Power trips

[Lionor_King]

Hello everyone my name is lion and i was wondering if anyone else here had ever had a power trip since they started working out? I remeber mine when i was in highs school i remember flexing in class and smiling ot myself as the entire room was gazing at me as my bicep exploded out of the sleeves of my uniform. It felt so good to hear them moan and such heehee anyone else have trips like these as well?

[CelticMuscle]

Not personally, but a friend of mine (who's a regional state champion) was helping at a national event (as a marshall) and was directing someone when his sleeve ripped exposing his 16 inch bicep. He was completely unaware of this and carried on directing until he noticed the person seemingly out of it. He snapped his fingers and the person said "Sorry, I was staring at that arm".

I should point out that because he's just over 5ft tall, a 16 inch bicep on him looks like a 24 inch bicep.

[suma]

Lionor King at least try to sound believable.
"24 inch bis in HS" yeah right who u kiddin

[arpeejay]

Originally Posted by suma

Lionor King at least try to sound believable.
"24 inch bis in HS" yeah right who u kiddin

They WOULD be quit impressive. I mean, there are what, maybe 50 guys in the world with arms that big? :-)

xoxo

Richard

[Lionor_King]

thank you very much

[growingbigger]

Originally Posted by Lionor_King

Hello everyone my name is lion and i was wondering if anyone else here had ever had a power trip since they started working out? I remeber mine when i was in highs school i remember flexing in class and smiling ot myself as the entire room was gazing at me as my bicep exploded out of the sleeves of my uniform. It felt so good to hear them moan and such heehee anyone else have trips like these as well?

Most definitely I've had some moments. Sometimes I'd lean back into a stretch with my arms up and kind of flex into a double-biceps pose while I'm in a group meeting at work. Of course all the guys behind me mutter under their breath, "shit!"

[arpeejay]

Right before I came out (but when I knew I was about to do so):

In the men's section of the department store, trying on a suit. I was 35, a gay virgin (for a few more weeks), and suddenly quite aware of the fact (for the first time!) that at least some gay men found me handsome, attractive, even hunky. 5'10 1/2" and 200 lbs. of furry muscle was, well, something at least some other gay men might be interested in. Who knew?

The kid marking the suit was about 20, a couple of inches shorter than I was, maybe 140 lbs. sopping wet, and pretty obviously gay, not so much from his mannerisms or the way he dressed as from the way he kept furtively looking at me (and any other guy who walked past.)

He knelt beside me, his face just a couple of inches from my crotch, to mark the pant legs. I stared down at the top of his head and I stood a little straighter, puffed out the chest a bit, tensed my quads. I could tell he knew what was happening. When he stood up there was the faintest sheen of perspiration on his forehead -- and he wouldn't make eye contact with me.

That was 16 years ago this summer. I think I wrote my first muscle growth story (probably "Alaska" or "On the Bus") not long after that.

xoxo

Richard

[hulkoutlvr]

Damn, Richard, that story made me hot! And for anyone who has not seen you, you have much more to offer than just all that glorious muscle. There's also a brain and a face that could make an air crash victim crawl out of a full body cast.

[arpeejay]

This evening I had the reverse, sort of, of a power trip, and it was totally hot:

At the grocery store, picking up stuff, when around the corner comes this absolute hunk, with two kids in two.

"Woof," I think. "That's one sexy dad!"

I keep my eye on him as he and the kids head to the bagel section, then see him again the dairy section, and again somewhere else. Dark haired, well-muscled, furry as fuck. Wearing a baggy muscle shirt, baggy shorts, white socks, and hiking shoes.

I lose track of him for a few minutes, then head to the checkers, figuring I'd have to do the fantasy thing with just those snippets, when, BOOM, there they are on Aisle 13, with no one behind. I mosey my cart in and take a good look while he keeps his eyes on the cash register.

Mega fucking hot damn!

My height, for sure, definitely no taller, probably no heavier, maybe a little less, but ALL of it in exactly the right places. His arms a bit bigger than mine (and they're 17), his calves definitely bigger than mine (and mine are 18), probably not as wide in the shoulders or as thick in the chest but his neck's fireplug thick, his traps crawling up towards his ears. His waist might be an inch bigger than it needs to be, which means it's at least 2 inches smaller than mine.

Italian looking and, look at that, "Bruno's Movers" in white on his navy muscle shirt, and I'm 99% sure he's Bruno. A man who works with his body all day long and he looks pumped and probably ready for a good hot shower, after he gets the kids home and fed. I can see his hairy pits, the thick vein running up his beefy bicep. I have to work not to lick my lips!

