Gay Erotic Stories

She turned to face him, narrowing her eyes and with a smile on her lips. "Mmmm... it's a very, very nice chest," she purred as she released her hand, tracing a long and painted nail lightly around his nipple. Mike blushed yet again. She held a finger to the nervous bodybuilder and waggled it. "Listen, my dear Michael. Let us stop this 'acting embarrassed' when you're around me. While you're down here, I want you to think of me as a good friend." She put a hand on the hard warm mass of his shoulder. "A good and very, very close friend," she added in a soft breathy voice as she shook his deltoid with reassurance, drawing him a bit closer. "Do we understand each other?" "Y-yeah, sure!" Man, was this babe forward! But that's OK, thought Mike, I can handle it. She walked into the workshop and he followed. "In a way, we're both artists. You work your art in flesh; I work my art in stone. Uninhibited artists should not be embarrassed or restricted when expressing their compositions in the medium of their chosen milieu. Such masterful visionaries are made of sterner stuff than the rabble and hoi polloi of bourgeois culture... are you following my drift?" "P-perfe'kly," said Mike, though he failed to wrestle even half the meaning out of the context of her fancy words. "Hey, by the way, these statues y'got here? I guess y'made 'em, right?" She paused in silence and then responded to this overly obvious factoid with a sarcastic nod and a baleful stare. The unspoken Duh! hung on her open lips. "Well, uh, I... I mean," he stammered, to recover his gaff, "they're like... like totally awesome! I ain't ever seen statues wit' so much detail on 'em before." "Oooo, Michael..." "What?" "I really love the way you say that word ... stah-choos." Was she making fun of his diction? "Hey," he added with a slight pout. Hulking his pecs out with pride, knitting his heavy brows and exaggerating his accent, he exclaimed in his thickest Brooklyn-ese, "so, like I don' tawk too gud. I'm A'talyan! Iz'zat gonna be a problem wit'choo?" "Why no, not at all," she cooed as she batted her eyes kittenishly. "In fact, I think the way you talk is very, very charming." Appeased, Mike beamed a wide grin and squared his broad shoulders. "Hey, yer a pretty cool chick yerself." "Well," she added with a smile, "despite the last name my sister chooses to use, we're both actually Greek. So I guess we Mediterranean types have to stick together, right? Anyway, Michael," she said, turning back to the sculptures, "an artist like myself needs subjects for her art. So what better way to do that than provide potential male models with an offer they just can't possibly refuse. Like a private gym." Mike stared and gaped in surprise, swinging an arm towards the outer passage behind him. "You mean... all that neat terrific equipment?!?..." "Yes. After many years, I am a woman of quite substantial means. I bought and installed it, all of it for you big wonderful hunky guys. I knew that you and your handsome pals came running up here on occasion. It was just a matter of time before one of you discovered it and, now, many of you are making use of it, just as I had planned." "Well, then... that's pretty dam'nice of you, I haf'ta say." "Why, you're quite welcome, Michael." Gesturing at the platforms and blocks, she continued, "In any event, I set up my workshop here in anticipation of your -- hopefully frequent -- visits. And indeed, I've had two of you come by already." She now pointed to the two sculptures. "Which guys came by, Euryale?" "Well, let me see..." she said thoughtfully, pointing to the statue posed in the abdominal crunch, "first I had a visit by... Craig." Waving at the first statue Mike had examined, she said, "oh yes! And then later Dennis came by." "Oh, man! That's them all right!" Upon re-examination of these statues, Mike now had no trouble at all identifying the two figures. Only the strangeness about their eyes had messed up his recognition of those two familiar faces. Sure enough, the statue of Craig was a perfect facsimile of the blonde surfer-dude bodybuilder. The sculptress had captured the sternness of his square jaw and angular cheekbones with an uncanny precision. Even the massive bulk of the thighs and chest were totally reminiscent of the man's actual physique. The statue of Dennis was slightly more difficult to fix visually. There wasn't much variation between Craig's blonde hair and the alabaster white on the head of his stone