Saturday, 12 May 2018


Thank you again to everyone who offered me their wonderful feedback on my "Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?" story! As most of you know, much like the protagonist of that story, it's fair to say I have a bit of a thing for posing trunks! Tiny ones. Shiny ones. Bright ones. Colourful ones. I bloody love 'em!


Most of you will also, no doubt, be familiar with all of the various trunks themed posts I've done on the blog. I thought it would be good to have links to them all in one handy place while I think about maybe putting together a new one.


My first ever trunks post! Features 10 pairs of insanely hot pairs of posing trunks, including Alexey Lesukov's shiny gold numbers, some ridiculously hot silver Muscle Potential trunks of Santi Aragon's, and a shiny, blue bulge-stretched pair from Brad Rowe!

I also did a little "How To Find A Hot Pair of Posing Trunks" guide (for any budding bodybuilders looking to make a trunks purchase - hehe!) which included things like material, colour and general posing trunk wear/habits.

I kinda knew it was a good one when I was putting this post together, but I was still really surprised by the reaction to it! Three years on and it's now one of my most viewed posts, and hasn't left the automated top 10 "popular posts" (most viewed in a week) list in the right hand sidebar on the blog since!


I still can't believe I was doing the blog for two years before I came up with the idea to do a series of posing trunk pic collections, with each post having a different theme! It's such an obvious idea! Inspired by my first trunks post, this came shortly after, and features nothing but (yep, you guessed it)...bodybuilders sporting bright PINK posing trunks!


So a pink posers themed post was pretty much guaranteed to be a popular one. For my second trunks pic collection, however, I took a bit of a risk and chose something a bit more specialist. One of those quirky elements of bodybuilding not everyone is into, but which, some of us are driven nuts by. Yep...grubby, mucky, messy, oil drenched, tan plastered posers!!

Inspired by a comment from an Anonymous (but regular) poster (he has a very distinct style of writing which I recognise every time - hehe!) who made the suggestion in a previous post, this one had pretty much just as good of a reaction as my pink trunks post!



"Red and yellow and pink and green...!" That classic childhood song "I Can Sing A Rainbow" with, erm...slightly amended lyrics. Oh, and pictures of shredded to fuck muscle lads, and pumped to buggery beef monsters in tiny, colourful posers after each line...


My second colour themed posing trunk pic collection, chosen from a poll on a previous post! Who doesn't love a bright red pair of super shiny, teenie tiny posers?! Red trunks galore...


A follow-up to my first ever trunks post was inevitable! 10 *more* ridiculously hot pairs of posing trunks, this one featuring some itsy bitsy, golden coloured posers from Muscle Potential belonging to Samuel Dixon, not one, but two pairs from Santi Aragon (slurp-tastic red and canary yellow!) and some now rather infamous, well fitted (to say the fucking least!) black trunks of Marc Andrade's. Although I'd say the original post was better overall, this one probably features the better trunks!


The last posing trunk pic collection I posted, featuring nothing but the shit shiniest trunks imaginable (is there any other kind worth bothering about?)! You might need a pair of sunglasses for this one. Shiny. As. Fucking. SHIT. Every. Single. Pair! Slurp fucking SLURP!

Saturday, 10 March 2018


QUESTION: What features a bunch of competition conditioned muscle freaks outrageously grunting, groaning and shouting as they crank out their most musculars on stage in the most shamelessly cocky fashion like a pack of bleedin' animals, plus a few lads who go one step further and shot out things like, "YEAH!" "OOOH BABY!" and, "COME ON!" (fucking obscene behaviour if I ever saw it)?!

ANSWER: My brand new, noisy themed most muscular compilation video!

Is there anything else on this planet that's as equally hot *and* funny as noisy bodybuilders??

And here are my last two most muscular videos (no grunting, groaning or shouting in these ones, sorry!) for anyone who wants to watch them again...

Saturday, 24 February 2018


OK guys, here goes with the final part of "Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?"

Below are links to all previous parts if anyone has missed any, or wants to read the full story again...


Thank you to everyone who has given me their awesome feedback for this story. To echo what I said in the comments section a few posts ago, even though I've been writing and posting stories for years, it still means a lot when people give me feedback and tell me they like what I write.

My plan now is to go back and re-visit some of my older stories, do some tweaking, editing and tidy them up a bit, and then build a page or post with links to all of them in one place! Then I'll start working on something new. I have a lot of ideas and I don't know which one I'll settle on yet, but I feel like it might be time to do something a bit different.

Liam stalled and spun back around to face me with a look of surprise.

“Yes, mate?”

What are you doing? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!

I feared I was crossing a line, but it was too late to back out at that point. Heart pounding in my chest, I gulped and nervously began to talk.

“I LOVE the trunks. Thanks for giving them to me! And I loved the posing. That was fucking awesome! There’s just, ummm… one more thing before I go,” I said.

I couldn’t quite believe what I was doing. That I had the nerve to act on the impulse inside me at that moment. But I knew that I’d never get this chance again. That I’d never be standing in the bedroom of a gorgeous competitive bodybuilder who’d just spontaneously flexed for me. A bodybuilder so easy going and relaxed that he actually understood my impulse to sniff a pair of his posing trunks behind his back. A bodybuilder so cheeky and charming that he might just grant me this one last request.

Liam smiled, a look of clarity forming on his face. “You want a photo with me?” he asked.

“No!” I said, fearing even more that I was going too far. “Erm …” I began, but then another look of clarity formed on Liam’s face, and this one was accompanied with a cocky and mischievous smirk. A smirk which told me he knew exactly what I was trying to ask him.

“You wanna feel of “The Guns”?” he said, in an almost insanely casual tone.


“Ummm …” I nervously replied, the pounding in my chest going into overdrive, while feeling so overwhelmed at what was unfolding that I was completely incapable of saying a simple, “Yes,” out loud.

Liam playfully rolled his eyes. “I should have known! Everybody always wants to feel The Guns!”


Before I had to time to process another thought, Liam was walking towards me until the superhuman sized mountain of muscle he’d be waddling onto a bodybuilding stage in two days time was just mere inches away from my regular sized body. FUCK!

I had seen so many pictures and videos of bodybuilders on the Internet. Sat in the audience of bodybuilding shows and watched competition conditioned muscle freaks flexing on stage. And I’d been stood in the same room, just feet away from a very such type of bodybuilder as he flexed and posed and blew up his biceps for me. But this. This was something else.

Being in such close proximity of a man so freakishly huge and muscular. Taking in his masculine scent. Being in the same small space as the huge slabs of bronzed painted, competition ready mass bulging off his body. Liam was the hottest and most beautiful man I’d ever been in the presence of, and I’m almost sure that if he simply put his arms around me and leaned in for a kiss at that moment, I’d pretty much ejaculate on the spot. In other words, it was, single handily, the most erotic moment of my life. I had no idea then that it was about to be bettered.

“Flexed or un-flexed?” Liam casually asked.


“Ummm … flexed?”


Liam grinned. A devlisih, knowing, and ever so slightly flirtatious grinned. “Shoulda guessed!” he cheekily said.

The whole thing seemed to happen in slow motion. Liam bringing up his forearm so that it was stretched across his midsection, pushing his elbow and arm towards me, the way an old fashioned gentlemen would offer a woman his arm for a dance. Liam clenching his fist, and me, watching as a huge, croquet ball shaped bicep erupted from his left upper arm. That huge, freaky, hose pipe vein I’d loved so much in his Instagram pictures, now right in front of me, snaking over his marble hard bicep, covered by only the thinnest of skin (how, how, HOW can a man’s skin be so thin)? Bronze painted. Competition ready. A bicep made to be marvelled at, adored and worshipped.

“FUCK!!” I cried, again. I couldn't help myself. It was both the most surreal and most magnificent image my eyes had ever seen. The fully flexed bicep muscle of a real life bodybuilder. And it was mine for the taking. Mine to feel. And touch. And squeeze. And worship. I had imagined it just moments before while watching him flex. I’d wished for it, and now it was happening. It was actually fucking happening!

I had fantasised about being in such a situation so many times. I had imagined all of the emotions that I might feel. Amazed. Dumbfounded. Turned on to an obscene degree. Never once did I imagine that placing my hands on the flexed bicep of a huge, competition conditioned bodybuilder would result in what happened when my fingers made contact with Liam’s “The Guns” Watson’s gigantic sized, fully flexed right bicep, felt that freaky vein throbbing under my fingertips and grasped on tight to the ball of otherworldly muscle.

It was like some kind of magnetic reaction. Feeling the thing that turned me on more than anything else in the world (yes - even more than tiny, shiny posing trunks) and the sensation of that warm-to-the-touch ball of rock hard, vein covered muscle caused some kind of hidden switch in my body to go off. The same switch that goes off when you’re a sleeping teenager and you unexpectedly get woken up in the middle of a sex crazed dream to find yourself lying in sticky sheets. The switch that goes off when your dick is plunging in and out of a hot guy’s arse, and his tight fleshy hole is clamped around the head of your hard, throbbing dick. The switch that goes off when you’re sitting at your laptop on a Saturday night, after having turned down an offer from a cutie patootie in a black leather cap because you’d rather be at home watching huge, shredded muscle freaks blowing up their enormous sized biceps while you’re wearing a pair of that very bodybuilder’s shiny blue posing trunks you amazingly found at your local launderette and you know you can’t take it anymore. The switch that goes off when, grabbing on to, and digging your fingers into the enormous sized bicep of the hottest bodybuilder in town, you’re so immensely and unequivocally turned on that thick wads of spunk start shooting out of your cock and filling up your boxer shorts.

I had always wondered what it would feel like to orgasm without touch. Whether it was even possible. And what would render me so turned on to cause it.

I now have the answer to all those questions. In reverse order; feeling and squeezing the hard, flexed bicep of Liam “The Guns” Watson. Yes, it’s very much possible. And like your whole fucking body is exploding with cum. Like a thousand stars are shooting out of you. Like you’ve been transported to another realm of pleasure, and there’s no knowing how or when you’ll return.

I was aware of Liam being there as it was happening. Aware that there was another person in close proximity as my whole body was shaking and trembling and I was releasing groans of extreme pleasure.

But it wasn’t until the cum had stopped blasting out of my cock, and the intensity of the orgasm had died, that I suddenly started to panic as to what Liam’s reaction would be. And just what the hell was going through his mind.

Flustered, panting, and with spunk trickling down the inside of my leg, I looked up at Liam’s handsome face and wide eyes to find an expression of complete and utter shock.

He seemed unable to render any sort of speech. His eyes were darting from my face to my crotch. He seemed confused, but also concerned.

“Oscar! Are you OK?!”


“Yeah!” I nervously replied.

“Did you just do what I think you did?”

“I’m sorry!” I cried. I was partly mortified, partly on the most amazing high because I’d just experienced the single most intense orgasm of my life while squeezing the enormous sized bicep of a real life bodybuilder.

“Hey, mate! It’s ok!” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “I've heard of this kind of thing happening. A few bodybuilders I know sometimes - wait, are you on roids?!”

