It was the end of my first day at work on my first job ever. I was 18 and had landed a job at the deli section of a local supermarket in my childhood neighborhood (obviously, I was still living at my parents' house). As I headed towards the changing room, I was exhausted. Not only had I been on my feet for 8 hours, but my brain was suffering from information overload, as I had to learn everything about the new job. I also had come to the realization that dealing with customers wasn't always going to be easy.
As I got to the changing room door, I felt happy that I had survived my first day - and had done quite a decent job at it, but I was also desperate to get out of the work uniform and take a shower. Yet, as I opened the door, I froze on the spot, my jaw dropping. Inside the room was Eddie, though I didn't know his name at the time. He was standing in front of the mirror that hung above the sinks, wearing just a pair of small white briefs, and flexing his overly developed muscles. As I stood on the threshold, I saw him fluidly move from a front double biceps pose to a most muscular, to a side chest. Eddie wasn't very tall, maybe 5'9", but he was probably at least 190 pounds (probably closer to 200) of solid, well defined, vascular muscle.
Now, one thing you should know about me: I've always been into muscles, even as a child. I remember watching a bodybuilding show on TV when I was about 7 or 8 and feeling really excited, though at that age I of course didn't really know why. But I know I loved watching those overdeveloped, oiled up bodies move on stage, gracefully hitting pose after pose, huge muscles bulging and veins popping. And this was in the mid-80's, before the mass monsters' era, when aesthetics was still a thing in the world of bodybuilding - think Bob Paris, Francis Benfatto, and the like. By the time this story took place, I had a healthy stack of bodybuilding magazines stashed away in my room, which I used as visual inspiration during my all-too-frequent self-pleasuring sessions (remember, I was 18 at this time!). One other thing to note is that I wasn't out at that time, not even to myself. I didn't see myself as gay yet, and I thought of my fetish for muscle as something else - talk about denial and cognitive dissonance! Anyway, that was about to change soon, all thanks to Eddie.
Back to the story, I was still rooted to the floor, unable to move, as I watched this almost naked god flex his incredible muscles in front of the mirror, admiring himself, his whole body covered in a shine of sweat, veins popping and moving under the tight skin (yeah, I have a thing for veins too). I was unable to move, but my dick definitely wasn't. It went from limp to a raging hard-on in milliseconds. My breath was heavy, my heart pumped wildly, and I felt dizzy with desire. As I stood there, frozen in place, feeling all my muscle fantasy feelings, Eddie caught my reflection in the mirror. Well, fuck! He dropped his massive arms to his side - he had been back at a front double biceps pose - and slowly turned to look at me, a sheepish smile on his face, half embarrassment, half amusement.
"Oh, hi! You must be the new guy, I'm Eddie, nice meeting you," he said and walked towards me, his hand held out.
Holy shit, he was gorgeous! Not only did he have the body of a muscle god, but he was hot in every possible way. He had jet black, straight, shoulder length hair tied in a ponytail (it was 1996, this was a look back then), a killer smile with perfect white teeth, dimples that made me feel things, a square jaw, and black eyes that sparkled when he smiled.
It took me a couple of seconds to react, but I finally managed to put one foot in front of the other, enter the changing room, and shake Eddie's hand as I introduced myself:
"Yeah, new guy here, Daniel, but you can call me Danny, everyone does. Nice meeting you too, Eddie. Are you just about to start your shift?"
Both my hand and my voice shook slightly, and I think Eddie noticed, by the way he kept smiling at me and looking right into my eyes. He didn't let go of my hand right away, either, but kept holding it for what felt just a tad too long for a normal handshake between workmates that just met for the first time.
"Yeah, I normally do the morning shift, but today I had to change. Only today, though, starting tomorrow, we'll both work together, you and I," he replied, as he finally let go of my hand, smile still in place, eyes still locked to mine.
My heart and my dick both jumped at this piece of news. "Oh, great!" was all I managed to say.
"Yeah, I look forward to teaching you the ropes, buddy. I'm sorry I missed your first day!"
Hot, muscular, and a nice guy too, Eddie seemed too good to be true!
"That's all right, we'll always have tomorrow," I sort of chuckled out.
It was all I could do not to stare him up and down, that body was all too tempting, but I managed to keep my gaze on his face, smiling awkwardly, unable to conjure up my usually articulate self. Still, Eddie seemed to find my remark witty, as he chuckled too and said: "I can't wait, buddy."
Ok, this calling me "buddy" thing, it really did it for me. Normally, I'd be annoyed if anyone called me buddy, I always thought it sounded condescending, but coming from Eddie's soft lips, it made me melt. Yeah, I had developed an instant crush for this friendly muscle god standing inches from me in his skimpy underwear.
And speaking of skimpy underwear, at that moment Eddie seemed to become aware of his clothing status, as he looked down at his almost naked body. He looked back up at me, noticed that I had just been looking at his body too, and said "Sorry," flushing a bit, though still smiling.
