Angel: A Sequel (musc)

(Author’s Note: The notion of “sequel” is derived from a story by Lift Me called “Angel”. This story is triggered by the original story).

A Bit of Background (bear with me)

As a single gay man, 59 years old, and out to the world for only eight years, things have improved in some ways and, in many ways, life has become much harder than I thought it would be.

Eight years, two three-month flings, and a bunch of pretty hunky escorts all costing a lot of bucks. No major fuck buddies ever or now. And, I fuckin’ love men, especially masculine, muscular, and massive. In short, huge and handsome body-builders that are the epitome of muscle-gods. And, I live in my fantasy world way more than I think I should. I’ve gotten rave reviews for some of my muscle-worship and sex fiction in gay groups on the internet.

I’ve printed stacks of everyone else’s muscle god, muscle-worshipping, and muscle sex stories over the years and keep two feet worth that are the best of the best. I’ve gone through scores of color printer cartridges creating three file boxes of all sorts of pictures of: flexing bodybuilders, hardcore muscle sex scenes, men reeking of masculinity and sex in and out of clothes, body builders working-out and pumping hard, lots of pictures of bulging and distended baskets (some morphed, many not), and, of course, some big thick hard cocks.

With or without all this stuff, I can still masturbate myself to at least one to three orgasms in a day. No sweat. That’s great, I say, and I am grateful. But, I’d prefer to pump another man than build my right bicep, frankly.

I’m an all-around good guy, intelligent, reasonably handsome (others say it, I don’t need to), extroverted, spiritual and religious in an unassuming or judgmental way. Lots of interests, very self-aware, sincerely interested in others, have a few muscles from working out, and a good conversationalist. While I don’t have a lot of financial resources any more (since the divorce) and right now, friends that know me, say I’m quite a good catch.

I hadn’t really agreed with them up until the last year or so. Now, the clock is ticking and I’m wondering if I’m going to spend the rest of my life single. I really don’t want to. I’ve had a lot of one-time dates (not one night stands) and almost none seemed to produce a mutual spark. I’m also conscious of not being too picky or judgmental.

I don’t know what the fuck is going on in all of this. I keep looking for ways that I’m self-sabotaging myself and when I find them, I literally pray to stop it. I’m getting there, I think. Nevertheless, the sense of loneliness is pervasive.

In the meantime, as I’ve said, my fantasy life is going nuts. And, I believe the more “in fantasy” I am, the less I’m available for real time hook ups with guys. But it seems like the only place I have these days.

Sure, I’ve got all of my muscle-worshipping stories, half of them are up on the net. I wouldn’t have written them if they hadn’t turned me on, too. Yet, there’s one that was written by “Lift Me” years ago called “Angel”. It is a very touching and inspiring story of a man, living by himself. He’s a good guy, too, and hasn’t seen hardly any sexual or intimate action with another man in his life, either.

He hears a noise in his bedroom and is scared shitless. Nevertheless, he opens the door. Standing in front of him is one of the most handsome, muscular, masculine, and biggest men he’s ever seen. He faints. He comes to and “Grant” introduces himself as an angel who is now his to do whatever he wishes for as long as he wishes. Grant knows this guy’s needs and mind better than he does. Grant can read his thoughts. After all, he is an angel. Grant proves himself as an angel of unlimited physical strength, great compassion, and committed to helping this guy enjoy his life. If you’re interested, it’s worth reading as a prelude to my story. You can find it at “Men on the Net”

I’ve been wondering now for months, if and how I could have my own “Grant” come into my life. Are the rules and natural laws of the physical and heavenly universe so fixed that this is just as ridiculous as it sounds? What would it be like if, in fact, Grant presented himself to me in my apartment for my joy and my fulfillment? Would it be too wrong to be so selfish? What would I ask of him?

Do I shut off the rest of humankind (literally) for the rest of my life since I would have Grant? Would that be anything other than a good thing? Or, do I just continue to tell myself that what I am thinking and desiring is only through fantasy? Though I haven’t really been obsessing about this idea, I still think about what it would be like to have Grant walk into my life.

All this brings me to right now, and the start of this journal.