It would have been a great cover story. I’d heard of bodybuilders experiencing premature ejaculation as a side effect of taking steroids. I’d read the rather horny stories about guys accidentally and spontaneously cumming in their pants as they squeezed out their last rep of a set at the gym. But I felt like it would lead to more questions and probably provoke an unnecessary web of lies, so I shook my head.

“Oh!” Liam replied. “Wait! Did I cause that?!”

I winced and nodded. I’d just ejaculated in front of the man. There was no point trying to hide anything now.

“Did that happen because you felt my BICEP?!” he asked.

“Yes, mate!” I seemed to have gone completely passed the point of panicking, and was now just fully willing to accept whatever the fuck was coming next.

“HOLY SHIT!!” Liam cried. He’d been so calm and cool throughout the entire meeting that this sudden outburst completely threw me.

“I mean ... I know some people get turned on by my muscles. Well, let’s be honest, mostly guys! But ... FUCKING HELL!! This is just NUTS!”

Of all the ways Liam could have reacted to me accidentally shooting a load in my undies because I simply touched his bicep, this was one of the best, second only to him whipping off his top and giving me free reign to touch every other single part of his body (and thus probably causing yet another explosion in my pants).

“Wait! Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?” he asked. “When you, you know ... get turned on?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s never happened to me before in my life. It really was because, well ... I felt your bicep!”

“FUCK!” he exclaimed. And that was when the most incredible thing out of everything happened. Liam’s face softened, his expression changed from shock to pride, and his mouth curled into the cockiest grin.

Liam was clearly on some kind of immense high in the knowledge that someone had cum in their pants just from touching his flexed bicep. It was incredibly infectious, and I couldn’t help but giddly grin back at him, as we both stood there, revelling in this bizarre but special moment that had occurred between us.

I was almost certain that no ordinary straight man would have been as comfortable as Liam in a similar type of situation. But Liam was no ordinary man. He obviously knew what kind of effect his body had on others. He’d probably heard stories of other bodybuilders indulging in acts of worship for lads like me who were crazy about huge, freaky muscle.

“So, I’m guessing you’re into muscle just as much as you’re into posing trunks?” he cheekily asked me.

I sheepishly grinned. “Kinda!”

“Big day for you then, Oscar!” he exclaimed.

I sheepishly grinned, but as the high of Liam’s reaction started to wear off, a feeling of embarrassment about the whole situation suddenly crept in.

“Hey, Liam, I’m sorry if I ... freaked you out.”

He shrugged. “I was a little freaked. More just surprised though! I mean ... I thought you were ... doing what you were doing. I thought maybe you just had some kind of medical problem though. I didn't think it was because you were touching my bicep!”

“Are you sure it was that?” he asked again.

“Definitely!” I replied.

He grinned uncontrollably again.

“Maybe I could rent this baby out,” he said looking down at his right relaxed arm. “Come and meet The Incredible Bicep Man,” he joked. “One single touch and you're guaranteed to jizz in your jeans!”


Shocked, and amused, I laughed out loud at Liam’s outrageously cheeky (and rather fucking horny!) joke, which seemed to inflate his ego even more.

“You can be my first testimony, Oscar.”

As I looked up at the man who’d moulded and transformed himself into a magnificent muscle bull so unbelievably hot that just a simple touch of his body was enough to make someone cum, I remember thinking one thing; I’ll be anything you fucking want me to be, Liam. Testimony. Backstage helper and tanning buddie. Human spunk bucket for you to pump your cum into on a nightly bases (SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT)!

“Hey! What are you doing Sunday?”

Anything you fucking want me to!

“Ummm … nothing,” I replied casually, while inside trying to control my excitement at what was coming next. Was Liam about to invite me round to his flat again? I knew he most likely straight, but maybe making someone spunk in their pants just from the merely touching him was such an incredible ego trip that he wanted to experience it again?

“You should come to the show!” he said. My heart sank slightly, and I was bought back to reality. But, still, it was a really nice gesture.

“You could wear your new posing trunks!” he cheekily added, gesturing to the ruby red posers clutched in my left hand.

Through the excitement of cumming in my pants from touching one half of Liam’s infamous “Guns”, I’d completely forgotten that I now had a brand new pair of shiny posers to enjoy. And not just a pair that had accidentally been left in a washing machine, but a pair that been gifted to me from a huge, gorgeous muscle bull. I decided in that moment that it would be my first pair of many. That I would make it my mission to have a posing trunk collection just as big and just as hot as Liam’s.

It was when I was at Liam’s door that he gave me a second causal invite. “Oh, and you should definitely come to Deano’s. I know it has a reputation, but most of the lads are really friendly. Everyone there just wants to build muscle. We’ll got those biceps bigger,” he said, once again checking out my arms again. “Maybe you can do to someone what I just did to you,” he said, his face lighting up and his mischievous grin filling up half of his face. Adorable dimples and all.

I thought about Ste, and his reaction when he touched my flexed bicep last weekend. I wondered what the chances of making him cum in his pants were, if I got my biceps big enough. Maybe that can be my second mission, along with matching Liam’s trunk collection!

I stood on the opposite side of Liam “The Guns” Watson front door, sad that the encounter had ended, amazed that it had happened at all, and took one last look at the bodybuilder who, last weekend I’d shot a load to while looking at a picture of him blowing up his biceps in his bedroom while wearing his best pair of shiny posers, and who, tonight, had made me cum in my pants, not by touching myself, but by touching, squeezing, feeling and worshipping one of his ginormous sized, nickname earning biceps.

The bodybuilder who, much like Ste did last Saturday night, made me grin and blush as he called out my nickname whilst I was walking away from his front door. “See you later … Mr Biceps!”

The bodybuilder who will forever be in my memory, whether I see him flexing on a bodybuilding stage on Sunday, bump into while pumping up my biceps at Deano’s Gym, or never see again outside of his Instagram page (which would be just fine too), but regularly spunk to pictures and videos of wearing one of the many items from my future collection of shiny, tiny posing trunks.


Oscar Grimes (feeler, squeezer and worshipper of one of Liam Watson’s guns!)

Saturday February 24th

Dear Muscle Diary,

Sorry I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been a little busy since my encounter with Liam “The Guns” Watson. I’ve joined a new gym, which isn’t quite the hardcore bodybuilding gym that Deano’s is, but it’s a step up from my old one. My (fit but straight) mate from work has written me out a new training plan, which is practically killing me, but I’ve gained ten pounds since I started and almost added an inch to both of my biceps (something which hasn’t gone unnoticed by my work mates!) so something’s definitely working.

Things have also taken a bit of an unexpected turn on the dating front too. Neither of us meant for it to happen, but a few months back, Ste finally got his kiss. It was amazing, passionate, horny (God it was fucking horny!) and it just felt right. Who would have thought? Kissing him seemed to bring out all of these buried feelings and I now see Ste in an entirely different light. All of the things I loved about him as a friend are still there, but there’s this extra layer too. Oh, and he loves feeling my biceps when we’re going at it (blush). And most other times too, in fact.

Speaking of biceps, I haven’t seen Liam since he made me cum in my boxers by letting me feel one of his insanely huge, fully flexed biceps in his bedroom, but we do chat fairly regularly on Instagram. I’m always making him laugh with my enthusiastic, encouraging, and not at all bordering on stalker-ish comments.

Oh, and he looked absolutely INSANE at the bodybuilding show two days after our encounter; full, thick and shredded to the bone with his bright blue Mohawk and matching shiny blue posers. The posers I’d found in the launderette several months ago. The first ever posers I tried on, and spunked in (sorry Liam, mate, but I guess what you don’t know won’t hurt you). I still sometimes wish I had those posers back. Mostly just for sentimental value.

Oh, and speaking of posers, I have more to tell you on that front too. It’s fair to say that I’ve taken my love of tiny, shiny posing trunks to a whole other level. I’ll explain more in my next entry, but to kick off things off again, diary, let’s start with a new list. Here are the five greatest (and horniest!) muscle related moments of my life so far...

1. The moment I opened up my first copy of “FLEX” magazine.

2. Going to my very first bodybuilding show and seeing real life muscle freaks in the flesh.

3. Finding a pair of Liam “The Guns” Watson’s posing trunks in my washing at my local launderette.

4. Cumming in my pants while squeezing one of Liam’s infamous biceps in the middle of his bedroom.

5. The moment Liam “The Guns” Watson reposted an Instagram picture on my newly made account (username: “posingtrunkaddict”) with the caption; “Have you seen these posing trunks? Biggest and best collection I think I’ve ever seen.”


Oscar Grimes

Thursday, 15 February 2018


"I wanted to pause time. To stay in that moment for as long as I wanted. To stand there staring at the image of this mighty flexing muscle bull before me. To marvel at the sheer hugeness of the bronze painted balls of muscle bulging off each of his upper arms. To study the vein (that glorious fucking vein) running down the middle of the right bicep. To let him overwhelm me with his display of pure power and hyper masculinity."

Ok guys, here goes with the penultimate part of "Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?"

Part four saw Oscar turning up at the flat of local competitive bodybuilder Liam "The Guns" Watson to give him back his missing posing trunks. On his way to use the bathroom, Oscar spotted something in Liam's bedroom; a pair of sparkly pink posers lying on his bed. Venturing inside to take a closer look, Oscar then came upon something else; Liam's posing trunk collection lying in an open drawer!

After marvelling at the trunks of every conceivable colour, Oscar pulled out a pair of super shiny, ruby red trunks he recognised from a picture on Liam's Instagram profile. Picking up the posers, Oscar then bought them to his face, but as he took a deep inhale of the shiny trunk material, he realised he wasn't alone...



Everything in that moment seemed to happen in slow motion. A sudden, intense panic took over. I jumped, threw the trunks back in the drawer and turned to find Liam “The Guns" Watson in his mint green vest, and all two hundred plus pounds of his insanely huge muscle filling up his bedroom doorframe. A look of utter confusion sat on his achingly gorgeous face.

“Were you ... sniffing my posers?!”

OH GOD. This can’t be happening. This can NOT be happening.

“NO!” I cried, instinctively. But as soon as I said it, I knew it was ridiculous. He’d caught me red fucking handed.

I sighed. “I mean ... yes!” I confessed, completely surprising myself.

Liam was still looking confused. “Why?!” he asked. He didn’t seem angry. More just baffled.

My brain went into overdrive as I tried to think of a conceivable explanation as to why I was standing uninvited in a bodybuilder’s bedroom sniffing a pair of his posing trunks. But there wasn’t one. There was only one possible explanation. Only one thing to do. I had to tell Liam the truth.

I winced, closed my eyes, scared of what I was about to say, but knowing I had to say it anyway, and then just blurted it out.

“Because I love posing trunks!”

I opened my eyes, a strange relief coming over me.

“You ... love posing trunks?” Liam repeated, his eyebrows furrowed.

I nodded, feeling sheepish and nervous, but also strangely elated.

“I guess ... I sort of have a thing for them?!”

