BJ greeted me at his door in nothing but a purple g-string that looked suspiciously like the brand I often wore. His cock and balls were neatly displayed in the purple lycra.

“I’m sorry. I overslept,” he said, turning to head back upstairs. “Come on up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said.

I stayed close on his heels so I could watch his muscled legs and ass as he climbed the stairs of his townhouse apartment. It turned out his place was just a few doors down from my old apartment.

We were headed to Queen City for his bodybuilding competition. He was competing and I was shooting it for a story that began as a fitness profile. But his success at getting a spot in this event led to another story on his road to bodybuilding fame.

“I wear this to keep from getting lines from regular underwear,” he said, noticing me staring at his g-string.

“I have no problem with seeing you in a g-string,” I said. “In fact, I have a couple dozen of my own in every conceivable color.”

“Really?”

He was packing a few things into a small duffle bag.

“I told you about my shows, didn’t I?” I asked. “Plus, I often dress for my friend Blaise. I have lots of costuming options.”

Once he seemed finished packing, BJ pulled a very blousy pair of pants on with an elastic waistband. And topped it with a loose t-shirt. The pants were made specifically for bodybuilders’ large legs. They also were purple. I was beginning to sense a trend.

He and I had hit it off quite well earlier in the week when we first met – and first kissed, and first sucked, and first fucked.

In the few days since, I realized I probably was suffering from muscle adoration, a fairly common form of infatuation with bodybuilders. I later found that it was common with men who favored being submissives. That wasn’t much of a surprise.

I had been smitten by his huge muscles, his heavily veined cock, and the fact he could hold me up and bounce me on his cock.

BJ was 28 and built like a Greek god. In fact, I alternated between calling him by his initials – “BJ” – and Hercules. But he wasn’t just muscles. He had handsome, chiseled features and short dirty blonde hair. His bright smile contrasted nicely with his deep tan.

He could have been a direct model for Tom of Finland’s distinctive drawings of gay men.

Even though we’d just met, I could tell he was nervous.

“Are you ready for this?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah!” he said. “I’m just .... This is the biggest event I’ve ever done.”

I don’t know why, but I just wrapped my arms around him and hugged him.

A second later I felt him relax and pull me into a tight bear hug with his muscled arms.

“You’re going to do great,” I told him. “Just calm down and breath.”

“Thank you.” He seemed almost on the verge of tears. “I’m so glad you’re going with me.”

“Everybody needs support,” I said. “Even Hercules needs a friend and cheerleader.”

He smiled at that and kissed me.

I decided to drive and pay for a motel room for both of us since the newspaper would pick up that cost for me. After Tuesday, even if we had separate rooms, we’d probably only use one.

During the two-hour drive, I kept BJ talking by forcing him to explain the judging process and requirements.

We went straight to the venue when we made it to Queen City just after lunch. BJ and the other competitors had a couple rehearsals to run through before the event that night.

I picked up my press pass and was shown the layout of the space and designated photo areas. When I told them I was from a paper local to one of their competitors the organizers let me follow him and the other competitors around to photograph the rehearsal process. Apparently, I was the only photographer allowed to do that, or the only one who arrived early enough.

There were more than two hundred men in the competition in various weight classes. Some appeared to be about my size. I assumed they were much better built under their loose-fitting clothes. Some men were much larger than BJ.

I took pictures of some of them, mixing them in with the many shots I grabbed of BJ during the afternoon.

When they finally were finished with the rehearsals, the competitors were released for about three hours before they had to be back for the event.

We found our motel and BJ started on his very particular regimen of supplements, protein, and exercise he needed to do before the event. I spent the time either watching him lustily, photographing him practicing poses, or reloading my cameras and making sure I had a bag full of film ready to go.

I approached the competition like any sports shoot. The plan was to shoot him with three cameras that night, two 35s and a medium format. I didn’t want to miss anything, and I wanted to make sure I got big moments on bigger film.

I wished I’d had a chance to see BJ’s full routine so I could plan my shots around his best poses. But I would just have to shoot fast and hope for the best. I had rented and watched “Pumping Iron” to get some idea of what to expect that night.

