Three Christmas Stories, Story 1: “Serve and Be Served” (musc)
by msclvr
Yet again, another Christmas was upon me. It’s not that I don’t like Christmas. It’s just that it brings up a lot of lonely feelings. As a single gay guy, in his mid-60’s, I have been pretty much resigned to not having a boyfriend, let alone a partner, in my near or distant future. And, as a certified muscle-addict, I’ve had to make peace with my only muscle-worshipping outlet – our local gay pole-dancing bar and backroom lap dances with, hopefully, some hot muscle guys.
Sure, I have my local friends, family, and co-workers. I appreciate their love and friendship. That doesn’t make up for the big hole I seem to feel in my heart. Sometimes, when I’ve got some extra bucks, I splurge and hire a muscleman for a couple of hours of muscle-worship and role-playing. As great an experience as that is, it doesn’t replace my fantasies about the real thing.
This year I’ve decided to spend some time volunteering at the local soup kitchen downtown. I’ve done this before and it was always good to get me out of thinking about my own situation and, instead, focus on helping those that have situations far worse than I have ever had.
It’s Christmas Day and I walk into the doors of a huge hall. Even though I’ve done this a few times in the past, I never cease to be amazed at the huge number of folks in need and the scores of volunteers who offer their time serving a complete turkey dinner when they could be with their family. It’s warm, noisy, and decorated to the hilt with Christmas decorations. The spirit is very festive, energetic, and upbeat. Lots of gratitude is present.
As I scan the hall and all the people to find the table where volunteers register, my heart stops. Right in middle of all the people and tables is a very tall, wide and big guy leaning over each person and serving them a plate of food. He has a big smile on his face and is chatting up each person, one at a time. He looks really cute wearing a Santa’s red elf cap on his head. I’ve stopped walking and gawk. I know nobody is wondering why, given the size of the hall and the number of people.
He’s wearing a huge checkered flannel shirt, with his sleeves rolled way up his arms. I can see his hairy forearm muscles flexing from here. God only knows what’s going on with his biceps and triceps. The white apron he has wrapped and tied around his narrow waist is a complete give-away for his incredible V-shape. Of course, only someone like me, would notice that. He is so tall and broad in the shoulders that he makes the people he is chatting with look very small, indeed. I guess he’s in his mid- to late 40’s. He has a very sexy gray tint in the hair on the sides of his head.
Damn. I am both turned on and scared at the same time. It is typical for me to both want to meet him, just be near him, find out what “game” he plays, and just watch, enjoy him from a distance, and try not to embarrass myself. Fortunately, he’s so busy serving dinners that he doesn’t even notice me noticing him – at length. Of course, the more I look at him the harder I get. That never changes when I see men like him.
I compose myself, find the volunteer table, and go over and register. I’m given a name-tag and one of those Santa elf hats. Since he has one on, I don’t feel so silly. I’m told to go back to the kitchen, find another volunteer, load up a cart, and start serving the “guests.” I like that they call these people “guests”. I’m encouraged to make sure and say “hello,” “welcome,” “and Merry Christmas,” to each person I serve. Clearly, that is what that big guy is doing – and doing with a lot of enthusiasm.
With my co-worker, we pick the aisle just opposite of the big guy. I made sure I made that happen. As we work at a steady pace down our aisle, we actually catch up to the big guy and his co-worker. We certainly were being friendly to our guests, but the big guy and his co-worker were taking their time.
I was really startled when he hollered at the two of us “Merry Christmas to you guys, too!” Fortunately, I didn’t miss a beat, looked him straight in the eye, despite being nervous as hell, and I hollered back “Merry Christmas to you, too!” God, his already gorgeous grin just lit up even bigger. He is a one very, very handsome muscle daddy. And friendly, too.
My co-worker nudged me to get back to work and we continued down the aisle serving a lot of very friendly and grateful folks. I was very distracted, however. My head was swirling with fantasies of what might happen next. Meeting at the end of the tables and introducing ourselves? What about our co-workers? What would we do after we were done with these tables? Would he want to talk with me and get to know me? I reassured myself that I was a pretty well put-together guy and good-looking enough for my age.
We were at the end of the line of tables and almost out of food. I was also feeling torn. I’m here to serve and here I am obsessing about a guy I don’t even know, yet. Shit, he must be at least 6’4”. I’ve never been so close to shoulders so wide. While he was talking to my co-worker, my eyes were everywhere – all over him. His dark chest hair was popping out of his open shirt top. The hair on his forearms and knuckles made me shiver with excitement. His very big shirt could not hide an even bigger chest. His bicep and tricep muscles were pushing the limits of the shirt sleeves, as well. Though his apron hid his quads, it was clear he was very big down there, too. I periodically looked back to him and my co-worker, pretending to be part of the conversation. God, I hope I wasn’t being too obvious.