“Huh!” Liam replied. “What kind of a thing?” he asked, folding his huge arms across his chest so they bulged and popped to an outrageous degree (FUCK)!

He was still confused, but it didn’t seem like he was judging me. More than anything, he just seemed curious.

“Ummmm…” I began, not really knowing how to explain. “I guess, like, how some people are into ... sexy underwear?”

Sexy underwear they wanna wear under their jeans to Tesco. Sexy underwear they wanna sit in at home and spunk a huge creamy load into while watching a bodybuilder blowing up his nickname earning biceps on their laptops! SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT!

“Oh right!” he exclaimed. “So it’s like ... a fetish?”

“I guess,” I sheepishly said, feeling my cheeks begin to flush. It’s funny, because I’ve never really thought of my love for shiny posers as being a fetish, but I guess that was probably the easiest way for Liam to have understood it.

“Are other people into this?” he asked.

“Yeah! I mean, it’s pretty rare. But yeah … there are others,” I replied, thinking about the fellow trunk lovers I’d spoken to on muscle blogs, via email, and on Twitter, who go just as bonkers over a pair of shiny colourful, glute hugging trunks as I do.

“What is it about them?!”

Oh God.

“Erm … I dunno. The shape. The look. The material. Everything really!” I explained, surprising myself at how honest and detailed I was being.

The whole situation was incredible surreal. I couldn’t quite believe what was happening. I’d just been caught sniffing a pair of posing trunks by the very bodybuilder who owned them and now I was confessing that they turned me on. I was scared, nervous, aroused and excited. All at fucking once.

And then Liam said something which invoked another emotion; complete and utter surprise.

“Huh!” he began, still with his obscenely huge arms folded across his chest; the veins popping through the hairless, bronzed tinted skin struggling to contain the pure mass it was covering.

“Well, mate, this is a new one on me, but ... I think I kinda get it!”


I was gob smacked. Completely and utterly speechless. What the fuck was going on?!

“I mean ... I’m not into them the same way you are, “ Liam explained. “But I do love my posing trunks. I mean … you can probably see that for yourself.” As he said this he gestured to the still open drawer containing his posing trunk collection.

“There’s definitely something about them,” he confessed. “I usually just wear them for when I’m posting pictures on the Internet. And for competitions obviously. But sometimes ... I think about wearing them just for fun.”


“I don't really know why”, Liam continued. “It’s kind of like an urge. Instead of wearing boxers, I sometimes think about just popping some shiny trunks on and going down to the shops with them on under my jeans …”


“Is that mad?!” he asked, grinning slightly.

“Ummmm …” I replied, wanting to tell him that actually YES - it was a tiny bit bonkers. But also just about the sexiest thing he could have possibly fucking said to me.

“Wow! So you must have thought you’d struck gold when you found my trunks in your washing?" he asked, with a cheeky smile.

My cheeks suddenly reddened but I couldn’t help but smirk back. “Ummm ... kinda,” I replied, feeling like a giddy teenager in the presence of a boy he had a secret crush on.

“So ... I gotta ask. Why d’ya give ‘em back?”

Ooooh … errrmm, I dunno. To meet the huge, gorgeous muscle bull who’d made me spunk something fucking rotten (IN his own fucking posers) by blowing up his ginormous guns for the camera.

“It kinda just felt like the right thing to do,” I lied.

Liam’s mouth curled into an adorable grin, and when I saw those cute little dimples emerge on his cheeks, I felt a stab of guilt that I hadn’t been completely honest with him.

I decided to balance this out by telling him a truth. It was probably good that this was said so hastily in my attempt to ease my conscious, because if I’d have thought it through before hand, I probably wouldn’t have said it.

“Plus ... I guess I just wanted to meet you,” I said, blushing furiously.

“Ahhhh. Mate!” Liam replied bashfully, but smirking in a way that one does when they’ve just been thrown a compliment.

“You know, that’s one part of being well known on the bodybuilding scene that I can’t get used to,” Liam began. “People that I don’t know wanting to meet me. Talk to me even. It’s happening more and more since I started “The Guns” nickname. I mean, it’s awesome. And flattering. But ... I’m just a lad who likes to lift things …”

Liam “The Guns” Watson - marry me NOW!

 “… and stomp around stages in shiny, tiny posers, obviously,” he added, grinning.

Hold that thought. I’m just gonna spunk in my boxers first. FUCKING HELL!!

“So, I take it you have your own posing trunk collection?” Liam asked.

I couldn’t help but smirk at this. Just the fact that a bodybuilder was asking me if I owned posing trunks in such a casual manner was both absurd, and fucking incredible.

“Erm … no actually!” I replied. “I don't even have one pair!”

“Why not?” Liam asked.

“I dunno!” I was still smirking, trying to wonder whether I was actually having this conversation, or whether someone was about to come along and pinch me to wake me up. “I guess I’ve always been worried I’ll look a little silly in them,” I replied, honestly.

“You could definitely pull them off!” he exclaimed. I grinned even more as Liam’s eyes, once again, focused on my upper arms.

Of all the things that had happened at Liam’s flat up until that moment, nothing was as surprising as what the gorgeous muscle bull in front of me did next.

He looked at his open drawer, which contained what had to be one of the hottest and most impressive collection of posers in the country, if not the fucking world.

His eyes then fell on me again, and he seemed to contemplating something. Battling with himself, even, over whether he should say what he was thinking.

He then shook his head to himself and firmly said, “Fuck it! Take ‘em!”

Completely confused, I stood there looking at Liam. He signalled to the open drawer.

“Take the red trunks.”

Ermm. Huh! WHAT?!!

“I owe you one for bringing my special blue trunks back. So you can have the red ones. I probably have way too many pairs anyway.”

What. The. Actual. Fuckety. Fucking. FUCK?!

I was dumbfounded. Not only had Liam been unbelievably cool and calm with the fact that he’d not only caught me in his bedroom uninvited, but with a pair of his posers shoved in my face, not to mention my confession that I secretly got the horn for shiny posers, but he was now actually gifting me said posing trunks. Right there in that moment, looking at the insanely gorgeous muscle freak before me, tanned and bulging out of his mint green vest while his outrageously hot Mohawk sat on his insanely hot head, I swear, diary, I actually fell a little bit in love with him.

“Are you sure?” I tentatively asked, hoping and praying that the answer would be “YES.”

“Take ‘em before I change my mind,” he replied.

I reached in the drawer and my cock juddered as I was, once again, instantly met with the soft, shiny fabric of posers, and pulled out the bright red ruby trunks.

I blushed furiously as I awkwardly stood there with my brand new gifted posers clutched in my right hand.

Liam was mischievously grinning at me. It seemed as if he was enjoying seeing me squirm. “I reckon those bad boys’ll suit you!” he said.

I goofily grinned and just stood, red faced, letting him tease me for his own enjoyment. Letting him do whatever the FUCK he wants to me.

“Well, thanks again for bringing my trunks back to me, mate! And I hope, ummmm ... I lived up to the bodybuilder on the Instagram profile?” he said, slightly bashfully.

“God yeah!” I enthusiastically replied, without hesitation.

Liam chuckled. “I hope “The Guns” lived up to it too!” he added, with a devilish grin.

“Definitely!” I replied, feeding his ego.

With the surrealism of enjoying friendly banter with a bodybuilder about the size of his biceps, I suddenly felt a surge of confidence. I didn’t think there was anything he could have said, or done, to make me blush even more at that point, so I reasoned I had nothing left to lose.

“I loved that front double bicep shot you posted last weekend!” I said.

“Oh yeah?” Liam replied. “That was a popular one!”

And then, with one swift movement, Liam instructing me take his ruby red posing trunks suddenly wasn’t the greatest moment of our encounter.

Lifting both of his arms up, Liam was suddenly flexing his enormous, nickname earning guns in a front double bicep pose. His face was scrunched up, and his mouth wide open in the exact same arrogant expression he’d worn in the picture I’d shot a massive load to the Saturday before. Only this time, I wasn’t looking at a picture on the Internet. This time the scene was happening right before my eyes, in Liam “The Guns” Watson’s bedroom, just a mere few feet from where I stood.

I wanted to pause time. To stay in that moment for as long as I wanted. To stand there staring at the image of this mighty flexing muscle bull before me. To marvel at the sheer hugeness of the bronze painted balls of muscle bulging off each of his upper arms. To study the vein (that glorious fucking vein) running down the middle of the right bicep. To let him overwhelm me with his display of pure power and hyper masculinity.

“FUCK!” I cried in response.

When Liam relaxed, he instantly started laughing. His face beaming, he was clearly on some kind of incredible high from being a muscle freak, two days out from his next bodybuilding show, flexing and showing off his enormous muscles for an audience. Any audience - even near strangers who he’d just caught sniffing his posing trunks.

“Just as impressive in person?” Liam asked.

“YEAH!!” I exclaimed in response. The rush of seeing Liam flexing in the flesh seemed to diminish any leftover nerves and shyness. “Unbelievable mate!”

Still proudly grinning, Liam then bought his fists together and outrageously squeezed a quick most muscular pose, accompanied by a deep, playful, and unspeakably hot grunt. “EURGH!!”

The plates of pec muscle underneath his vest squeezed together. His enormous triceps erupted like crazy. His upper body just a mass of solid, bunched up, beautifully carved muscle.

It barely lasted two seconds, but just like the moment Liam first opened his front door, just like when he’d walked into his living room with his muscle bulging out of his mint green vest, and just like when he’d flexed his monstrous biceps in front of me, I was positive the scene would forever be imprinted on my memory.

“Fucking HELL!!” I exclaimed, inhibitions almost completely gone.

And then, the unthinkable happened. Liam flexed again! Bending forward slightly, he cranked out a brutal, power packed, crab most muscular; his teeth gritted and his nose scrunched in brilliantly animated fashion.

His watermelon-like delts filled up my view. Enormous, round boulders of gorgeously bronzed muscle. His biceps had never looked bigger, or more beautiful. Balls of inhuman muscle, squeezed and popped to an absurd degree. And, out of nowhere, two thick mounds of trap muscle erupted either side of his neck like two vicious little creatures about to pounce on their prey (let it be me, please let it be me), stretching the mint green cotton material of the straps of his vest. 

I wanted to lick those traps. Feel the solid muscle and paper thin skin underneath my tongue. Work my mouth down until I was kissing his enormous delts. Taste the tan, sweat and mass of a roided up muscle God who’d pushed his body to unspeakable limits. I wanted to suck on his biceps. Feel that throbbing vein against my tongue. The more Liam would squeeze, the harder his bicep would become and the more the vein would throb, the harder I would suck and the closer my dick would get to exploding with cum.

When Liam straightened up he was still beaming proudly, but there was an ever so slight bashfulness there too. He held his fist out for me to bump in a bro-ish manner. I obviously obliged, wondering whether even a simple touch of his knuckles against mine would increase my arousal (it did, fucking HELL it did).

“Always fun posing for an appreciative muscle fan!”

