Blue Collar Muscle 2

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Four weeks went by before I heard from Bennie. I'd begun to think he was going to disappear on me like the last time I used him for handyman work. But he finally called and said he was on his way over, he'd just finished a 2 hour morning workout. He said he liked doing a 5AM to 7AM workout, that way, after a full day of manual labor, he could go back to the gym at night and do another 2 hour workout. He said he'd been making a lot of gains that way.

He showed up at my place at 7:30 and when I opened the door, he was downing a Muscle Milk container. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "This stuff is good," he said. "That's my fourth one since I left the gym. I got a case of these in my truck, you want one?"

"Nah, I'm good," I answered, letting him in the door. "Bennie, you look huge!" I said to him as he came in. His work tee shirt was skin tight on him, and had crescent shaped sweat stains under each big pec and around his abs. His armpits were drenched and dark.

"Yeah? You can tell, right? I've gained 25lbs since I saw you last." He looked at himself in the mirror on my foyer wall, then bounced his pecs at himself. "These XXL shirts are way too small now, I got to order new ones." I realized as we stood there looking at ourselves in the mirror, that he was a good head taller than I was, which would make him around 6'4".

"How much do you weigh now?" I asked.

"278 this morning, weighed myself at the gym. Probably closer to 280 now, after those 4 protein shakes. Hey, why don't I bring my supplies in thru the backdoor so I don't mess up your carpet."

"OK," I said, as he headed out to his truck. "I'll let you in back there."

He came thru the back gate carrying two big buckets of a bleaching compound for the basement walls. I let him in thru the mud room and then down the steps to the basement. I went down with him and turned on some extra lights. "This stuff stinks pretty bad, so you might not want to stay down here, but can you do me a favor?" he asked.

"Sure," I said.

"Can you help me out of this shirt, it's kind of restricting, and my arms are so pumped up right now, I can't reach behind my collar. I finished my workout this morning with some heavy curls." With that, he started to curl the two 5-gallon buckets he was holding, and his big veiny arms swelled, and his short sleeves slid up to his delts. He put the buckets down and raised his arms up till they rested on a ceiling beam. I stepped up to him and grabbed the bottom of his tee shirt and started to pull it up. The tight fabric peeled up his torso like a wet suit. He twisted as I pulled, and when I put my hands under the shirt to stretch it out I could feel his muscle undulating under my touch. I got the shirt over his jutting lats, then, as I pushed it over his big left delt, I heard the shirt rip. I stopped pulling, and he said, "That's OK, just keep going, all my shirts are starting to do that." I pulled the shirt the rest of the way over that shoulder, then worked on the other side. It ripped too, exposing his boulder-sized right delt. He leaned over and held his arms straight out in front of him as I tugged the shirt over his head, and slid it off his big arms. "That's better," he said, as the shirt came off of him and he stood upright, shaking out his arms. His chest had a thick coat of curly black hair, but not so thick that his big hard nips didn't stick up thru it. "I can almost feel myself expanding," he said with a grin and a wink. I held onto his ripped shirt as if it could keep me standing upright.

"I better get started," he said, and he picked up one of the buckets and turned to the moldy wall, his hulking ape back spreading out like a Japanese fan. He had some dark hair on the back of his delts and traps, but then his back was smooth till just above his waistline, where a triangle-shaped patch of fur rose up and covered the thick Christmas tree shaped muscles of his lower back. As he leaned over to put the bucket down, the tree shaped muscles bulged out and rippled with power. Bennie leaned over the bucket, and just as I was about to ask him if he needed a screwdriver to open it, he put his hands on the sides of the bucket and pushed in. The lid popped off the top of the bucket, and jumped 5 inches up. Bennie snatched it midair like a Frisbee and laid it on the floor next to the bucket. He turned his head toward me and said, "I just figured out last week that I was strong enough to do that."

I forced myself up the stairs, my dick throbbing in my pants. I had to get ready for work, but it was hard to get my mind off the hulking musclehead that was in my basement. As I was about to leave, I yelled down the steps. "I'm headed out, Bennie, you need anything?"

