A Prowling Muscle Master
by Londonboy
If anyone ever tells you it’s too late to get big then use me as proof that they’re spreading a bunch of lies. I was forty-seven when I started hitting the iron pretty hard and now, at fifty-six, I’m packing enough muscle to make the pretty young boys at the gym drool and trip over themselves when they get a glimpse of me. I was a scrawny six-foot weed when I stepped into the Powerhouse Gym on State Street in my small town in Middle Tennessee. I didn’t know a biceps from a triceps and I sure as hell didn’t know that my gluteus maximus could ever get so muscled that guys would ask to bounce quarters off of it. I’m still amazed that I took to lifting like a duck takes to water, but there you have it. I barely weighed one seventy-five when I started and now I’ve popped up to three sixty and wear clothes so tight that you can count the senior-daddy veins pumping big all over my mounds of beef. Now before you think I’ve turned into some kind of cocky monster that flaunts his size and newfound strength in other people’s faces, let me tell you that that is exactly what has happened. Naw, I’m just joshing with you, sonny boy. I’m a pretty tame papa bear, but once you let me off my leash I might just shock you with some rough-as-hell sex and a little flexin’ on the side just to get your hole all greased up with excitement.
Yeah, look at you quivering like a little puppy caught out in the rain. Thinking of this big man flexin’ his jaw-dropping muscles for you has made you go all lovesick, hasn’t it. And you’re body’s pretty tight yourself, son. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. It’s pretty clear I’m tossing a hell of a lot more poundage in the gym than you are, but you’ve got some pretty bumps in all the right places. Let me squeeze that arm, cub. Whoa, sorry – guess that was a little too hard, huh? Didn’t mean to make you tense up in pain like that. I just get a little too excited sometimes – and forget that I got so much power. Yep, I know your biceps is still hurting a little, but I can also tell you liked my big hand gripping you like that, didn’t you. Yeah, look at that pretty-boy smile creeping up on your face. Let me lean in and ask you a personal question. You like a daddy to be a little rough on you, don’t you stud?
Fuck yeah, that turned you on – didn’t it? Your face got all red and don’t think I didn’t notice you dropping your hands down south to cover up some action happening at your crotch. Just by leaning in all close to your body – like I’m doing right now – has sent you into some kind of sensory overload, hasn’t it. I bet your eyes are getting a good view of all that daddy-bear fur underneath my white tee, that nose of yours is now joyous from being filled with a masculine musk so strong it can make flowers wilt, and you’re feeling heat pulsing off my big body so strongly that you’re desperate for a huge glass of some southern sweet-as-fuck ice tea, aren’t you. Damn, son – that smile growing even bigger and the sweat beads seeping out all across your forehead tells me I’ve hit the nail on the head. There’s no need for you to say a word. My muscles just tightened up even more from the pleasure of knowin’ I’ve begun to wreck your ordered, ‘life is always the same,’ world. You probably never thought this truck-sized older temple of manly beef would come sit beside you, did you? Well listen up, cub. I’m drawn to you like a big-assed moth might attack a giant fluorescent bulb on the darkest night of the year. I honed in on your muscle-daddy infatuation the second your heavy lashed eyes did a double take when I entered the room. It was like a fucking sucker punch to your stomach wasn’t it, son? Seeing all this hugeness twisting to fit through that doorway over there made you suddenly believe in angels, didn’t it? Well that, or maybe you suddenly realized there was such a thing as the devil. You’re still not sure which side of the fence to land on, are you? That is, trying to figure out if I’m good or if I’m evil.