I wanted to ask for more. I wanted to watch Liam hit a whole host of poses. See his lats spread out like wings, and his tits jump up to his chin as he blasted out a front lat spread. Watch his thick pec explode off his chest, and his right bicep bulge as he treated me to a side chest pose. I wanted him to whip off his vest so I could watch his block-like tummy muscles crunch and burst through his gorgeous skin as he squeezed out an abs and thighs pose. And I wanted more of those power packed, trap erupting most musculars. A whole fucking volley of them. One after the other.

And while Liam flexed, posed, crunched and scrunched, I wanted to explore every single one of his obscenely developed body parts with my hands. Squeeze every mound of muscle. Feel every lump and bump. To do the thing I’ve wanted to do since opening my very first copy of “FLEX” magazine; worship a real life, competition conditioned muscle monster. I want it. I need it. I have to fucking have it.

“Thanks again for coming round, Oscar,” Liam said.

I was suddenly snapped back to reality. “No worries,” I feebly said. “Thanks for the er… trunks,” I said, blushing at the reference to the inexplicably shiny red posers I was probably going to blow a massive load into as soon as I got home.

He grinned in response. The most gorgeous, dimple revealing grin. I was gonna miss those dimples. “No problem, mate!” Liam said chirpily. “Glad to be able to repay you for giving me back the others,” he said, referring to the sentimental trunks he’d not long been reunited with.

Liam turned to walk out of his bedroom door, and I took a step to follow, but something was suddenly bursting to get out of me.

I’d been brave enough to contact Liam. To come to his flat. To give him back the missing posers I’d found, obsessed about, developed a crazy obsession with, and finally creamed into.

I’d been brave enough to wander into his bedroom uninvited. To check out the sparkly pink posing trunks lying on his bed. To reach into the drawer full of posing trunks. To pull one out and take a big whiff of the material.

I’d been brave enough to admit to Liam that I had a fetish for shiny posers. But it wasn’t enough. There was something else I needed to do before I left Liam’s flat. Something that would take just one last ounce of bravery.

I want it. I need it. I have to fucking have it.


To be continued...

Thursday, 1 February 2018


"Staring back at me was not just one pair of posing trunks. Not even just two. But a whole host of shiny posers. Of every colour conceivable. Orange. Purple. Green. Even gold! All as shiny as the rest.

My heart was pounding and my cock was furiously pulsating as I looked down at the plethora of shiny, colourful material. I had found Liam “The Guns” Watson’s posing trunk collection. And it was the most glorious and downright fucking horny collection you could imagine."

It's time for part 4 of "Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?"

In the last part, muscle junkie Oscar returned to the launderette where he'd previously found a pair of local bodybuilder Liam "The Guns" Watson's shiny blue posing trunks mixed in amongst his washing, to find that the gorgeous muscle bull had erected a poster asking if anyone had seen those very trunks. Thus providing Oscar with the opportunity to meet and converse with a genuine, competition conditioned bodybuilder.

After much deliberation over whether to give up the trunks he'd come to love so much, Oscar seized the day and got in contact with "The Guns". Now he's on his way over to the flat of the gorgeous, 200 plus pounds muscle freak...

Friday July 21st - 10:00 pm

Dear Muscle Diary,

My name is Oscar Grimes and I'm obsessed with exactly two things; shiny, tiny, brightly coloured posing trunks, and the huge, roided muscle bulls who wear them.

Last Wednesday was a day I'll never forget. Not only did I witness a bodybuilder in the flesh in my local launderette, but I also found a pair of his posing trunks left behind in one of the machines.

And today, Friday July 21st, is also a day I’ll never forget. For so, so many reasons.

I've always found it amazing how a single moment can stick in your memory and stay there forever. So many things happen to us every single day, and many of them are forgotten so quickly. But sometimes, something will stay in our heads. Like our brain takes a picture of a precise moment that we can access any time we like. And every time we do, it’s almost as clear as when it happened. Today was full of those very moments.

One of which was when Liam “The Guns” Watson opened the door to his flat, and all six feet and two hundred plus pounds of him was stood staring at me from over the threshold.

Obviously I’d encountered this absurdly sexy muscle beast in the flesh two Wednesday’s before when we’d waddled into the launderette. Another such moment that will forever be etched on to my memory.

And yet, as he stood looking at me with a warm, inviting smile, I was completely overwhelmed with just how insanely fucking hot he was.

Presumably because he was only two days out from competing, his skin was tinted a gorgeous, golden colour. A few more coats and he’d be bronzed and ready to step to stage. It completely contrasted with my typically pale complexion.

His hair had changed since our first encounter a week and a half ago. It was now shaved except for a strip down the middle, which was not only spiked up and styled into a hot Mohawk, but dyed bright blue in the most outrageous fashion.

Strong, masculine features sat on his handsome face. His slightly large, jug ears stuck out in the sexiest fashion (perfect for grabbing hold of with both sets of fingers when pounding his obscenely huge arse) and on both cheeks, either side of his devastatingly gorgeous grin, sat two little dimples like parenthesis. (The most adorable looking parenthesis you’re ever likely to see.)

As for the mountain of outrageously developed muscle sitting below his neckline; annoyingly, it was covered up save for the top of his broad chest peeking out over the top of the same black hoodie he'd worn at the launderette.

Much like on that occasion, he was wearing long shorts, so everything bar his completely smooth, bronzed shins were covered up.

But even though there was very little beef on display, I was still completely overwhelmed and incredibly aroused by his enormous frame. Standing before me was a man who’d moulded and transformed his once ordinary sized body into that of an excessively sized muscle freak.

I couldn’t help but wonder at one moment had Liam realised he’d crossed the line from gym going muscle lad into all out roided muscle bull? When random strangers had started gawping, shrieking and pointing at him as he walked down North Street? When he’d attempted to buy a hoodie in H&M to discover it was too small, forcing him to buy an XXL sized one from the shop at Deano’s Gym? Or maybe it had the first time he'd looked in the mirror and his dick had instantly exploded at the image of the monstrous muscle freak staring back at him?

“Oscar?” he asked as I stood at the door, about an inch shorter than him, the shiny blue posing trunks I’d said my sad goodbyes to fifteen minutes before tucked up in the backpack slung over my regular sized, non freaky shoulders.

The nerves I’d felt walking to Liam’s house seemed to have been overtaken by a sense of sheer shock and disbelief of being in the presence of, not only a real life competitive bodybuilder, but one as utterly huge and sexy as Liam.

“Yeah. Hi!” I said, trying to keep my focus on his face, and not be too blatant about staring at his enormous frame.

“Come in mate,” he said, ushering me over the threshold and shutting the door behind me. As he sidled past me, we were closer than ever. Just being in such close proximity to a muscle bull of such magnificent size was incredibly horny.

I followed Liam into his flat, taking in his huge back covered up by his Deano’s Gym hoodie and his outrageously developed and astonishingly huge arse stretching the material of his blue shorts.

“Do you want a drink Oscar?”

I loved the way he called me by my name like we were friends, even though we’d only just met.

“Ummm … can I just have some water please?”

“Sure mate!” Liam replied, before disappearing into the kitchen and leaving me in the living room of Brighton's biggest and sexiest muscle bull. I quickly scoured the room. A big Union Jack rug sat on the floor, matching Union Jack cushions sat on the black leather sofa, a huge flat screen TV was stuck to the wall, and sitting on a book shelf at the end of the sofa were multiple bodybuilding trophies, shaped like mini muscle men.

Three framed pictures sitting on a shelf above his mantelpiece caught my eye. An old fashioned photo of a married couple I presumed to be his parents, an adorable picture of a black French bulldog looking joyful with his pink tongue flat out and a picture of Liam himself; tanned from head to toe, his whole body a mass of bronzed, shredded, competition conditioned muscle mass, a medal round his neck and a bodybuilding trophy at his feet. And all he was wearing was a pair of bright blue, shiny posing trunks. The very same posing trunks tucked up in my backpack at that precise moment!

My dick juddered as I moved closer to get a better look at shredded Liam, flexing a hand on hips most muscular, an ecstatic grin on his oh-so gorgeous face, every freakishly developed muscle separated my beautiful lines and cuts. And all in those very familiar posing trunks. The hottest blue posing trunks in the world. The trunks I’d sniffed, and rubbed in my face as I wanked myself stupid. The trunks I’d fucking SPUNKED in just six nights before!

“That was my first ever win mate!” I jumped as Liam “The Guns” Watson re-entered the room, and when I spun around to face him, I was met with an image so surreal and unexpected my jaw literally dropped, and my mouth hung open for just a second as I tried to compose myself.

Liam had taken his hoodie off, and now had only a mint green coloured vest partially covering his upper body. His bare shoulders were absolutely fucking ridiculous. Like two bronzed half watermelons bulging either side of his frame.

I could see a lot more of his chest. Huge, thick plates of muscle which stretched out the material of the vest at the bottom (begging to be squeezed, fondled and played with) and spilled out of the material at the top.

And his arms. Jesus fucking CHRIST those arms. Nothing could have prepared me for seeing those in the flesh. The biggest upper arms I’ve ever seen on any human being outside of a bodybuilding competition.

It was like they’d been injected with every fucking steroid and growth hormone on the market and pumped till they were in danger of going pop.

Even relaxed I could see that vein I’d become familiar from his Instagram pictures, snaking down the middle of the left bicep. His forearms were obscenely thick too. Almost twice the size of mine, completely hairless and snaked in outrageous veins.

As he walked towards me and reached out his right arm with a glass of water, freaky striations suddenly erupted underneath the paper thin, gorgeously golden skin of the accompanying shoulder.

I took the water, all the while in a state of shock that I was in the presence of a man so freakishly huge and muscular.

I wondered in that moment if Liam ever played with He-Man action figures as a young lad. And then I wondered just what that lad would have thought if he’d have somehow been shown what an enormous, superhuman muscle bull he’d become as an adult.

“Sorry Oscar! I didn't mean to make you jump,” he said. His mouth curled into a mischievous grin as he said it, and I got the sense that he not only knew that his incredible body was making me nervous, but was also getting a bit of a kick out it.

Whether he had any idea of the other thoughts that were going through my head I wasn’t sure. Or what effect his newly revealed slabs, lumps, bumps and mounds of obscenely developed muscle were having on my crotch.

“Novice class of Mr Brighton 2014,” Liam added, referring to the picture of him on his mantle piece.

“You probably recognise the trunks!” he exclaimed, grinning even more, with those adorable dimples appearing in his cheeks. Meanwhile, I furiously blushed at the mere mention of the item of clothing I’d been obsessing about for the past week.

“It's partly why I was so gutted when I lost them. Sentimental value and all that,” he said, slightly sheepishly, making me want to melt into his Union Jack rug.

I nodded. “I get that!” I replied.

“You must have thought I was a bit of a nutter for putting up that poster!” he said.

I’ve always struggled to conceal my true feelings. I winced slightly and made a, “Hmmmm…” noise, to which Liam just laughed.

