Blue Collar Muscle 4

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Bennie and I pulled up to the valet parking at the Borgata and got out of the car. We grabbed our bags out of the back of his El Camino. Bennie's shirt was soaked thru with sweat. Bennie put his bag down curbside, lifted his right arm and sniffed his pit.

"Man, I stink like a barn," he said. He leaned over and opened his bag, pulling out a new shirt. A young valet kid walked toward us as Bennie stood upright and peeled off his soaked polo. The valet stopped dead in his tracks as he got an eyeful of Bennie's hulking mass. "Whooa," he said. Bennie looked over at him, then tossed him the keys to the car. They bounced off the kid's chest, which made him blink and shake his head. He leaned down to pick up the keys, but never took his eyes off Bennie.

As Bennie put on his fresh shirt, he said to the kid, "Be careful hitting the gas, bud, she responds fast." The kid gave Bennie his parking voucher, then got in the car, and, despite Bennie's warning, peeled out on the paving blocks before backing off on the gas.

We rushed into the hotel to find the sign-in desk for the blackjack tournament. It was almost noon, and we found the desk just as they were closing up. "This where I sign in?" Bennie asked the guy behind the desk, who, before looking up, started to say, "We're closed for registration," but when he looked up and saw Bennie towering over him, he stopped. His jaw dropped open, and why wouldn't it. Bennie was standing there in a white Joseph Abboud polo, his huge rounded pecs straining the fabric, and the bottom of the shirt so tight on his stomach that you could see the outline of his thick ab wall. His arms were huge and throbbing with veins. Bennie put his hands on the desk and leaned in toward the guy. His hands were twice the size of the sign-in guy's, who shakily handed Bennie a pen and said, "Sign here." Bennie signed, turned to me and said, "Let's go." As I followed him into the casino floor, I looked back at the sign-up guy, who, as he stared at Bennie's glutes, was sniffing the pen Bennie had used.

The tournament was just getting started, and Bennie found the table he was assigned to. It didn't take long before the dealer started dealing out cards. Bennie won his first 4 hands, and seemed totally focused in on his game. I started to wander off to check out some of the other tables, but I didn't get very far before I felt a powerful hand grab me by the wrist and pull me back.

"Don't go anywhere, Mike, you're bringing me luck," said Bennie. So I stayed. And I don't know if I was his lucky charm, or if he was just really good, but he kept winning. He won enough to advance to the second round of tables, and then he won there. Then he won his third round. At 2 o'clock, they paused the dealing for a 2 hour break. They gave the players who would be in round four a voucher for the buffet.

"Let's go eat," said Bennie, getting up from the table. "I'm starving."

At the buffet table, Bennie headed right for the sushi. Instead of taking a serving or two of the sushi, he just lifted up the big fish-shaped serving platter that had all the sushi on it, and walked over to a table with it. I thought the Japanese lady behind the counter was going to faint. Bennie ate roll after roll. I managed to get in a couple myself, although Bennie acted like he was going to stab my hand with his chopstick when I went for his favorite ones. His mouth was too stuffed with rice and fish to speak, so he just grunted and shook his head. After the sushi, Bennie just kept going up for more food. Round after round of roast beef, chicken, pasta, potatoes, pizza, vegetables, fruits. I'd never seen anyone eat so much. When he caught me staring at him with concern, he said, between mouthfuls, "I'm bulking up," and then continued to eat. After an hour of eating, he seemed to be slowing down some. I said, "Should we go check in?" He sat back in his chair and put his hands on his bloated gut. "Why don't you go do that, I'm gonna sit here and let it settle in for a bit."

"No problem," I said, laughing and shaking my head. Big freaky stuffed ox. I could almost hear him growing. I walked out of the buffet, and turned toward the lobby. I looked back at Bennie, only to see him getting up and lumbering back for more food.

It took me about 20 minutes to check in , then I went back to get him. "You finished?" I asked as I approached the table. He was leaned back in his chair, wiping his brow with his napkin, and had a glazed look in his eyes. He grunted out a yes, then pushed himself up. His muscle gut bulged out like an over-inflated tire, hard and tight. He thumped on it with his big index finger, then he winked at me. "Get me to room," he grunted out like a Neanderthal.

When we got up to our room, Bennie said to me, "You know what I like about being this stuffed?"

"What's that?"

"I feel so freaking strong...." he grabbed me into a bear hug and lifted me off the ground, wrapping me in his big thick arms and crushing me up against his swollen pecs.

"Bennie," I said, my face pressed up against his thick sweaty neck.

"You feel it man? I'm barely even squeezing...I bet I could crush you like a grape." He squeezed me tighter. "You feel it?"

"Harder, Bennie," I said.

