Mentoring Muscle 2
by Londonboy
Once we got to my house Jack insisted on unloading the hot-water heater by himself. He carried the box through the front part of my house as I took him to the basement where the useless heater still stood. It was then that I noticed Jack had no tools. He placed the box in the middle of the work room and surveyed the heater that stood there now.
“Uh, Jack,” I started, “Do you need me to go upstairs and get a wrench or something?” I had no idea what tool would be used.
“Nah, I don’t need anything, thanks,” Jack said casually. He then grabbed the place where the piping from the heater met the piping attached to my wall and simply turned his wrist. “Wait a minute,” he said stopping, “I forgot to turn off the water.” He reached down and turned a switch at the base of the wall. “That should take care of that. Hey, Stephen, there is going to be a little water. Is that okay?”
“Don’t worry about it Jack,” I answered and then added, “Hey what about the old heater. Don’t we need to drain it first?”
“I got it covered. No worries,” Jack answered as he went back to unscrewing the joined pipes. As he twisted the pipes his bicep peaked under the pressure. He had to reach down and pull up his polo shirt sleeve. I believe he did it to prevent it from ripping. The bicep was incredible. I knew it wasn’t flexed completely, but it looked as if it had been cut in stone. A huge vein crept across the peak. I could feel my cock starting to get harder - if that was possible. When Jack had the pipes separated a little water ran onto the floor. I grabbed a towel that was folded on top of the dryer near by and placed it on the floor. I wasn’t paying attention to Jack and when I turned around from wiping the water on the floor my mouth flew open. Jack was lifting the water heater full of water from the tray on the floor. I couldn't tell if it was heavy because Jack wasn't straining to carry it. I noticed then he was carrying it with one arm because the other hand was covering the pipe so more water didn’t come shooting out. I stared in amazement as Jack carried the water-heater a few feet over to the drain in the basement floor. He set the heater down and stuck the flexible pipe through the grating of the drain. I immediately heard water emptying into the pipes that ran below my house. I wasn’t moving – just staring at him.
“Hey Stephen, are you okay?” Jack asked looking at me strangely. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” I stammered as Jack walked to the box with the new heater. It took him about twenty minutes to finish the job. The only “tool” he needed was some kind of tape he had in his pocket that he put on the pipes before twisting them together again. When he was done he looked over the job.
“Well, let’s see if everything is fine. I don’t want to leave the job and have any leaks. He turned on the water and I could hear the hot-water heater beginning to fill. Jack checked the place where the pipes were screwed together and said, “Stephen, that’s it. It looks like all is fixed. It also sounds as if the water has drained from the old heater. Do you want me to put it in the back of your car?”
“Sure,” was all I could get out as he lifted the old heater and began up the stairs. When he was most of the way up I reached over and checked to see if I could budge the pipes in any way where they met. I used both hands and nothing moved at all. I was still in awe of what this guy was probably capable of. I hurried upstairs and he was returning from the car as I closed the basement door.
“Stephen, would you mind if I used your bathroom to wash my hands? Working with the pipes can be a little messy,” Jack said as he rubbed his hands together. I also noticed his light blue polo shirt had a little dirt on it (probably from lifting the water-heater full of water).
“No problem, it’s right down the hall there on the right,” I said pointing in that direction. “Would you like something to drink? How about a beer? It’s the least I can do.”
“Forget about it, Stephen, this was nothing. But I will take a beer,” Jack said smiling and then he turned to walk down the hall.
I went into the kitchen and got two bottles out of the fridge. I really needed a Corona right now. I needed to calm down a little from being around this giant of a man for these few minutes. My dick had not stopped throbbing since leaving Home Depot. I placed the bottles of beer on the table and opened the dreaded kitchen drawer with all those items that have no other place to rest. I began to search for the bottle opener. Of course I couldn’t find it immediately so I started taking things out of the drawer.
“Nice picture in the bathroom,” Jack said as he entered the kitchen and picked up a beer. He reached up to twist the cap off the bottle.
“Those aren’t twist off…” I began and trailed off as he easily twisted the cap off the bottle. Another moment for me to have a wave of awe hit me. I know it was something many people would be able to do, but it was the casual way that he did it (as if he didn’t realize what he was doing).
“No?” Jack asked, “Well they come off pretty easily. Here, you take this one.” He said as he handed me the first bottle and then casually twisted the cap off the other bottle. “I was saying that I like the picture in the bathroom.” I was still staring at the two crumpled bottle caps lying on the table. My mind quickly focused on what he was saying and I realized that he was talking about the Herb Ritts print that I had framed in the bathroom. I believe it was titled something like “Fred With Tires” and was a picture of a young stud lifting two tires. He is covered with grease and standing so his torso is a little twisted. It is a great shot and I had always admired (okay, lusted after) it. As soon as I had bought my own place I bought a copy and framed it – knowing I would place it in my bathroom.
