He caught me staring at him out of the corner of his eye, my mouth open. He continued raising and flexing his massive arms, biceps bulging into hard split peaks with veins engorged of blood, as the judges called out the pose. In the next pose, he crunched his abs, and beads of sweat grew from the pores, dribbling down the ridges and deep crevices, darkening his maroon posing trunks further. This time he turned his head towards me, staring directly back, his mouth slightly open, tongue parting his lips. My cock jumped to life to greet his stare, straining against my pants and zipper.
“And finally. Most muscular,” the head judge called.
Number 32 placed his hands on his hips, his lats flared out, his pecs bulged, the crevices sharply deepening between the upper and lower pec muscles, and rope-like veins popped out. He lowered his gaze, this time staring at my now obvious bulging crotch. He winked.
Later that night, Number 32 unsurprisingly won his weight class, super heavyweight, as well as the overall. I sat in the back this time, and after the show I looked him up, Jukka Tervaskari, and beat off to more online images of Jukka in my hotel room and passed out, thinking about Jukka’s massive muscular body and his beautiful rugged face.
I woke up in the middle of the night to get ice in the machine down the hall and around the corner. My heart started racing when I bumped into none other than Jukka, sporting a stringy tank top draped over his wide shoulders and wearing the flimsiest of shorts, stretched tightly to barely hold his huge buttocks and tree trunk sized thighs and bulging crotch. I literally bumped into him, and it was more like running into a wall, my shoulder ached when it crunched against his dense pecs, his right nipple getting erect from the recoil.
“Would you like a private posing session?” he asked.
“Yes?” I answered, more as a question, my mind confused on how this absolute muscle god would know my deepest desire, know which hotel room I was staying in, and whether I should be elated or worried about that.
“Come on,” he said. I followed him, at first thinking we would go back to my room. He walked past that. We got into the elevator, he pressed L, rather than the penthouse button, where I thought we were going where all the bodybuilders were staying for the show. I was practically trotting to keep up with the pace of the stride of this 6’6” hulk, in my bathrobe.
We walked past the noisy lights and sounds of the slot machines, my cock even harder as I followed and stared at his veiny thick calves in sandals ahead of me. Fortunately only a few patrons were around at the slot machines at 4 am, their eyes glued to the screens.
I found myself in the backstage with him.
“The manager gave me the key a few days ago, so I could practice my posing before the show,” he explained. “Since I haven’t returned it yet, we’ll continue where you would have liked how it could have gone last night.”
I walked and sat in the front seat off to the side, where I was at prejudging.
He flipped the lights on, tore off his flimsy tank top, and pulled off his shorts, revealing the same posing maroon posing suit and tag barely holding in what is obviously an enormous cock.
“Tell me anything,” he ordered.
“Front double bis!” I yelled, as he complied, and my own cock recalled to when our eyes first met.
“Don’t just tell me poses. Do also whatever you want to me,” Jukka commanded as he pointed at my throbbing cock, then beckoned for it to come.
I climbed up onto the stage. Jukka pulled my bathrobe off, then my underwear, my cock now just pulsing, pre-cum dribbling down. I was speechless, so he grabbed me with his massive hands, lifted me without effort, and started rubbing my cock against his abs.
He looked at my cock and frowned at first, then smiled, as he made more pre-cum ooze out of my cock while rubbing it against his abs. His own cock head was now fully exposed above his low posing trunks, with even more copious pre-cum staining his trunks a darker maroon.
I remained speechless. Jukka whispered, “Lat spread?”
I nodded, taking his cue, I grabbed onto his mounds of traps to pull myself up, wrapped my thighs around his waist, my legs perched behind on top of his huge glutes.
While he flexed, his massive cock head barely probed my anus, and I came. I came so hard and so much, volleys of cum sprayed onto his chest and abs. He maintained his lat spread pose, while I was furiously now rubbing my cock all over his rock hard abs. He helped me up with his hands on my buttocks, lifting me so my cock head would rub along the underside of his pecs, painting them with cum. Then when I thought I could cum no more, he gave me a bear hug, pressing my cock tightly against his rock hard abs, eking out more cum, as if I were a tube of toothpaste.
Under the bright lights, this muscle god’s muscles shone brightly, my cum pooling around his nipples and still dripping from them. He set me down and resumed his front lat pose, then flexed his arms into a most muscular pose and looked up.
“What you want is what I want!” Jukka roared.
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