Of course, that movie was based on a Mr. Universe competition at a much higher level. But the structure and rules would be the same.

BJ finished all his prep with about thirty minutes left before we had to head back to the auditorium. I could tell he was nervous.

“This is the highest level I’ve been to,” he told me again.

“Let me help your nerves,” I said, dropping to my knees.

I pulled his loose pants down to find his purple posing trunks underneath. They were practically identical to my bikini underwear but made of shiny satin and lined in the front pouch.

“These are hot,” I exclaimed. “Where can I get a pair?”

“This is what all the cool bodybuilders are wearing these days,” he said. “I have a couple pair that aren’t lined and show off everything. The trend now is going toward lined trunks to help keep competitions family-friendly.”

I looked up at him and smiled. I released his half-hard cock and balls and immediately began licking every inch of his forbidden delight.

“I might be too nervous,” he worried.

“This will still feel good and relieve some stress,” I said, stroking him harder.

I quickly engulfed him and began a desperate game of working his worried cock first to an erection, then to a much-needed release.

I swirled my tongue. I boxed his frenulum. I sucked and fucked him as hard as I could.

Finally, after more than ten minutes he grabbed my hair and took over fucking my face like he owned me. His stiff cock banged hard into the back of my throat with each stroke. His thrusts sped up as I felt his pulse increase with my tongue on the underside of his shaft.

All at once, he grunted loudly as he pulled my head into his groin violently and held me there as he blasted wad after wad of thick cum down my throat. My fingers were digging into his ass crack holding him as tightly inside me as he was holding my head.

When his convulsions and explosions finally subsided, he released me panting.

I pulled back and looked up at him. The look on his face showed all I needed to know.

Most of his nervousness just went down my throat and, once he caught his breath, he would be ready for the biggest night of his life.

I rose to my feet and pushed my tongue into his mouth with the taste of his cum still on it. I held him tight at first. Then he grabbed me with his massive arms, and we kissed for a long several minutes.

“Better?” I asked when he finally let me come up for air.

“Much.”

“Let’s go get a trophy,” I said as I picked up my camera bags.

I led BJ to a bathroom as soon as we got to the auditorium and pulled him into a stall.

“I have something for you,” I said, pulling his pants down to expose his package.

“You just did this,” he protested.

He shut up when he saw me snap a black leather cock ring around his cock and balls.

“This is one of mine,” I said. “It’ll give you a little extra support during the show. With this you’ll have me holding you up all night.”

I pulled his trunks and pants back into place.

“If you win, I’m yours for the rest of the weekend,” I promised. “You can do anything you like to me anywhere you want.”

His eyes popped open, and he grinned widely.

There I was being his submissive.

It took more than an hour for the actual ceremony and judging to begin. I spent the time watching the crowd and other members of the press file into their respective places.

It’s pretty common for photographers to spend at least half their working time assessing and judging the equipment of other photographers. You could often tell what size paper a photographer worked for by the value of the equipment he used.

Of course, that didn’t really work for me since I bought my own stuff. But it was a fun camera nerd game to play during the down time at events like that.

I had to sit through several weight classes for smaller, lighter men before BJ’s class came up. Some of the other photographers gave me odd looks when they saw that I wasn’t shooting anything in those classes.

There were nearly three dozen men in BJ’s class. It was one of the largest. He was the fifteenth to hit the stage. Yes, I counted.

Only a few of his competitors were noticeably bigger than BJ. A couple had more definition in a couple areas. Most of them were very close or a bit less defined.

I was glad I wasn’t a judge for that class.

Because of our local connection, I was allowed to go to the side of the stage from which BJ would go on just before he came up. I shot his round ass walking out and got some shots of his first couple poses before rushing down front.

I shot half a roll from one 35 mm camera. Then I grabbed a couple medium format shots of poses I thought really showed off his body. I then switched back to the second 35 mm with a different lens. I got close to the stage to shoot up at BJ, and I got shots from farther out.

BJ looked amazing and the cock ring really made him pop out. He did very well, I thought. I noticed several others didn’t do quite as well in their posing routines. He looked so different glistening as he was covered in oil under the stage lights.

