Blue Collar Muscle 3

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Bennie was supposed to pick me up at 8am that Saturday morning for the two hour ride to Atlantic City. Instead, he showed up at 11.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, trotting up my porch steps as I opened the front door. He was in a tight blue polo shirt and jeans. The shirt fit him way too tight. Every muscle on him was straining the fabric, stretching it till it was almost see-thru. He saw me staring at his arms, which had shoved the short sleeves of the shirt up to his delts. "I was doing arms at the gym this morning, and totally got into some concentration curls." My duffel bag was on the front porch. "Check this out," he said, picking up my bag and slowly curling it with his right arm. "Look at this," he said. He ran his finger across the bulging peak of his biceps. "See the split?" he asked, grinning.

I stared into the deep fine line running up his upper arm, delineating the split between his two swollen biceps muscles. His muscle arm continued to bunch up into a ball that looked hard as a meteorite. A meteorite with a thick vein snaking up and over it. "It's really popping out, right?" he said. "The other guys at the gym were freaking out, taking pictures of it on their phones."

He took my bag and headed down the steps. I shut my front door and followed him to the driveway. Instead of his truck, Bennie was driving an old red El Camino. He tossed my duffel bag into the back bed.

"Where'd this come from?" I asked him.

"You like it? I've had it for awhile now. Been working on the engine some, supping it up."

"What year is it?"

"1972, back when they still made real muscle cars. And I've jacked this one up even more, just like me," he said, flexing into a most muscular, stretching his shirt to the limit, then laughing and turning to get into his muscle car. "Let's get going," he said.

"Aren't you going to be late?" I said, as I got in on the passenger side. "Your blackjack tournament starts at 12, and it's at least a 2 hour drive."

"We'll make up time," he said, shifting into reverse and peeling out of the driveway. Every time Bennie shifted, his big shoulder would bump up against me. His hulking frame took up so much space in the car that I had to lean against my door. "Sorry," he said, as he shifted in his seat and nudged me even farther over. "Guess I'm getting too big for my own good. But, goddam, it feels good." The regular steering wheel in the car had been replaced with one of those made of heavy chain. I'd seen them before, but had never actually been in a car that had one. It was somewhat smaller around than a normal steering wheel, and so made Bennie's hands and forearms look even bigger than they already were. His forearm muscles stood out like steel bands as he gripped the wheel. His hands were so beefed up, they looked like they could crush the chains into a ball. I'd never seen a hand so veiny. I could see them pulsing. We turned onto the Garden State Parkway and Bennie said, "Hold on," and his grip tightened. Then he hit the accelerator and I was thrown back into my seat. In seconds, we were flying down the parkway at 80+.

Bennie zigzagged thru traffic like a Nascar racer, passing everyone on the road. He took one hand off the steering wheel and reached down into a bag he had next to him on the floor. He pulled out a protein shake, popped the lid with his big thumb and downed the whole thing. Then he pulled out another one. As he tipped his head back to drink it, we closed in on the back end of a bus. I pushed my feet into the floorboard, anticipating a crash, but at the last second, Bennie veered into the other lane, barely missing the bus.

"Nervous?" he asked me with a grin as he tossed down the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his big hand. "Just wait. Once we get south of Toms River, I'm gonna really open her up." I knew that at that point on the parkway, the road narrowed down to two lanes, but it also flattened out and there were more straightaways.

As soon as we got thru the toll at Toms River, Bennie floored it. The car flew back up to 80mph, but then kept going, past 90, past 100. I'd never driven so fast. At 110, the car started shuddering pretty hard. Bennie had both hands on the wheel now, and gripped it so hard that his big knuckles were turning white. I could see the chain links under his fingers denting in.

"Really gets your adrenaline going, doesn't it?" he yelled over at me, because in spite of us only being a few feet apart, the noise inside the car was almost deafening.

I could barely lift my head up off the seat. "Geezus, Bennie," I yelled.