 

The Arrival

My doorbell rings, which isn’t often. I hustle to get a robe on and wait a moment to get my boner down. That’s usually easy when “fear” courses through me. Or, guilt. I hate it when I get stopped in the middle of a good jerk-off fantasy. Got a lot of all that going on these days. I holler “I’m coming” because there’s an inside door to my first floor flat that I keep locked. My landlord has the outside door that we share and keep locked. Bottom line, it takes a little time to get the doors open. It’s summer.

As I open the door and peer through the multi-framed storm door, I almost go into some kind of shock or something. Looking straight at me, straight down on me, is a huge and massive guy that must be at least 6’5” tall, a yard or more wide. He’s giving me one of the most gorgeous smiles on one of the most handsome and masculine faces I have ever seen – even in magazines. He’s clearly quite relaxed, standing in that so-called “relaxed pose” that I have studied on bodybuilders for years.

Yes, I’m dumbstruck. I’ve stopped opening the storm door more just because I’m shocked and mesmerized, not because I’m afraid or anything. Hell, I’m not at all afraid and I don’t know why. I think I should be. I am quickly very conscious of whether others on our street are watching this guy on my porch.

He has a beautiful head of black hair. He’s sporting a light “I didn’t shave today” beard. He has that sexy cleft in his chin, framed by the square-jawed look that always gets me weak in the knees. His eyes sparkle bright blue. His face exudes wonderful and extreme masculinity. His god-like facial features are alone, a turn on. And, that’s already happening to me!

He is just barely “dressed”. That is, he could be arrested for some kind of indecent exposure. His very tight t-shirt hugs a truly massive torso…incredibly wide lats, tapering dramatically to a very small waist. His shoulders and his arms coming down off his huge shoulders are the biggest things I’ve ever seen in my life. His biceps and triceps, even resting, look like they’re going to explode right out of the short sleeves that are shoved up to the crevasses between his bulging deltoids and upper arms.

His forearms, are equally amazing…huge slabs and blocks of muscle and veins narrowing to two big wrists. What is equally stunning is the maze of veins that are spread all over his arms. Then I notice his traps. On some guys the true size of traps don’t show until they flex them. Not on this guy…these traps make a huge arc from half-way down his neck to half-way across his shoulders to his deltoids. My eyes are then quickly drawn to the fantastically thick, wide and extremely corded neck. Holy shit! I can hardly believe my eyes. I’m in a daze and snap out of it.

He leans over toward the door opening, widens his very seductive smile, and says, “Paul Dickson?” “Yes..s…s,” I answer slowly. “I have a delivery for you if this is a convenient time,” he says quite matter-of-factly, and with a very sexy, deep voice (what else?). As I formulate my questions, I continue to take in his light beard, and his black and wavy hair. Jeesuz. “Mr. Dickson?” he repeats. “Well, I wasn’t expecting anything. What do you have?” I asked suspiciously. And I start opening the door a little wider. He steps back a bit. There’s nothing threatening here it seems.

But now I’m focused on the tuft of sexy black hair peeking out over his v-neck t-shirt. Holy mother of god. As tight as his t-shirt was, his chest protruded way out over his abdominals…his half-inch hard tits protruding even further. He is truly a sexy muscle-god. My eyes drop down to his short shorts. I don’t know where to look first. Actually, I do.

A jolt of electricity goes through my body as I eye a huge package that is just bulging with contours of cock and balls. I can’t imagine how big it would all be if it all hung out. The shorts are truly short and display a pair of the thickest thighs – exploding with huge strips striated muscle -- and calves, I have ever seen on a guy. These thigh muscles, even unflexed, have all sorts of crevasses, lines, and veins starting at his crotch, driving down and outward, and then narrowing to his knees and then exploding once again into his massive calves.

“Well, it’s a little complicated, frankly,” he says with a clear apology in his voice. Oh fuck, what shit is this? I think to myself. Do I close the door now even though I want to bring him and let him have his way with me no matter what? Jeesuz.

“I want to reassure you I am just what you are looking for. I am not selling anything, nor am I able to harm or steal from you in any way. In fact, it is I who has been sent to you.”