I felt like my new friend had a good chance that night.

When the entire class was finished, they all came out to line up for a minute of posing side by side. I shot furiously moving from side to side as fast I could, always keeping BJ center-frame.

Once they left the stage, I headed back to wait out the rest of the event with BJ. He was nervous again. But he felt like he’d done well.

“You did great!” I practically yelled. “You looked amazing out there!”

It took nearly an hour to go through the heavier classes. There were more competitors in those classes as there were more professionals at those weights.

Finally, the awards were announced. I wished I could have waited with BJ. But I had to be out front to grab a shot of him when he walked out to receive the trophy I was sure he would get.

And, sure enough, he won third place in his class. His bright smile lit up the auditorium as he walked out to accept his trophy. He quickly found me and looked straight at me as he was handed the trophy. I thought I noticed a wink.

After all the winners were announced and trophies passed out, all the winners had to go back out on stage for more photo ops.

Many of the competitors showered at the auditorium before leaving. BJ just wanted to go back to the motel.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“No! Not at all!” His excitement still was obvious. “I just want to take a good shower alone with you and then maybe go out to celebrate. I can let myself have a couple drinks tonight!”

He made me let him get a head start in the shower so he could wash the oil off. He didn’t want to be too slick.

As soon as I stepped in, he lifted me high off my feet, giving me a bear hug with his massive arms wrapped around my waist.

By the time he set me down he already was completely hard and I was half hard.

We kissed while we fondled and jacked each other to the point of precum.

I immediately dropped to my knees and sucked him hard and fast. I thrust my head back and forth violently, pushing his cock as far down my throat as it would go and pulling it almost past my lips with every stroke.

He was practically screaming while I raped him with my mouth until he blew his sweet load into my mouth within two minutes.

I refused to let him pleasure me.

“Tonight’s your night, Hercules,” I panted. “I’m going to make that award-winning cock cum as many times as it can.”

We dried off and dressed. BJ actually wore a pair of pleated designer jeans and a pink button-down that set off his deep tan. It was the most clothing I’d seen him wear.

Though I hadn’t planned to, I pulled on a pink polo and BJ seemed flattered that I chose to match him. He had set my cock ring on the sink in the bathroom. I grabbed it and snapped it on to my wrist with Blaise’s. It still was oily, but I left it as is.

He had been given directions to a bar not far from the auditorium where some of the other competitors were planning to celebrate and enjoy their first drinks in several months.

As we walked up to the bar, I noticed several pairs of men lingering outside. I was more than a little surprised and kind of happy to see that we’d been invited to one of Queen City’s gay bars.

I immediately slid my hand into BJ’s even before we walked in. Finally, we were in friendly territory. We didn’t have to hide anything there.

Once inside, BJ recognized several acquaintances. Apparently, some other competitors had brought their boyfriends for moral support. And they seemed to represent nearly every weight class. Most of their partners looked like they also were weightlifters.

Even counting those from the lighter weight classes, I was the smallest one there.

We spent at least three hours drinking, laughing, and talking with BJ’s peers, men with whom he had more than bodybuilding in common. I found myself noticing all their bodies. A couple of them weren’t especially handsome, but all their bodies were amazing. My newly discovered muscle adoration went into overdrive. Being surrounded by so much muscle and testosterone was making my mouth water and my cock grow.

BJ and I stayed close, though, often holding hands or leaning against each other. My left hand tended to stay on his massive thigh. If we weren’t holding hands, he had his huge arm draped over my shoulder. I noticed it at the time as an overt show of possession. We looked like we’d been a couple for a long time. The other bodybuilders were shocked when he told them we’d just met four days earlier.

One sitting next to me, Mike, leaned in and asked about my leather “bracelets.” I explained the pink one that belonged to Blaise first. Everyone at the table went silent when they heard the word “slave” at the beginning of my story and were visibly intrigued.

Then I told them about the black one I put on BJ to wear for the show.

“It still has his oil on it,” I said. As I said that, I realized I already was wearing a mark of ownership.

“That’s so fucking hot!” Mike said.

