Tall Tale, Part 4

[Reeza]

There's some growth in this part for those of you who might have been looking for it. But Paul is so damned big already, he doesn't see why anyone wouldn't be satisfied with him.

Tall Tale
Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

TALL TALE - Part 4
by Reeza

Are you still with me, Dan? I know. It’s taking me longer to tell it than it took for all this to happen. At this point it had only been, maybe, ten minutes since I went into the bathroom. Seems like an hour, right? But the details . . . every detail seems so important. They’re all in my head at the same time and I feel like I have to get them in the right order or I’ll lose them. Yeah. Thanks, man. You’re a good friend. I’m glad I called you, too.

So Jim went away from the door. Who knows what he was thinking.

"Close call, wasn’t it?" I looked up at him again. Paul was smiling, like he just played a joke on me. He threw his shirt at me and gave me an order. "Rinse your mess out of my shirt, Greg. I don’t want to see that stain." I dropped my own ruined shirt on the floor and gathered his shirt in my arms like a whole load of laundry. I cautiously rose to my feet. "Rinse it in the sink over there. Come on, speed it up!" I obeyed. I walked over to the sink, cradling the warm shirt against my naked chest. I wanted to press my face into it because it had his intoxicating smell on it, but I didn’t dare. I took the opportunity to tuck my softened dick inside my fly. I know he noticed that.

I sorted through all the folds of the shirt and found the wet hem. I opened the hot water faucet and got to work on the spot while he started moving behind me. I glanced at him in the mirror as often as I could. Part fear and part awe, you know? He paused to scoop his huge, soft dick back through the fly of his jeans. He did some rearranging before buttoning his fly - I’m sure space was an issue. I felt a measure of relief, but there was another feeling underneath that. Disappointment? No. That would be wrong.

He continued to move in a restless way. He caught me glancing at him in the mirror and smirked at me again. Why is it so goddamned sexy when a handsome man smirks? It’s like he knows that you’re into him and that gives him some control over you. He communicated that with his blue eyes and then came to a stop behind me, settling into a wide stance. I could still see most of his body, despite what my own reflection blocked out. I felt like a scrawny teenager in comparison, embarrassed by my body for the first time in my life.

He started to stretch his arms and shoulders, like he was warming up for something. I was trying to focus on cleaning his shirt, but it was hard. My glances became more frequent, more nervous. He put his left arm behind his head and pulled on that elbow with his right hand, stretching his tricep, bending a little to the right. Then he did the same with his right arm, and bent to the left. Oh, God! When I close my eyes, I picture the landscape of his body. The smooth skin in the valleys lighter than the golden brown mountains. His deep armpits with tufts of dark blond hair in the recesses between his massive pecs and lats. His biceps! Jesus! The impossible size of them! They flexed as he pulled at each elbow and the balls of muscle pressed against his ears. He knew I was looking.

I know I keep saying how huge he was, but I’m still not giving you a realistic picture of his size and his muscle. Your imagination won’t go far enough, either. But as I was watching this . . . I know this is going to sound crazy, but . . . I thought his arms got bigger. I know he was flexing them, but that’s not what I mean. They got bigger, all around. The biceps, the triceps. Thicker. Not a lot. Just enough to notice, but subtle enough to make me doubt myself. I looked for his eyes in the mirror, and there they were, waiting for me with a sly expression. "Are you getting that stain out, Greg?" He startled me. My hands shook. I examined the shirt.

The next thing he did was just cruel. He knew what he was doing to me, and I still can't believe it. He took his hands and put them over his big, meaty pecs. He pressed his palms against them, biceps bulging at either side, and he squeezed. He squeezed like he was feeling their weight and firmness. My dick started to twitch again in my pants. I wished I had zipped my fly.

He massaged his pectorals, slowly, like he was rubbing something into them. He flexed them briefly. Oh, Jesus! He fingered the hairs. His palms slid over his nipples, then he traced a light circle around each one with his middle fingers. They hardened. Oh! I pressed my crotch against the sink cabinet to keep the blood out of my dick. It hurt a little, but it had to be done. He palmed the muscles again, flexed them, and I’m telling you . . . as crazy as it sounds . . . they got bigger! They just plumped up! They became fuller, deeper, harder. There was a little sound, barely audible. He felt their weight again and smiled.

"Are you looking at me, Greg?"