“I was a bit desperate mate! I went straight back to the launderette when I realised they were missing. I think I scared the woman working there a bit. Not just cause I was trying to explain to her what a pair of posing trunks looked like, but because, well …” at this point Liam paused, looked down and signalled to his body. The huge, freakishly muscular, competition ready body bulging out of the mint green vest just inches away from me. FUCK!

“The poster idea came to me when I saw a similar one for a missing cat taped to a lamppost a few days earlier. I went back and asked the old dear in the launderette if I could put it up. I think she thought I was well and truly NUTS but let me do it anyway. Probably for fear I was gonna eat her!”

I laughed out loud at this, and Liam grinned.

“I’m guessing it was the first time anyone’s ever put up a poster for a missing pair of posers,” he said, still grinning and looking rather pleased himself. I was getting the impression that Liam rather liked doing things which were not completely of the norm.

“I honestly wasn’t expecting anyone to respond to it! So I was really chuffed when I got your text Oscar! It's not just the fact that I won my first ever show in them. I’m competing on Sunday and they were gonna be my trunks for the finals. To match the hair,” he explained, running his right hand through his outrageously hot, bright blue Mohawk. “It's kind of an ensemble. Blue hair. Blue trunks. To make me standout,” he said, cheekily grinning.

It seemed utterly absurd that a man this huge and gorgeous would need to make any sort of attempt to stand out in a group or crowd.

“Plus, I guess they’re kind of my favourite trunks,” he added, shrugging and looking a little sheepish.

I couldn't help but smile at this. The idea of Liam having a favourite pair of posers was as adorable as his dimples.

He’d stopped talking and there seemed to be something hanging in the air. Liam had an expectant look on his face and the penny suddenly dropped. He was waiting for his posing trunks. Of course he fucking was.

“Oh! Your posers,” I said. The word had left my mouth without any kind of pre-thought. Turning around from Liam to fetch the trunks from my backpack sitting on his sofa, I had no idea whether he noticed that I’d gone bright red with embarrassment. But I was also feeling a rush of adrenaline too. I had never said the word “posers” or “posing trunks” to another person out loud before.

My heart was pounding as I fetched the obscenely shiny, blue trunks out of my bag. An act which enhanced my adrenaline even more. Turning around and nervously handing the posing trunks I’d shot a huge wad of spunk into back to the gorgeous muscle freak standing before me was single handily the most surreal moment of my life up to that point.

“Thanks dude!” Liam said, beaming as he was reunited with his beloved trunks, now dangling in his right hand, in the horniest image. A huge sexy muscle bull reunited with his favourite shiny posers. There was still a part of me which had doubted whether I’d done the right thing in parting ways with the posing trunks I’d come to love so much. But standing in front of Liam in that moment, I realised I’d absolutely made the right decision. I wondered whether it would be completely out of the question to request him to strip, put the posers on and start hitting up some poses in the living room?

“So how come you didn't hand them in?” he asked.

Because I fucking LOVE tiny, shiny, slurp-tastic posing trunks!

"I, ummm … didn't find them until I’d gotten home,” I lied.

“Ahhhh! That makes sense,” Liam said, nodding, and making me feel slightly guilty.

“So, you go to Deano’s?”

The question completely threw me. Why on Earth would he think I go to the most hardcore gym in town? My biceps aren’t THAT good, are they?!

“Erm .... no. I go to Fitness Addicts,” I replied, nervously.

“Oh right. I just assumed,” he said. Liam was looking at my upper arms, which were mostly on show below the sleeve of my t-shirt. An actual bodybuilder was checking out my biceps. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. But I also felt something else. Flattery. Confusion. He actually thought I went to Deano’s Gym. What the fuck?!

“So ... how do you know me?”

This question threw me even more. I was completely and utterly baffled. And then he explained himself, and everything suddenly make sense.

“You used my name in your text message.”


I wanted the ground to swallow me up. To pause time and run the hell out of Liam's flat. I used his name in my text message! “Hi Liam!” How could I have been so fucking stupid?!

My brain went into panic mode. How WOULD I know Liam? Me, a regular sized, non-bodybuilding guy? How could I explain that I was completely and utterly obsessed with huge, freaky muscle? That I regularly creamed off to pictures and videos of posing trunk sporting muscle bulls on the Internet, just like I did with a picture of him when I stumbled across his profile on Instagram on Saturday night? And that’s when it hit me. An answer for Liam which could just save me.

“I follow you on Instagram,” I hastily said, my voice trembling slightly.

“Oh right!” he replied. The answer seemed good enough for him. “I forget I’m pretty well known on the Internet. So you follow bodybuilding?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, nervously, but fairly confidently. It was the truth after all.

“Awesome!” Liam exclaimed. His eyes went back to my arms, and his next statement made me blush crimson.

“I can see you've got some biceps on you!” he exclaimed with a cheeky grin.

I sheepishly grinned. I couldn’t help it. I don’t know why I said what I did next. Maybe it was the confidence of having a bodybuilder praise the size of my arms.

“The guys I work with actually have a nickname for me.”

“Oh yeah?” Liam asked with one of his eyebrows raised.

I nodded, blushing like crazy and regretting what I’d said, but knowing it was too late to back out of the conversation.

“They call me Mr Biceps!” I said, wincing.

“HAHA!! That's awesome!” Liam exclaimed. “Mr Biceps! I like that. They call me “The Guns”, but you probably know that already,” he said.

I smiled and nodded and my eyes went straight to those upper arms of him. Huge, bronzed, and the size of fucking tree trunks!

It would have been the perfect opportunity for Liam to have lifted those bad boys up, and given me a quick, cheeky, front double bicep pose. Or to lift up one of his forearms, squeeze his fist and flex one of those hard, marble-esque balls of beef. But sadly, he didn’t do either of those things.

Suddenly needing to relieve myself of the water Liam had given me, and also perhaps wanting to prolong my encounter with this gorgeous, cheeky, charming bodybuilder I‘d amazingly found myself in the company of, I asked Liam if I could use his bathroom.

Today was full of moments I’ll never forget and, and being distracted by something on my way to Liam “The Guns” Watson’s bathroom was most certainly one of them. Along with every single thing that followed that night until I eventually left his flat.

With all the doors in Liam’s flat wide open, it wasn’t hard to spot his bathroom. But as I got to the bathroom door, something in the room next to it suddenly caught my eye. Something which made me stop dead in my tracks.

Lying on what was clearly Liam’s bed was a pair of bright pink posing trunks. Not just bright pink, but glittery, sparkly and indecently shiny. FUCK!

I went into the bathroom with my mind completely pre-occupied with the image of those posers. Trying to will my boner to go down so I could take a piss knowing the world's sparkliest pink posers were casually lying on the bed of a beefed up bodybuilder whose house I’d amazingly found myself in, right next door was virtually impossible.

When I’d finally relieved myself, I walked back into the hallway of Liam’s flat, my heart pounding because all I knew I had to do was turn my head towards his bedroom and I’d get to see those gloriously pink posers once again.

I stopped in my tracks, peeked down the hall to check Liam wasn’t coming to find me and turned to his bedroom. Sure enough, there they were. The bright pink posing trunks of Brighton’s hottest bodybuilder. Just as shiny and sparkly as before.

I should have turned around right there and then. Walked back to Liam’s living room, and enjoyed the last of what had been a short but fucking incredible encounter with a real life, gorgeous muscle bull.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop staring at those shiny posers. Just lying there on his bed. Had they been worn earlier that day? Had Liam tried them on and hit a few poses in the mirror, trying to decide if they were coming to the show that weekend, along with the beloved, newly reunited blue posers he’d lost at the launderette the week before.

Maybe he’d just tried them on for fun? Maybe he’d been wearing them earlier that day. Maybe they’d been hiding under his trackies at the gym. Maybe he liked the feel of the shiny material against his ass and dick as he pumped up his enormous muscles and worked himself into a sweat? OH GOD!!

When I think about it now, I actually can’t quite believe what I did next. But I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from those shiny pink posing trunks. I was transfixed. Hypnotised by the pink sparkly material. It was like they were calling me. Beckoning me to go forward. So I did. I put one foot in front of the other, and walked into Liam “The Guns” Watson’s bedroom.

A strong stench hit me as I walked through the doorway. A hot, powerful, masculine odour. Like the bodybuilding version of a teenage boy’s bedroom.

His bed sheets were grey and the walls were painted dark red. I had seen those walls before. On the back wall I could see the familiar poster of “Pumping Iron”. Arnold Schwarzenegger, quite possibly Liam’s hero as a horny, muscle crazed teenager, looking down at a single flexed bicep in black and white.

This was the room in the photo of Liam flexing his insane biceps with his mouth wide open in outrageously arrogant fashion on his Instagram. The photo I’d wanked off and spunked to whilst wearing a pair of his posing trunks just six days before.

But now another pair of Liam’s posers had taken over my mind. The shiny, sparkly pink fuckers I was getting closer to with every step I took, until I was standing at the foot of Liam’s double bed, looming over them.

I turned to the door to double check Liam wasn’t there, and nervously picked up the posers. They felt fucking incredible in my fingers. Soft. Smooth. And insanely horny. An image flashed in my mind of stuffing the pink posers in my jeans pocket, silently creeping towards Liam’s front door and running all the way home.

I placed the pink posers back on the bed, trying to position them as they’d been before I picked them up. I turned to leave, when something in an open drawer of Liam’s wardrobe suddenly stopped me dead in my tracks; the bright shiny material of another pair of posing trunks. And not just one! I moved closer to the open drawer, looked down and was met with, quite possibly, the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

Staring back at me was not just one pair of posing trunks. Not even just two. But a whole host of shiny posers. Of every colour conceivable. Orange. Purple. Green. Even gold! All as shiny as the rest.

My heart was pounding and my cock was furiously pulsating as I looked down at the plethora of shiny, colourful material. I had found Liam “The Guns” Watson’s posing trunk collection. And it was the most glorious and downright fucking horny collection you could imagine.

I wanted to shrink myself down to five inches tall and climb inside the drawer. Stand completely surrounded by the shiny, colourful material of a bodybuilder’s posing trunk collection. Run through the shiny fabric completely naked. Bathe in it. Wrap my whole body in it. Feel and smell the posing trunk material all around me. A miniature sized trunk loving muscle addict in a sea of giant, shiny posers.

I nervously looked to Liam’s bedroom door again. It hit me in that moment. Even though I had been nervous, scared even, to phone up Liam and come to his flat. I did it because a deep rooted desire took hold of me and over rode that fear.

And that’s exactly what was happening to me in that moment. I was nervous to be trespassing in Liam’s bedroom, standing over his posing trunk collection lying in his drawer. I knew it was wrong. That I shouldn’t have been there. That I’d never be able to explain myself if he walked in and caught me. But desire had taken over.

The same desire I’d felt when I’d picked up my very first copy of “FLEX” magazine in my local WH Smith when I was fifteen years old and nervously took it to the counter. The same desire burning inside of me when I was stood outside an exhibition centre with a ticket to my first ever bodybuilding show stuffed into my wallet. The same desire which took over me when I was holding Liam’s shiny blue posing trunks in my hand last Saturday night and pulling them up my legs.

