Trading Up 2
by Londonboy
Still just a story about muscle romance, so only read on if that's your thing. Thanks for the positive feedback.
Three martinis later and after practically force-feeding three beers into Mark, I began to sense that the tenor of the evening was slowly changing. True to what he had confessed earlier, quickly downing that much alcohol had made the big man kind of tipsy. I, being the more experienced drinker, was merely feeling quite good. I happily accepted the job of trying to stay sober so I could take care of both of us if the need arose – and everything was starting to point in that fateful direction. I also wanted to stay alert to all the things that Mark said and did, especially as he became more comfortable with his new surroundings. I had not been able to control my raging hard-on or my roaming eyes ever since Mark had taken off his rain gear. I was still amazed that the guy and I stood eye to eye, but he was so much thicker at every part of his gorgeous body that it made him seem to tower over me. As if he wanted to make my life a living hell, the stacked stud muffin had placed his hands on the edge of the bar and kept letting his body fall towards the counter and then cranked it back out. It was like he was doing standing pushups against the heavy slab of dark wood or trying to push the big think back into the wall. The action caused the man’s jutting chest to swell into two enormous orbs and caused the v-neck opening to expand outward to reveal a mouthwatering cavern between the hard meat within. Stanley and I found our bodies swaying in the same rhythm as Mark’s – each of us hoping to get a better view of the huge valley between those monstrous pecs. Stanley pulled out another Fat Tire and replaced the empty bottle in front of Mark, allowing the back of his hand to brush up against the protruding hardened chest as the big man’s body lowered against the edge of the bar. Mark, of course, completely missed Stanley’s shameless attempt to cop a good feel.
“Stanley, are you trying to get me drunk?”
“And what if I am? Will it get me anything?”
“Like what?”
“Ah, ah, ah, Stanley. Don’t answer that. Pay him no attention, Mark. Just drink your beer. Thank you barkeep - put that one on my tab.”
“No need, George. I’ve had about seven guys in the place ask me to give Mark a beer on them. It seems your coworker is the answer to everyone’s dreams on this cold rainy evening. I’ll probably have to wait and give him the rest when he comes the next time. Every guy paid in advance, but I don’t think Mark’s going to last through many more.”
Stanley had leaned in to whisper this news to me, but Mark was so busy drumming his hands on the bar to some song blaring out of the sound system, that he probably wouldn’t have heard us if we had spoken normally. His eyes were shut and he was gyrating his hips back and forth, a movement that emphasized his muscled bubble butt in a way that made almost everyone behind the guy want to drop to their knees and shove their face into the deep crack at the seat of his worn out fading jeans. I looked from the thrusting torso to Stanley, with a face that said one thing and one thing only.
“Another martini coming right up, sir. And I think I’m going to have another two shots. I may only make it through this night without jumping the man’s bones if I’m stumbling drunk – unable to stand up or get anything else up, for that matter.”
“I don’t think there’s enough alcohol in the world for that, Stanley.”
“Man, I love this song, you guys. The tune is by this cool band named Snow Patrol. It’s called ‘This Isn’t Everything You Are’ and in the video there are all these people at a bar and suddenly they all break into tangos. Two guys are fighting over this girl and as they lock arms with each other the music changes and they start moving all of the sudden in this very masculine choreographed dance. It’s so incredibly sexy. That would be great - if everyone in here suddenly just started dancing together – don’t you think?”
“I know who’d be first on everyone’s dance card! Right, George?”
“Yes, Stanley, I do. It sounds very cool, Mark. I’ll have to look for the video.”
Suddenly – out of nowhere - there was a mister tall, dark, and handsome standing on the other side of Mark facing backwards with his lower back against the bar. The guy had the most beautiful ebony skin I had ever seen. He was a good half a foot taller than Mark and had a very nice body – not as muscled as my coworker - but big and aptly packaged. He smiled down at the still gyrating shorter man and his white teeth seemed to reflect every light in the room. I realized immediately there was great disappointment in the pit of my stomach. Even though I had hoped some hunk would come in and sweep Mark off his feet, I was not prepared for how it would actually make me feel when it happened. Mr. White Teeth was everything any guy could ask for – big, beautiful, and dressed in a way that made you know he had an expensive loft apartment in some very cool neighborhood. He was the complete package and I instantly felt jealous. I took a long sip of the martini that had just been placed in front of me. I glanced at Stanley’s face and the look that greeted me showed that he was just as disappointed as I was. This gave me the fuel to return to my original goal for Mark. I forced myself to be happy for him and then turned my body slightly away, hoping the guy would feel more comfortable in talking to the beefy man of his dreams if he thought he was alone. I did, however, continue to listen to everything.
“You’ve got a nice ass, bro. What’s your name?”
Total silence was returned and Mark instantly stopped dancing. He tilted his head upward and just stared at the tall man as if he were looking at an alien or something. I’ve seen guys in uncomfortable situations choke before, but this took the cake. My muscled friend didn’t seem to even be breathing. I realized immediately that he had no idea how to react to such an aggressive guy – or even how to answer the cheesy pick up line. I sprang into action, hoping to save Mark from total embarrassment.
“You should be a nice guy and answer the man.”
My intention had been to try and set the stage that Mark was elusive, almost not wanting to acknowledge someone talking to him. I don’t think my plan worked too well. Mr. Ebony Skin didn’t even look at me – he only continued to stare at what he hoped would be his conquest for the evening. Undoubtedly, the tall man had been the only guy in the place brave enough to approach the mound of dancing muscle at the bar – everyone else felt way too inadequate to attempt to wrangle Mark for the evening. Confidence radiated from every ounce of the wolf now staring at the frightened bodybuilder. Mark almost whispered as he answered, an action that made it seem like he didn’t care.
