Perspective
by Londonboy
So, you want to know what it feels like to be me, right? What it is like to be this huge and this powerful. Well, let me tell you about a normal night out for me – just to give you a good picture. Yeah, let’s give you a good idea of how being a fucking muscle monster can change your life.
The doorman greets me as I walk down the short alley to the bar. He looks up from the magazine he’s reading – it must be a slow night – and his whole demeanor changes. He straightens his body and attempts to make himself look bigger. I’m wearing a leather jacket, but he can tell I’m big. He wants to mark his territory, to make sure I realize that no one enters the bar without his approval. I smile at the thought of this guy trying to stop me from doing anything I wanted to, but I also allow him to play his role. As I get closer he stands up from his stool in an attempt to make himself look more imposing. He anticipates towering over me or, at least, looking me in the eye. He is not prepared to have to look up. I notice his Adam’s apple moving up and down as he swallows hard because he realizes that I’m a half of foot taller than his over six foot frame. He also registers that I’m about seventy-five pounds thicker than his impressive body. I make a mental note to remember him as a potential end of the evening prize. He’d be a good fuck, I’m sure. He’s got nice big shoulders, giving me something to hold on to as I plow him from behind. The only problem with taking an employee home is you have to wait until the bar closes. My percolating man-juice might not be able to wait that long tonight. A smile mixed with intimidation and lust slowly spreads across his face. Something in his gaze tells me that he’d quit his job on the spot for a chance to spend an evening with me. Yeah, I’ll remember Mr. Bouncer as a possible reward for a night of making men happy. His hands shake slightly as he looks at my license. The big guy is nervous in my presence, isn’t that sweet. I take a step toward him, just so he can feel the heat radiating from my beefy body. His entire body freezes because of the closeness of my chest to his face. The plastic card drops from his hand and I hear it land on the concrete at our feet. It takes him a few seconds to register that he no longer holds my picture, mainly because the real thing in front of him blows his fucking mind.
He keeps his face looking straight ahead as he bends his legs to retrieve the card. He moves slowly so he can get a good look at my body. I watch him show amazement at how narrow my waist is as he glances at my tight gray t-shirt underneath my jacket. I hear something that resembles a child’s whimper as his eyes come to rest on the bulge pressing against my well-worn jeans. I look down and watch him as he feels around on the ground for my card without taking his gaze from my crotch. I allow his admiration to help my cock begin to grow just to emphasize that the protruding mass is un-enhanced. I also squeeze my ass cheeks in order to thrust the enlarging cock closer to his face. Without even asking or glancing up to my face for approval, he reaches up with his right hand and presses the base of his palm into my hardness. My rod isn’t fully hard and it’s already longer than his big hand. I watch the doorman as he licks his lips and takes a deep breath, getting a whiff of my manliness so near his face. I get the feeling he wants to use all of his senses to memorize this moment in case it is his only chance to experience the pleasure of my body. I bend down and grab the mesmerized guy underneath his arms, lifting his body into the air and then placing him back on the stool against the wall. He looks up at me and raises my license into the air. I take the card and return it to my back pocket, taking note that my jeans are so tight it’s even hard to slide in the thin piece of plastic. I then reach over and put a bent forefinger underneath the guy’s chin allowing my big thumb to stroke across his lips and chin a few times. On the third time across I press harder pulling his lower lip slightly down. He automatically parts his teeth inviting me to press my thumb into his mouth. He immediately closes his lips around my thickness and begins to suck hard. His eagerness and the powerful pull of his throat impress me. I allow my entire thumb to slide into his mouth. He begins to purr like some kind of pleased cat while he presses his teeth into my skin and works magic with his tongue. The guy closes his eyes and I can tell he is doing everything he can to make me happy. He wants me to choose him before I even step into the bar. I know he’d walk away with me right now if I asked. Although part of me wants to explore his cocksucking skills, especially because I believe he could swallow my entire giant piece of meat, I make a decision to check out the crowd inside the bar. Who knows, there might be someone better waiting on the other side of the wall behind him. I pull my thumb out of his mouth with a loud pop and reach out with my other hand to open the door. Before I step into the bar I wipe my wet thumb across the guy’s cheeks, pressing his head against the wall. His eyes are still closed and I realize he is concentrating hard to prevent himself from shooting a wad from his hardened cock. I contemplate doing something to send him beyond the point of no return, but I don’t want the guy to have to sit out here for the rest of the night in his own sticky mess. I step into the front room of the bar, allowing the door to close behind me.