And now, that very desire was willing me to reach my hand into the open drawer before me and pull out the unmistakable ruby red posing trunks Liam had been wearing in the Instagram photo I’d creamed off to last weekend.

Somehow, they felt even more incredible than both the blue posers I’d been in possession of for the last week and a half, and the sparkly pink ones I’d been holding just a minute before.

They were unquestionably shinier than both of those pairs too. Liam “The Guns” Watson’s shiniest posing trunks. Dancing in my fingers. Mine, just for those few seconds. To hold. To feel. To worship. To love.

Without any hesitation or thought, I closed my eyes, brought the ruby red posing trunks to my face, pressed the shiny material into my nose and mouth, took a deep inhale of the shiny red fabric and...



To be continued...

Wednesday, 24 January 2018


OK guys, here goes with the third part of "Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?"

So far, muscle addict and posing trunk lover Oscar Grimes not only saw a real life bodybuilder in his local launderette, but then found a pair of the muscle bull's shiny blue posing trunks he'd accidentally left behind in amongst his washing.

The second part saw Oscar trying on the trunks, and finding out more about the original owner on the Internet; a local competitive bodybuilder with huge, nickname earning biceps called Liam "The Guns" Watson.

In this part Oscar's journey takes another unexpected twist when he returns to the launderette for yet another eventful evening, which leaves him with a bit of a muscle related dilemma on his hands...

Monday July 17th

Dear Muscle Diary,

Well, diary, It's been five days since my last visit to the laundrette and almost all of my thoughts are still occupied by two things;

1. The super shiny, brilliantly blue posing trunks I found sitting amongst my washing in the tumble dryer, now filled up with my muscle loving spunk (blush)!

2. The original owner of said posing trunks who was part responsible for them being filled up with my muscle loving spunk and whose Instagram profile I've been regularly checking since Saturday night; Liam “The Guns” Watson!

So you might think I'm slightly bonkers when I make this confession, but now that I've actually put the trunks on (and shot a massive load of spunk into them - ker-SPLAT!), I keep fantasising about wearing them out in public! Obviously not just wearing the posing trunks (I’m pretty sure I’d either get arrested, or carted off to the nearest nut house), but wearing them under my jeans.

I don't know why but the idea of walking around my local Tesco with the obscenely shiny fabric of a pair of posers clinging to my arse under my jeans really appeals to me! As does wearing them under my trackies at the gym. Using the leg press or pumping up my biceps with my dick tucked into the blue poser material. Or even (and this is the craziest idea of the lot), wearing them to work! Shaking hands with a client, who has absolutely no idea that, underneath my smartest suit trousers, lies the obscenely shiny trunks of a huge, roided bodybuilder! Going to the toilets, unzipping the flies and being greeted with the sight of that bright blue poser material! FUCK!!

And, as much as I love Liam's posers, I can't stop thinking about how much I'd love to own another pair. Just as shiny as the ones I have, but a different colour. Maybe I'd go for red, like the ones in the Instagram shot of Liam flexing his biceps. Or maybe something more adventurous. Bright pink. Or glittery gold! Maybe I'll buy a couple of pairs and build up a collection. Maybe I’ll make it my personal mission to have a pair of posing trunks from each colour of the rainbow. A different pair to wear and spunk in for every day of the week. Slurp, squirt, SPLAT!

And as for Liam himself? Well, I just can't comprehend the fact that there's a bodybuilder who is that huge and gorgeous living in Brighton, and presumably not that far away from me if we share the same launderette, who I've seen in the flesh, and who's posers I've fucking SPUNKED in! And with the posing trunks, we'll always have this awesome, special link (even if he does not know it)!

Since finding him on Instagram on Saturday night, pretty much the first thing I did when I woke up on Sunday morning was check out his profile again. He looked just as huge, just as gorgeous and just as fucking spunk-worthy in the cold (and sober) light of day.

Since then he's been regularly posting new pictures. More shots of him hitting various poses at home in front of the Pumping Iron poster, and even a few pictures of him flexing at the infamous Deano’s Gym.

Even more amazing and horny is the fact than in almost every new picture posted he's wearing a DIFFERENT pair of posers! FUCK!! Purple, bright orange and emerald green trunks have all made an appearance. All super shiny. And all incredibly horny. Which begs the question; just how many fucking pairs of posing trunks does Liam “The Guns” Watson own?! And where, and how, can I get my greedy mitts on another one of them? SLURP!!


Oscar Grimes (possible future owner of more pairs of tiny, shiny posing trunks!)

Tuesday July 18th

Dear Muscle Diary,

So, tomorrow night is laundry night, and exactly one week since I saw local bodybuilder Liam “The Guns” Watson and found a pair of his posing trunks amongst my washing.

I'm actually kind of nervous. It's not just that I feel like I'm returning to the scene of a crime, but also because I'll be returning with the spunked up posing trunks in my wash bag. I've also had a terrifying thought; what if Liam is at the laundrette again?

I mean, on one hand, that would be fucking AWESOME because I'd absolutely love to see the gorgeous muscle bull whose Instagram profile I've been regularly checking since creaming a load over on Saturday in the flesh again. But, on the other hand, seeing him again and just knowing that I was in possession of his trunks, which I’ve fucking SPUNKED in, would make me feel incredibly nervous! I'd probably turn into a quivering mess.

And what if (and this is my biggest fear, diary), he's not only there, but also, somehow sees his missing posing trunks in amongst my washing?

I have this image of myself sitting on one of the benches in the laundrette waiting for my washing to finish, eagerly and nervously checking the door to see if Liam has walked in.

The washing then finishes and I'm putting my clothes into the basket ready for the tumble dryer, but ooooops, I accidentally drop the shiny blue posers on the floor, just as Liam Watson walks through the door. FUCK!

Maybe I should go to another launderette? Maybe I shouldn't take the posers, even though I really want them washed so I can wear (and then shoot another fucking load into) them again? ARRRGHHH!!


Oscar Grimes (self confessed perpetual worrier!)

Wednesday July 19th

Dear Muscle Diary,

Oh. My. ACTUAL. Fucking. Buggering. GOD!

I'm starting to wonder whether I'll ever have a non eventful night at that bloody launderette! You will not fucking BELIEVE what's happened now.

Nope, Liam didn't catch me washing his missing posing trunks. And no, he didn't accidentally leave anther pair of shiny as shit posing trunks in a washing machine for me to find and keep.

Thankfully, Liam wasn't at the launderette tonight. But I know for a fact that he had been there since his visit last Wednesday. Let me explain, diary.

With my washing in the machine (creamed up posing trunks included - SLURP!), I sat in my usual spot on the bench by the door. I turned to look at it, half wishing Liam “The Guns” Watson would come waddling through the frame in his Deano’s Gym hoodie, half hoping he wouldn't, and that's when I saw it.

Something was pinned to the notice board on the wall of the launderette which made me heart leap into my throat and my eyes almost pop clean out of their sockets. Barely able to believe what I was seeing, I nervously stood up and walked towards the notice board to examine it.

Stuck to the board was a poster. At the top sat six words I never imagined I'd see put together; “HAVE YOU SEEN THESE POSING TRUNKS?” Below them sat text which read, “IF FOUND CALL” followed by a phone number.

And in the middle of the poster sat a picture of the most beautifully shiny, brilliantly coloured posing trunks you could ever hope to see. The exact same posers I’d found amongst my washing exactly one week ago today. The exact same posers I'd sniffed, tried on, obsessed about and blew a huge creamy load in four nights before. The posing trunks of Liam "The Guns" Watson, who apparently is so desperate to have them back he's erected a poster in the fucking launderette, and supplied his phone number!

As I tried to comprehend exactly what the hell was happening, a middle aged man sidled up next to me. I looked over to see him examining the poster. He screwed his face up in confusion, then raised one eyebrow and looked at me, as if to say, “What the ACTUAL fuck?!” to which I nervously smiled and furiously blushed.

I sat back down on the bench, trying to take it all in. Liam wants his posers back. I could see Liam again in person! I could phone him (fuck!), go to his house (FUCK!), actually talk to him in person (OHGODOHGODOHGOD). But that would mean giving the trunks back. The trunks I love so much.

I looked at the poster from the bench once more and looked at the words at the top. Have I seen those posing trunks? Hmmm. Seen ‘em? Yep! Sniffed ‘em? YEP! Spunked a huge creamy load in ‘em? YEP YEP YEP!

And then I saw the number again. The phone number of Liam Watson, local muscle God, beef monster and spunk inducer extraordinaire!

Whatever my decision, I wouldn't get anywhere without that number. I waited for my washing to finish, and as I headed out the door, I stopped once more at the notice board and nervously got out my phone.

Pretending I was looking at a flyer just beneath it, I tapped Liam’s number into my contacts, before leaving the launderette with the freshly cleaned trunks in my bag, and absolutely no clue what the hell I was going to do next.


Oscar Grimes (possessor of Liam “The Guns” Watson’s phone number - FUCKING HELL)!

Thursday July 20th - 8:00 pm

Dear Muscle Diary,

Just one question; what the actual buggering fuck am I gonna do?

So, last Wednesday night I couldn't sleep because I couldn't stop thinking about Liam’s posing trunks. Well, last night I couldn't sleep because I couldn't stop thinking about the poster Liam had outrageously (and crazily!) put up in the laundrette asking if anyone had seen them, and just what that means for me.

I have the opportunity to speak to, meet, and converse with the huge, gorgeous bodybuilder I spunked off to on Saturday night while looking at a picture of him blowing up his enormous nickname earning biceps whilst wearing an actual pair of his super shiny posing trunks! FUUUUUCKK!!

But, as much as the idea of meeting Liam excites me, it fucking terrifies me. Even just the initial first contact. Phoning the number he gave on the poster. Actually speaking to him on phone! Oh God! What the fuck would I say?

“Ummm ... hi there. Yeah. I have, well, practically stole your posing trunks, which I fucking SPUNKED in by the way. Whilst looking at a picture of you blowing up your biceps on my laptop.”

OK, so maybe I wouldn't say those EXACT words. But even just the idea of saying the words “posing trunks” out loud to another person (any person) makes me nervous.

And then to actually meet Liam in person, to go to his house, or for him to come here (a huge competitive bodybuilder in my FLAT!), talk to him, converse with him, hand him back his posers ... OH JESUS!!

By the way, diary, is it completely and immorally wrong to give a bodybuilder his trunks back AFTER you've wanked and blown a huge creamy load in them? I put that very question into Google but, strangely, nothing came back. I may be the first person in the history of the universe to face this dilemma.

No. I can't do it. I can't meet a huge, gorgeous, pumped up muscle bull and give him back his shiny, slurp-tastic trunks I came in whilst looking at a picture of him flexing his biceps with his mouth wide open in an outrageously cocky fashion. I just can not do it.


