Muscle For Hire 3
by Londonboy
The back of Mr. X’s limo was incredible. There was a full bar and I thought about having a morning cocktail, but decided against it. I wanted to have my full wits about me as I traveled through this day. There was an incredible sound system and all of it was hooked up to a cradle with an IPOD that had every song I liked on its playlists. There was a note that said the IPOD was mine, another gift from Mr. X. This guy was definitely growing on me. I found a playlist of Bruce Springsteen and cranked up the volume. Of course I would choose someone with the nickname, “The Boss.” I poured some orange juice and sat back to enjoy the ride. Suddenly the window screen between the front seat and the back started to descend. It paused halfway down.
“There is some fruit and other food in the compartment below the bar, Mr. Smith. I think you’ll find something you like.”
“I think I already have, Axle. Will there be an opportunity for seconds of the mouthful I recently had on top of the car?”
“I’m sure there will, Mr. Smith, but it will have to wait until another day. You have a pretty full agenda from here on out. May I suggest some of the pineapple, it’s fresh and very tasty.”
“Kind of like you, huh?”
“Yes, Mr. Smith. Just like me.” I knew Axle was smiling. “Make sure you eat something, you’ll need your full strength later.”
“Do you think this body could lose any of its strength, Axle?” I flexed my right bicep and, without even looking, I knew his eyes were on me and not the road.
“I seriously doubt it, Mr. Smith. I seriously doubt it.” The divider between us went back up slowly and I caught a glimpse of Axle’s smiling face in the rear view mirror just before it closed completely. I understood that Axle now needed to move back into his role as my driver. I was positive he was up there talking to Mr. X and recounting everything that had happened. I’m sure he had a raging hard-on, as well. I definitely hoped we got another chance to explore each other’s bodies more fully. After grabbing some of the pineapple, as good as Axle said it was, I sat back and watched the town go by outside the window.
After a thirty-minute drive we stopped in front of a very high-end clothing boutique in a ritzy part of the city. I had once bought a tie here just to make myself feel like I owned something worth a lot of money. It had been the only thing in the store I could afford. I couldn’t believe this is where I would be getting new clothes. Mr. X was not wasting one penny in taking care of me. I knew twin brothers, both gay, from France owned the store. I had heard on the news last night that they were actually in town for the first time since the store opened two years ago. In the back of my mind I began to wonder if they were in town just for me. If Mr. X had that kind of money and influence, I planned on leaving the store with an armful of clothes. And an armful for me equaled what would be armfuls for five regular guys. Axle opened my door. As I got out of the car I let my hand drop to his resting on the top of the door. I squeezed hard to give him a thrill. He winced a little, but immediately smiled.
“A little pain for me to remember you by, Mr. Smith?”
“And a little hint at the pleasure that could come later on. There’s such a thin line between pleasure and pain, don’t you think?”
“Indeed, Mr. Smith, indeed. Messieurs Chirard and Chirard are inside waiting for you. I will return in about an hour and take you to the gym. Mr. X knew you would want to get in some exercise today.”
“How thoughtful of Mr. X. Maybe you need a little workout, as well?”
“If I were to come with you, Mr. Smith, I doubt our focus would be on lifting weights.”
“And what if I used you as the weight, Axle? That would certainly be a good, as well as an interesting, workout.” I glanced down and saw the familiar outline of his rigid cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. “I could use that large handle down there to get a good grip as I pressed you overhead.” Axle took a deep and quick breath as his mind processed the thought of me easily lifting him into the air over and over. “I think I could probably lift you with one hand – with no problem. How does that make you feel, Axle, my man?”
“I, uh, think you know.” The guy was having trouble talking. I knew I had zoned in on his favorite thing in the world. I also knew that he was going to have to change his pants after he left me. I reached down and grabbed the massive cock that was ready to explode. Just as Mr. Jones had ejaculated the day before, Axle’s body shook as he released a load into his underwear. He used the door to hold up his now weak body.
“That’s two for you and none for me. I’m keeping score, Axle. You’re going to have to work hard to make up for the times I’ve made you cum.” I let go of his cock and he fell back against the car. I smiled at him, turned around, and walked to the door of the store. I knew he’d have to stay there and rest for a few minutes before he could drive away. I hoped he didn’t get a ticket since he was in a red zone. He was obviously also in the pleasure zone. I laughed to myself at this thought.