He laughed. "Hold on," he said, then zoomed around a few cars that were ahead of us, and, with the roadway clear ahead of us, he sped up. I could see the speedometer needle pinned to 120mph. My seat was vibrating so hard, it was stimulating my balls, and making me hard. That, and the sight of Bennie's huge forearms and triceps, hard as steel, bulging as we drove, and the sight of the steering wheel, now misshapen by his grip. I could see the sweat stains showing thru on Bennie's tight polo. Then I realized that my shirt was soaked thru with sweat too. It was so thick and hot inside the car that the windows were starting to steam up. I could see on the dashboard that the car had no air conditioning, and, at this speed, I didn't want to risk cracking the window open. Instead, I just breathed in the heady stench of man sweat, Bennie's overwhelming mine with ease. It made me even harder. As I shifted myself around in my seat, I noticed that our exit was coming up fast.

"Hey, Bennie, slow down man," I yelled. "We have to get off up ahead." Bennie took his foot off the gas some, and we immediately slowed down. As the car stopped shaking so much, I realized that my heart was pounding wildly. We were still going 60 as we approached the exit for the Atlantic City Expressway, and as we curved around the ramp, I thought we might tip up on two wheels. We were about halfway around when I looked down the embankment and saw a car down there. "Hey, did you see that?" I said.


"That car down there."

"Probably abandoned," said Bennie.

"Nah man, I think I saw a lady getting out of it."

Bennie pulled over quickly and came to a stop. He got out of the car and looked backed. "Yeah, you're right, there's a lady down there. I'll go see if she's OK." Bennie jogged down the embankment toward the car. I saw him talking to her. She seemed OK, just sort of agitated, waving her arms as she talked, pointing up to the road. I saw Bennie checking out the car. I got out of the car and walked along the shoulder, looking down at them. Bennie looked up at me and yelled, "She swerved to miss a deer, and she can't find her phone. I think her back axle is broken. I'm gonna push her up to the road."

I have my phone, I almost yelled down. But I was too curious to see what he was going to do. Bennie waddled around to the back of the car as the lady got back in on the driver's side. Bennie crouched down behind the trunk, then deadlifted the car up and started pushing it up the embankment, slowly at first, but then at a slow jog. He got the car up to the shoulder and waddled it over to the front of his car. As he passed me, he said, "I'm gonna get her off this ramp. Follow me to the toll booth in my car." I looked down the road toward the toll booth. It was about 200 yards away. I hear him huffing like a locomotive.

I got into Bennie's car and followed behind him as he waddled the lady's car down the road. I watched his big rounded glutes roll up and down as he pushed the car on its front wheels toward the toll. His pants were so tight on his ass that I could see the striations in the muscle even thru the fabric. His back muscles mounded with power, and pulled the bottom of his shirt up, exposing the tree-thick lumbar erector muscles of his lower back. I almost busted in my shorts just seeing them bulging.

When we got to the toll, he put the car down and went over to her window. I saw her try to hand him some money, which he waved away. I heard her ask him something, and he laughed, then flexed his right arm in her window. She reached out and felt it and I heard her squeal and giggle. Bennie laughed, then came strutting back over to his car. I got out and look at him. His traps had swollen up huge and were pushing aside the collar of his polo. Thick veins pulsed on the sides of his neck.

"Let's go," he said, "now we're really running late." I got back in the passenger seat wondering just how much faster he thought we could go. As we pulled thru the toll, Bennie said, "I am really gonna need that massage now man. Feel my legs." He grabbed my wrist and laid my hand on his right thigh. His pant leg felt like an overstuffed sack of hard cement.

"Oh, man," I groaned.

"Tight, huh? My quads feel like they've swelled by 4 inches. You're really gonna have to work these suckers hard."

"Uh-huh," I stammered.

After a pause, he said, "You wanna cum to this muscle, don't ya?"

"What?" I said, pulling my hand away in surprise.

"Come on man, I know you want it. I ain't blind," he said, nodding to my crotch. "Don't worry, I don't mind. I bone to this muscle too. Just wait till later in the hotel room. I'll give you a show that will blow your mind. I brought oil."

Now my heart was pounding harder than it had when we were going 120+ down the parkway. I could see Atlantic City in the distance, and I could hardly wait to get there.

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