Body Parts I

[michaeldavid]

Why not a series of short stories about specific body parts filled with muscle? I've been a lurker, but wonder if I can't give some of my dreams a voice.


I needed help moving. New job, new area and all. I didn't have a lot of money but wasn't about to kill myself carrying my meager, but heavy items to my new walk-up. I checked the old yellow pages I found on the stoop. And there it was, an answer to...prayer?

"Rick Moves You," was the company name, with the by-line of, "A little cash buys a lot of muscle." I appreciated the double-entendre of the company name, even if it was just wishful thinking. I called. Rick answered.

He was available, he said, with what sounded like a smile. Another tease? I was in a town known for beautiful gay men. Perhaps I'd be lucky. He sounded young, but definitely of the jock, athletic tone. That is, if a voice can really tell you anything. After all, mine is misleading and I regularly get called Ms. on the phone.

"How many will you be bringing? I'll have a couple of beers for each of you ready. It shouldn't take more than 30-45 minutes to get all the stuff up and I'm glad to take an end of the sofa if you'll knock off the price a little."

"Rick moves you, baby," he chortled. "I got this. We'll be done in 30 minutes and you needn't break a sweat."

OK - hold up! That's ridiculous! Cocky in the ad - cocky on the phone. I just knew I was setting myself up for failure here, but I decided to be less cautious and put my money and hopes on the line. He said he'd be here in ten as he lived nearby.

I was waiting on the stairs when he came running up the street. Not a jogging pace, mind you, running. Like in a race. He was fast. He was blonde and actually balding a bit. You know, when the hair is receding a touch and makes you look like a testosterone farmer. That's right - I actually wrote 'testosterone farmer.' I'll explain.

This is the guy who's face has seen some sun, with a few tiny wrinkles at the corner of his eyes because he's a smiler. Farmers are smilers. His teeth are as close to bright white as looks natural - but they aren't perfectly straight. His significant arms are lightly bulging the end of their T-shirt sleeves and the tanned skin is covered with a golden hair that's only visible at the right angles of light. The testosterone in his body makes those little hairs stand erect. They flow over the skin following the contours of the muscles. The perfect cup of the delts, swirling into the thin cord atop the triceps. You suddenly notice the forearms are ridiculous...like the size of the upper arm at certain angles...when he shakes your hand. The hands are rough but clean. His nails super short. He is about 6 ft 3. Whatever else he's packing...he's a testosterone farmer!

Rick had to ask a second time where my stuff was, because I was amazed. I vaguely indicated a truck a few spaces down with an open back. He surveyed the items and said he'd start with the oversized easy chair my friend and I had struggled to load through doorways and downstairs in my hometown.

He scooped up the chair even easier than I expected and turned toward the building, his eyes asking for directions. I stepped out of the way with the intention of grabbing a box or two to follow him up with when I noticed him hop the front steps two at a time with the easy chair overhead with the seat resting on his head and the back covering his back. I was looking for a glimpse of his arms raised above his head when I saw them. Ricky, (as I'd decided to call him for the next few weeks of masturbatory sessions), had a body part to compare with no other. Every ounce of his physical glory culminated in his calves!

Those were lower legs. Oh, my God! I've never been a leg man - - but chalk me up permanently for dark meat! First off, the skin was THE shade of golden brown models usually paint themselves to get. The hair wasn't that kucky, too-long and pubic type. It was just so manly. So thick. Each individual hair looked like it could win a fight. They, too, like the arm hairs were SO erect. They weren't blonde. They were a nice, dark brown. It made me realize this kid would have a delicious bush. The skin had a tiny hint of sweat that caught the light and made the leg look so functional.

You should have seen the chords that attached that mother of a calf into his shoe. Only then did I realize the shoe almost looked oversized for his height. Big shoe, big foot, big man. There were two or three parallel chords on each side of the leg that looked like tubes headed into the shoe.