“Mark Anthony Richardson.”
“Well, Mark, I’m Wayne. What do you say we get out of here and go see if you can dance like that between the sheets?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Let’s split this scene and go make a little music of our own.”
“Why?”
I was furious that I didn’t have my phone in hand. The look on big Wayne’s perfect face was priceless. I was absolutely sure that no one– not anyone – had ever questioned one of his offers. The man was clearly astounded at the nerve of the obviously stupid but incredibly hot bodybuilder standing in front of him. I saw a sliver of doubt creep into Wayne’s stare, but he immediately regained his composure – obviously reading Mark’s innocence as attitude. The big man was up for the challenge. He doubled his efforts to snare his prey for the evening.”
“Well for starters, I’m a great pitcher and I can swing my big bat all night long.”
“What does that mean, anyway? I don’t even like baseball.”
I choked on my gulp of martini and immediately started coughing. I wasn’t sure which man was actually in over his head more – Mark because he didn’t understand that a guy was trying to get him into bed or Wayne because he continued to mistake Mark’s inexperience with flirting as expert sexual banter. It was clear that the tall man now wanted the stocky short guy in a big way. He was so turned on by Mark’s ability to resist his incredible charm that Wayne was not going away until he had my beefy friend wrapped around his finger. I had a feeling, though; he was fighting a losing battle. My earlier disappointment at Mark leaving earlier than expected had faded and I was able to watch the demise of Mr. Beautiful Ebony Skin with a little pleasure.
“I could be on the receiving end for an evening if that’s what you like. It’s not my usual thing, but if it’s going to make you happy big man, then I’m all for it.”
“I’m sorry Wayne. I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t want to leave. I’m here with my friend George. This guy here and we’re having fun with Stanley, over there. I’m not ready to leave yet and I don’t know where we’d go anyway. I’ve got a full beer and this evening has just begun. I’m sure there’s someone here that likes baseball. Feel free to hang out with us if you want. Can Stanley get you a drink?”
If I had been listening to just this part of the conversation and I didn’t know Mark at all I would have been floored by the size of this guy’s balls. It could have been perceived that he was rejecting the hottest piece of meat in the bar when he was really just a newbie that did not understand anything about the mating rituals of gay men. I was pretty sure it was the first time Wayne had ever been speechless in his entire life. He continued to stare at Mark for a few seconds with a face of disbelief and then he just walked away, grabbed his raincoat and left the bar. The look on Stanley’s face as he watched all of this made it clear that Wayne was one of the standard sharks in the bar and I saw a little happy glint in the bartender’s eyes – he was pleased that someone so full of themselves had been knocked down a few pegs. I’m sure he was equally as happy that Mark would be around for a little longer. It was also hard for me to hide my excitement. I was caught off guard by my reaction to my employee’s decision to stay with us – my cock pulsed even harder to emphasize the point.
“Oh wow, I love this song, too. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Stand a little taller. Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone.”
Mark started singing and then sent Stanley and me into cardiac arrest when he threw his bulging arms up into the air and started pumping his fists to the music. His thick neck was bobbing his head back and forth as his biceps flexed up and down to the beat of the music. Stanley actually fell back against the cabinets behind him as he stared at the young stud jerk his muscled body in a way that made every slab of incredible hard beef covering his upper torso ripple with power – even those parts covered by the t-shirt. I became petrified by the fear that my cock was going to explode without any manual provocation – merely from gazing on the short muscled mountain moving so sexily to the Kelly Clarkson song being played.
“Who at the dock hired this kid, George?”
“My foreman, Dave.”
“You better give that man a raise.”
“I will Stanley, I will.”
“He has no clue as to how hot he is, does he?”
“Apparently none whatsoever.”
“How is that fucking possible?”
“I wish I knew, Stanley.”
I watched the dancing muscled body beside me and caught my breath each time Mark’s shirt would raise a little and expose some of his corrugated abdominals. I could feel my body’s fluids reacting in ways I had never experienced before – my balls were on overload churning out tons of more thick cum within, my mouth was filling with what seemed like gallons of lustful saliva, and the blood was pumping through my body stronger than I ever thought possible. I knew I had suddenly fallen – and fallen hard. It was his innocence. It was his body. It was his brain. It was his earnestness. It was so much and it was not possible for me to resist. Mark Anthony Richardson had broken through my disdain for men and my utter commitment to give up on dating – he had thawed the ice that had formed around my heart over the last few weeks. I was very nervous that this was just a rebound reaction, but then I checked in with my heart, my head, my gut, and my cock – they all said the same thing. I didn’t want to say yes. I wanted to fight this feeling. I did not want to risk being hurt again. But then Mark turned to me, he smiled and he moved his hot body towards me. He was definitely very tipsy and I was lost in the abyss.
“Dance with me, George.”
“No, thank you. I’m not a good dancer.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“People will laugh, Mark.”
“People will always laugh, George.”
This statement suddenly gave me a glimpse at the person within the muscled body of Mark. I knew he was drunk, so the inner man was being released. It was clear that he had once been laughed at – he had been the one that felt different. He probably still felt the same. This man was fighting demons that no one could see. My desire for him only increased. I was smaller than him when it came to muscles, but I wanted to protect his pumped up body anyway. I wanted to throw my arms around him and hug him tightly. I wanted to make all those ghosts haunting his memories to disappear forever. I wanted to help him to see himself as others did – as Stanley and I did. I wanted to . . . it was so hard for me to say . . . I wanted . . . could I say it or even do it again . . . I wanted to love him. I decided to take a very small step in recovering from the pain that Ben had inflicted on me when he left after ten years. I looked into Mark’s eyes and followed my heart.
“Well in that case, of course I’ll dance with you, Mark.”