Once inside the store I immediately felt like I didn’t belong there. It was extremely quiet and there was no one anywhere. I glanced around at the clothes and my eyes landed first on a beautiful shirt displayed near the door. I knew the shirt probably cost the same as my monthly rent. The silence of the place was a little creepy.
“Hello. Anyone here?” I heard nothing. I moved a little further into the store and noticed a leather jacket that had my name written all over it. I filed it away in my mind so I would remember to get one before I left. “Uh, Mr. X sent me to get some clothes. Is there someone here?” I walked toward the back of the store. There was a stairwell that led to the second floor and an archway that seemed to go back into a stockroom or something. “Mr. Chirard, are either of you here? Anyone?” At the same time that I reached the opening that led to the back room, two men came scrambling through very quickly. They weren’t watching where they were going so both men ran smack into me. The two gentlemen were pretty short; their faces even with my chest. As soon as they hit my immovable frame their bodies bounced back about a foot and both fell to the ground on their asses. “Whoa, hold on their fellows. Sorry about that.” I looked down at the stunned faces of the twin Chirards. It took them a few seconds to register what happened, to regain their senses, and then they looked up at me with faces of astonishment. As if on some magic cue, they turned to each other and started speaking in French at high speed. I did not understand a word of what they were saying, but by their reactions I could tell it had something to do with my size.
“Gentleman, my name is Mr. Smith. I was sent here by Mr. X.” I held out my big hands to help them up from the floor. Both men nodded their head furiously and started repeating Mr. Smith over and over. The Chirard brother on the right reached up and grabbed my thumb with one hand and my pinky with the other. He sat there staring at my huge hand, turning it this way and that, while he rambled off what I think was a bunch of cuss words in his native tongue. The other brother then leaned over and brought his own hand up to my palm. They maneuvered my hand so both of our palms were pressed against each other.
“Mon Dieu!” The guy’s hand against mine made him look like he was a child of five years old. He couldn’t get over the size of my fingers either. I think they would have kept staring at it for hours, but I was feeling a little self-conscious. I pulled my hand away, bent over, grabbed both men by the upper arm with my fingers going around into their armpits and lifted them as I stood back up. I must have used a little too much force because they both cried out in pain. I also noticed that I lifted too high and their feet left the ground. They immediately started spewing exclamations in French as they dangled there in midair - easily held by my huge arms.
“Sorry about that, guys. Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.” I dropped them both back to the ground and then leaned in to straighten their immaculate matching coats. They were dressed in unbelievable trendy shirts, slacks, jackets and ties. It was like looking at a guy standing in front of a mirror. That’s when I noticed how good-looking the men were, with their small gymnast-tight bodies, and perfectly groomed faces. I could tell right away that both had on subtle makeup, as well. Even the shoes they were wearing looked very expensive. As I was noticing all of this they were walking around me and groping me as if I were some kind of animal. Every now and then one of them would grab some piece of my hard body and immediately freeze and yell, “Fuck.” It was the only word I understood. I decided to just stand there and let them get their thrills. I also thought that they might be somehow measuring me for my upcoming wardrobe.
I started to look for some way to figure out how to tell the two brothers apart. I finally noticed that one brother had a birthmark on the lower part of his left cheek. It struck me that it might be fake, but I didn’t care. It helped me to know the difference. I learned from listening to them talk to each other that his name was Jacque and the other was Pierre. Jacque apparently was a leg and butt man since he continued to run his hands all over my quads and glutes. Pierre focused in on my shoulders and chest. He began trying to get the size of my shoulder with a tape measure he pulled out of his pocket, but was not tall enough. He glanced around for a chair, but I moved quickly, grabbing his waist, and lifting him up into the air.
“Merci.” It came out like a high-pitched squeal, but I could tell he was excited about having the added height. That’s when Jacque decided it was time to find out if my piece of meat was real or not. He ran his hand down my long pole and then squeezed the monstrous head with his small hand. Immediately the cock responded by expanding and lengthening. Jacque jumped back as if he had seen a monster and both of his hands went flying to his mouth.