Shit! "N . . . no! I’m working on your shirt!" I shut off the water.

"Really. Huh. I could’ve sworn you were looking at me, Greg. But if you say so . . ." He raised his eyebrows, shook his head a little, took a deep breath and sighed. "Let’s see how you’re doing with that." He came up right behind me. Close. His inner thighs touched the sides of my ass, lightly. I felt the bulge of his crotch on my back. It was hot. Literally. Not like body heat - more like a radiator. And this heat was coming through the denim! His arms reached around me on both sides so he could pick up his shirt. My heart was pounding. I looked at us both in the mirror. The shelf of his pecs tilted my head forward as he looked down into the sink. He pressed me against the cabinet just a little bit more. Oh, my aching dick!

"It looks like you rinsed it all out. Not bad, Greg." The vibration in his chest went right through the back of my skull and I was surrounded by his heat. "You’ll make somebody a good wife someday." He squeezed the wet part of the shirt in both hands, ringing the water out of it. Big forearms swelling and rippling. The hair on them stood up a little, like the hairs on the back of my neck. He lifted the shirt over my head and backed away from me. He went to hang it over the wall of one of the toilet stalls. It covered most of the wall. He smoothed it against the metal. He certainly was tidy for such a big fucking monster.

I was still leaning against the sink when I heard a polite knock on the door. Someone tapping with one knuckle. "Paul? Are you in there?" It was Mike, the bartender and owner. He was usually pretty gruff, kind of an asshole really. But he sounded . . . meek, tentative. "Paul? The guys at the bar are looking for their friend. What should I tell them?"

Paul silenced me with a look. "Tell them he had to go home. He got sick." I actually felt kind of nauseous. The fear made me sick.

Mike replied, "Okay, Paul. I’ll tell them. Uh . . . what about the guys in the back room? They’re asking for you. They want more."

Paul’s answer was casual. Business as usual. "Tell them the show’s over for tonight. They should book the room for another night next week. They’ll do it."

"Okay, Paul. Fine with me. Sorry to disturb you." Mike went away.

Paul laced his fingers together and stretched his arms out in front of his chest, palms forward, knuckles cracking. "Mike and I have an arrangement. I do whatever the hell I want, and he puts up with it. He doesn’t really mind. I bring in a lot of business for him."

I felt like my dick would behave itself now, so I took a risk and turned away from the sink. My fly was still open, but I didn’t dare touch anything down there even though it was numb from the loss of circulation. "Listen, Paul, um . . . I need to get going, okay?"

"Not okay, Greg. We haven’t finished our talk." Sounding stern again. "You’ll know when we’re done. If you’re conscious." He started to unbuckle his belt.

Fuck! What did this guy want from me? Was he just a bully? One of those fag bashers? I never thought I would have to worry about something like this because nobody ever messed with me before. Anyone can see that I can take care of myself. But this guy wasn’t just anyone.

He pulled the thick leather belt out of the loops in his jeans. "Are you gay, Greg?" Straight forward. He moved toward me. I stepped back.

"N . . . no! I told you!" I knew he knew. "What are you doing, man?"

"How many times do I have to tell you to say my name, Greg? I say your name, Greg. Now you should say my name, GREG!"

"P . . Paul! What are you doing, Paul?"

"That’s better." He rolled up his belt and set it next to the sink. He started undoing the buttons of his fly. "I’m taking off my jeans, Greg. Before you start coming again. As you know, I don’t like my clothes to get messed up." He pulled off his shoes. No socks. Big tanned feet. As big as you would expect.

"Paul! That is not going to happen again! I swear, it was some kind of accident!"

"So, you’re not gay, huh? Is that what you’re telling me?" He slid his jeans over the shelf of his firm young ass. He was wearing white boxer briefs. He stood on one foot and bent over to pull the jeans off one thickly muscled leg. My eyes were drawn to the light coat of hair on his flexed inner thigh. Oh, God! Blond hairs, tanned muscle. Heat. He gracefully shifted his weight to the other foot and unsheathed the other long, sculpted leg. I could feel my dick again. Tingling. He straightened up to his full, overwhelming height and carefully folded his jeans. "So you’re not going to come anymore?" When he turned and walked toward the stall where he hung his jeans over the door, I saw the beautifully synchronized movement of muscles in his calves, thighs, and hard round ass cheeks. This is something I picture in my head over and over. He was perfect! I tensed all the muscles in my groin to keep from getting hard again. If I hadn’t already blown my load, I would have been hard as a rock.