For some unknown reason (for which I am most grateful), his co-worker and mine went back over to the kitchen, leaving the big guy and me standing there. He turned to me and said, “Hi, I’m Lucas. What’s your name?” “I’m Jim, Lucas, nice to meet you,” I said trying to stay as calm as possible. I took this a bit further and asked him if he had done this type of volunteer work before. “No, this is my first time and I’m really enjoying it. If I weren’t here I’d be back in my apartment or at the gym. Neither felt right today of all days.” He stated that with clarity and with a sensual deep bass voice that sent more shivers through me.
I told him that I had watched him serve the guests and admired his enthusiasm and sincerity. “Yeah, I guess I see myself and some of my own times of difficulty in these folks,” he said with a slight edge of sadness. “I’m just glad I can return what has been so generously given to me over the years,” he added with a sense of gratitude.
“I know the feeling, Lucas.” I liked using his name. “I’m grateful for a lot of things and like to give back when I can, too.” It was nice to be able to talk like this and not dive immediately into “checking each other out” guy talk.
“You live around here Jim?” he asked innocently. “A mile or so away. I have an apartment that’s near my work and the gym where I work out – once and a while.” I couldn’t resist going “there” anyways – the guy talk. “I certainly don’t put the effort into it that you do,” I added sincerely, yet with an intention.
“Well, thanks for the compliment, Jim. I’ve been blessed with some great genetics and am still working on reaching my full potential, despite being a 45 year old man,” he said with a grin. “Hell, you sure as heck are not an old man, Lucas. That would be more me, than you,” I said matter-of-factly. I was wondering where this was going to go. “Don’t push it” I kept telling myself. “Well, Jim, I don’t want to sound like we all of sudden have a mutual admiration society going here, but you look pretty damn good yourself,” he said with some apology.
I made some lame remark about older guys having to stick together. I wished I hadn’t said it. “I’m about done here with my shift, what about you?” he asked. “I think everyone has been served,” I added. There was an awkward silence. Then he asked me, “Wanna join me for a beer? I could use some friendly company. Christmas Day is young.” I tried not to look floored, but I was. I wanted to make sure he understood that his question was a question I welcomed, so I looked into his eyes and said, “Great. I don’t have much planned anyways,” I said truthfully. Holy mackerel, there I was standing with this gorgeous hunk of massive masculinity and being asked out for a beer. I felt like this was my Christmas present.
We walked back to the kitchen, took off our aprons, and exchanged greetings, thanks, and “Merry Christmas” with the rest of the volunteers and the organizers. I was impressed with how friendly Jim was and how we both made it a point to say to others that we had received much more from the guests than we had given. I also could see how Jim’s amazing size and good looks were causing many folks, male and female, to linger on him with their eyes and with their handshakes. I understood completely.
Since he had come down by bus, we agreed to take my car. As I was walking with him, I couldn’t believe how small I felt next to him and what an incredibly sexy man he was. And I was the one with him, not someone else! What a present! All of a sudden, he stopped and turned toward me and asked with evident shyness, “Jim, I don’t want to be too forward or presume too much, but maybe we could stop and get some beers and take them back to your place, if you’re willing. No pressure, really. I just think I’ve had enough of lots of people and would like some peace and quiet.” “That’s suits me fine Lucas. I don’t have a fancy place but at least it’s cleaned up for company next week,” I said with much relief. Oh my god, is this going where I think it is going? This means that we will be alone together, at his request, no less. I started to wonder what did he see in me that caused this idea? I had a flash of something dark coming of this but decided to let that go. That’s just my shyness and fear showing.
I apologized for my small car as he squeezed himself into the passenger seat. He said this was no problem…happens all the time. We stopped at the liquor store and I could not keep my eyes from wandering all over his tall, bulging, and huge body. His winter jacket bulked him out even more than he already was. I could see his quads and the rest of his legs now and they were absolutely massive – stretching the jeans very tight over his muscles. We split the tab and he carried the beer for us. What a gentleman.
“Okay, Lucas, here we are,” I announced as I pulled into the driveway. “Boy, Jim, this is a great neighborhood,” he commented. “Yes, and I’ve got some great neighbors in these apartments,” I added.
Standing next to huge Lucas in the elevator, I had to keep my thoughts and wits about me. Otherwise, I would have thrown myself into him right there and ravished, mauled, and man-handled his whole body before the door opened. Again, I told myself to stay calm and be patient. He had already taken the lead by suggesting we come to my place. Maybe he would want to take the lead in other ways. What were we going to talk about? What would he think of my apartment? What would he want with me, or to do with me? God knows, I knew what I wanted to do with him. I was so turned on I could hardly think straight.
I couldn’t help but watch him take off his thick jacket and reveal his astounding V-shape, even with a loose flannel shirt. We both went into the kitchen and opened our beers. I boldly suggested, we go into the living room and sit down. We both ended up on my two person sofa. I sat down first and then he followed me. That’s a good sign, I thought. This was the closest we had been together, short of being in the car. His huge body actually took over part of my “space”, especially in the shoulder department. I tried to move unobtrusively over to the side arm, but our shoulders were still very close together. I didn’t know where to put my hands and didn’t want to do what I really wanted to do, so I held my beer between my legs. He did the same thing.
