slew the entire Philistine Army single-handedly. And if not exactly like Delilah, I nevertheless craved to get into any of his gorgeous hair at that moment, too. Wherever that happened to be on his magnificent body, it was perfection too, and it greatly contributed to the overall stunning impact of this He-man. Every aspect of this man was hotter than Hell to me, and after visually gorging on him for only several minutes, I just 'wanted' him - plain and simple.

And Sam had been looking directly at me this entire time too, just watching me watching him. And although a word had not been spoken in minutes, the communication was nevertheless honest, total and complete. With a whimsical grin, Sam finally broke the long silence. "Hey- you ain't gettin' horny by any chance yet, are 'ya, Pete?"

Without waiting for an answer, he looked down and inspected his singlet with his hands, and then said something about it needing a slight adjustment. He reached up with each hand and simultaneously pulled up on the shoulder straps, which effectively lifted the material at the sides of his crotch higher. This not only exposed more of his high upper thighs and the sides of his groin partially, but dramatically accentuated the plunge of his bulging basket and clearly revealed two substantial balls and his sexy thick wand through the now even more tightly-stretched material. I knew the He-man was toying with me, but I didn't mind his intentionally erotic playfulness at all!

Looking right at me, he said, "There. That looks even better, don't you think?" I'd just stared at this outrageously sexy vision. Still grinning broadly, Sam repeated, "Hey, are 'ya getting horny yet, Pete? I sure hope 'ya are!"

Horny? You bet. But I was also feeling unusually sexy myself, actually. I had this new 'attitude' thing suddenly going inside of my head as I tried to remember to just enjoy this and practice 'letting go'. I felt a kind of power again- something that I really hadn't let myself feel in probably years, and boy- it felt really good.

So to capitalize on these unusual feelings, I let myself be a little playful, too. Besides, the entire scene - Sam's big muscles all poured into that sexy-beyond-belief bulging singlet - was arousing me uncontrollably anyway. Why waste this, I thought. I knew what really pushed Sam's 'on' switch. Hell, I had the right toy for Sam already too, but there was no way he'd know that, since I was wearing my usual baggy pair of jeans. So just how to 'communicate' this to him? Hmmmmm... I reached for the crotch of my jeans and slowly began squeezing and rubbing it all over very suggestively, looking up at Sam and then back down to my crotch several times, saying with my eyes, "Right here Sam. Look right here." Then I slowly swung the leg containing my dick outward, exposing the inside of the pant leg for Sam's viewing pleasure. Then using my thumb and index finger of both hands, I pressed down on my jeans to clearly frame the perimeters of my cock in the leg, effectively demonstrating to Sam not only where it started and currently ended, but also it's circumference. My gesture pretty much said, "Here's the whole enchilada." Looking up again, I saw that Sam was riveted on my crotch and getting kind'a glassy-eyed too, and he also looked as if he was about to start spontaneously drooling if I continued this much longer. B-I-N-G-O !

"Yeh, I'm real horny Sam. Can you tell?" I kneaded the big fat thing with my fingers slowly, just to make sure Sam was paying very close attention. "It feels to me like it's getting pretty big. Oh yes - definitely feels big! Hey, are you getting horny yet, Sam?" I thought we were now even, judging from the expanding bulge in the front of his singlet.

"So Samson, I thought if I got big, you were going to get big, too." (Not that he had to grow one single centimeter anywhere to be the hottest man I'd ever seen, but you know - promises were promises, regardless.)

"Woof! Woof!" Sam barked out like a dog repeatedly. "Pete, y'all are just totally inspiring! Makes me wan'na really enormou-size myself first, and then do somethin' real special, just for your birthday. 'Ya ready?"

Boy - was I ever. For the moment anyway, the genie was still out of the bottle, and I was determined to watch him like and snowy owl would a lemming. "My heart may not be able to stand it - but definitely go ahead anyway, Sam. I'll die at least with a smile... and this massive hard-on. Come to think of it, that may give the undertaker a real thrill with the rigor mortis and all."

Sam guffawed with seeming disgust at my awful sense of humor, and then got down to the serious business. I sat up and leaned forward enthusiastically. There was no saliva in my mouth. It had disappeared completely untold minutes ago. I sort of braced myself to see something I knew that I'd probably never see again in my life. I was ready - focused - and going to savor every second of what was coming.

"Go ahead Sam. Enormou-size!" •