"Nah, I'm good. I probably won't be here when you get home, this stuff has to sit for awhile before I wipe it down."

Shit. "OK," I said. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"


I left for work. I had a hardon for the whole drive.

When I got home that night, Bennie was gone. The house had never felt emptier. The next day I didn't hear from him. Or the day after that. Finally, I called his cell. When he didn't answer, I just hung up. Four days later, he called me at 7AM.

"Hey, man, sorry about the delay, I've had some stuff going on. And I've bumped my workouts to 3 hours, so I can't get to your house till 10. You want to leave the backdoor open for me, I'll just come in and finish the job?"

My heart sunk to my knees. I ached to see him again, but I also wanted the basement wall sealed. "OK," I said.

"Cool. Catch you later then." And he hung up.

I called in late to work, but by 11 o'clock, no Bennie. I left the backdoor open and left for work, pissed off. I decided that if he didn't show up at all, I'd tell him not to bother. I'd do the work myself. How hard could it be? When I got to work, I tried to put it out of my mind. I'd almost forgotten about by the time I was driving home, but when I turned down my street, I saw his truck in my driveway. When I walked into the house, the smell of the sealant he was using was pretty intense. I stuck my head down the basement steps.

"Hey," I yelled down.

"Hey, Mike, that you? Come on down and take a look, I'm just finishing up." I went down the steps and looked at the wall, still shiny with the sealer. Bennie was at the slop sink, cleaning up. He had on a Gold's Gym string tank top and cargo shorts. He turned toward me, wiping his hands on his shorts. I'd never seen thighs so thick and muscular that they made cargo shorts look like stretch pants. "What do you think?" he asked, turning toward the newly sealed wall. His tank did nothing to conceal the broad mass of his back, and his ass looked like two globes shoved into the seat of his shorts. How could I ever have been mad at him.

"Looks awesome," I said, not really referring to the wall.

"Yeah, I know, right? That stuff is real thick and hard to put on...took me most of the day. I had to use a hand brush, and it really jacked up my forearms. Look at how pumped." He turned back to me, and held his arms outward, his Popeye-sized forearms swollen full and hard. I could practically see them throbbing. "They're so tight, it hurts. And I can barely even close my hands," he said, bringing his fingers up into a claw. He leaned down and grabbed one of the cinder blocks I had stacked next to the slop sink. "Look at this," he said, curling the block. "I can't even tell if I'm gripping it hard or soft, my hand feels so numb." He curled it up and down, his big arms muscles responding to ever move. Then I heard a crack, and the cinder block fell out of his hand in two pieces. "Oops," he said. "Guess I was gripping it hard. You know what I need is a good rub-down, so I can start to feel my hands before I try to drive home." He stepped over closer to me. "I've been going to this massage therapist since I started lifting heavy, but her hands are too weak to bust thru all this muscle." He looked up at me. "Hey, you think you could give my forearms a quick rub? Bust up the soreness before I head out?"

I swallowed hard. "Sure," I said.

"Cool," he said, and stepped up to my, his arms out. I grabbed his right wrist with both my hands and started to rub my way up. His muscle was grisly, and I dug into it with my thumbs. "Aw, yeh, that's good, Mike. Go hard as you can. Break up all that tight tissue." I rubbed harder, and stroked my way up his thick bowling pin fores. The skin on the underside of his arms was smooth as satin, and I could feel every vein and muscle fiber underneath it. I dug in harder, and he moaned. "Nice, man, you got good hands." When I got up by his elbow, I realized that I could barely wrap both hands around the girth of his thick forearms. I dug my fingers into the crook of his elbow, and he let out a deep groan, thru his head back, his big Adam's apple jutting out of his thick neck. "Awwww, yehhh. Damn, man, that's almost good as cumming! Now do the other one." He held out his other massive arm eagerly.

"Why don't we go upstairs for that?" I suggested. "I'm feeling a little faint from the fumes." Not that it was the fumes making me faint, but I was feeling like I could use some fresh air.

