For the Love of Muscles
By J.D. Walker
I’m in lust with a muscleman, and I can’t help myself.
Three times a week, I go to the gym across the street from where I work. It’s usually around noon, and while the place is busy, I’m still able to get on the treadmill or elliptical machine without too much trouble. These machines are perfectly placed for viewing my beefy eye candy. Or, to be more apt, the living, breathing, torture apparatus that had shown up two months ago.
I had heard people call this guy “dude” or “bro” but had never gotten a proper first name. He definitely left an impression on my retinas, however, with or without his workout routine. His sheer size was startling, but for all that he was big and tall and broad, he was well-proportioned and had muscles upon muscles that I