“Il est si grand!” His voice rang through the entire store. I knew he must have said something about its size. I could not believe he obviously had thought it wasn’t real. That’s when Pierre tapped me on the shoulder to signify that I could put him down. I placed him on the floor. He quickly looked down to check out my cock, as well.
“Oui, il est si grand! Et beau!” Once again, I knew it had something to do with the size of my meat and it being beautiful. A guy could get a big head from all of this attention – or, forgive the pun, two big heads! Pierre put the tape measure beside my growing cock, but it continued to expand and snake down my leg. He finally gave up since it kept growing. Jacque said something to Pierre and they both slid their hands between my thighs. They were impressed at how the muscled quads flared out even with jeans on. They also obviously liked how my legs were forced to spread apart because the bulging muscle prevented me from bringing my knees together - unless I pushed really hard. While their hands were between my slabs of hard leg beef I figured it was time for a little showing off. I flexed my legs hard and trapped their hands between what must have felt like two granite walls coming together. I immediately realized I had used too much pressure when both men screamed out in what I knew was severe pain. I lessened the tenseness of my quads, but still prevented them from being able to pull out their hands. Their cries went from pain to pleasure as they began to acknowledge the power that came so effortlessly for me. They gleefully started pounding on my thighs with their other hands balled up in fists and I continued to keep them trapped. After about twenty-five punches each they gave their aching fingers a rest. It was apparent to both of them that their strongest hits did nothing to my hardened skin and muscles. It was like a fly hitting the windshield of a speeding car. Ignoring that they each couldn’t move one hand, they started using their free one to feel the flexed striations and indentions of my upper legs. Jacque liked sliding his fingers in the valleys of my muscles, while tracing a long thick vein protruding through the fabric of my jeans was exciting Pierre. Both men were mesmerized by the fact that each leg in front of them was wider than their upper body.
Soon, Jacque wrapped his arm around my right quad letting his entire body press up against my leg and making sure his hand grabbed my tight ass. Pierre, not to be outdone, did the same thing. I released their hands, parting my thighs slightly so they could wrap their entire bodies around my legs. The brothers Chirard both pressed their face into my muscled quads while they sat on my feet. I had a flashback to my childhood and the times that I had done the same thing to my Uncle Todd, who was a huge man, too. I’ve always thought I inherited my body from him. I used to ride around the kitchen wrapped around his big leg, which is probably the first time I began to worship muscle, but was too young to realize it. I thought I’d give the brothers the same pleasure ride, so I started walking around the room. Both men purred with contentment as they opened their mouths and let their tongue explore the clothed muscle in front of them. They were so light it felt like I was merely wearing some heavy thigh-high boots. I was hoping someone would glance through the window and get a good view of this, just to give them a thrill for the day. After a trip to the front of the store and back, I stopped and flexed my legs hard one last time. This gave the men the extra jolt I expected and I could feel their hardened cocks against my legs. I also raised my feet up and down to tease their asses a little. This seemed to give both men much pleasure.
Finally, Jacque turned to Pierre saying something I didn’t understand, and they let go of my legs to stand up. Both men stared at my body, starting with my feet and traveling up to my forehead. They had to take a few steps back to get a full view. I noticed that both men seemed to have an identical hard-on making their loose pants press out. Pierre suddenly stepped forward and said something as he grabbed the right side of my jacket and made a motion for me to take it off. It was difficult, because of how tight the jacket was on my buff body, but I finally peeled it off.
“Shit.” That one word, uttered from Jacque, filled the room. Both men stared at my biceps, which forced the sleeves of the t-shirt to bunch up high because of their size. Pierre reached over and tugged at the bottom of my t-shirt, again motioning me to take it off. My waist was so thin that it was easy to pull the shirt from my pants, the trouble came when trying to pull it up over my chest and my arms. Pierre motioned for me to bend over and they would pull it off my body. I readily obliged, because I knew it would take me a while to do it on my own. Often, I would simply rip a shirt off my body, because I found it easier, but that was also such a waste of money. It took a lot of pulling for Pierre to get the shirt over of my shoulders and arms. Jacque had to help him. When I finally stood back up, I purposely squeezed my mammoth pecs together to give the guys a thrill.