“So, Jim, I think it’s great that you still work out at your gym,” he started off. Well, he certainly is getting us going, I thought. “Even doing it once and a while is better than not doing it at all,” he added understandingly. I couldn’t tell if he meant it or was trying to drive our conversation to the point of “no return.” “Yeah, well, when I’m there I really am glad I’m there. The trainers put up with me and sorta retrain me a bit each time I go. They are very nice guys,” I explained. Something then came over me and I just blurted out what was on my mind.
“Lucas, speaking of gyms, I have never seen a man with your height and mass. And, I don’t want to embarrass you, but you are also a very good looking man. But, I guess you know all this, so I feel sort of silly saying it to you.” I knew I was all red in the face.
“Oh Jim, I really do get off on your appreciation and your compliments. I’ve worked damn hard over the years to get where I am now. And there’s more to come. I’ve been wondering, and I don’t mean to embarrass you either, but I sense that you like guys like me. Am I right?” he asked with some hesitation. I felt caught and scared. Yet I knew he wouldn’t ask me if he wasn’t already aware of his effect on men, like me. “Shit. Yes, Lucas. It is the truth. I’m really attracted to men like you,” I said honestly. “Boy, am I glad to hear that. Because I like older guys myself and especially guys that like men like me. Not a lot of men do. They are often put off my either my height, size or mass,” he explained.
“Since we’re telling the truth here, right out of the box, I’m really quite a muscle-junkie, Lucas. I’ve loved big tall men with muscles since I was a little kid. Could never grow any myself, but guys like you just turn my jet engines on big time. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you in the hall. Not only are you huge, you are a very nice guy. What a great combination in a man,” I gushed. “I was so glad you were interested in talking to me. Usually guys like you just want guys like you and want nothing to do with guys like me,” I stated.
“Wow, this is amazing. I’ve gave up on finding good guys like me years ago. When I did, they were usually way too self-centered and narcissistic. Most of them couldn’t even carry on an intelligent conversation if it wasn’t about bodybuilding, nutrition, or steroids, which I’ve never done and never will do,” he asserted. “And, guys like you, are a rare find, Jim. Most are scared or too intimidated to even come up to me. Or they just want an overnight stand to worship my muscles. You’re different. You care about people. I like that very much,” he said looking straight into my eyes.
We both moved in closer to each other. I put my right hand on his quad and he flexed and reflexed it for me. I was in heaven. “You like that, eh, Jim?” He had a big satisfied grin on his face. “Oh god, you feel so hard and so warm at the same time. I can see the splits and crevasses through your jeans,” I gushed some more. God, it was happening. We were sharing our mutual love of muscle. It had all happened so fast.
He slowly rolled up his shirt sleeves until they were past his elbow. Then, continuing the tease, he flexed his hairy forearms and invited me to feel them. “Feel their hardness, Jim. Feel my hair and the cords and tendons that make these forearms some of the biggest you’ll ever see,” he said softly and with a profound invitation.
I tried to wrap my hands around each, but to no avail. “Yeah, I know, if you think these forearms are too big for your hands, wait till you try my upper arms. Those are really some big guns, and very, very powerful, too,” he added with great pride. “Yeah, I know I’m muscle-proud. But I just don’t show it all to anyone. Hell, I think we’re like Christmas packages for each other, right?” he asked inquiringly.
“Shit, yes, Lucas. You are my muscle-worshipping dream come true. And, I have no intention of settling for just a one-night stand with you,” I said both defiantly and with my own profound invitation.
With that, we moved closer to the front of the sofa and he faced me. My hands went mad caressing his huge chest and pulling the shirt away to reveal the dark hair and his protruding pecs. “Yeah, man, give ‘em a workout, Jim, I’m ready for a workout,” he uttered softly. I leaned over and started biting his big nips and running my tongue around his sensitive areole. He threw his head back and started groaning. His big hands grabbed my head and he pulled me into his chest hard and I sucked and teethed even harder. “Oh god, oh god, Jim, holy shit, you know how to get me turned on,” he exclaimed.
I surprised myself by saying, “I’m here to serve.” He was quick to say, in between his groans, that he, too, wanted to serve me and be my personal muscle-god.
It was no accident that, at the same time, our hands went grabbing at each other’s crotch. God, he is so thick, long, and so hard. His cock was about half way down his quad. I wrapped my hand around it as best I could and gave it a hard and very appreciative massage. His groans picked back up big time. I explored the whole length of his hidden monster.
In the meantime, his hairy hand had grabbed a hold of my hard cock and squeezed it hard right through my pants. Fuck, I could just begin to understand his unimaginable strength. We really got into turning each other on and giving our hard cocks a prelude to what was going to come next. I have never received or given such a passionate kiss...our tongues fought for supremacy…he won, of course…our lips sucked on each other’s lips…ferociously…we were joined.
I was astounded at my good fortune this afternoon. Never would I have believed that I would meet a friendly and caring muscle-god like Lucas in a soup-kitchen and then end up with him in my apartment – starting what was clearly going to be days of mutual service – servicing each others’ muscle-worshipping passions. What a wonderful surprise Christmas! And it looked like it was going to last a long time.
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