Blind Date

I'd lived in Miami about two months when my friend Tom called from back home, telling me that he could hook me up on a blind date down here. Apparently, I'd been complaining about being lonely, and, not being much of a club person, was having trouble meeting people. But I'd never resorted to a blind date before, so I was skeptical. Tom didn't even know the guy. Tom's friend Chuck, who I didn't know, knew a guy who knew this guy.

"That sounds pretty removed," I said to Tom.

"Come on, what have you got to lose, Ralph? I hear he's a powerlifter." That sparked my interest, certainly, and I paused long enough for Tom to say, "Man, you are such a muscle whore."

"No I'm not," I said. "What's his name?"

Tom laughed and told me the guy's name was Malcolm. Then he gave me Malcolm's number. "Go ahead, at least text the guy," he said. "Live a little. Just make sure you meet somewhere in public, in case he turns out to be a mess. Or a serial killer."

"Thanks a lot, you're a big help. Hopefully he won't look like that kid from Malcolm in the Middle."

After we hung up, I sat on my couch for ten minutes staring at my phone, deciding whether to get in touch with Malcolm or not. I'd start a text, and then erase it. Then I'd do it again. My heart pounded faster just thinking about it. Finally, I decided that Tom was right. What did I have to lose. I typed out a text : Hey Malcolm. My name's Ralph. Am new to Miami. A friend of mine suggested we get together sometime. Hit me up if you're interested.

I hit the Send button. Ok, that's done, I thought to myself. I'll probably never hear back from him. I put the phone down on the coffee table and started to walk away. I didn't get two steps when the phone beeped. I picked it up and opened the new text : Sounds good. you free Friday nite?.

Oh boy. I texted back: Friday's cool. When and where?.

He answered: There's a sushi place I like in coconut grove. 6 too early? I have to work at 8.

What kinda work? I asked.

Bouncing from 8 to 4, he replied.

Oh boy. I told him 6 was ok and he sent me the address. "See you there," I texted.



My heart was pounding like a jackrabbit's as I walked into the sushi place. I'd gotten lost, and was a half hour late, but I'd texted Malcolm and he seemed cool with it. The restaurant was already busy, and when I told the waiter I was meeting someone, he nodded over to the left, and walked away. I scanned the tables in that direction. Most of them had couples or foursomes. Finally I saw a table with one person seated. It was a huge black guy in a white dress shirt. His hair was done up in long dreadlocks. I walked over toward him. His head was bent down as he finished off a sushi roll. His neck had to be 20 inches round. As I approached the table, he looked up. He took a big swallow and said, "Ralph?"

"Yeah," I said. "Malcolm?

As he stood up, his chair screeched across the tile floor behind him. He rose up and up and up. He appeared to be about 6'6", and towered over my 5'7". He put out his hand to shake, and as he wrapped his thick fingers around mine, I saw that his hand was nearly twice the size of mine. His shoulders were broad and thick, stretching out his shirt at least a yard, and his big chest pushed the buttons till they strained. He was no Malcolm in the Middle....more like Malcolm XXXL.

"Sorry I'm late," I said as we shook.

"No problem. Sorry I started eating without you, but I was starving. This is only my third roll though, so I'm still plenty hungry," he said with a grin as he sat down. His teeth were brilliantly white, despite the sushi rice that was stuck in them.

I sat down across from him, and noticed how the people around us were whispering and nodding toward my massive blind date. The waiter came over with two plates. He put one in front of me with 2 sushi rolls on it and one in front of Malcolm with six. "Hope you don't mind, I ordered some for you when I knew you were going to be late."

"No, that's cool," I said.

Malcolm drank his whole glass of water, then said, "Actually, I thought you might pussy out on me, but that woulda been ok, I'd of just eaten your rolls."

"Why would I pussy out?" I said, although the thought had crossed my mind as I was driving around.

"Some guys are scared off by my size. Afraid I might just beat the crap outta them or something," he said, as he shovelled his way thru another roll.

"How big are you?" I asked, as I watched his biceps rolling under his sleeve as he worked his chopsticks.

"Six foot seven, 290," he said thru a mouthful, and holding up his glass to the waiter, who hurried over with more water for the big man. "Probably 295 after this meal," he said smiling. After he drank half the glass, he said, "I'm aiming for 300plus. How big are you?"