Short salt-n-peppa hair (more peppa than salt, at this point, he's probably 40, give or take a few; the kids look like they're 10 and 8 or 8 and 6, so that would be about right), buzzed real tight on the sides, looks like his barber uses a laser to get the sideburns that even. A bit longer on top, kind of a modified hedgehog cut, spiky and pointing backwards.

Totally focused on the register, completely oblivious to me or any other man present in the store, the thick, old-fashioned gold band on his left ring finger obviously more than meets his needs.

I'm trying not to pant and at the same time I'm watching the checker, a guy, maybe 19-20, nice looking kid, probably 5'10 and 150 lbs., surreptitiously checking this dad out while ringing him up. Not in any obviously gay way (although who knows?); more along the lines of:

Man, I hope I grow up to look like that, fucking testosterone on wheels!

Hot Dad and the kids head off to the recycle bins while the cashier kid starts ringing me up (but not checking me out.) I'm invisible as far as the hot dad and the cute cashier are concerned, just another set of groceries and a credit card.

I walk out to my car, trying not to rub myself.

The sun's out.

The top is down.

Life is good.

[arpeejay]

I was back on Aisle 13 again tonight, same cute checker. Today I was wearing shorts and my skin tight Calvin Klein v-neck tee shirt, the one that's at least one size too small (L) and that has half-sleeves that barely cover my delts, much less my arms.

As I was waiting for the line to move forward, a handsome man in a white t-shirt and shorts walked by headed for Aisle 11. From the corner of my eye I could see his head swivel in my direction, so I turned slightly and checked him.

Not bad, not bad at all. Again, maybe 40, about my height, not big but definitely in shape and nice proportions, clean-shaven, good tan, slightly wavy hair. Facially he was sort of a latter day Roy Scheider, prominent nose, brown eyes. He tried a time or two, to look in my direction,but the fact that I was looking in his direction dissuaded him.

And then his wife showed up and I was unloading my groceries. I looked up again as I was getting my receipt from the cute checker boy and saw Mr. Handsome looking at me again, and looking away just as soon as he realized I was looking back.

Boy, does all THAT bring back memories!

My friend Keith, when I came out to him (at age 35, after 11 years of marriage and two kids), said, "Well, of course I knew, Richard, you looked at every man who walked by. It was like going to lunch with Dr. Whiplash!"

Which is why I always say:

I spent the first 35 years of my life pretending I wasn't looking at handsome men;
I've spent the past 16 (or however many) years making up for it!

I hope Mr. Handsome figures it out someday!

xoxo

Richard

[DaBigGuy1]

Originally Posted by arpeejay

I was back on Aisle 13 again tonight, same cute checker. Today I was wearing shorts and my skin tight Calvin Klein v-neck tee shirt, the one that's at least one size too small (L) and that has half-sleeves that barely cover my delts, much less my arms.

As I was waiting for the line to move forward, a handsome man in a white t-shirt and shorts walked by headed for Aisle 11. From the corner of my eye I could see his head swivel in my direction, so I turned slightly and checked him.

Not bad, not bad at all. Again, maybe 40, about my height, not big but definitely in shape and nice proportions, clean-shaven, good tan, slightly wavy hair. Facially he was sort of a latter day Roy Scheider, prominent nose, brown eyes. He tried a time or two, to look in my direction,but the fact that I was looking in his direction dissuaded him.

And then his wife showed up and I was unloading my groceries. I looked up again as I was getting my receipt from the cute checker boy and saw Mr. Handsome looking at me again, and looking away just as soon as he realized I was looking back.

Boy, does all THAT bring back memories!

My friend Keith, when I came out to him (at age 35, after 11 years of marriage and two kids), said, "Well, of course I knew, Richard, you looked at every man who walked by. It was like going to lunch with Dr. Whiplash!"

Which is why I always say:

I spent the first 35 years of my life pretending I wasn't looking at handsome men;
I've spent the past 16 (or however many) years making up for it!

I hope Mr. Handsome figures it out someday!

xoxo

Richard

What a terrific story, Richaed!

And yes, I also hope Mr. Handsome figures it out someday. And there are many more of them out there than many people realize....

Ron III---III

P.S. And I wouldn't blame him for checking you out...I can only imagine you in that Calvin Klein....you're looking G-R-E-A-T!