As we entered the bedroom, I was glad that the bed was King-sized, and that I'd made it up so neatly after doing laundry earlier in the day. I had no idea what might happen during the next hour, but I was prepared, if not emotionally then materially-speaking. He remarked, "Nice" and smiled - my knees weakened. "Let's get started" he said, and kicked off his gym shoes. He started to pull off his tight t-shirt, in that way that strippers do, arms across his chest, which flared his lats impressively. Impulsively, I stepped in to assist and he allowed me to pull it, slowly, gently, off over his head - dealing with his tight clothing felt like foreplay.

He saw my amazement and smiled, chuckling, and making his abs ripple. He put his hands behind his head, and I started to unbuckle his belt...peeling off his jeans while trying not to "cop a feel" of his glutes. He stepped gingerly out of his pants, puddling around his ankles. He offered one foot then the other as I tugged off his socks. Beautiful feet, rounded calves, thick quads...and some tiny, flimsy cotton underwear, a cross between a thong and posers. Again, I tried hard not to stare at his package. Interestingly, when a body is as perfectly proportioned as Scrappy's- and so few are - there's no need for a big dick and balls. IMHO. Besides, I wasn't interested in having sex with him - I was hoping for an experience that would satisfy my muscle fetish and give him some pleasure, most importantly. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, and I started to rub his feet, which made him sigh a little - permission to proceed. I massaged his calves and he flexed them as I did...quads too, which made him lie down to enjoy my skillful touch. Again, he put his hands behind his back, so I rubbed his torso. I love pecs more than anything, so I was trying not to rush to massage them. But to my surprise, he took my hands and placed them on his chest and then laid his arms down, like a cross, and closed his eyes, inviting me to continue. I did so, gladly, gently at first; he moaned a little, so I went deeper, and he responded as I hoped -stretching his entire body a little as my fingers circled his nipples. I had all I could do not to throw myself on top of him and ravish him with kisses, believe me. I massaged his shoulders, and when I got to his arms, he flexed his peaked biceps for me...opening his eyes and smiling at me. I felt such gratitude - what a privilege to meet an athlete whom I so admired, and who was now being so generously receptive and responsive to my healing Reiki touch. 

I whispered "Do you want to roll over?" and he did so, without a word, adjusting his position on the bed so that his head was on the pillow. Since the bed was so wide, what could I do? I had to climb onto the bed and straddle him, to work on his traps, his lats...I was sitting on his glutes. Need I say more? He was making himself comfortable and I was loving every moment. I slid off the end of bed in order to work on his quads, hamstrings and calves...He lay so still, for a moment I thought- I hoped- he'd fallen asleep.  A long car trip can be exhausting, and I wanted to relax and soothe him more than anything. I rubbed his feet, and he moaned again, smiling gently. I gazed down on him, lying on the bed, and wished I were a great artist who could capture the beauty of his body in repose. No tattoos. Just flawless, young, athletic muscularity.

He lay there, still, for a few moments, as I watched him breathe. Again, I had the urge to kiss him all the way from the dimples in his lower back to his earlobes, but I refrained. I wanted to respect him, and hoped that he'd indicate what was going to happen next- it was all up to him.

And then he stretched, flexed his biceps, and rolled over onto his back, smiling enticingly as he adjusted his cock in his thong. Was I wrong to hope I'd aroused him a little? He patted the bed next to him. I realized that I was still fully-dressed, so I hastily stripped down to my t-shirt and underwear. He didn't need to be reminded that mine was the body of a man in his late 50's, with a furry chest. I'd been a competitive swimmer and had taken up working out a few years back in order to stay fit and healthy, mostly to look good in my clothes, especially the costumes I wear as an actor-singer. But my body is nothing to be proud of, believe me - ordinary and medium-sized in every way.  I felt like I should apologize for my body, but I didn't want him to have to flatter me with unconvincing compliments. I'm not THAT insecure!

I did lay down next to him, and as I did, he sat up on his knees. Much to my amazement, he straddled me, and again took my hands and placed them on his torso. I worshipped him for several minutes, while he flexed and posed over me, flared his lats, peaked his biceps...Then he quietly asked, "What do you want to do to me?" I was momentarily speechless. What if he could read my mind? Did he expect me to ravish him senseless?

Every possibility raced through my mind as my heart pounded in my chest. 

Are you ready for part 3?