Spring 3: Lester's Date

Read previous part

Lester and Angela drove off in his SUV. He patched out in the parking lot, spraying gravel with the powerful engine, guiding the truck with one powerful arm as he leaned back in his big seat. Angela stared at him as they drove, all giddy from his massive presence, filling the cab of the truck with his musk of hypermasculinity. He knew she was staring too, and he loved it. "Hell, she better stare", he thought, "or I'll throw her right out of the moving truck." He flexed his fingers around the steering wheel, making his massive forearm muscles ripple for her benefit.

As Lester steered onto the highway, a car sped around them and cut them off.

"What the fuck?" said Lester, laying on his horn.

The driver of the car, a black 700 series BMW, stuck his hand out the window and flipped the bird.

"Oh, that did not just happen," said Lester darkly. Angela looked over at him nervously as he sped up, and every muscle in his body tightened.

He pulled up along side the big luxury car. The driver sped up.

"Go as fast as you want, dead man," said Lester, speeding up more.

They were up to 110mph when Angela, now with a deathgrip on her seat, said "Les...". But he didn't hear her. A darkness filled the truck. His attention was zeroed in on his prey. He inched over toward the car, forcing it to move toward the shoulder. They were going 120mph when Lester lurched his truck to the right, scraping the side of the BMW. The driver swerved onto the shoulder, almost losing control. He hit his brakes hard, as did Lester, who moved into the car even harder , jamming it against the guardrail, scraping up the right side. The car came to a stop and Lester pulled diagonally in front of it, keeping the driver from pulling away.

The driver jumped out of his car. He checked out his damage in a state of great agitation. "You fucking Asshole," he screamed as he came around the back of the Lester's truck. "You know how much this fucking car costs, you mutherfucker? I'm gonna fucking Kill You!!" He pounded on the truck with his fists. Lester opened up his door, and stepped out. The dude stopped pounding. He stared at Lester open-mouthed, his last invective stuck in his throat. Lester took a step toward him, and the man backed up.

"Let's take a look at the damage," said Lester. He sauntered back toward the man's car. The driver just stood there, like a deer in headlights. Lester outweighed the hothead by at least 220lbs, and the dude knew it. Lester 'accidently' bumped into him as he passed, bouncing the dude into the side of his truck. "That doesn't look so bad," said Lester. "Too bad about the side mirror though."

The dude looked around at his car. The side mirror looked fine. That is until Lester wrapped his beefy hand around it and crushed it. Then he ripped it out of the door and dropped it, leaving it swinging by wires.

"And a shame about the driver's window," said Lester, as he bunched up his fist and smashed it right through the glass, shattering it into pieces. "And damn, look at that steering wheel damage," Lester said, reaching into the car and ripping the steering wheel out with one hand. The airbag popped as he yanked. He ripped the wheel free of its wiring and pulled it out of the car. He held it in front of him with two hands and crushed it with his tremendous hand and arm strength. "Damn, look at that," he said, dropping the mangled wheel. "Useless." The dude stood, still speechless, as he watched Lester tearing apart his 120,000 dollar car.

Lester squatted down on his massive haunches, and grabbed into the front hubcap with one hand. He ripped it off, then tossed it like a frisbee into the trees at the side of the road, where it imbedded itself into the trunk of a big oak. Then Lester grabbed both sides of the tire and lifted. The entire side of the car rose up. Lester ripped the tire right off, sending lugnuts flying. The car crashed back down to the ground.

"Ffuckk," said the man, his power of speech partially restored.

Lester reared back and tossed the tire through the front windshield. Now he was feeling pumped. His chest was heaving and swelling from his efforts, and his tight shirt was clinging even more tightly, its short sleeves riding up as his massive arms engorged with blood.

"Please, stop," said the man, weakly.

"Stop, did you say? You want me to fucking stop?" Lester grabbed his too tight shirt by the collar and ripped it down the middle. He tore the tattered shirt off and tossed it aside. His massive rippling torso expanding in the streetlight, every muscle etched like the superheavyweight musclefreak that he was. "You wanna know how to make it stop?" he said to the dude, flexing his monster pecs. "Show me that finger you flipped at me back there." Lester took a step toward him. The dude turned white as a ghost. He looked at his car, then back at Lester. "Show me the finger, shithead," Lester said, bringing his fist down on the hood of the car, denting it down about six inches.

"fuckk," said the dude. He brought up his hand, but couldn't bring himself to flip up his finger. His whole body was shaking.

Lester reached out and wrapped his hand around the guy's fist. He tightened his grip and yanked the guy closer into him.

