An American Muscleman in London 2
by Londonboy
The First Full Moon – Continues
So I’d like to tell you that Gaston, the football player, and I had super muscle sex and fell madly in love. But that is not what happened. And that is not what this story is about. Don’t worry, I promise you there will be lots of muscle in this story. Well to be honest – a lot of muscle growth. But that comes later.
Gaston’s real name was Luke. And he wasn’t a football player – he was a construction worker in Houston. He was a good old southern boy who was very easy to talk to. He told me that when he looked back and saw that the option was sitting beside the woman with too much make up and a dog (I hadn’t noticed the dog) or a guy his own age he knew which seat to take. I was even able to steer the conversation to Luke’s work-out routine and that got him going. He wasn’t shy when it came to talking about how he developed different parts of his body and was quick to raise his shirt for a little show-and-tell. I was definitely thankful for the blanket that was covering my hard-on.
At one point in the conversation I did the most amazing thing. Luke was asking me if I was married or had a girlfriend and I just blurted out that I was gay. I couldn’t believe I did it. I was so proud of myself and hoped this was par for the course in London. Luke didn’t seem to care a bit. He told me he was straight but I got the feeling that Luke had definitely taken a “walk on the wild side” with some guy in his past. It was just great to have someone so easy to chat with sitting beside me. I found out that Luke was traveling on to Israel from London. He had gotten some great construction gig in Jerusalem. How cool was that. After dinner and about two hours of chatting Luke said he was going to get some shuteye. I was disappointed – but knew a little sleep would be the best for both of us. I downed an Ambien with the last of my champagne and lay back to get some sleep. I turned one last time to get a good look at the sleeping giant beside me. Somehow I knew I was beginning the trip of a lifetime.
The flight attendant asking me to begin preparing for our landing awakened me. I was pretty groggy but not so out of it that I forgot about Luke. I turned and found his seat empty. I asked for some coffee and began to get myself organized for landing. I glanced up as Luke came down the aisle with his duffle bag. He had changed clothes, shaved, and obviously washed up. He looked great. I found myself wishing that I woke up to Luke each morning.
“Hey there sleepy head,” he said smiling. “You might want to at least tame that hair before we land.” I’m sure my face flushed red as I quickly said thanks, grabbed some supplies and went to the bathroom. One glance in the mirror told me Luke was right. I look liked I had just ended a two week drunk. When I finally came back to my seat I was fully awake and feeling a lot better. Luke glanced up and said, “Yeah, I think you’ll do a lot better with the boys in London looking that way.” I blushed again. “I have a gay friend who comes to London all the time and he once told me about a grgay pub he liked a lot. I’ve written down the name for you.” I glanced at the sheet of paper. The name of the pub was ‘Halfway to Heaven.’ “It’s just off Trafalgar Square,” he added.
“That’s near where my apartment will be. Thanks, Luke.” I smiled and put the paper in my pocket.
Luke shook my hand just inside the gate. We were going separate ways in the terminal. He told me to have a great time in London and then said goodbye. After I had gotten about five steps away Luke called my name. I turned around and he said, “You’re going to be fine – you’ve got people looking out for you.” And then he was gone in the crowd. I turned back around baffled by what he had said. I didn’t have much time to think about it because I had to maneuver through customs for the first time in my life.
I had been instructed by my company to look for a driver with a sign bearing my name. Once I came into the meeting area I began looking for such a sign. I walked around and looked at all the signs but couldn’t find one with my name on it. After about twenty minutes I decided to call the number of the point person in London that my company had given me. I pushed my cart, containing four large bags and my carry on, into an open space. I took off my backpack and crouched down to retrieve my new company cell phone (which had made my mother very happy – I could call home on the company’s money) and the number. While I was searching for the phone two huge back shoes appeared in front of me. I’m not kidding. These two shoes looked like cars from a ride in the children's area at a theme park. I know two small children could have ridden in them.
At the same time a voice, which boomed a little like a foghorn, asked, “Are you Anthony?”