Oscar Grimes (nope, can’t do it)

Thursday July 20th - 9:00 pm

Dear Muscle Diary,

I've made a decision. I'M GONNA DO IT! I've been thinking about this all evening and I've come to this conclusion; the question is not how CAN I meet Liam “The Guns”  Watson in person and give him back his missing posing trunks, but how can I fucking NOT?!

I've thought about the pros and cons of both options, and it really comes down which set of cons outweighs the other.


1. I could potentially make a right TIT of myself.
2. I'd be nervous as fucking HELL!
3. I'd lose the shiny blue posing trunks forever.


1. I would miss this amazing, potentially once in a lifetime opportunity to meet and interact with a real life competitive bodybuilder (and a bloody gorgeous one at that)! And once that opportunity has gone, it will never, ever come back.

And THAT is why I've decided ... I have to fucking do is! Yes, I'll lose the trunks. But they were never really mine to begin with. And there are other trunks. TONS of other trunks for me to order, buy and own. But there will be never be another opportunity like this to so easily meet Liam.

And I'm nervous. God, I'm fucking nervous. But I’m excited as hell too. Liam “The Guns” Watson ... the unthinkable is about to happen. I’m about to meet Brighton’s biggest and sexiest roid munching muscle bull, and you’re about to get your missing posing trunks back!


Oscar Grimes (I’M BLOODY DOING IT!)

Friday July 21st - 6:30 pm

Dear Muscle Diary,

Oh God. Oh fuck. OH JESUS! I think I’m having a panic attack. I have just got off the phone with ... LIAM “THE FUCKING GUNS” WATSON!!

But there's more. I’m going to his HOUSE! In half a fucking HOUR!! FUUUUUCKKK!! I’m nervous. I’m bricking it. But FUCK I’m excited!!

Well, diary, despite my last entry I've still been deliberating over whether to use Liam’s number and meet up with him all day. Thanks to the Deano’s Gym Facebook page I know he’s competing at the Tiger Bodybuilding Classic in London on Sunday though, so I figured if I didn't act soon, I'd be spending the entire weekend, and probably most of next week too in this state of mental torture, so I told myself it was “now or never“.

I don't think I've ever been so anxious about making a phone call. My heart was pounding as I brought up Liam “The Guns” Watson on my contact list and hovered my finger over the call button.

All that was screaming in my head at that moment was, “I can't do this! I can't fucking do this!”

I dropped the phone on my bed. Relaxed for ten seconds, and then a wave of inspiration hit me. I picked up my phone again, and like a big fucking coward, composed a text message instead.

“Hi Liam. My name’s Oscar. I saw your poster in the launderette and I have your posing trunks.”

I deliberated for a second whether to include a kiss. Maybe even a smiley face emoji. But left it as it was and, heart still pounding, hit send.

The sweeping noise of a sent message sounded from my phone and one single thing went through my head; “FUUUUUUUUCK!” But I was smiling. Like crazy! I couldn't fucking help it. Even just texting Liam was such a fucking rush!

And then something happened which completely wiped the smile off my face and caused my whole body to go into severe panic mode. My phone started ringing. And the name of the caller which appeared on my screen? LIAM “THE GUNS” WATSON!!

I answered the phone. Nervous as HELL. “Hello?”

“Hey! Is that Oscar?” OH JESUS!! Even his voice was HOT!! Deep, smooth, confident, SEXY! My dick started swelling instantly.

“Yeah. Hi!” My voice was trembling slightly but what the fuck do you expect, diary?!

“I just got your text. You have my posers?”

There was a tone of hope in his voice which was adorable as hell.

“Yeah!” I replied. I just couldn't think of anything else to say!

"Where d’ya find ‘em?” Liam asked with a tone of curiosity.

“In the launderette,” I replied. There was a pause and I knew I needed to give Liam more. “They were in with my washing. I think you must have left them in the machine?”

“Oh right,” Liam replied. “HA! Sorry about that mate!”

What the fuck? He’s apologising? He's fucking apologising! That is both adorable and fucking ABSURD! If only he bloody knew what finding a pair of shiny posers from a gorgeous competitive bodybuilder meant to me!

“So, where do you live dude?” As I told him, I had an image of him turning up at my door. Coming into my flat. Following me into my bedroom. A six foot, 200 plus pounds bodybuilder. In my bedroom!

My heart raced further as I told Liam where I lived, and he informed me that his flat was about a fifteen minute walk from mine.

“So ... are you free now?!” Liam asked.


“Ummm ... yeah!” I replied.


“Any chance you could come round to mine in half an hour?”


“Sure!” I replied, as casually as I possibly could.

“Awesome!” There was a sudden excitement in his oh-so-sexy voice which was incredibly endearing. He was just a lad who wanted his shiniest posers back. Just a lad who regularly stomped around bodybuilding stages plastered in greasy, glistening, golden tan flexing his ginormous sized nickname earning biceps, twice the size of most men’s heads! And he’s inviting me round to his fucking flat!!

“I'll text you my address. See you in half an hour Oscar!” I don't know why, but hearing him say my name in his insanely sexy voice made me want to melt into my bedroom carpet.

I hung up the phone, and my whole body felt like it was going to combust with excitement.

I fetched Liam’s posing trunks from my drawer and, as I held them in my hands, I felt a twinge of sadness. It was time to say goodbye to the shiny, bright, ridiculously hot blue posing trunks I so fondly loved.

We’ve had some good times together. From the time I found them tangled up amongst my washing in the tumble dryer, to the first time I got them out of my bag at home and ran my fingers through the super shiny material. From the night I wanked off with them placed over my face, feeling the material on my skin and breathing in the fabric to the night I finally put them on for the very first time and blew a huge load of spunk into the shiny pouch whilst looking at a picture of a bodybuilder blowing up his enormous sized biceps.

But now it’s time for a bigger and potentially better adventure, because in half an hour, I’ll be standing on the doorstep of that very fucking bodybuilder’s flat!

Holy. Jesus. Fucking. CHRIST!!


Oscar Grimes (soon to be standing in front of local bodybuilder Liam “The Guns” Watson!)

To be continued...

Saturday, 13 January 2018


OK here goes with part two of "Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?"; my story about a muscle addict and lover of tiny, shiny posing trunks called Oscar who encounters a huge, gorgeous bodybuilder at his local launderette.

After taking over the machine previously used by the muscle bull, Oscar found a pair of his shiny, blue posing trunks he'd accidentally left behind mixed in amongst his washing...

Part 3 coming soon!

Saturday July 15th

Dear Muscle Diary,

Well, diary, it's been three days since I found the shiny, bright blue posing trunks of a genuine bodybuilder hidden amongst my washing in my local launderette. And I've barely been able to think about anything since!

I've now creamed off with the posers placed over my face three times (blush!) and I officially feel like a right kinky little bugger.

None were quite as amazing as the first time though and I've been thinking more and more that it might be time to take things to the next level, i.e. trying the posing trunks on!

It didn't feel right at first, but the more days that pass the more that feeling is fading, and the more they're starting to feel like they're my trunks (even though they're really not)!

Now it's just a case of choosing the right moment. I want to save it for a time when I'm really fucking horny. I’ve always fantasised about owning a pair of posing trunks, and trying them on for the first time and I basically just want it to be the best experience that it can possibly be.


Oscar Grimes (potential soon-to-be wearer of tiny, shiny posing trunks!)

Sunday July 16th

Dear Muscle Diary,

Oh God. Oh fuck. Oh shit. I did it, diary! I tried on the trunks. FUUUUUCKKK!! But that's not all, diary. There's more to tell you! So much fucking more. And it involves the original owner of said trunks!

So I went out last night for a few drinks with my mate, Ste. It was one of those nights where I didn't really wanna go but I just sort of forced myself because I felt like I needed a night out.

Well, as soon as I was in the pub, I knew I shouldn't have bothered. The atmosphere was dead and the alcohol didn't seem to be helping much. We went to another place which was a little bit better, but as the night went on, I just kept thinking about how much I wanted to be at home with my posing trunks, watching and wanking off to some obscenely shredded muscle bull on YouTube!

Anyway, things finally picked up after a few shots and the place livened up. Ste was drooling over guys that would never be interested in him (sorry Ste!) while I suddenly found myself snogging this young cutie patootie with a hipster beard and leather cap. Whenever I go out with Ste, he hardly ever pulls and I always do, which always surprises me because Ste is so outgoing and confident, and will literally chat to anyone, and despite being a wee bit chunky he's really handsome. Maybe it's because I still have a bit of a baby face and, despite the fact that I’m thirty-two, still occasionally get asked for ID when I try to buy vodka from my local Tesco Express. Or maybe it's the modestly sized arms I've built up since my mid-twenties. Don't get me wrong, diary, I'm not going to be entering any bodybuilding competitions any time soon, but my arms do look quite good in a t-shirt. Ste's grabbed and copped a feel of them on a couple of nights out, which I always secretly get a kick out of. My workmates even christened me with a blush worthy and rather ego boosting nickname a few years ago; Mr Biceps!

So the leather capped cutie patootie (he didn't tell me his name) asked me if I wanted to go back to his place. I thought about it for a moment. He was a sexy little bugger and the kissing was pretty horny, but then I thought about the morning after. Waking up in a stranger’s bed feeling and looking like a bag of warmed up shit and just wanting to close my eyes and melt into the mattress and disappear, before magically landing in my own bed. Alone, and safe from any potential awkwardness and the possibility of morning sex which they always want to have. And then I thought, again, about watching some obscenely huge muscle monster flexing and squeezing in a pair of brightly coloured posing trunks on my PC screen. And then I thought about the posing trunks sitting in my drawer back home. The insanely hot, indescribably horny posing trunks of a real life, genuine bodybuilder, both of which I hadn't been able to stop thinking about since my adventure at the launderette on Wednesday night. So I said my goodbyes to Mr Cutie Leather Cap, grabbed Ste and headed for home.

Ste was feeling a bit down on himself on the walk. Apparently, not only has he not had sex for the last six months, but he hasn't had a snog either. I don't really know how that's possible, but apparently not only does he never pull when he goes out, but hardly anyone messages him on Grindr either. The last guy he met from there opened the door, looked him up and down, screwed his face up and told him he wasn't his type.

We were almost at the Pavillion when Ste asked me a question. “Oscar, if you didn't know me and you saw me in a club, would you pull me?” The honest answer is, diary, I would have pulled Ste seven years ago when we first met. He's never been my type, but he's handsome, and funny, and it's so fucking endearing how excited he gets about things like Doctor Who and Batman. But now, I can't even contemplate kissing Ste. It's Ste, for fucks sake! But I sensed that he needed some type of validation and because he was feeling so down on himself, I gave it to him. “Yes Ste! If I didn't know you, I would pull you!”

He grinned like mad and I felt a slight warmth. “You still could you know,” Ste said with one eyebrow cheekily raised. “Pull me!”

Taken aback, I laughed and playfully told Ste to fuck off. It was when we were approaching Ste’s turning and we were stood still facing each other that he offered up his next proposition.

“OK, if you won't snog me, at least let me feel one of your biceps!”