I couldn’t believe he said “just what you are looking for”. And, I couldn’t figure out what the fuck he was talking about. Yet, he has such a calm and easy presence about him that I wanted to know more and didn’t feel afraid asking questions. It felt strange. I feel very drawn to him though I don’t know why. Though he has moved back from the door, he slowly moves his huge and very sexy body to his left and is standing in front of me, right between storm door opening and the door jam.

My god, he is the most spectacular man I have ever laid my eyes on. I am quick study on these matters. There are few body builders that have his incredible total-body muscle mass and, at the same time, a perfect symmetry that ties it all together in a truly beautiful package.

His tailored t-shirt and shorts fit his bulging muscles and his v-shape torso like a glove. I can’t get over how he looks like he is going to explode out of them with just the smallest flex. Not only must he be a 4% body fat, but his skin is a beautiful nice deep tan. To cap it off, it looks like he has a slight glow about him. That is something I do not comprehend or understand. Yet, this god is so damn handsome. I’ve just got very hard very fast.

“Sent to me? What does that mean? What’s your name? Just who are you?” I can’t decide whether to be afraid, impatient, or excited as all hell. Deep from inside his protruding chest, and with his ever present easy smile, he says, “Those are important answers and I can answer them to you satisfaction, Paul. I can answer them here on the porch, if you like, and you could join me here, outside. Or, I could come into your apartment and we could sit down and talk there. Please, do what feels most comfortable for you, Paul.” Shit, when he said “Paul”, especially the second time, my heart melted. That was it. It seemed like he knew me – deeply. I opened the door wider.

He waited while I stepped back into the vestibule. He walked buy me, slowly, almost as if he were displaying himself for me. As it turns out, he was. All I could stare at was his thick and very cut veiny right bicep bulging out of his t-shirt. I couldn’t believe how huge he was, how wide, and how incredibly powerful and masculine he looked. I also couldn’t believe I’d decided to let this massive guy in. Frankly, I didn’t want to be seen on my front porch with him. Who knows what people think these days.

 

Getting Acquainted

With this guy taking up so much room in my already small living room, I was feeling a little bit claustrophobic. ‘You can call me Grant,” he announced. “May I sit down?” he asked. “Oh, yes, please do sit down, Grant.” I was starting to be more relaxed and gracious. “Where do you come from? And how do you know my name and where I live?” I asked with a sense of urgency.

“While it is a bit of a long and unusual story, let me give you the basics. I know this will sound weird…it always does to mortals…but I am an angel,” he said very matter-of-factly. “Holy shit,” I said. I’ve got a nut case on my hands. “No, Paul, let me reassure you that I am not a nut case. For my own kind, I am very normal. And, so far as human beings are concerned, I am also very normal. Again, it might sound strange, but the Universe is my home and I go back and forth to it between assignments here on earth.”

“Assignments here on earth?” I exclaimed. “Yes. You’ve heard of guardian angels, right? Well I am like a guardian angel, but not quite. I am the complete and total product of your imagination, yearning and longing since you were a young teenager. You’ve always wanted me and, up until the last few years, you were unwilling to “put it out into the universe, as you say.” But I have been given permission to come to earth and, in this case, to be with you as long as you would like.”

“This is just too far out for me,” I stammered. “It just doesn’t make any sense,” I added. “So why me?” I felt bold. Grant tried to explain. “As I said, I have been watching you, your dreams, and your male fantasies ever since you were a young teenager and knew you liked men…built, muscular, hung, massive men. I’ve watched you grow up and seek to fulfill your fantasies in some very creative ways, to your credit. I’ve also ached with you – all along -- as you’ve longed to be with the man of your dreams.

My fellow travelers and I decided that now was the time to be with you so you could have those very experiences you have dreamed about so often. It’s not much more complicated than that.” Grant’s eyes were looking right into mine – without staring – as he told me this. I didn’t want to look away. I was clearly drawn into him. On the one hand I very much loved what I was hearing. On the other hand I didn’t want to be a fool or set myself up for a huge disappointment.