Bennie got a concerned look on his face. "Damn, Mike, I didn't even think of that, I guess I got used to smelling it all day. You OK? Want me to carry you up?

"No, I'm good," I said, making my way to the steps. Bennie followed behind me. I was doing OK until he said, "I benched 860lbs for 6 reps this morning, I could carry you like a twig." Then I had to grab on tight to the railing to keep from falling back into him. When we got to the kitchen, I had him sit in a chair. Then I went to the medicine cabinet in my bathroom, and came out with some massage gel.

"Let me see your arm," I said, and he held out his arm, and I squirted the gel all over his forearm.

"Well, look at you," he said. Then I started rubbing the gel up and down his arm, back and forth. Bennie arched his back into the chair till it tipped up off the front legs. "Holy muther of god," he groaned out. I rubbed harder and harder. "I was wrong," he said, "This is better than cumming! Do my whole arm," he said as he leaned forward. I squirted some more gel on his outstretched upper arm, and started massaging my way up. His biceps felt like a thigh, thick and heavy with muscle. I dug my thumbs into the deep split, and rubbed up his arm. "Jesus, you are good," Bennie said, "Where'd you learn to do this?"

"I took some classes," I said, as I rubbed him down hard. I guessed his arm size at 20 inches, and it wasn't even flexed. I was having a hard time not getting hard. I moved around behind him and massaged his arm from his big deltoid downward.

"I'm getting so big, Mike, and I love it," Bennie said. I looked down at the top of his head, at the curly black hair. I could feel the heat coming off him, and the scent of sealant mixed with day old sweat. "Sometimes, I spend an hour flexing in the mirror, and I could swear, just doing that makes me grow." He flexed his big arm and his biceps balled up hard. "Try and dent this arm now," he said, and I put my hand on his flexed peak and rubbed. "You can't do it, can you, man? It's like a cement truck backed up and filled it full of concrete." He flexed his arm harder. "Look at it man, I think your rubdown made it bigger. I never seen it so swole!" His arm was hard as a cannonball under my fingers.

I looked down at his dark Italian/Puerto Rican neck, thick-skinned and tanned, creased like a bull's. If I was a vampire, now would be the time to lean over and attach my mouth to his neck, and suck the muscleblood out of him. Suck and suck and suck. To drink his essence. I leaned down toward the muscular nape of his neck. I moved my hands to his traps and rubbed down hard, listening to him moan with pleasure. "Damn, man, you got magic hands," he said. "Make this muscle GROW." I looked down at his mounded pecs, amazed at the striations in them, even though he wasn't even flexing them.

Bennie looked up at the kitchen clock. "Is that the real time?" It was 6 o'clock. "I have to go eat, then get to my second workout. Next time, you got to massage my whole body, Mike. I need you to bust thru my fascia, make room for more growth. Could you do that?"

"Sure," I said.

He got up to go. "Hey," he said as he made his way to the door, "this weekend I'm going to the Borgata in Atlantic want to come with me? I'm in a blackjack tournament, and I have a comped room. You could bunk up with me, rub me down between games. You got any plans?"

"Yes...I mean,no...." I wasn't completely sure if I had plans or not. I was having a hard time remembering what planet I was on. All I knew was I'd be going with Bennie to a hotel room in Atlantic City. "Yeh, I can go. You want to meet down there?" It was a good 2 hour drive down to the casinos.

"Nah, no reason to take two cars. The tournament starts around noon, so I'll pick you up after my workout, around 8 or 9. Pack a lot of that massage gel," he said, nodding at my hand that was still holding the bottle. "I like the way it makes my muscle shine," he said, flexing his huge arm and admiring himself.

"Will do," I said as I let him out the door. I didn't follow him out to the porch because of my hardon. I wasn't sure if Bennie had noticed it or not. I shut my front door and stripped down as I made my way to the shower. I lubed myself up with the gel, and paid homage to Bennie's superheavyweight mass. Twice.

This was going to be some weekend.

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