I lifted my head and all I could see was a man’s mid-section. I had tilted my head high enough to meet the face of a regular sized man, but here I only saw a buttoned dark jacket. I leaned back to look higher and fell back on my ass. I was staring up at the tallest man I had ever seen. He reminded me of the actor that played the character named “Jaws” in those old James Bond movies staring Roger Moore. Wasn’t his name something like Richard Kiel or something – I couldn’t remember at the moment because the real thing in front of me was so mind-boggling. Anyway, I was staring up at a guy that was over seven feet tall. He could have been over eight feet tall – I couldn’t tell from on the floor. The giant held out his hand and asked, “May I help you?”
I instinctively grabbed his hand. It was gigantic. I had a flashback to age four or five when I would walk beside my dad holding his hand. His huge mitt covered my entire hand and part of my arm. He pulled and easily lifted me from the floor. My feet actually come off the floor a little before he stopped lifting. Again I had a feeling that could only be described as something like being a small stuffed animal carried by a child. I glanced again at the hand holding mine and realized it could actually cover my entire head. If this guy wanted to palm my head like a basketball his thumb would reach below one ear and his smallest finger would go lower than my other ear. I am sure he could pick me up that way easily – just like an athlete with a ball. The giant finally let go of my hand and I dropped a few inches to the ground. My cock stirred a little.
“My name is Atol,” the giant said, “and I am here to pick you up.”
I jokingly said, “You mean literally or in a car?”
Atol looked confused and said, “Pardon me?”
“Never mind,” I said laughing to myself. “I’m sorry that I missed you, Atol. I was looking or a sign with my name on it." I saw a look quickly flash across Atol’s face as if I had reminded him of something he had forgotten.
“No problem. Are these your bags?” he asked pointing to my cart.
“Yeah, that’s my life in just four bags,” I said reaching down to grab my backpack. When I stood up Atol had already begun to walk away pushing the cart. Wow, a man of few words, I thought. I guess when you’re that big you really don’t have to speak. I watched in awe as the crowd instinctively parted for this giant. I noticed that most people lost all manners and just stared wide-eyed at Atol. He had gotten ahead of me so I moved quickly – I had to take three steps for every one of his. Just as we were about to break free from the crowd gathered to greet people coming through customs I noticed a man holding a sign that said “Anthony Lance.” That must have been my driver.
“Hey Atol,” I cried out, “I think there’s been a mistake. I see my name on a sign over there. Let’s go get that guy and we can figure this out. Maybe the company sent two drivers . . .” My voice trailed away because when I turned from looking at the guy with the sign I could see no Atol. My cart was there, but the giant was gone. I looked around in the crowd and couldn’t see him. How in the hell could a guy like that disappear? And he didn’t say anything. This was truly strange. I quickly grabbed my cart and walked to the guy with the sign. I didn’t want him to disappear, too.
The guy holding the sign was wearing a black suit, but I could still tell he had a mighty fine chest underneath those clothes. He was definitely hot. He looked like someone I knew but I didn’t have time to figure it out. I hoped to myself that he was what the common Londoner looked like.
“Hi, I’m Anthony Lance,” I said as I reached the driver. I held out my hand and felt a strong grip in return.
“Cheers, Anthony. My name is Matt. Welcome to London. Let me take that from you,” he said taking the cart. We started walking out of the airport. “Did you have a nice flight, Anthony?”
“Yes, thank you. Matt, the weirdest thing just happened, though. A guy came up to me and acted like he was my driver. When I saw you with the sign he just seemed to disappear,” I said as we walked.
“Well – you have to be careful at Heathrow. There are a lot of people that are trying to get your stuff. I’m sure it was some petty thief trying to lure you away from the airport.”
“But he knew my name,” I explained.
“Well it is on your bag, there.” Matt said pointing to my backpack. Of course, I had my name stitched across the bag to help me distinguish it from other peoples. Something inside of me still found it all strange, though. Something about that Atol made me uneasy.
Matt said in a cheery voice, “Everything’s fine now – you’ve got people looking out for you.” I stopped walking. “What’s the matter, forget something?” he asked.
“No, nothing like that. It’s just that you’re the second person to say that to me in the last hour. What a coincidence,” I explained. Matt just smiled and we started walking again. There was something so friendly and familiar about that smile. I decided I was just edgy from the jetlag. All I really needed was a hot shower.