"Yeah? You like that? You like feeling Bennie's strength? Aw yeh, man, am so STRONG...feel like I could lift a truck! How much you weigh?"

"220," I said.

"Nice...nice weight to pump up with." Then he shifted my weight in his arms and power pressed me up over his head. "Good thing there's high ceilings in here," he said as he pumped me up and down. He walked over to the dresser mirror as he held me overhead. "I lift things up and put them down," he said, as he watched himself in the mirror and bounced me up and down off the top of his head. After 20 reps, he tossed me onto the bed. "You gotta help me outta this shirt," he said. He leaned over, his arms outstretched and I crawled on the bed over to him. I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up, exposing his big gorilla back and gut. I pulled it up over his head, but the shirt was super tight over his arms. I had to tug and tug to get the sleeves over his biceps. It finally came off and I fell back on the bed, looking up at him.

'Holy jesus," I said. He turned back to the mirror and flexed.

"Look at these delts," he said, turning side to side and inspecting his own cannonball shoulders. "Think I look like a heavyweight bodybuilder?" he asked me.

"More like a superheavyweight," I said.

He laughed and turned back toward me, bouncing his huge pecs back and forth. They were so thick and rounded, it was unbelievable that he could heave them up and down so high and fast.

"Bennie," I stammered.

"Oh yeahhh," he said, bouncing them even faster. "Why don't you hit these suckers?"


"Yeah, come on, punch them a couple times."

I got on my knees on the bed, facing him. Then I hit him in the pecs. BAM BAM BAM. The sound, oh my god the sound. It was like hitting a side of beef. I hit them harder.

"Aww yeh, man, I don't even FEEL that...." he said. "It's just making them feel bigger and harder." He turned back to the mirror. "Look at these hogs. Bigger than ever." I looked around him at his reflection and he was right. His pecs were welted where my fists hit him, and had swollen up bigger than ever. "You know what I want, Mike?" he said, flopping down on the bed next to me, nearly knocking me to the floor. "I want that massage. I want the hardest rubdown you ever gave. I want you to bust up this muscle so it will loosen up and grow out even bigger. Can you do that?"

"Sure, but first you gotta take off your pants."

"Help me unbutton them."

"Your gut's too swollen." He sucked his gut into the most intense vacuum pose I'd ever seen. It was like his waist went from a 38 to a 30. His abs jutted out inside his concave belly, the muscle looking like the rungs of a ladder. His jeans went from being way too tight to being slack. They unbuttoned with ease. I slid the zipper down and started to pull his pants down. At first I thought he had on red briefs, but then I realized....
"You have on...." I said.

"Posers," he finished. "I put them on for you." I pulled his pants lower as he bucked his hips upward, and I saw his junk rolling around in his posers, like two big eggs and a flopping log, like the hottest swag bag on the planet. The thick musk coming up off of him didn't hurt any either.

"Oh man," I groaned as the top of his thighs were exposed. His quads were so big, they were almost disorienting and unreal. Like a thick rugby player's legs, if he had site injected them with the most powerful steroids ever...for a month. Bennie's thighs were oversized, even on him. "How...?" I asked, and he seemed to sense that I was asking how he got his legs so big.

"I don't know, man, they just seem to respond so easy."

We finally finished wriggling him out of his pants. "Do my back first," he said, flipping over onto his stomach. The back of his posers had pulled up into his ass like a G-string. His glutes mounded up high and round. "Damn thing," he said, reaching back to pull the poser out of his ass crack.

"Why don't you take those off?"

"Yeah, good idea, they're too tight anyway." He grabbed the side strap and snapped it with his hand. Then he pulled the poser out of his ass and out from under him, and tossed it onto the floor. It looked like a broken red balloon, so tiny it was hard to believe it ever fit on him. "Ah, yeah, that feels better already," he said. I started straddling him on the bed, but with my 220 and Bennie's buffet enhanced weight of probably 300+, the bed creaked ominously.

"Maybe we should do this on the floor," I suggested.

"Yeah, good idea," he said. "You'll be able to go good and hard that way." He pushed off the bed with me on him, and as he stood up, I slid off him, my nose ending up pressed into the deep muscle valley that ran down the middle of this thick back. I breathed him in deeply, then stepped back.

"Let's pull the bedspread off and put it on the rug," I said, and as Bennie did that, I watched his huge naked body ripple with power, like a big draft horse, his hindquarters thick and muscled from years of heavy labor. When he leaned over to spread the bedding out, his hamstrings stood out on the back of his legs like ship ropes. He laid down on the bedspread face first, and as he adjusted himself, he said, "Bring it on." He turned back and looked at me. "Why don't you get naked before you start..."

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