At the same time I was also mesmerized by how extremely big and handsome he was. It seemed like he completely filled-up my two-seater couch. His very broad shoulders and arms nearly blotted out the back of the couch. He kept looking at me with that sparkle in his bright blue eyes. He seemed so thoughtful and interested in me. I could tell he really wanted me to understand and believe him.

“As an angel, I have unlimited strength. I can also read your mind.” “Read my mind?” I was pretty upset at that. For the moment, I ignored him saying he had unlimited strength. “I’m a very private person and only share what I want to share when I want to share. I certainly don’t talk a lot about gay stuff with all but a few close friends. And, my muscle-worshipping fantasies with muscle gods are only known to a few folks. I don’t think I want you to read my mind about that kind of thing,” I said defiantly.

“I understand Paul, I really do understand,” said Grant with a very sincere tone. “Unfortunately neither you nor I have much choice. I am just built to read your thoughts. I can’t turn them off. But I want you to know that I do not judge you in the least -- never. I am very accepting. In short, I am very different from human beings and different from your own thoughts and judgments about yourself,” he added. If this was true, that sounded like a damn good thing. “It is true, Paul, it is true,” Grant commented.

I decided to get pretty bold. “OK, I need some proof of something. I bet you can’t lift this couch with one arm,” I said, challenging him. “Let me show you, Paul. Stay seated on the couch if you don’t mind,” he requested. I agreed and sat back and held onto the arm and back just in case it dropped and I fell. It was a thrill all by itself to watch this giant muscleman get up and move his massive muscles over to the front of the couch.

Grant carefully moved the coffee table away from the couch. His arm muscles twitched very seductively. He squatted down – right in front of me -- and extended his huge and bulging right arm under the center of the couch and, as he stood up, the couch -- with me on it -- came right up to his face, his massive arm parallel with the floor.

His shoulder and delt muscles exploded into mounds of striations. No sweating and no heavy breaths. I was in shock. He had a big grin on his face. “See, Paul, I wasn’t kidding was I? Sure, go ahead and feel these massive arm muscles of mine. You won’t fall.” I reached over and felt the hugeness and hardness of the biggest muscles I’ve ever seen. “Sure, I’ll put you down and you can feel the pump,” he announced. He sure had been reading my mind. This could prove really interesting.

‘Grant, that’s not humanly possible!” I was almost screaming. “You’re right, it isn’t humanly possible. But it’s what I do. And I can do a lot more other things for you, too. All you need to do is to think them or just ask me. I’m here to fulfill your wishes and make your fantasies come true – for real,” Grant explained.

“Paul, one way to think about me is to think about me as your personal Superman. I know you have lusted after Superman since you saw him as a kid bend steel bars on TV and fly carrying another kid. I watched you collect hundreds of Superman comics. When you grew out of collecting Superman comics, you started buying body-builder magazines and masturbating yourself silly over the muscles, the bulging packages, and the infrequent wisps of pubic hair on top of the posers. As an adult, I know how turned on you got when you went to Superman movies and followed the TV show a few years ago.”

One part of me felt almost violated by hearing these things. Yet, I intuitively knew that he really did know me. “Actually, Paul, as you can see, I am much bigger and far more muscular than the Superman of comics and movies. Right?” I nodded very enthusiastically. “I’m just as handsome as Superman, if not more so. Right?” I said, “You are absolutely the most handsome, virile and masculine man I have ever seen, Superman included.”

“Oh, Grant, I feel like I am in some sort of state of shock or in a dream. In fact, you are the biggest, most muscular and most handsome man I could ever imagine. Yes, you are my Superman and it sends shivers up and down my spine to say that to you.” “Actually, Paul, remember, you have been imagining me for years and your imagination allowed me to come to be who I am and the way I am – built, especially. A couple of more things.

As a man, like yourself, I am turned on at being your Superman. However, I don’t have x-ray vision and I do not fly unaided. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you,” Grant clarified with some concern in his voice. “Hell, no. What I really love about you is your gorgeous, massive body, your exceptionally handsome good looks, and your incredible strength. Of course, I also very much appreciate that I sense you are also a thoughtful and loving…shall I say…person.”

