Blue Collar Muscle

I hadn't seen Bennie for about 4 yrs. He'd been best friends with my next door neighbor, and had done some handyman work around my house. But when he and my neighbor had a falling out, he didn't come around anymore. I'd give him a call from time to time, but he never returned my messages, so I figured he didn't want to come around. I stopped calling him, and found another handyman, but the new guy was no Bennie. Bennie was a handsome blue collar guy, half Italian, half Puerto Rican, where he'd lived until he was 14, and he still had a heavy accent. He didn't lift, but he'd played football in high school, and, at 32 years old, was a swarthy solid ex-jock, albeit with some extra poundage on his gut. He had a thick meaty ass that his jeans highlighted perfectly. He had a great handshake too: big hands, thick strong fingers, his grip just right, not too strong or too weak, although I could always sense some brick-crushing strength in it. And the skin of his palms was surprisingly silky, especially given his occupation.

About a month ago, my neighbor moved away. Not long after that, I looked out front and noticed Bennie's work truck parked in the new neighbor's driveway. I heard voices on the porch, and then saw a guy walking to the truck. He was facing away from me, so I couldn't tell if it was Bennie. This guy had a tight fitting work tee on, and his back was bigger than Bennie's had been. Much bigger. Dude had a powerlifter's back, broad and thickly muscled. It vee'd down to his jeans, drawing my attention to his ass, which was stunning. It was like someone took Bennie's great ass and morphed it till it was twice as beefy as before. Rounded and high, his muscular cheeks rolled as he waddled toward the truck.

I went out front and headed over to the truck. I wanted to find out how Bennie was doing. Plus, I would have used any excuse to go and talk to this hulking handyman. By the time I got to him, he had opened the driver's door and was standing on the running board, leaning over into the cab. His tee shirt had pulled out of the top of his jeans and just a bit of his crack was showing. With my new handyman, who is fat and not attractive, I turn away when I see the plumber's crack peaking out, but with this guy, I wanted to bury my face in it.

"Hey there, man," I said as I approached. "Are you working with Bennie?"

I heard him shuffling around in the cab, and his bent head looked out at me thru his right arm pit. "Hey, Mike," he said, as he stood upright out of the cab, and hopped down to the driveway. "How the heck you been?" He put his hand out to shake.

"Bennie?" I said in amazement, taking his hand and shaking it, his smooth palm wrapping around mine. It was his hand alright, but his forearms had gotten enormous. The muscles in them swelled as we shook. His blue eyes twinkled at me as he smiled, and his perfect teeth were so white, I wondered if he'd had them brightened.

"Yeh, it's me, man. How long has it been?"

I looked him up and down, and said, "I'd guess about 40lbs of muscle ago."

His smile got even bigger. "Yeah, you noticed that, huh? I took up lifting after my divorce. And it's closer to 50lbs." We broke off our handshake, and his pecs flexed in his tight tee.

"Jesus, Bennie, you are huge!"

"Yeah, right?" he said. "I started gaining size from my first workout. Haven't hit a plateau yet."

"When was your divorce?"

"Six months ago."

"You've gained 50lbs in six months?"

"Yeah, it's wild, right? The guys at my gym are like 'Man, you should totally compete'. But right now I'm just enjoying the crazy pumps I get. Even when I'm working, I get insane pumps. I was just sanding down a cabinet inside, and look at my forearms." Bennie held out his arms and turned his palms upright. There was a vast network of veins pulsing up and down the underside of his forearms.

"Whoa," I said.

"Yeah. And watch this." He clenched his hands into fists, and his forearm muscles bounced to attention, bulging up and out, shoving the veins up even higher against his taut skin.

"Dude," I stammered.

"Yeah. And it's not all just for looks either, Mike. My strength gains have been nuts. I mean, I've always had a strong grip from all the carpentry I do, but now, I could crush a brick with my bare hands." He opened up his hands and closed them again, as if he were crushing bricks. He squeezed his fists so tightly that the flesh around his fingers turned white. Then he opened up his hands and wiped them off on his jeans. I noticed how his big legs filled the pant legs tight, straining the seams. "How you been doing? The house holding up on you?" he asked, nodding toward my place.

"Huh?" I said, forcing my eyes off his bulging crotch. "Oh yeah, my place. There's always something that needs work...although you might know that if you ever returned your messages," I said teasingly.

Bennie grinned sheepishly at me and said, "Yeah, I know, I'm a dickhead about that. I should have come by more, but you know how things were with John. Why don't we go take a look now?"

"At my place? You got time?"

He looked at his watch. "Yeah, I got time. Long as I don't miss my workout," he said, grinning. He put his hand on my shoulder as we headed across the lawn to my house. His big thumb rubbed into my traps. "Two hours of hardcore lifting, six nights a week now, and I never miss it. Gets me sweating like a pig, and pumped up like someone inflated me with a hose. I can't believe I didn't get into this sooner. I love it."

We went into my house, and I led Bennie into the basement. "See that outside wall over there?" I said, pointing to the cinder block wall that was all black with mildew and mold.

"Ah, yeah, you got a problem," he said. "Hey, is that a chin-up bar?"

"Yeah," I answered. I had put one up between two beams on the ceiling.

"How many can you do?" he asked me.

"I can work up to 20 if I do overhand grip," I said.

"That's good man. I started doing one-handed ones." With that, he reached up and grabbed the bar with one hand, then pulled himself up. He did rep after rep....10...20...25. "Pull down on me," he said. I grabbed him around the waist and pulled. He did 10 more reps, then switched arms. "Hang off me," he said. So I wrapped my legs around his legs and held on. I heard the beams creaking as he did 15 one-arm pull-ups. He dropped down and shook out his arms as I peeled myself off his legs and sat on the floor. "See what I mean about my pump?" he said, and he raised his arms and flexed them. His tee shirt sleeves were pushed back by the rising biceps peaks, which had a deep split in them, and as he squeezed his arms, the split moved from front to back, then front again. His arms were huge, and, as if he knew what I was thinking, he said, "Twenty inches....and growing." I looked up at him in awe. The low ceiling of the basement made him look even bigger than he was, especially looking up at him from the floor. His double-bi shot had made his lats spread out at his sides, and lifted his shirt bottom by about 4 inches, exposing the hairy ridged abs of his lower waist.

When he reached down to help me up, I grabbed his hand with mine, and he pulled me up with such force that I banged into his chest as I stood. He didn't budge an inch. "Sorry," he said, "not used to my own strength yet." He turned and walked over to the basement wall to take a closer look. "Yeah, this definitely needs to be cleaned up and sealed." I couldn't take my eyes off his big back, his tee now stained down the middle with sweat, making it cling to his muscle from the base of his neck, down his spine, and to his waistline. He turned to me and said, "I can come back this week and get started on it, if you want."

"That'd be great," I said. We headed toward the stairs and I let Bennie go first. My face was inches away from his perfect ass, all muscled up and rounded, pulling the seam of his jeans into his deep crack. We walked out to my front porch and shook hands. I felt the smooth skin of his beefy palm pressing against mine.

"I'll call you sometime this week," he said, still holding my hand in his. "Good seeing you again, Mike. We should work out together sometime."

"That'd be great," I said again, as if these were the only words my mind could pull together at the moment.

He turned and sauntered down the steps. I looked down at his big broad shoulders and realized that he already had the development of a pro bodybuilder. How much bigger could he get?

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