I laughed again and Ste just cheekily grinned. I decided to play along, so I took his left hand and firmly placed it on my right, unflexed bicep.

Ste made a jokey, “Mmmm,” sound and I rolled my eyes and giggled. And then? Well, I’m not really sure what made me do it, diary, but without even thinking, I bought my forearm up so it was sat horizontal against my stomach and clenched my right fist so that my bicep flexed and bulged underneath Ste's fingers. He suddenly stopped grinning, his eyes bulged, and his face transformed into a shocked expression. “FUCK!” he cried out.

Something happened to me in that moment. Seeing Ste's shocked and amazed reaction to my muscle, having someone feeling my flexed bicep, I suddenly felt incredibly horny, and starting to swell in my boxers.

It was nothing to do with Ste himself. I think it was just seeing someone’s amazed reaction to what my flexed muscle felt like. Ste's not even into muscle. Well, not the kind of grotesque, shredded freaks I cream off to on a regular bases. So, diary, imagine his reaction if he were into muscle? And imagine if, instead of my modestly sized bicep, I had a twenty inch, paper thin skin covered, bronzed painted, freakishly huge ball of bicep muscle bulging off my upper arm?

“That feels HUGE!” Ste said, still squeezing my flexed gun, and doing nothing to diffuse neither my ego or power trip.

I sheepishly grinned at him. “Hardly!” came my honest reply. When he finally released his grip, we laughed, hugged and said goodbye. “See you later … Mr Biceps!” Ste playfully called out as he walked down his street, giggling in his typically extroverted manner.

That unexpected but brilliant little moment with Ste got me even more in the mood to get home and watch some seriously freaky muscle.

I wondered, in that moment, what Ste would think of the huge, roided muscle bulls I regularly blasted loads to. I did once tell him that I liked really huge guys, but I still think he'd be surprised if he saw just the kind of superhuman sized monsters that made my boxers sticky. And I have absolutely NO idea what Ste would think if he knew that for my last three wanks I’d had a pair of posing trunks sitting on my face! In fairness, he'd probably just laugh and call me a kinky little fucker.

When I arrived at home, I poured myself another cheeky drink, and fired up my muscle ridden PC. I was in the mood for something new, so I went to straight to my subscriptions in YouTube.

There had been a huge amateur bodybuilding show somewhere in Europe last weekend. One of my favourite channels had been slowly uploading videos from the competition all week and there'd been a ton posted in the last few hours.

You wouldn't find any of the big named pro bodybuilders, or any American muscle monsters competing in this sort of show. It was mostly shredded to death East Europeans, with a couple of good old fashioned British muscle bulls thrown in for good measure.

After watching videos of an arrogant as fuck, Austrian bull wearing outrageous golden posers and some nasty, gritty, British muscle daddy who really should know better than to be stomping around bodybuilding stages at his age, I came to a video of a twenty something British lad called Andy. Sporting a physique packed with some seriously gorgeous beef, carved and shredded in the most shocking condition, Andy hit his poses with more energy than the bodybuilders in the first two videos put together.

When Andy spun around to hit a rear pose, revealing the most obscenely sized arse spilling either side of his tiny purple posers, I suddenly had a flashback to the enormous sized and perfectly round arse belonging to the sexy as hell muscle bull from the laundrette last Wednesday. The owner of the shiny blue posing trunks I had now paused the video to fetch from my drawer.

For some reason, the trunks looked even hornier and shinier than ever. As I held them in my hands, I knew the time I had been waiting for had come. This was it. Horny as fuck from watching a bunch of jacked up muscle freaks flexing and ripping up a bodybuilding stage, and slightly less inhibited with the alcohol running through my system from my night out with Ste, I knew this was the perfect time to try on the posers of the gorgeous, local bodybuilder I'd found sitting amongst my washing four nights before.

My heart was thumping as I took my jeans and boxers off. Even just feeling the poser material brushing against my legs as I put them on felt insanely horny. And then I nestled my hard throbbing dick in the shiny blue pouch. With the lining of the trunks against the head of my cock, I put my right hand to my trunk covered hard on and squeezed. Fuuuuuuuckkk! It was some kind of miracle, diary, that it didn't explode with a huge load of spunk right there and then.

I had always feared that if I ever did purchase, or manage to try on some posing trunks, I would look a little silly in them. But as I admired my reflection in the mirror and saw myself wearing the insanely hot posers of an actual bodybuilder, I realised I didn’t look silly in the slightest.

It didn't matter that I didn't have huge slabs of shredded beef hanging off my bones. Or that my skin wasn’t painted with bronzed competition tan. The posing trunks just looked hot as fucking fuck, even against my pale, none freakishly muscular legs.

With my hard on stretching out the pouch of the shiny posers, and the back of the trunks hugging my regular sized arse, I went back to my laptop to continue watching the video I’d found of Andy, the gorgeous, shredded British muscle pup, flexing on stage.

Within seconds of pressing play, Andy has spun around, shuffled to the front of the stage and was cranking out most muscular after most muscular, each one accompanied with his mouth wide open in the most brilliantly arrogant fashion.

As I stroked my hard cock through the soft posing trunk material, rock hard, horny as fuck and fearful that I was about to cum at any given moment, I looked at Andy and realised that it wasn't just his oversized bottom that reminded me of the bodybuilder from the launderette. It was also his face. He had the same masculine but boyish quality. A little rough around the edges. Very laddish. Undeniably British. And oh-so bloody gorgeous!

And then I had a thought. What if, somewhere on the Internet, there was a video of the bodybuilder from the launderette, flexing on stage in the very trunks I was wearing? I doubted he'd be at the level of the bodybuilders from the show I was watching videos from, but there could easily be a video of a Mr South East contest somewhere. He had posing trunks that he felt were in need of a wash, so he most likely would have competed recently, or was due to compete soon. Unless there was something else he did in his posing trunks which required them to be asked afterwards? A thought which made my dick furiously jolt under the shiny poser material.

I tried my luck and did a quick search but no such videos materialised. At least not ones from the last five years.

In sheer desperation, I put “Brighton bodybuilder” into Google and one of the top five results bought up the website for the infamous Deano’s Gym. From there, I reached the gym’s Facebook page, and that's where I struck gold!

I was immediately drawn to the very latest post at the top of the page which read; “Good luck to Liam Watson, who is competing at the Tiger Bodybuilding Classic in London next weekend.” And then I looked at the picture of the huge, shredded muscle bull in the picture, hitting a front lat spread in a pair of very familiar looking shiny blue posing trunks and my heart lurched into my throat.

Looking at the gorgeous face of the flexing muscle beast, lips pursed in arrogant fashion, I was suddenly transporting back to Wednesday night, watching that very face walking through the laundrette with a holdall full of washing in his hand, not knowing that he'd accidentally left a certain garment of clothing in the machine.

The very garment of clothing he was wearing in the picture I was looking at, and the very garment I was wearing at that precise moment!

And then I read the rest of the text which accompanied the picture. “Check out more of Liam on his Instagram page here” which was followed by a link, which I excitedly clicked and HOLY SHIT, I was now on the Instagram page of the bodybuilder whose trunks I'd been wanking off with the past three days! A mini digital glimpse into the world of Liam Watson, the huge, gorgeous Brightonian bodybuilder who was competing in a show next weekend.

My eyes went straight to the very first post. A close up picture of an outrageously huge, flexed bicep, with a freaky, thick vein running right down the middle. FUCK!

And that's when I noticed something in the bio of the profile. Liam had written his name, but there was something sandwiched in between his first name and surname. Liam had a nickname. A nickname which became even more appropriate as I scoured the many pictures on his page and landed on one of him blowing up his seriously enormous biceps while flexing a front double.

I wasn't just wearing Liam Watson's shiny blue posers. I was wearing Liam “The Guns” Watson's shiny blue posers!

As I scanned the pictures on Liam's profile, I was reminded of my “five things about muscle which drive me completely and utterly bonkers” list from earlier in the week.

Beyond human biceps? Check! Mammoth sized tits? Check! Outrageously cocky posing? Fucking check! An enormous sized bottom? Big fat CHECK! Brightly coloured, shiny as shit posing trunks? To which I took my eyes off the screen and looked in my lap. THE BIGGEST FUCKING CHECK!

In addition to the close up bicep shot, I quickly adopted a number of favourite pictures from Liam’s Instagram. Amongst them, a rear shot of Liam completely naked with his gigantic sized ass on full display (FUCK!) with the cheeky caption, “Sorry if my naked bum offends anyone. I just really wanted an excuse to use the peach emoji!” and a contest photo of him from a few years earlier, tanned to shit, with a little less size but shredded to buggery, cranking out a crab most muscular with his eyes closed, face scrunched and teeth gritted in the cheekiest (and horniest) fashion (fuck yeah Liam)!

But my absolute favourite picture was the second most recent one posted on his profile. A shot taken that very morning, of Liam standing in a room with a huge black and white poster of the classic documentary film “Pumping Iron” hanging behind him on the wall.

Wearing nothing but a pair of beautiful, bright red posers, just as shiny as the ones I was wearing, packed and filled out by his indecently big bulge, Liam was hitting a front double bicep pose. His insane biceps peaking to an obscene degree. Huge, round, and perfect. The right one with that freakish, thick vein running right down the middle. God I love that vein.

His face contorted into the most outrageous expression. Manic, crazy, and cocky as fuck. His mouth wide open in an almost animalistic fashion. A huge, freaky, gorgeous muscle bull flexing his enormous, nickname earning guns, displaying extreme masculinity, unapologetic attitude and pure power in the horniest way conceivable.

That was it. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I furiously tugged on my throbbing hard on through the fabric of Liam's posers and, staring at his gigantic biceps and sexy, ‘tude packed face, the head of my dick exploded and a huge load of cum blew into the lining of the posing trunks.

I looked down and saw the spunk seeping through the shiny material. What an image. What a feeling! The orgasm was even more intense than the one I had Wednesday night with the trunks placed over my face. Intense, immeasurable pleasure consuming my whole body. I felt like I'd been transported to the ceiling and someone needed to come and scrape me off. And God did I scream. Uninhibited shouts of orgasmic pleasure. God knows what the neighbours thought. Fuck ‘em! If they'd been shooting loads into their undies over monstrous bodybuilders in tiny sized posing trunks since their teenage years and had amazingly managed to be in possession of a pair of such very trunks and were blasting a massive load into them for the first very time, they'd be screaming the place down too.

Basking in a post orgasmic high, I looked at Liam flexing on my laptop and I suddenly felt a twinge of something. Not so much guilt, more a slight feeling of wrongness. What would this man think if he knew I'd just shot a load in one of his pairs of posing trunks? I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. There was no point dwelling on it. After all, Liam will never ever know. His posing trunks are long gone. Never to be seen again. And now they're mine. To wear and cream in. Over and over again.


Oscar Grimes (wearer and new, proud owner of tiny, shiny posing trunks!)

COMING UP IN PART 3: Oscar returns to the launderette and has another eventful evening!

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