"Five seven, 170." It sounded so tragically puny.

"Nice," he said, staring at me as he ate more sushi. "I weighed more than that in 4th grade. I do wrist curls with 170."

"I picture you liking a bigger guy," I said, after gulping at the thought of a 180lb 4th grader.

"Nah," he said. "I like little guys. Big guys are pigs. They eat too much, sweat too much, and are way too full of themselves." He winked at me as he picked up his napkin and wiped away the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead. "How old are you?"

"28," I said.

"I'm 22," he said, as he continued to eat. "You ever been curled by a 22 year old?"

My first piece of sushi dropped of my chopsticks and fell onto my shirt. "You could curl me?" I asked, as I picked up the sushi, and tried to wipe the soy sauce and wasabi off my shirt.

"One handed. I got freak strength. Look at my forearm." He stopped eating long enough to uncuff his shirt and roll back the sleeve, exposing a massive club-shaped forearm. He clenched his huge hand into a fist and made the forearm muscle bunch up into gnarly ebony granite. "I work my grip an hour every night. You should see them after than, all swole and veiny." He put his hand under the table and grab the top of my leg. "You feel it?" he said. "Feel the strength?"

"Uh huh," I stammered. I tried to pull my leg back, put he wouldn't let it budge.

"You scared?" he asked. I was breathing like I'd just run a 100 yard dash. He squeezed harder. "You turned on?"

"Both," I said between clenched teeth.

"Nice," he said, and he moved his hand up my leg to my crotch. "Ohh yeah, you do like this," he said. "Bet I could make you blow right here."

"Bet you couldn't," I said.

He let go of my crotch and sat back in his chair. "Bet I could," he said and started to bounce his pecs at me. He looked like the black guy in the Planet Fitness ad, and he even started saying "Pow Pow PowPowPow," as he bounced his huge chest back and forth. I grabbed the edge of the table with both hands to keep from falling over.

He stopped pec bouncing, and pulled his shoulders back, his huge mounded chest stretching his buttons to the popping point. "You gonna eat those?" he said, nodding at my rolls. I shook my head no, and he reached over and took them. He picked up one whole roll, tipped his head back, and slowly slid 8" of sushi roll down his throat. He appeared to swallow it whole.

"holyfuck," I moaned.

He brought his right arm up in front of his chest, like he was doing a hammer curl. Then he flexed, and his huge biceps filled the sleeve, stretching the cotton so thin I could see his black skin thru the fabric. Then the peak began to rip thru.

'"hhow big??" I asked.

"23 inches," he said, knowing exactly what I was asking.

"geeezus," I groaned.

"Put your hand on my thigh," he said. I put my hand under the table. I didn't have to reach far, his big knee was almost touching mine. I put my hand on top of his leg. "You ever felt 34" quads before?" he asked. "Squeeze it," he said. I clenched my fingers down on his meaty leg. "How's that feel?" he said.

"Hard as a car tire," I said.

He laughed. "Yeh, and I ain't even flexing it. Feel this," he said, and he tightened his leg muscles. I felt them swell under my fingers. I rubbed my hand on the thick teardrop muscle that bulged up over his kneecap.

"My god man, " I said.

"Let's go to my place," he said.


"I live right around the corner."

"But I..."
"I wanna make you bust a nut, little man. You ever cum hands free?"

"No, but..."

"I'll pay the tab," he said. He scooted back in his chair and stood up. As his massive frame brushed by me on the way to the counter, I turned to watch him. He had the biggest powerlifter ass I'd ever seen, stretching his gabardine pants so tightly, you could see each huge globe of his glutes rolling as he walked. I swore I could see striations. But that couldn't be. Could it?

By the time he paid the tab, I'd unchubbed enough to stand up without making a scene. Everyone was looking over at Malcolm anyway. His massive backspread was the size of a bus. He was three times the size of the little Japanese man behind the counter, who nervously handed Malcolm's charge card back to him.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked.

"You can pay me back later," he said, shoving his wallet into his back pocket, which rode so high on his glutes that it faced up to the ceiling. "Let's go." He put his huge hands on my shoulders and led me toward the front door. I pushed the door open and walked out into the hot Miami night. Behind me, Malcolm had to turn half sideways to fit thru the door. He also had to duck.

What on earth was I walking into?

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