“Damn, Ben!” another chimed in.

He grinned and blushed with shy pride.

I liked seeing him so happy and at ease after how nervous he’d been all day. As insecure as he’d seemed to be on Tuesday, his new friends were looking up to him, asking his opinion, congratulating him on his trophy and, eventually, on bagging me.

They all were quite impressed that he had his own personal photographer. They complained about having to pay people to do their photos and how much they were charged.

It was BJ’s idea for me to hand out business cards. He couldn’t stop gushing about how great were my photos of him.

To a man, each one of them vowed they would call me when they needed new photos. I promised deep discounts and potential free services they’d never get from a straight photographer.

Eventually, BJ noticed there was a small unused stage in the club and walked over to the bar.

“The bartender says they’d love to have you do a little strip show,” he said, returning from the bar.

“What did you say to him?” My eyes were quarters.

“I told him you were a professional stripper with your own private show,” he said. “And he needed something to liven things up for us.”

“Yes!” Mike said. “Please! I’d love to see you perform!”

“No!” I said. “I’m not really ready --.”

“Need I remind you that you’re mine for the rest of the weekend?” BJ said forcing eyebrows around the table to rise again. “Those are your words. I could ask you to suck every dick at this table. But I want to see you perform. And so do our new friends. Don’t you?”

Every bodybuilder in the place chimed in.

“I’d rather suck every dick at this table,” I said. They all were staring at me. “Fine. Let me get something out of the Jeep.”

I returned with my black leather belt bag and went straight to the bar. The bartender sent me through a door to a room that doubled as storage and a dressing room. A couple of minutes later, I gave him a signal.

Suddenly, the regular background club mix stopped, and a new, louder mix started.

“Gentlemen, we have an unexpected treat for you tonight,” the bartender announced from a mic at the end of the bar. “We have a visiting performer with a special treat for all our hot bodybuilding competitors in for the weekend. Please welcome to the stage Alpha Beta!”

When I stepped through the black curtain, I found that my bodybuilder friends were right in front of the stage, a couple, including BJ, so close they were leaning on it. They all were wide-eyed, none more than BJ.

I was wearing my Miami costume, a black leather g-string that attached via spring clips to a leather belt with D-rings front and back, matching collar and cuffs, and a black mesh tank.

I gave my new friends at least as raunchy a show as I’d given in Miami the first time I wore that costume. I did abbreviate it a little.

The mesh tank came off immediately. After I tossed it to BJ, I gyrated and thrust my hips in my usual routine. But this time, I added in a few of the poses I’d seen my audience do earlier with hip thrusts thrown in for fun. I combined some ab flexes with more thrusts and back flexes with suggestive rolls of my nearly bare ass.

They all rose to their feet as they cheered my homage to their sport. The rest of the club seemed just as happy to have me entertain them.

After a little more than five minutes of dancing and slowly unclipping and removing my g-string, the crowd of about a hundred were on their feet screaming for more.

The bodybuilders were the loudest, most enthusiastic members of the crowd especially when they saw a chrome cock ring bolted around my half-hard eight-inch cock and swollen balls.

After my usual cock-spinning move, I spun around and spread my legs just in front of BJ and his fellow competitors and slid my hands slowly down to my ankles. They lost their minds when they saw the chrome butt plug I’d been hiding the whole time.

Then I was back on my knees humping my ass for all to see as the bartender brought an open beer bottle and set in the center of the stage.

The crowd was puzzled as I slowly crawled over and slid my lips over the glass phallus as sensually as I knew how. I deep-throated and face-fucked that bottle as well as I could as it sat on the stage before me.

A minute later I lifted it up with my teeth, lifted my head and guzzled the entire contents as I let it slide down neck deep into my mouth.

The cheers and applause became one collective gasp as the room became nearly silent for a second. Then the audience erupted again in a screaming standing ovation that had to have been audible across the street.

While I held the bottle straight up in my mouth, I had one hand stroking my now stiff cock. I could feel myself throbbing and had to stop before I committed what I was sure was a crime in Queen City in spite of its name.

