Tales from the Y

tenbyseven

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Tim made his way down the stairs from the weight room on the top floor of the Y to the men's club change room. After an intense upper body workout his pecs felt like they would burst out of his chest. Tim packed 285 pounds of muscle on his 6-foot 2-inch frame, but his chest was his best body part -- 58 inches relaxed. Pumped up with his lats flaring he easily pushed to 65 inches. Years of heavy incline bench presses had made his upper pecs separate from the lower pecs, giving him a pec shelf below his neck. But heavy shrugs meant that his neck was part of a huge mound of trapezius muscle above his chest framed by melon-sized shoulders. Some guys could boast a six-pack. Tim's was an easy eight-pack that sometimes looked like a ten-packer.

Tim was no slouch in the back department. Heavy dead lifts and bent-over rows gave Tim a wing-span that flared out looked like it pushed three feet across tapering only close to his waist. The surface of his back was like a moonscape with a Christmas tree peak starting in the center of it flaring to a freakish 30-inch waist.

It was there from the back that Tim boasted another shelf, from glutes he had grown and ripped with the squats he had done as a high school football player years before. Tim hardly ever did squats now, but his thighs were still 35 inches around easy tapering down to calves better described as cows that were 25 inches. On any other frame his biceps and triceps pumped up to 24 inches on his arms would have looked weird. But on Tim, it was perfect, freakish proportion.

Tim was a muscle god, and he knew it and looked the part with shaggy, naturally wavy, light brown hair and a darker brown, trimmed full beard. His workout tank left little doubt as to his sheer upper body size. But even the loose workout shorts could not hide powerful quadriceps and hamstrings.

Those workout shorts even as loose as they were couldn't hide Tim's other attributes, especially after a blood-pumping session of lifting weights.

When Tim burst into the men's club change room, he couldn't wait to get out his work out gear, kicking off his shoes ankle socks, shedding the tank, workout shorts, and boxer briefs that could only exercise some control.

All eyes -- gay or straight -- were on Tim as he went clothing optional and sauntered towel in hand, flopping and slapping from thigh to thigh, to the showers. He hung up the towel just outside the shower room, and the eyes followed him to his favorite shower head. Tim closed his eyes as the hot spray hit his muscle, and he relished the soothing heat on his skin. Other eyes relished seeing 285 pounds of god-like, sculpted muscle.

Tim spent 15 minutes relaxing his muscle in the hot pool, and then to the sauna. The eyes followed gluteas maximus while those in the sauna were met with another sight of pendulous slapping from thigh to thigh.

One pair of eyes could hardly take his eyes off what he saw.
 
D

deleted500031

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Tim sounds like an interesting gentleman. Please continue...
 

tenbyseven

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After a relaxing steam in the sauna, Tim ambled to his locker -- slap-slap-slap -- to put on some clothes, and sat down. When he looked up, he realized he was now seated between two guys. Tim started to dress.

As he stuffed himself into a fresh pair of boxer briefs, he realized he had an audience. On his right was an athletic looking blond with a deep tan whose eyes were glued to Tim's every move -- especially as he stuffed himself into those briefs.

But when he looked to his left, Tim was met by the deepest purple eyes on a model's olive skin face topped by curly black hair. The model was as tall as Tim, but with a swimmer's body, as cut as Tim's, and an 8-pack to match. The model's stare made it obvious what he wanted. And he wanted it now.

Tim finished dressing, struggling into a white, skin-tight, tapered, v-neck muscle tee, and button-fly 501s that strained against Tim's thighs. He slipped on his RayBans, grabbed his bag, and made his way out of the Y.

Tim cut quite a profile: a broad, deep chest and back tapering to wasp-thin waist, and widening to a bubble -- front and back -- and monstrous thighs. Not so much a V as an X.

As he made his way down the street with that bodybuilder's amble, Tim sense he was being followed. Sure enough: in the reflection of a window across the street, he realized the model was following. A block later, Tim walked into his condo building, nodded behind him to the doorman, and pressed the button to call an elevator. The doors opened, and Tim was followed into the elevator car by the model.

Tim could hear the model's increasingly heavy breathing above the elevator hum. They got to the 24th floor -- Tim's -- and the model followed him. Dead bolt opened, Tim opened the door and motioned the model into his condo.

The button fly was really starting to strain.
 
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492801

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Mmm sounds like this could be fun great start hope you continue soon
-A
 

tenbyseven

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Dead bolt clicked into place from inside the door, Tim felt the model's hands exploring first his back and pecs, then down to his glute shelf. The model's breathing was heavier.

Tim swung around, bent slightly, and picked up the model's 175-pound swimmer frame, and carried him -- like a baby -- to his king-size bed. The model still didn't say a word, but started to strip piece by piece for Tim, down to boxers.

Tim's button fly strained some more.

Wordlessly, the model reached over to the side of the bed to where Tim stood, and unbuttoned the fly. Tim spilled out, still in his boxer briefs. He grabbed his muscle tee at the v-neck and pulled until ribbed fabric gave way and ripped. Tim pulled some more, and the tee gave up holding Tim's massive chest and back.

He kicked off his shoes and socks, peeled off the 501s, and let his boxer briefs struggle to hold him in. For his part, the model, reached for Tim's waistband.