“That guy in the picture is really built. He has great shoulders and nice arms. I’d really like to know what his workout routine is,” Jack was saying. It was obvious that he was completely serious and was genuinely in awe of the guy in the picture. He had no idea that he was built like a muscle fantasy himself. This just blew my mind.
I then had a brainstorm. I knew I would be treading on thin ice, but I just didn’t care. I knew instinctively that there was more to Jack – more than Jack himself knew existed. I knew he was different than most men. I wasn’t talking about picking up on a “gaydar” – it was something different. I got a feeling that I was picking up on a “muscle-fetish gaydar,” as well. I decided to test my theory. I asked, “Jack, I realize you like the guy in the picture, but how do you feel about your own body?”
“I don’t know,” he began, “I’ve never really thought about it. I’ve always been pretty big and people have always made fun of me for it. In elementary school I was really clumsy so people have always just thought of me as a big oaf, I guess. I haven’t ever really thought differently.”
“Come with me,” I ordered Jack. He followed me into the bathroom. I turned on the light and pointed to the picture. “What do you think is so great about that guy’s body?”
“I don’t know,” Jack said hesitantly.
“Sure you do – you just told me how much you liked the picture. There must be something you like about the guy. Tell me what it is,” I said looking straight at Jack.
“I can’t. This is too weird,” Jack said and I could tell he was getting embarrassed.
“No it isn’t – it is very natural,” I began quickly. “Here I’ll start. I think he has incredible abs – look at the ridges here,” I said pointing to the rock-hard stomach in the picture. “What do you think of his abs?”
“They do look incredible. I know how hard you have to work to get a stomach like that,” Jack said looking at the picture. He stared as if he was studying each part of the guy’s six-pack.
While he was so engrossed I asked, “What else do you notice Jack?”
Without even thinking about it this time he said, “I like his arms, too. Look how big they look holding those tires. He’s got great biceps.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. As Jack talked about the arms of the guy in the picture I was staring at his own giant guns. Even relaxed they were beautiful. Fred in the picture had nothing compared to the arms on the guy standing in front of me. I knew I had to grab this moment to help show Jack more about himself.
“Come back to the kitchen,” I said grabbing Jack’s forearm. A wave of pleasure shot through my body as I touched his rock-hard skin. And the forearm was huge. It was as if I was grabbing some guy's leg - not an arm. I led him back into the kitchen. I pulled a chair out from the table. “Have a seat,” I said pointing to the chair and then sat across from him. “Put your elbow on the table like this.” I showed him what I wanted him to do. “Place your hand up in the air as if you were going to arm wrestle someone. He did as I said, but seemed very nervous. “Now make a ball with your fist.” He did. “I want you to squeeze your hand tight and focus completely on your bicep.”
“No, I can’t. This is stupid,” Jack exclaimed pulling his arm from the table.
“Jack, do you trust me?” I asked. He simply nodded yes. “There is nothing weird or stupid about this. Let me just show you this one thing and then I won’t bother you about it anymore. I promise.” He looked at me for a second and I thought he would argue more, but then he put his arm back on the table and made a fist. “Wait a sec,” I said as I reached over and pushed the sleeve of his polo shirt up past the bulging bicep. When I touched that hard ball of power the wave of pleasure in my body was so great I almost came right there. It was only because of the anticipation of what was to come that I was able to hang on. “I don’t want you to rip your shirt. Now make a fist and squeeze hard. Don’t look at me – look at your bicep.” I pointed to the huge mound on his arm. “Now really concentrate on making this bicep bulge. Focus completely right here.”
Jack took a breath and squeezed. His bicep swelled immediately to an unbelievable size. I had never been this close to such a powerful arm. But I also knew he hadn’t even begun. He squeezed harder and that double peak or split peak that great bodybuilders have began to appear. It was un-fucking believable. The vein I had noticed earlier was more pronounced and ran right across the top of the peak. Jack was also mesmerized by his own arm. It was as if he had forgotten I was there. He instinctively knew to twist his wrist to get even more of a peak. I could not believe the size of his arm. My cock was ready to explode. The room was quiet because we were both holding our breath. I saw Jack double his concentration and he squeezed his fist again sending even more muscle pressure into his bulging arm. That’s when the room was filled with the sound of cloth ripping. It was just too much. My cock immediately unloaded as my body shook uncontrollably. I grabbed the table with both hands and threw my head back closing my eyes. It seemed like I came forever – but I know it was only about twenty to thirty seconds. My heart was pounding in my chest and my ears were ringing loudly. My crotch was immediately warm from the release. About a minute later I opened my eyes and saw that Jack was staring at me. His arm was still on the table but he wasn’t flexing. It didn’t matter. That bicep was still incredible.
“Did you just cum?” Jack asked wide-eyed.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I might be in trouble. Maybe I had gone too far. I really didn’t know Jack. But I was too filled with pleasure to worry. The sight of his bicep the last few minutes had been one of the best moments of my life so far. No one would ever be able to take that away from me. I simply smiled and said, “Yes.”