Just before the song ended, I rolled around the stage floor to where I’d left my g-string and picked it up in my teeth. Then I crawled to the edge of the stage wearing only my belt and cock ring, my stiff meat hanging beneath me. My eyes were locked on BJ and I directed him to come closer. I teased him with it in my teeth. But then I stopped and leaned back on my knees to push my cock out practically into BJ’s face. I dropped the g-string onto it like a ring toss.

I motioned for him to take it off me. It took him a minute to understand what I wanted. Finally, one of the bodybuilders told him to take it with his teeth.

He leaned down and, with his chin between my thighs caught the hanging fabric between his teeth and lifted it off my bobbing shaft.

Once he did, the crowd went wild, and I jumped up and trotted off the stage, my eight-inch erection bobbing and swinging before me.

The bartender brought me a couple bar towels to dry off as I got dressed.

When I finally re-appeared, it was to another standing ovation with shoulder and ass pats as I walked through the room to our table. I wished I had brought a more abbreviated outfit like the ones I wore after my shows. I could have cooled down faster and my audience would have enjoyed it more.

“That was amazing!” BJ said. “I know you told me you do a show. But I never imagined you did that!”

“That actually was very tame compared to what I normally do,” I said. “There’s usually penetration and bodily fluids in my regular show.”

“That wasn’t just sexy; that was dirty!” Mike said.

“I know I’m hard as a rock!” Mike’s boyfriend Matthew admitted. Matthew was the competitor that night. But Mike was nearly as big as his lover.

“It looks like you’re hard as a rock all over, Beefcake,” I flirted.

Just as in Miami, I was inundated with tips and drinks from club patrons. The bartender brought me a couple of t-shirts with the bar’s logo and told me my drinks were on the house.

I used the tips to pay for the rest of our party’s drinks.

“How about a quickie in the bathroom?” I asked BJ, whispering into his ear.

“I want to wait till we get back to our room and get loud.”

My hand was immediately on his nearly-hard cock.

Back at the motel, I had my shirt off before we got to the door of our room. The second he shut it, BJ grabbed my arm and spun me around, pulling me into a tight hug and kissing me deeply.

I pulled his shirt out of his jeans and slid my hands up under the cotton to explore his muscled back.

A minute later, I was unbuttoning his shirt to expose his godly muscles while our mouths licked and sucked and panted.

Eventually, he pulled back to catch his breath. But I continued kissing down his smooth chest.

“Let me go get this plug out and clean up while you decide which position you want me in,” I said.

Five minutes later we both were naked and hard.

I pulled his cock out of my mouth just long enough to ask, “How do you want me? I can straddle you, get on my knees, or lie on my back.”

“Which do you like most?”

“It’s your choice, not mine. I’m yours.”

“I want to know which you like most.”

I stopped and looked up at him.

“I like seeing my lovers. So, either I’m on top of you or on my back,” I said. “You could hold me up like you did Tuesday. But I’d rather know you’re more relaxed.”

BJ thought for a minute, staring at me.

“Lay down,” he commanded. “I want to be able to kiss you. I love your tongue in my mouth.”

I dropped to the center of the bed. Before I could lift my legs, BJ was on me. It suddenly dawned on me that the full width of my shoulders only spanned the distance between his nipples. He was massive. And I was smaller than his shadow.

He held his upper body off of me and lowered his head to find my lips.

I spread my legs enough to allow his narrow hips to fit between them. Our stiff cocks were crushed together between our stomachs.

Our tongues danced for several minutes. Both our cocks were throbbing. I could feel precum pooling on my stomach. I didn’t know if it was mine or BJ’s.

He finally broke away and kissed a trail down my neck to my shoulder.

“Come on, Hercules,” I purred into his ear. “Show me what the strongest man in the world can do.”

He lifted up and met my gaze lustily. I handed him the tube of lube I’d dropped beside us.

As soon as he dropped it, I lifted my legs, locking one into the crook of his elbow. The other instinctively wrapped around his waist.

A second later, I watched his veiny meat disappear beyond my red-haired crotch and felt his meaty head push against my aching ass hole.

Our eyes met again.

“Please,” is all I whispered and bit my lip.

He moaned and pushed forward.

