From: librpj@emory.edu (Richard Jasper)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.motss
Subject: On the Bus
Message-ID: <6237@emoryu1.cc.emory.edu>
Date: 23 Dec 93 17:11:56 GMT
Organization: Emory University, Atlanta, GA
Lines: 109
X-Newsreader: Tin 1.1 PL3

He was gorgeous, no ifs, ands or buts about it. At 5'11" and 170
lbs., Chad was much more muscular than Roger expected a miler to
be. But there he was, anyway: nice wide shoulders, great delts,
carved pecs tapering to a minuscule 28 inch waist. And those
calves...

"Most runners don't do enough weight work," Chad said one day in
the gym. "Of course, in reality it helps a great deal, both in
terms of endurance and power. Watch me come out of those blocks
next time.

Roger nodded appreciatively.

"Yeah, and most weight men don't do enough aerobics. Conventional
wisdom has it weightlifters aren't supposed to do bodybuilding
routines, but it hasn't hurt me any," Roger pointed out. "Maybe we
should do some sprints together sometime?"

Next to Roger, of course, Chad was downright boyish. Just an inch
taller, Roger outweighed Chad by 65 lbs. of solid muscle. At 6 ft.
and 235 lbs., Roger was unusually well-proportioned for a
powerlifter, with a 55 inch chest but only a 35 inch waist. And 20
inch biceps.

Those biceps really bugged Roger's coach, who didn't think a power
man should have arms that big, but he was willing to overlook a lot
thanks to Roger's thighs, which were 30 inches a growing. That
Roger benched 535 lbs. in the last statewide meet, a new record,
didn't hurt either. Besides, the coach thought, he's hairy. Which
was true enough. Roger was as dark as Chad was blond, with a neatly
trimmed but very full dark brown beard and enough chest hair to
make Tom Selleck jealous.

"None on his back, though, lucky devil," Coach muttered under his
breath. Coach was often mistaken for a water buffalo when
unclothed. "But no fucking bodybuilder would have that much hair."

The next weekend the team was on the bus headed back to
UGA from Jacksonville State over in Alabama. Chad and Roger were
sharing a seat and by the time they reached the Georgia state line
on I-20 Chad was slumped against Roger, gently snoring. With each
curve and bump he slipped a little lower and by the time they
reached Carrollton, Chad's head was in Roger's lap.

"Oh my," thought Roger, "this may be a problem."

There was Chad's head in his lap. It was so perfect, the thick,
blond hair, the still sparse but nicely filling in beard that he'd
begun to grow recently. Roger could feel the firmness of Chad's
delts, see the strain of fabric across perfectly shaped pecs,
fabrics stretched by the best set of triceps Roger had ever seen on
a runner.

"No, you really don't expect 16 inch biceps on someone who weighs
170 lbs.," Roger thought. "And a 43 inch chest looks a lot bigger
than it sounds when you pair it with a 28 inch waist. And,
goddamit, he's strong..."

Roger had seen Chad bench press an even 300 lbs. the week before,
which was pretty damned impressive for someone Chad's size. He
wondered what Chad would think the first time he saw Roger curl a
150-lb. dumbbell with one hand. "Yeah, it's pretty fucking
impressive," he said to himself. He glanced at his reflection in
the window and saw he had on his best smile.

As any man would be, Roger was also quite pleased with the fact
that he was exceptionally well-hung. On the other hand, it did
cause embarrassment from time to time. Despite his open and
friendly nature, Roger was basically a shy guy. He had gotten into
powerlifting, not bodybuilding because he wanted to be a
monster, not an exhibitionist. On the other hand...

Before long it was, well, l-o-n-g...

Barry, Roger's elder brother, had long ago put it all into
perspective saying, "Shit, man, that's no dick, it's a fucking yard
arm--you could pick a chick up on it!" Which would have suited
Barry just fine but Roger, of course, had other interests.

Like Chad, whose head was beginning to jiggle ever so slightly with
the pulsations of said "yard arm," which (the pulsations) were
beginning to feel more like deep sea swells.

Suddenly Chad sat bolt upright, brushing those golden locks from
his eyes, and, lids half-drooping, exclaimed in a hoarse, fierce
whisper:

"You've got to be kidding! You're big e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e?!!"

Roger hunched his massive shoulders and rolled his dark brown eyes,
as if to say, "W-e-l-l, whaddya want *me* to do about it...?"

"Bambi," Chad thought, "should have eyes so good..."

And then his head was back in Roger's lap and Roger's hand had
loosened his zipper and even though it was, mercifully, so, so dark
(not that either one of them cared any more) Chad could see that it
was thick as well as long, just like the rest of Roger, and it was
ready, oh so ready...

-- 
Richard P. Jasper, Head
Acquisitions Department
Emory University General Libraries 
librpj@emoryu1.cc.emory.edu (or) LIBRPJ@emuvm1.BITNET