“Yes, I strongly encourage you to see me as a person, just like Superman is a person,” Grant added.

 

Getting Intimate

“One more thing, Paul…this is sort of like the elephant in the living room. I knew before I came to you, that you would have some very deep and very passionate sexual feelings for me. And, you have been radiating that sexual energy for me since we met at the door. I feel the same way towards you.” I was caught off guard with those comments. Of course, he was right, but to hear it out loud was another thing altogether.

“My apologies for catching you off guard when I rang the bell, but it seemed the right time. We share so much in common…just as it should be. You are completely into big, handsome musclemen. You love to worship them and you love to fantasize about having sex with them. Well, like most all musclemen, I love being worshipped. I always get turned on – get hard – when my muscles are worshipped. I love sexy, dirty muscle-talk, too. Flexing for me is like having a total body hard-on. I love to be turned on and will love to turn you on. And I know we both have hundreds of ideas about how to turn each other on….big massive muscles like mine are one hell of a play-ground.”

God, this was thrilling to hear all this from him. I was finally beginning to believe that he being here in my apartment was actually for real. All of a sudden, however, a dark cloud came over me. How could I possibly give Grant and myself the pleasure we both deserve with a penis that is only average size at best? And how could I keep a hard-on long-enough for us both to feel fulfilled? A gay man’s typical anxieties when presented with the man of his dreams.

“Paul, I heard that. I have more truly good news for you. Of course, I’ve known for many years that you were like a lot of men and wished you had a bigger, fatter, stronger and harder cock. I understand that. One of my gifts is that I will be able to help you have the cock that you’ve always wanted. And, believe me, that cock will bring you extraordinary pleasure and be very fulfilling for me, especially up my tight muscular ass.”

“How could you possibly do that?” I demanded. I felt sure that he had pushed this “gift” thing too far. I was upset at the whole direction of his comments. He knew it, of course.

“I know this is a very sensitive subject. I wanted to talk about it with you now so that you could relax and enjoy me and the rest of our time together without anxiety. When you’re ready and, hopefully, that is sooner rather than later, I’ll just take your cock and balls into my hands and gently massage them. You’ll get hard quick.”

“But what will be new is that your penis will become longer and thicker – more than you would have ever imagined. And you will be able to stay as hard as you want for almost as long as you want, within human limits. All I need to do is that one massage, just once. And you will have one hell of set of equipment. It is not any more complicated than that.”

“I don’t know whether to believe you or not. I want to. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to meet your sexual needs – even my own -- the way I really want to.”

“I know my hypermasculinity can be overwhelming, Paul. But don’t let that happen. I want you to trust that what I tell you is the truth. We will have some mind-blowing sex and rut like bulls. And you’ll be able to feel confident, more so than you have ever experienced, in your own ability to satisfy a man like myself. You’ll be able to fuck my ass, my biceps and my pec cleavage and send us both into orgasmic heaven. And that is not an overstatement, believe me. We’ll have cum shooting everywhere.”

“And, I have some other tricks up my sleeve that will blow your mind as well. But one thing at a time here. Yes, I can tell you need some reassurance. Here, I’m going to lay down on the couch and you come lie on top of me. Let’s leave our clothes on for now. I know you want to feel all of me.”

“I want you to feel how hard I am…how big I am…I want you to explore every part of my body…feel all my hard muscles as I flex them for you. I want you to feel your hard cock get mashed into my hard cock…and we’ll grind them into each other. After all, I’m your Superman.”

I didn’t hesitate. I damn near flew over to him and dived into his waiting arms of Superman….spreading my comparatively small body along his amazing height, bulk and hardness. He wrapped his massive arms around me and, without hesitation, we kissed passionately…each pushing into each other’s mouth with our tongues…sucking and exploring. His saliva tasted like nectar from a sweet fruit. I got so hard I couldn’t believe it. And I just started humping and pounding him for all I was worth. He really liked that and pushed back even harder on me. And we weren’t even out of our clothes yet.

The possibilities for him and me were unlimited. “Yes, they are, Paul, yes they are,” he murmured.

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