He walked back toward me. The front view of him walking was even better, if that’s possible, but at that moment I was struck by his angry look. "Why are you such a pussy, Greg?" He was in my face now, voice raised. "You tell me you’re not gay, and all I can think is what a fucking pussy you are!" His hands moved forward. I flinched and instinctively raised my fists. He gave me a look of disgust. "Oh, give me a fucking break! You think you can defend yourself?" He clamped his big hands around my rib cage and held me at arms’ length. His arms’ length. I struggled to get some traction on the floor, but I wasn’t going anywhere. My hands tried to get a grip on his arms, but they were too thick with muscle, too hard to believe. "Look at these arms, Greg! Feel them! Do you know what I could do to you? Tell me you’re gay before I start cracking your ribs!"

I begged. "N..no! Don’t! Why are you doing this? Paul!"

"Alright, let’s just get this over with." He picked me up and brought me a little closer to his chest. That incredibly sexy chest! My feet dangled. My dick started to grow. I could feel his thumbs massaging two of my ribs, pressure increasing. So much power! All that muscle! "You like this, don’t you, Greg? You like my body and what it can do." Taunting me. "That’s why you blew your load when I lifted you before. Just admit it!" He raised me higher. The head of my dick pushed through the fly of my jeans. "There it is, Greg! There’s the proof! Your little dick is coming out to play, isn’t it?" Condescending. Humiliating.

Tears came to my eyes again. There was no denying it. It was the most erotic experience I had ever known. A nearly naked, muscular giant picking me up like a rag doll! He lifted me higher and looked at my bone-hard dick. "Yep! I think he likes me, Greg!" Sarcasm! He was toying with me! "But I think we’d better calm the little fella down before he throws up again, okay?" Then he pursed his lips and blew on my dick! Softly, like you blow on hot food before putting it in your mouth. I don’t know if it got harder or softer, but my heart felt like it was going to explode!

"Okay! I’m gay! I’m gay! Are you satisfied?!" I’m half yelling, half crying. "I don’t know what you want from me! Jesus, Christ!! Just get it over with! Just get it over with, Paul. Please."

He looked at my face, still holding me high off the floor. He loosened his grip on my ribs, but gave my body a shake. "Alright, Greg! You said it! Now you’re less of a pussy than you were a minute ago!" Like he was congratulating me. "In fact, I’ll stop calling you a pussy. How about that?" I didn’t get it. "Now repeat after me: ‘My name is Greg, and I’m gay.’"

Whatever he wanted. More taunting? Fine. I felt so weak. I said it. "My name is Greg, and I’m gay."

He smiled. Achingly handsome. "Well, whatdya know! Now we have something in common." He set me on the floor, carefully, and extended his big right hand as if to shake mine.

"I’m gay, too. Nice to meet you, Greg."

*****

To be continued . . . Tall Tale Part 5

[Bradykins]

Amazing.

I can't wait for the next part.

As I read this story, I have my own version going through my head at the same time. You are an awesome author! ^_^!

[liftmehir]

OMG this is a great story and I can't wait for the rest of it. Damn big vs little; strength lifting weak like a toy; huge vs small; OMG can't wait to see the next lift or how paul is going to bend the metal door around greg or whatever you have planned, just keep the story going it is intense.

Billy

[vlad]

Awesome chapter, I like how it was longer than the last couple. Paul is SO hot, I love how dominant he is.

[rogsats]

This is one of the best stories here.

Reall great work.

[msclundylvr]

Awesome story! I can't wait to see what happens next. While I understand your need to sleep, there's a selfish side of me that wishes you would hurry up! (No pressure...)

[cutlerfan]

Wow, that was unexpected but welcome! Keep on writing! I hope that Greg can get big like Paul and that Paul gets even bigger! Peace, cutlerfan

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by cutlerfan

Wow, that was unexpected but welcome! Keep on writing! I hope that Greg can get big like Paul and that Paul gets even bigger! Peace, cutlerfan

Thanks for the encouragement, but there is only one grower in this story. I think Paul will be more than able to meet your needs.

[Lufone]

You know, Paul is kind of a sweetheart in his own weird way. ::headscratch::