Hell yeah, that last set of questions has suddenly made you start to squirm. You nervous, little cub? Are you not sure whether this massive bearded wonder is going to bring you bliss or pain? Well, how about a little of both? Does that sound good to you, boy? Well look a there, that idea must make you happy because your cute little nips just poked out your shirt like two party hats being slapped on at a young ‘uns birthday party. I bet something else is poking out hard underneath your hands, too. Why don’t you take a swig of your beer so this big ole master can get a glimpse of what you’re packing? Yeah, that’s a good pup. Whoa, boy howdy, you are very happy I’m talking to you, aren’t you. That big pistol looks like it’s about to shoot out a wad thick enough to fill a gallon jug. I just love how my huge daddy muscles and my trash talk can control your body so easily. You couldn’t even make that cock deflate if you wanted to, could you? There’s just too much daddy muscle pounding out all over my body for you to not get turned on – isn’t there? No need to answer, son – I see a little pre-squirt wetness at the end of that hard sausage stretched out across your thigh and it tells me all I need to know. Those slacks are going to have to go to the cleaners this week – unless you want to have that cute little stain to remind you of all this massiveness for the days to come. You could even hold it up to your face sometimes to get a whiff of what I can do to your body.
Look at you feeling all bold now – taking a big boy gander at my gigantic guns. See something you like? Well, I guess so – since you’ve involuntarily just licked your lips like you’re gazing on a ten-ounce steak that’s been placed in front of you. These senior man arms used to be smaller than yours, pup – that is, before I started lifting. I can barely remember them being under twenty inches thick, but it must have been so. Noticed the slight tear at the sleeve, haven’t you? That happened tonight when I pulled this flimsy tee over my supersized body. I just can’t buy new wardrobes fast enough. Shit, look at that handsome face turn to shock so quickly. You mean you thought a fifty-six year old humongous stud like me couldn’t still be growing? Son, you must not understand the whole idea of cause and effect. I lift really heavy weights and my muscles continue to swell up nicely. It’s that simple. I’m putting twenty year olds to shame in the gym and it frustrates the fuck out of them all the time. Big young fellas come up to me and ask if they can work out with me – and I can tell it’s mostly because they think they’re going to show the old bear some new tricks. Well, son, after about fifteen minutes with me, the pups are all worn out and asking to be excused from the rest of the torture my routine is putting them through. I don’t tease them too much, though. I might slap on a few more forty-five pound weights at both ends of the bar just to emphasize that the mass that caused them to give up wasn’t even close to my max, but that’s all. Seeing them slink away in a mixture of awe and embarrassment gets my senior daddy juices running on overload and I’m usually able to crank out a bunch of more reps than ever before. It’s like some kind of sick motivation for me – putting younger men to shame.
Damn, son, that was a big gulp of beer you just took! Is all this senior stud muscle talk making your mouth a little dry? Yeah, I thought so. Here’s the funny thing, though, little stud – I haven’t even begun to really flirt with you. Naw, everything leading up to this point has just been the previews – or the appetizers, if you will. Why don’t you buy this papa bear another beer and we can become more cozy as we move to phase two of my mission of turning you into a little submissive cub. What’s that? You think you’re already there? No sir, my good man, you’ve only just begun to give up control to me. I’ve got a bunch of tricks that will wreck your body more than you ever thought possible. You’ll be giving up load after load of your precious muscle-loving juice before I’m done. You’ll also be begging me to stop like you’ve turned into some frail old eighty-year-old senior citizen. Up until tonight you probably always thought you were in pretty good shape – even snubbing your nose at smaller men that tried to catch your eye here at the bar – but nothing could have prepared you for being engulfed by all my massiveness. You’ve been chosen, cub, and this bear is shameless and tireless when it comes to taming smaller studs.
Yeah, I can see the indecision in your eyes, boy. Part of you wants to leave right now – mainly because you're scared – scared shitless. There is a part of you that realizes I can back up everything I’m threatening to do with hard muscles and will-bending power – and that part of your mind is screaming, ‘get the fuck out while you can!” But there’s another part of you that is so magnetized by my huge body and my promise of dominance that it makes your legs weak, your cock ready to spew, and your heart almost break from an overwhelming need to submit to something so much more powerful. Am I right, son? Well, look-a-there, the boy is too gone already to even speak – all he can do is nod his head. Go ahead and order some beers for us, little cub, and then I’ll take you to new levels of muscle daddy adoration. Hell, if you play your cards right, pup, maybe I’ll flex out of this shirt right here in the middle of this bar. Yeah, I can see that offer has guaranteed you to be my beer supplier for the rest of the night and my cum-depository until the wee hours of the morning.