“I have died and gone to heaven.” It was said with a heavy accent, but Jacque has spoken in perfect English. Pierre was speechless and seemed comatose, he just continued to stare at my chest. It took me a second to register what had been said.
“Hey, you can speak English.”
“Of course, Mr. Smith. We just chose to not speak English earlier. It was because we were in such shock at what a fucking muscle monster you are. It is incredible, your body.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at Jacque in return for the compliment. I have always found that foul language always sounds so much sexier when spoken with an accent. I especially loved the way “fucking muscle monster” sounded with a French accent. “You think he’s okay?” I pointed to Pierre.
“I think he might be on the verge of, how do you say it, ejaculation. He has never seen a man as big as you. I think we should leave him alone or he might . . . oh, what is the word . . . explode. Yes, explode.”
“Whatever you say, man. I just hope he takes a breath soon.” I bounced my pecs a couple of times and then took a big breath making my chest expand even more. This brought Pierre out of his coma and he walked directly over to me, stood on his tiptoes and placed his open mouth on my huge erect right nipple. I instantly felt suction that would rival a Hoover. A feeling of pleasure shot through my body that ended at the tip of my penis, which pushed harder against the inside of my jeans. I never wear underwear. My right arm instinctively went up to cradle Pierre’s head, causing my bulging bicep to press against the side of his face. This made Pierre suck even harder on my hardened nip. Jacque started tapping on Pierre’s shoulder and, again, speaking quickly and intensely in French. I believe he was telling Pierre to share, to give him time on my pec. I looked down at Jacque’s hurt face.
“Hey, Jacque, man, no need to get jealous. There’s enough of me for both of you. In fact, there’s probably enough muscle here for you two and four others. Look how lonely my left nip looks. Let’s have a contest and see whose mouth wears out first. Hurry up, Pierre’s already got a head start.”
That was all the encouragement the French man needed. His mouth flew wide open as he rushed toward his target. I tensed my left pec as I saw his face coming towards it. I wanted to make sure Jacque new how solid I was built. You could hear the sound of his face hitting my stone-like pec echo through the room. The loud smack even made Pierre stop his attack on my right muscle mound. He glanced over at Jacque, who seemed a little dazed from the pain caused by his face meeting an immovable wall.
“Hey, sorry there little buddy. I forgot to warn you how fucking hard that pec is when I flex it. Let me make it a little easier for you to try and get you mouth around that massive muscle.” I relaxed my flex and raised my left arm around Jacque’s head as I had for Pierre. I knew he was still in pain, but the muscle pillow surrounding his head made him forget about how much he was hurting and he began to kiss, bite, and suck the mass in front of him. Pierre returned to his work, as well.
Let me tell you, a good pec lover, that has all the right skills, can send me toward hard-on heaven quicker than anything. There’s something about the way a talented man can use his tongue, teeth, and lips to tease and abuse a nipple that makes me want to keep his face attached to my chest forever. The Chirard brothers must have gone to school for pec worshipping. That’s how good a job they were doing. Pierre seemed skilled in the art of muscle adoration. He liked to press his entire face into my pec as he gently sucked on the protruding nipple. I could tell he liked the way that my muscle felt tight up against his forehead, cheeks, nose, and mouth. He’d take big breaths, like you do right before you go underwater, and then he’d try to push into the layers of muscled flesh before him. After a little while, he’d always have to come up for more air. He also liked to gently kiss the mountain of beef towering above him. Pierre would lick his lips and then run them along the wide base of the pec, but would always come back to kiss the nipple that was forced to point downward, toward him, because of the massiveness of my chest. What seemed to give him the most excitement was letting his tongue flicker up and down on the tip of my erect nub, which was as big as a normal man’s forefinger. This little Chirard brother was fucking talented with his tongue and I longed to see if he could work the same kind of magic on me when his tongue was inside my mouth.