Aretha Franklin’s song Respect begins playing right as I step into the bar. I could not have timed it better. It feels like someone is creating a soundtrack to my life. What you want, baby I’ve got it. This could be my mantra. I pause and just stand there, knowing the sound and motion of the door will cause everyone to turn to look at the person entering. It’s the perpetual game of hoping that Prince Charming will be the next guy to walk in. I stand there proudly and take a gander across the room. I know for certain that three things happen when I enter a bar. First, most of the dicks in the room begin to harden because they know a real man has appeared. Second, no one turns his head away from me, having made the decision that the new patron isn’t worth it. And, lastly, everyone begins to think of ways to get my attention. I let my gaze rest on every guy in the room, making sure to give them a smile that fills them with hope. I learned a long time ago that I have the power to make a guy feel worthless if I quickly look away from him, as if he wasn’t good enough for me. That’s not the kind of guy I am. I get off on making any man’s body begin to churn Grade A cum because I acknowledge them. I can make some guy’s night just by talking to him; I don’t have to go home with him. Hell, most guys wouldn’t know what to do with a guy as big as me if I chose him – they just like fantasizing about sex with me. The real thing would be too much pressure and make them feel too inferior. If they simply get my attention for a little while they’ll have enough to beat off to for a year, and that knowledge gives me great satisfaction. I walk over to the bar making sure to smile at everyone I pass. There are a few people waiting to place their order. At first, no one moves, they are still staring at me. It’s the bartender who breaks the awkwardness by asking who’s next, but he stares right at me. He intends to serve me next no matter what. Even though I am thirsty for a Guinness, I look down at the guys that have been waiting for a while. It’s obvious that they would let me go next, as well, but I look at the young guy at the front of the line. I ask him what he’s having and he mouths the word Corona. He doesn’t make a sound; he’s too shocked that I’d talk to him. I look at the bartender and tell him the cute young thing will have a Corona. This is the same thing that happens with every guy in line – I ask him what he’s having and pass the information on to the bartender. Each guy has trouble speaking and even more difficulty sorting through their money to pay for the drink. Once they have their beverage, each just walks away, never taking their gaze from me.
When it’s my turn I lean down on the bar to bring my face almost even with the short, stocky bartender. He is sporting an impressive hard-on in his bike shorts that sprouted as soon as I walked up to the bar. It has continued to grow as I’ve helped each guy in front of me order his drink and neared the front of the line. I can tell his stiff prick is causing him a little pain as I order my draft beer. As he places the mug in front of me he tells me that the drink is on him. I acknowledge his kindness with a smile and a thank you, leaving a tip that covers the cost of the drink and then some. I am used to bartenders beginning evenings intending to buy all of my drinks, but they don’t know how much a guy my size can drink, so I make sure to pay for them each time.
I turn around and almost bump into a small crowd that has obviously gathered to look at my muscled ass as I bent over the bar. I know my tight jeans make my massive bubble butt even more inviting than usual. Each man looks like he’d have no problem burying his face in my ass crack right there if I asked. I smile down at all of them and step forward. The crowd parts like the Red Sea for Moses. I walk through, making sure to say thank you, and walk over to one of the high small round tables with stools around it. The cute young man that had been in front of the line at the bar is sitting there by himself watching my every move with lust in his eyes. I ask him if I can join him and he merely nods his head, the poor guy still can’t make his mouth work around me. I can sense that almost everyone in the bar has moved to a place where they can watch me and, hopefully, catch my eye. I can also feel their intense jealousy of the young man at my table because he has been graced with my presence. There are two other stools at the guy’s table, but I don’t choose the one across from him. Instead I sit on the stool beside him, causing his body to go rigid. I’m sure his cock was stiff, as well. I look straight at him and tell him my name, holding out a big hand to shake his. He tells me his name, but doesn’t look at me. He is staring at the monstrous palm and thick fingers sticking out toward him. He tentatively brings his small hand to mine, obviously nervous that some of his bones might get crushed in the handshake. I squeeze tightly as we shake - just to give him a tiny taste of my power. He quickly pulls his hand away from mine, but continues to stare at my hand until I grab my glass to take a drink. I’m sure he notices that my hand wraps completely around the big mug.