I caught my breath as his thick head spread me open. I almost whimpered at the ecstasy of his flared head passing through my sphincter into my anal cavity.

Then his mouth was on mine and we devoured each other as he slowly pushed deeper and deeper.

I gasped again when I felt him bottom out. His hairless groin met and crushed my splayed balls. My groan of ecstatic relief filled the room.

“That plug really made a difference,” he breathed.

“Good or bad?”

“Mmm. Good,” BJ said. “You feel smoother somehow. It’s easier. I don’t feel like I’m being strangled.”

“I’ll remember that.” I pulled him back to my face, my hands still tangled in his hair. “I also used a syringe in the bathroom to push some lube up inside. That helps a lot.”

“Really? We’ll have to talk about that more later,” he said as he lowered his face back to mine.

Suddenly, he was sucking my tongue.

BJ did feel amazing inside me. And it was true; I could tell a difference when I’d had a decent stretch before anal. Maybe he’d never experienced that.

His size was just right, as well. Bill and Darius both had been pretty large. My stage dildo, Big Ben, was very large. Blaise was a bit smaller. BJ fit in me nicely.

By then he had set a steady, sensual pace with long strokes. He pulled back right to the resistance of his head against my sphincter before slowly sliding all the way in.

It took me a minute to realize he was accomplishing all those long thrusts with only his hips and abs. His upper body, his massive chest and shoulders, his face and engulfing mouth weren’t moving at all.

His movement created a very different sensation on my own stiff cock lying between us. It felt like his stomach was rolling down onto or gliding up my cock and then lifting off of it. It was a lot better than the usual sensation of being squeezed and rubbed raw, even though that often gave me intense orgasms. It felt like BJ was massaging my cock.

As he continued his long slow thrusts, I began milking BJ’s cock with contractions, Kegels, and rolling my hips upward to help him get deeper.

He finally began picking up speed and his breathing followed suit, becoming heavier. I already was panting and whimpering with each of his filling thrusts.

I felt my cock suddenly gush cum as his muscled stomach continued to massage it up and down. Each thrust of his cock inside pushed his torso up on to my cock and milked more cum from me.

BJ finally lowered his forehead to mine and we panted into each as he pumped his cock into me faster and faster. We both began moaning and whimpering.

“Please, God!” I panted. “Please cum inside me, BJ! Please give me your cum!”

He moaned a long appreciation of my begging. I knew he liked it and I knew how to pour it on.

He grabbed my shoulders from underneath to hold me in place and began a hard, violent piston motion into my ass that caused our pelvic bones to crash into each other.

We both grunted loudly with each deep, hard thrust.

Finally, I felt a white-hot explosion inside as he released a wad of cum so large and intense, I felt the impact. My eyes even popped open at the shock.

“Yes!” I yelled.

BJ kept pumping me for several minutes, filling me with more and more sperm. He just kept cumming more and more.

We tried kissing, but we were breathing too hard.

He slowed down as his semen thinned out.

I could feel my own cum sticky on my chest and stomach as he lowered himself onto me. I still held him tight to keep him within me, my fingers clawed into his round ass cheeks.

He tried to pull back and I resisted. I clamped my legs around him tightly.

“No!” I panted. “Not yet. You know the rule. Once you stick it inside, it’s mine until I push it out. I love feeling cocks shrink inside me.”

With that, he settled down and we kissed each other’s shoulders until we caught our breath. A minute or so later, my anus squeezed his limp, gooey cock from me.

“So, do you keep your stripper outfit with you everywhere you go?” BJ asked as we lay naked in the dark a while later.

He was laying on his side lightly caressing my chest and stomach.

“Actually, I bought that costume in Miami,” I explained. “We went into a gay club one night and there was a poster for an amateur strip contest the next night. So, I put that together on the spur of the moment at an adult store that specialized in products for men. Since then, I always keep a costume with me when I’m going to be somewhere with gay clubs. You never know when the opportunity might arise.”

“Did you win?” Jay asked.

“Five hundred dollars cash, free drinks, and hundreds of dollars in tips from the audience,” I said.

“I think I won tonight too.”