Sunday afternoon at the gym….late spring

[Mdlftr]

Hey, whaddaya know...my characters Andy San Pietro and Matt McGuire have been bugging me to come back out for another round in the gym--and here they are!

[Author's note: I am one of those sometime contributors to this forum who has greatly enjoyed the work of our many authors over the years. I always told myself and everyone else that I couldn't and wouldn't be one of those authors who writes multipart stories. And yet, when I found myself enjoying (again and again!) the work of Arpeejay, R. Chris Cooper, Corwin, Rabiyya and Aardvark2 (to name only a few of the talented authors) over the years, I found myself reconsidering. How can I keep a story fresh and interesting? What can I say? Now I know. The real question is: what will my characters do next? Thanks for reading. Gratefully, Mdlftr]

http://www.musclegrowth.org/forum/sh...ad.php?t=12345 Prior link

We’ve been working out together now for 3 months. In those three months I’ve become more consistent at the gym than I ever have been. Thanks to Andy’s encouragement, I’ve come to the gym and engaged in a gut-busting workout three times a week. After the first month, Andy switched us both to his workout schedule: chest and tris, back and bis, quads and abs, aerobic with heavy calf work, followed by the schedule again: chest and tris, back and bis, quads and abs, aerobic and calves. I’ll admit that what it lacks in originality, it more than makes up for in results. My poundages on all my exercises have gone up, my waist has come in 2 inches and I’ve gained more definition on my back, lats, arms, pecs and quads. It turns out that my body really responds to consistent workouts, particularly my shoulders, lats, quads and butt. My chest and arms are coming along too, but I really crave more, and Andy is just the one to stoke my fire. We’re doing the same exercises, set for set, although his weights are higher than mine. When we finish a chest and tris workout, and we’re both sitting on the benches, after killer sets of bench dips, puffing like steam engines, he’ll do a little showing off. He claims he does this to keep me motivated, but I think he’s just trying to get me to bust a nut.

He’ll sort of look at me sidelong and sort of casually stretch out his freshly pumped tris, throwing one beefy arm behind his neck and grabbing the hand with his opposite hand. He’ll groan a little, just to make sure I’m paying attention, then he’ll switch arms and stretch out the other tri. After that he’ll sit up straight, drop his heavy arms to his sides and flex his monster pecs through his shirt. Did I mention that he likes to wear white wife beaters on chest day? I call them his tighty whiteys ‘cause they’re so sheer white that they reveal more than they conceal, and they are so tight you can see his pores! He starts off, I swear, wearing a size too small, just to show off his heavy pecs and perky nipples. He’s like one of those girls with huge jugs from high school who always wore tight shirts to show off her cleavage, who acted all surprised when she turned around and saw a whole room full of guys drooling. Course, in his case it’s those heavy, massive Italian pec muscles with the dusky areolas the size of half dollars that are barely contained in his shirt. He’s such a frickin’ tease, cause he knows I love big pec development more than just about anything, and he’s always, excuse the pun, thrusting them in my face. Anyhow, he’ll sit there on the bench, staring at himself in the mirror, and he’ll flex those huge mounds with his heavy arms hanging at this sides. It’s like tectonic plates moving. He has so much chest mass that when he flexes, it looks like a landslide – up and down, up and down and out. The flexing makes his pecs pump with blood, and then they swell out even more. Then he’ll reach up one big paw and cup his pec and caress and squeeze it, just like I’d like to do. It’s so mesmerizing and freakish at the same time. The first time I saw it I got so hard in my shorts I almost spewed right there. As it was, I had to grab my notebook and *ahem ! position it strategically so I could make it to the locker room and a stall. Afterwards Andy laughed his head off and gave me shit about it. Talk about embarrassing! Still, I got him back!

One time, after a particularly heavy leg day, when we did 20 rep squats followed by leg curls followed by leg extensions, followed by lunges, my legs and ass were so pumped I was literally walking like a cowboy – legs wide apart, kind of straddling the air like I had a horse between my legs.

After the workout, I walked over to where Andy was standing near my water bottle and towel and I bent over to get them. I was talking about our plans for that evening, when I noticed that he was quiet – really quiet. Usually after a workout he’s really running off at the mouth, going over out workout, what we did right, what we did wrong, what we’re going to do next time, and so on. This time I realized he was just quiet, so I looked up at him to see what was wrong. What I saw was him staring, open mouthed at my ass. I realized then that he was an ass and leg man. So, turnabout’s fair play, considering all the casual torture he put me through with his pec pumping and flexing and wearing tight shirts. I decided to have a little fun. As I slowly straightened up, I gave a little groan, kind of like he does, and put a hand on my ass.

“Ohhh” I moan.

“Matt, what’s wrong?” he asks, all concerned.

“Oh, I think I pulled something.” I put my hand down and turn around so my ass is in his face. “Does my butt look swollen to you?” I crab walk right up against him as I’m saying this.

“Uh, uh, err, well…” Andy’s having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. I can see his big mitts opening and closing, just itching to reach out and grab some pumped muscled ass. I turned my ass from side to side in front of him, flexing and moaning. “I can’t say…I mean tell. I don’t know. I just….” Here his voice sort of trails off as he makes a sort of guttural sound in his throat.

“Hey, do you see something?” I ask, all fake concerned, as I press up against him even further. “I thought today’s workout went really well. See my quads, how pumped they are?” Here I straighten up, extend one leg and flex just under his nose. He gulps audibly. I’m loving this. Legs and butt are good body parts for me, and it’s nice to have my hard work be appreciated! Hiding a smile, I continue in my fake concerned voice, “I thought for sure when we did those sets of 20s, and I got so pumped the seams of my shorts ripped, that I’d hurt myself! Can you take a look?” I stick my ass in his face again, pulling up the workout shorts just a little so he can get a better look. His eyes are glued to my butt. If the ceiling fell down at that moment, and a herd of thundering elephants went charging by, he’d miss ‘em. He’s that fixated on my butt.

After about a half a minute of watching him restrain himself, as he stutters and chokes and tries to say something intelligible, I just kept flexing my butt, standing there looking all swole. Finally I said to him, “Hey! I think It’s better! Here, just put your hand right here,” and then I grabbed one of his big mitts and put it against my ass. He literally jumped, then growled. I said, “I think the swellings getting better! What do you think?” At this point I just looked him right in the eye and burst out laughing. He blinked for a minute, then lunged at me.

“WHY YOU F***R!” he tried to grab me but I just stepped out of his way, behind a low bench, which just happened to be there. His momentum carried him forward and over the bench he went! As he was picking himself up off the grounding swearing revenge, I said, “Hey, save it for chest day – and those tighty whitey tanks of yours!” as I swaggered into the locker room.

Workout partners, gotta love ‘em!