I wait until he is taking a swig of his own beer and then I ask him if he is into big muscles. My bluntness shocks him and he chokes a little from trying not to spit beer across the table. He starts to cough and I pat him lightly on the back. When he seems to have recovered I ask him again if he likes guys with huge muscles. He looks at me and, again, just nods his head. I comment that this is a good thing and I stand up from my stool. I then raise one of my shoulders and push that side of the leather jacket off. I do the same with the other side and then let the jacket slide down my arms, making sure to do it slowly so that my biceps are revealed like a some treasured gift being meticulously unwrapped. When the jacket reaches my hands I let one side drop and then fold it together, draping it across the free stool beside me. I sit back down and am instantly aware that all conversations in the bar have come to a screeching halt. Only the Dixie Chicks song blaring from the jukebox fills the room. I know that every pair of eyes in the room is staring at my unbelievably wide shoulders, my melon-sized biceps, or my mammoth chest. This is one of my most favorite moments in life, when people get a glimpse of me in a tight shirt. My gray t-shirt actually looks like a thin layer of extra skin, causing every vein and striation to be revealed perfectly. If there are any cocks that have gone flaccid since I arrived or have not yet perked up because of my entrance, they all shoot fully hard now. Almost everyone suddenly takes a big gulp of their drink because one look at my tight, monstrous body has made their mouths go completely dry. I laugh to myself as I watch the guy at my table drain his mostly full beer bottle in one long chug. He puts the bottle back on the table and, absent-mindedly, starts making his hand slide up and down its wet, slick surface. I hear a guy behind me exclaim holy fuck and then watch him move quickly towards the bathroom. I want to follow him to watch the explosion that is about to be released, just from seeing my body, but I don’t want to be rude to the young man sitting beside me. I look over and see that his other hand, beneath the table, is moving in the same motion as the one on the bottle. The guy doesn’t seem to be breathing; he’s just staring at my arm. I reach over and grab the back of his neck, my hand wrapping around most of it. I ask if he is okay and I squeeze hard. This is something I like to do, as a test. I know, because of my size and strength, that any guy coming home with me needs to be able to withstand a little pain. I don’t want to spend the entire evening worrying about hurting someone; I want someone that will allow me to let go and someone that will be able to take most of my power. I need someone who likes it a little rough.
The little guy beside me lets out a muffled cry of pain, but at the same time I see his stomach abruptly jerk in and out a few times. I release my grip. His eyes close tightly and then he exhales a big rush of air. I keep my hand gently at his neck, mainly so he can have something to rest his head against. The poor guy has just released a load of cum into his pants. It takes him a few seconds to recover and then he opens his eyes and looks at me. He tells me that he is sorry but he suddenly has to go. He slides off the stool and I notice wetness already appearing at his crotch. He moves quickly toward the front door and is gone before I can say anything. I’m caught a little off-guard by his quick exit, but I realize that he will have a great rest of the evening jerking off many more times thinking about my body. I smile and take another sip of my beer. I just wait, knowing that it won’t be long before someone joins me.
And right on cue, two men move to my table together. One of them asks me if I mind if they join me at the table. I smile and tell them that they can only join me if they like licking massive muscles. This stops them both in their tracks. It actually makes them speechless. I decide to egg them on and ask them again - if that is something they like – running their tongues over hard, bulging, vein-covered muscles. One of the guys is too turned-on to talk. He blabbers something that sounds like “it’s what I live for”. The other guy is in a little more control of his senses and tells me that he and his lover (the blabbering guy) are so into muscle that they are willing to pay me for every time their tongues touch my hot body. I’m impressed by their enthusiasm, but I tell them that I’m willing to share my huge body for free. I reach out, lift both stools into the air, and place them right beside me. I pat the top of the stools with my big hands and tell them to take a seat. They move so quickly to the stools that I feel like they are in a race. I glance at both guys and smile to myself. It’s time for round two!
To be continued