The calf looked, all at once, both super high on the leg...like he leaped steps all the time for work outs and altogether longer than any bunch of muscle should be on a leg. Seriously, this was like a biceps flexed on the back of his leg. It looked deep, thick, ripe. I wanted to bite it. To swat at it to feel the girth and the thickness and the glory. God, I wanted to cum on that leg.

He turned at the doorway and asked if I was OK. I had subconsciously grabbed the railing to keep myself from moving closer and was actually rubbing myself a tad on said railing. (Come on, don't act like you've never done it.)

I told him apartment 3B. He smiled and said, "Cum on." Well, he probably said, "Come on." I had one thing on my mind.

I followed him quickly up the stairs. As the afternoon progressed, I followed him like a puppy. I watched those calves work. I know they could have carried Rick, my stuff, and me up the stairs without the assistance of his thighs if only the physiology worked that way. On one step, that magnificent calf would bunch like it was trying to squeeze OJ from itself. On another, it would lengthen and actually flex like it was going to shove the stair down a floor. I looked, more than once, for the dent I was sure would be left in the cement.

The skin got darker, the sweat only a little more evident after several trips. I couldn't even hardly admire the abilities of the rest of his body man-handling my stuff because his calves were undeniably in charge of my focus...perhaps my being.

And Rick knew it. He enjoyed it. Not in the way a nasty jerk does with a "look at me" attitude, but in a way that showed he liked being noticed and knew he'd be my dream for many a night.

He even stopped once and said he had something in his shoe. He set my half-fridge on one landing and turned around to nearly bump into me. He sat down and I saw that sucker flex and bunch and grow - - very literally GROW as he sat and wrested off his shoe, removed the air that was in it, and returned it to his foot. I hadn't seen the calf from the front. The muscle came around and nearly connected in front of the shin bone. Even that bone looked muscular and could tighten. The columnar chords stood out on either side again. And then he rubbed his elfin' leg. Hell, I had to place a knee on the stairs to keep from collapsing. Those big, muscular hands massaging that gigantic, powerful leg. I had an obvious hard on and asked if he'd like a hand.

He grinned. He declined. He stood up. He turned around. He grabbed my half-fridge. He flexed those bastards again. And again. One bunched, one stretched. I nearly climaxed in my pants. He finished his job with one more arm load. I paid the man. He waved and ran down the street with those calves screaming my name. Rick moved me.

[ydt81]

This a pretty bold series to take on; that said you've delivered an impeccable start.
Very straightforward and such an unexpected body part to begin with. One of my favorite moments in reading a story about muscle is when an author uncovers a 'blind spot'--makes me see something differently or gain an attraction hadn't know before. I once thought about this type of series a long, long time ago but after reading this, I have to say, I am extremely glad you got to it first! Your writing is refreshingly clear and the characters were not off putting in the least.


Great job on this and I wish you the very best of luck if you decide to continue.

P.s: Is this actually your first story?

[Mdlftr]

Originally Posted by ydt81

This a pretty bold series to take on; that said you've delivered an impeccable start.
Very straightforward and such an unexpected body part to begin with. One of my favorite moments in reading a story about muscle is when an author uncovers a 'blind spot'--makes me see something differently or gain an attraction hadn't know before. I once thought about this type of series a long, long time ago but after reading this, I have to say, I am extremely glad you got to it first! Your writing is refreshingly clear and the characters were not off putting in the least.


Great job on this and I wish you the very best of luck if you decide to continue.

P.s: Is this actually your first story?

It says this is his FIRST post!

Amazing!

Great "blind spot" story -- could lead to "wet spots"

(Oh I didn't just say that!)

[michaeldavid]

It really is my first muscle story, ydt81. I fancy myself a bit of a writer and have a partial novel about spying during The American Civil War and a bit of a memoir created, but I've only dreamed my muscle fantasies. I'm glad you liked it.

Check out Body Parts II and let me know if I did alright there, too.

Thanks for the encouragement.