Jacque was from a whole different school of muscle worship. He was more aggressive and abusive. He tried in vain to bite the tightly packed muscled pec in front of him. He finally just decided to scrape his teeth across my skin and make me shake in excitement when his pearly whites made contact with the nip sticking out in appreciation for his great work. Jacque would then take the jutting piece of beef between his teeth, clamp down hard, and roughly pull his head back. It made him happy that my hard pec would give a little and let him stretch the nipple and surrounding aureole out further. To give me a bigger thrill he would then move his head back and forth, biting down even harder. He would then release my abused nipple from his mouth and quickly return to start the process over. I knew I was going to have teeth marks on that happy knob for weeks.
As both brothers worked on the shelf of muscle in front of them, they also each pressed and rubbed their hardened cocks against my oversized quads just above my knees. The motion of their mouth seemed to match the rhythm of their pelvis. I was definitely getting hot and bothered by the expert adulation from their crotch as well as their eager tongues, lips and teeth. I took my arms away from their heads and lowered them to their lower backs. I squeezed each man with my monster arms and lifted them off the ground. Their stiff pricks now were against the top of my quads and their mouths never left my nipples. I had plans for my newfound worshippers and I knew it would send them into pleasure overload. As they continued to suck my pecs and dry fuck my legs, I began to tense my forearms and biceps. I was giving each man a slow one-armed bear hug. I could tell I began to squeeze so hard that air was being forced out of their hyper-excited bodies. This did not deter either man from his focus on my body. I could feel both of their cocks getting harder and I knew both men were getting close to the point of pleasure release. I squeezed even harder, wondering how much pressure they could stand. Suddenly, both men pulled their mouths away from my muscle and began to gasp for air. I squeezed harder. I looked down into their faces and saw that, even though it was causing pain, they were willing me to continue. My cock felt like a fucking iron pole in the hottest furnace possible. Watching these men trying to withstand my muscle power was such a turn on. I wasn’t even close to exerting all of the pressure my humongous guns could dole out, but it was enough to come close to breaking the backs of both Chirards. I flexed my tensed biceps and forearms one more time and both men tried to cry out, but neither had enough air for support. At the same time each hardened cock pressed against my legs began to jerk and spew forth what seemed like buckets of hot semen. The bodies of Jacque and Pierre shook so violently in my arms that they both looked like demons were being exorcised from their fames. I lessened the power in my arms so they could catch their breath between convulsions.
Toward the end of their cum explosions both men regained their voice and screams of sexual joy were sent into the silent room. It sounded a freight train was about to come through the wall. Their cries were animalistic and the entire ordeal seemed to last forever. I felt a warm wetness through my jeans and realized that I was probably covered in Chirard man-juice. I realized the room was now silent again. I glance down to find both men passed out, but their mouths had returned infant-like to my now raw nipples. They were sucking lightly as they obviously dreamed of muscle overload. I carried the two men over to a sofa in the middle of the store and bent down to give them time to rest. As I pulled my body away, each man gave small cries of displeasure when my nipple left their mouth. After standing, I looked at their crotches and saw that each had wet stains the size of Lake Michigan. I then looked at my jeans and realized I would have to wear something else when I left. I looked like someone had turned a hose, or two, on me.
From past experiences, I knew both men would be out for maybe an hour or so. A bear hug from one of my arms could cause a man to be in a pleasure coma for a while, and the rare man that could stand the pressure of both arms squeezing him was usually out for a few days. Jacque, in whatever stage of his muscle dream he had reached, obviously sensed, on some level, my doubt about what to do next. Without opening his eyes or returning to reality he spoke to me. It was all in broken sentences, but I understood.
“Back of the store. Racks of clothes. Prepared for you. Muscle god. So big. So big.”
I reached down and patted him on the head. I also grabbed a couple of overcoats off a rack nearby and draped them over the two men. They both immediately curled up into matching fetal positions on the sofa. I knew memories of my body would get them instantly hard for years to come. That gave me great pleasure. I walked to the back room and saw about ten racks of incredible clothes – each with a sign that said, “Mr. Smith.” It dawned on me that Mr. X had sent the Chirard brothers my advertised measurements in advance. They had created all of these clothes specifically for me. This thought made my cock return to its previously hard state. Mr. X would have to get some fringe benefits for this gift.