"I could crush this hand without even half trying, little man," Lester growled into his ear. "In fact, there's not a bone on your body I couldn't break like a thin, weak eggshell." Lester lifted the guy's arm up until his feet dangled off the ground. "Now, you want me to break your hand bones one at a time, or all at once?" The only response was a strange gurgle of fear, and Lester realized that the guy was pissing himself. He let go of the hand and let the dude drop to the ground. "Goddam it man, I hate when that happens." The dude curled up into the fetal position. Lester put the broad toe of his size 18 black shitkicker next to the man's head, and lined it up as if getting ready to punt. But instead, he ground his foot hard into the loose cinder on the roadway. Then he lifted his foot and set it down across the man's face. Lester pressed down hard enough to grind the sharp pebbles and grit into the dude's skin. He reached down and ripped the man's wallet out of his back pocket. He took the guy's driver's license and memorized the address, then tossed it away. "Now here's what's going to happen," said Lester, as he continued to grind the dude's face into the pavement. "I'm going to let you go. But someday, I might get all fired up about this again, and you'll come home to find Big Lester waiting for you in your living room. Waiting to use this big muscle to knock you all around your own house. And the thing is, you won't know when it's going to be. Could be next week. Could be a month from now. Hell, it might not ever happen. Then again, I might decide to stop by and give your wife a treat that she will never ever forget. Bet you even got a couple kids who'd love to hear about how daddy pissed himself all over the road that night. Oh yeah, I'd guess they'd be real proud of you. Maybe it'll give you something to think about before you drive like the mutherfucking prick that you are." Lester booted the dude's face away from his shitkicker in disgust, and walked back to his truck. He got in and looked over at Angela, who was staring at him wide-eyed, her face flushed. Lester's shirtless torso glistened with a thin coat of sweat. His musky scent was four times more powerful than before, and she nearly orgasmed as it filled the cab, hitting her like a strong wave. Lester reached over and touched her slender neck with the back of his powerful fingers. She quivered as he ran his rough fingers softly down her smooth skin. She had seen him tear the car apart with his bare hands, and now, as he caressed her so gently, she shivered in awe. Lester moved his hand to the back of her neck and began to massage it, his calloused, grimy fingers contrasting starkly with her porcelain smoothness. She got goosebumps up and down her body from the touch of this powerful man. She arched into his grip.

Lester studied her neck as he rubbed it. It looked so fragile next to his thick veiny hand. He began to grip her neck harder, and it made him hard, thinking about how easily he could crush it. She groaned loudly, as they both began to get off on his incredible size and strength. She moved her hand across her thigh, aching to touch herself as she felt Lester's hand moving up and down her neck, harder and faster, as if he were jerking off a big cock. Lester grabbed her hand with his other arm, and brought it over to his chest. He rubbed her soft hand up and down his bulging superheavyweight pecs.

"Ahh, my god," she gasped softly, her eyes shutting.

He rubbed her hand up and down his armor-plated ten pack abs.

"Beemer crushing strength," he said to her. She orgasmed right there in her seat. He lowered her hand to his jeans, and laid her fingers across the denim bulge where his club-like hardon was engorging and throbbing. She orgasmed again as she realized his powerful manhood had swollen to the size of her forearm.

Lester needed to get off. Big time. And fast. His fist-sized mushroom head was about to rip right through his pants. He was too big to manuever around in his truck without damaging things, so he started the engine. He tore off down the highway, one hand on the wheel, one on Angela's neck. She continued to massage his club. He pulled off at the first motel he saw. He pulled into the parking lot and went around to the back of the motel, farthest away from the lobby. He jammed the truck into park, and got out. He opened Angela's side, and lifted her out like a pillow, throwing her over his massive shoulder. He went up to the closest motel room door and slammed into it with his other shoulder, smashing the door off its hinges. He carried her inside. He undid his pants and whipped out his aching hardon. He lowered her onto it while standing in the middle of the room, sinking into her deep. She moaned in ecstasy. He pounded her up and down with his powerful arms, using her to milk his raging cock. He looked over at the mirror on the dresser, and watched as his biceps swelled like two 28" balloons. He pumped and pumped and pumped.

"So fucking HUGE...so fucking STRONG," he bellowed as he came, filling her with rope after rope of thick paste. Angela lost consciousness from the overwhelming flood of sensation from being plowed by this dominate massive bull. Lester pulled her off, and laid her down on the bed. His cock still hard and dripping, he turned back to the mirror. He raised his mighty arms into a double-bi shot, squeezing them out into triple peaks.

"You're up next, Mikey," he said with an evil grin.

Read next part