Built That Way CHAPTER 12

[lkjhgfdsa]

CHAPTER 12

His car slid to a smooth stop a few blocks off Venice Boulevard, his 230-pound body, heavy with muscle, working the gears, his insanely thick pecs contracting, his mind-blowing heavy triceps flexing and pushing outward the tight sleeve of his gray T-shirt as he moved the manual gear into place. Chad turned his dark, piercing eyes toward me. His thick fingers grasped the leather-coated steering wheel, pulling tight, swelling and rippling his heavily muscled forearms, cabled with pulsing veins. “Here you go,” he said.

His eyes moved past me to a muted gray 2-story apartment building. Could have been a cheap motel in its past life. Now its concrete block frame was converted into a building that housed the type of folks who could barely make a living in this city.

I looked at the complex and then back at him, quickly at first and then slowing as I relished the intense flex of my thick neck muscles as I swiveled my head right to left. I moved my heavy torso, also, just for the sensation of feeling my hard obliques tighten. I involuntarily – almost – flexed my thick pecs, making them swell against my heavy white tee V-neck. Did Chad’s eyes notice and his grin widen? I damn well think so. I fucking remember him flexing his fucking heavy 52-inch chest in turn and licking his lips with this thick, moist tongue. My dark eyes traced his heavy frame down to his tight abs, the hard muscle tightly outlined by his thin white wifebeater. I lingered before looking up and questioning him with my hard, smoldering eyes: “What’s gonna happen now?” I didn’t need to speak.

His darkly stubbled face grinned even more broadly, his square jaw setting firmly. “Go get it,” he said, nodding toward the apartment building, his voice husky and dark.

I pulled the latch and pushed open the battleship door. The Germans had built this car like a tank, and Chad even better. “Now, pussy!” he yelled, lurching toward the window, his heavy fist beating the passenger seat so it shuddered. I jumped backward, my fucking ripped 212 pounds hitting the ground – and then I was aware of my 28-inch quads, my heavy, striated hams flexing, absorbing the impact. This fuck. He might be my trainer, and he might be bigger, but the fuck he was gonna push me around.

“Fuck you!” I roared, slamming the heavy door shit and pounding the passenger window with a meaty fist that cracked the glass.

“That’s to come,” Chad grinned darkly. “Right now it’s fuck you. Number 201.”

The Mercedes V-8 roared as Chad’s fucking incredible calf flexed into action and pushed down on the accelerator. In mere moments, he was gone, the red tail lights fading into the dark.

I turned at looked at the complex. The fuck. My tight abs tensed. My reward waited. But what? What was it? And despite my fucking mentor – I mean, he’d set it up, but who the hell needed any more than his own wet-dream body – dammit, I was gonna take it.

I turned and walked up the concrete steps to the second floor, keenly aware at every moment how the yellow bug light lit the cuts and striations and curves of my heavily muscled body pushing against my tight gray workout shorts and thin white cotton tee, still soaked from the mind-blowing-fucking sweat of my mental-and-ab workout imposed by Chad. I looked down at my heaving chest muscles as I climbed the stairs. I thought of Chad’s freakishly thick and ripped 52-inch chest as I flexed my own pecs under the tight clinging cotton of my shirt, watching the heavy muscle bulge and tense and striate and shred in fuckingly orgasmic pattern. My dick grew hard and pulsed with each blood-swelling tense of my chest. I willed my dick even harder, pulling my heavily muscled shoulders back, moving into perfect posture, tightening and flexing my incredibly thick back, from my neck, down my traps, through my lats, down my lower back, and into my tight bubble ass. I willed my hamstrings to tighten with each step, my quads tensing and flexing and rippling with each step upward, my calves flexing into hard diamonds with the propulsion. I flexed every single damn muscle in my body, reveling in their nearly orgasmic contractions, as I climbed the stairs with a heavy, pulsating cock, to door 201.

My body was pumped, a fucking muscle sex machine ready to blow. My tight 29” gut tightened and shredded with each breath, thinking of damn Chad’s own hard washboard eight-pack, his mind-blowingly heavy build, and wondering what reward waited behind this door. Whatever it was, I was gonna plow it into the ground. Damn Chad. What was going on? Who was I gonna to meet? My heavy, ripped, fucking bulging muscles tensed even harder.

I breathed deep to slow the pulses of my raging hard dick. I raised my heavily muscled arm and knocked twice; two heavy, deep pounds in quick succession.

The door unlatched with sharp clicks and swung open. Pushing outward through the dark interior blackness, I could make out two heavy breasts.

They pressed against me. Fleshy. Warm. Their owner palming my tight muscle ass with her right hand, her left pressing firmly upward against my hard abs and then resting – no, forcing hard against – my densely muscled chest, her thumb pressing hard and upward along the merge of my thick, heavy pecs. I flexed them hard and her hand tightened

“You’re even more fantastic than I hoped,” she breathed.

The hand on my chest traced downward again, tickling my hard washboard abs, down past the waistband of my shorts. Just before reaching my cock, she slid her hand around my tight, shredded waist, tingling the flesh as she moved. She found her other hand which was palming my firm, tight ass. Then both arms wrapped around my muscular lower back. She squeezed her luscious body hard against mine. My dick was gonna blow.

Fuck Chad. But first I was gonna do some fucking here.

[Aleutrius]

Good to see this starting up again; it's been a long time. Look forward to more.

[musclegawd]

THanks for posting. Please keep it coming soon!