"No worries!" I said reassuringly, "It's a changing room, this is where we're supposed to be half naked."
Well, that sounded kind of awkward. Probably Eddie thought so too, because he laughed out loud.
"You're right, but still, it's a bit embarrassing that you caught me flexing in front of the mirror, you must think I'm just a shallow, conceited musclehead," he said, reddening a bit more.
"No, not at all, you seem a really nice guy," I comforted him. "Besides, if I had muscles like yours, I'd admire them too, you have an amazing body! Are you a bodybuilder, like, do you compete and stuff?"
"No, not really, I don't think I'd feel comfortable being almost naked on stage in front of a bunch of people I don't know. But you're right, I do like admiring my body, I plead guilty of that, vain as it may be. I do like muscles."
That was a revelation! Did he mean that he liked muscles the same way I liked muscles? Or maybe he just meant that he liked having muscles? Probably the latter, and in any case, if he did like muscles on men, I was screwed. Even though I was taller than him (5'11" to his 5'9"), and as much as I loved muscles, I didn't have an of my own: at 18 I was really skinny, weighing only 135 pounds.
"I should get dressed, anyway, my shift starts in 10," Eddie announced. "Again, it was really nice meeting you, I'll see you tomorrow!"
"Sure, see you tomorrow then, Eddie, have a good one!"
Eddie walked to his locker, pulled out his uniform and started getting dressed, as I headed towards the showers, still wearing my uniform - no way I was going to expose my scrawny body next to this absolute muscle beast!
That night, as I went to bed, I didn't need any of the old bodybuilding magazines for inspiration. The memory of Eddie flexing his muscles provided a much more powerful stimulus that resulted in a thick rope of cum violently hitting my left eye.
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During the next few weeks, I really got the hang of the job, thanks to Eddie's dedicated mentoring. For some reason, he had sort of adopted me, we had an almost big brother - small brother relationship (he was 21, three years older than me). He was constantly checking up on me to see if I was doing ok or needed any help, he always had words of encouragement when I did things right and was very patient when I messed up, and he always managed to find someone to cover for us so we could have our lunch break together. I had no clue why he had taken to me so, but, hey, I was not complaining! The only bad thing about working with Eddie, if you could call it a bad thing, is that I was constantly distracted by how his muscles filled his uniform. Though the shirts we wore had very wide short sleeves, Eddies biceps filled them out completely, looking like they were going to rip them if he flexed his arm muscles, which, as I knew from when we first met, he really liked doing. Every so often, when he caught me looking at him, he would put up one arm and flex his bicep, smiling and winking at me. Of course, that would give me an instant boner, so I soon became an expert at surreptitiously adjusting my dick. Also, the buttons of his shirt were painfully strained, always seeming to be about to burst open due to the pressure that Eddie's massive pecs and extremely wide lats exerted on them. The same was true of the fabric enveloping his huge quads like a second skin. And his ass! A perfect bubble butt that literally made my mouth water!
Eventually, Eddie and I started hanging out outside work too. Ours was a really small town, so we both lived close to the supermarket and to each other (how had I never seen him before!). When Eddie found out we were practically neighbors, he started walking home with me after we finished our shift. We soon developed a comfortable friendship, with good banter. One day, as we were heading home, he asked if I wanted to hang out at his place.
"We're both off work tomorrow, so we can hang till as late as we want," Eddie said.
This sounded promising, so I immediately agreed. We stopped by my house first so I could leave my stuff there and let my parents know I'd be at Eddie's and would probably come home late (again, this was 1996, mobile phones were not as accessible then and I didn't own one), and then headed towards Eddie's place. He technically lived with his parents too, but he had a small studio apartment at the back of their house, with an independent entrance.
His place was surprisingly tidy for it to be the home of a 21-year-old guy. Inside the apartment there was a table with two chairs, a small integrated kitchen with a mini-bar style fridge, a set of dumbbells (obviously), a wardrobe, a huge full-length mirror (again, obviously), a bookcase stacked with books (which I made a mental note to peruse at some point) and a TV on top, a small reading corner next to it with an armchair and coffee table (interesting, so he seriously did like reading), and then most of the remaining space was occupied by a king-size bed.
Eddie put his backpack away, walked up to the fridge and came towards the bed with two beer cans in one hand (before you clutch your pearls, Eddie and I are from Uruguay, a small country in South America, where the legal drinking age is 18, not 21). He sat on the bed, offered me one of the cans, and motioned for me to sit on the bed too. I took off my shoes, and sat cross-legged on the bed, facing him.
"So, do you like it?" he asked, looking around at his apartment.
"Yeah, it looks great! It's amazing that you have a place of your own!" I said.
"Technically, it's still my parents' house, but yeah, I do have my independence here, I really like that. Cheers!" he added, as he opened the beer can and took a swig.
I did the same, and, looking around, commented: "You keep it really nice and tidy, or is it your mum doing the housework for her big baby?"