image to confuse recognition. In contrast, Dennis' dark brown scalp in life looked totally unfamiliar when represented in pale stone. Nevertheless, Mike could now make out the handsome trademark grin and powerful jaw, even the faint vein along the forehead that made any image of Dennis-while-flexing instantly recognizable. Mike turned to Euryale and said, "This's some awesome work! So, like, how many sessions did they have t'pose for you t'get their likeness down right? I mean, not only did'ya get their faces perfect, but all'a th'muscles, too." He turned back to the statue of Dennis and ran his fingers along the carefully sculpted veins of the forearm. "It must'a taken awhile to get it just right, right?" "Oh, not really," she said lazily. "In fact, I don't have to take any pictures at all. I do it all in a single visit. You might say I have... photographic memory. Or perhaps photographic sight. Mmm... whatever. And I work fast... very, very fast. However you'd describe it, all it took was just one sitting with the boys to find and strike their best poses. Then... I took it from there." Mike considered the artista's setup and (as he understood it) her approach to sculpting. The bodybuilder poses for her... she gets the total picture fixed in her head, from facial expression to full physique... then she must take hammer and chisel to one of these big blocks of marble... and in the end, she's brought into existence a perfect reproduction of a male body, scrutinized carefully under her talented and faithful eye from just a single session. "So, Euryale," asked Mike politely, rubbing his square jaw. "I wuz wonderin'... Could you... like, could'ya make a statue outta me? I mean, d'y'think I'd make a good subjec'? With all'a my muscles, like, they wuz carved outta marble?" She put a hand on his very massive and venous upper arm. Her fingers quivered with excitement. "Michael, my love," she asked, taken aback, "do you really think you NEED to ask me such a thing?" She caressed her hands over his midsection. Still heavily pumped less than an hour after his workout, his torso musculature was impressively textured even while at rest. Throwing her arms around him in a hug, she looked at him and said through quivering lips, "why, I'd be honored to... no, I'd just love to capture every inch of your hard powerful studly body in stone... forever." Mike was terribly pleased at the prospect of having and seeing his likeness captured in marble. Cracking a grin, he asked, "So, like, wha'do I gotta do for ya?" She turned away to head back to the recesses of her workshop, calling out, "well, first let me get ready. Meanwhile, you take off your footwear and shorts, and...," pirouetting to point at him even before he could blush, she added, "and don't even THINK about being embarrassed, my dear. I want you to take it ALL off. Just remember," she added in the superior tone of the artist, "you are doing this for the sake of ART!" He leaned against a tall block of marble to disrobe while Euryale went around the corner. After he pulled off his spandex shorts, Mike calmed himself down by walking to and fro. His cock was stirring a bit both from the excitement of posing as a model and the presence of the two perfect marble sculptures. He passed by the statue of Dennis, running his moist hand over the smooth pectoral muscle, broken only by its ribbon pattern of veins and sinew. It felt good under his touch: the sculpture's powerfully tensed chest muscles represented so faithfully in cold marble. Mike ran his big fingers across each of the hard pebble-like nipples, caressing them gently. He touched his own chest in turn, feeling the contrast in its firm yet warm yielding texture. Looking down past his hand to glance at the base of the statue's torso, Mike failed to suppress a mirthy grin. I guess that's a realistic representation of Dennis -- he thought -- but is that little pud really all he's got? He looked at its not-inconsiderable seven-inch erection with humorous disdain. Mike proudly regarded how his own Roman rod, when fully engorged, surpassed the length of the dinky marble dick by at least a good two inches. His reverie was broken as he heard her opening and closing drawers on her workbench with a bang, rattling about to collect the tools of her trade. He finished stripping down fully and called out, "Now what?" "Go stand on one of those empty platforms and practice your posing in a mirror," she called to him from around the corner. "I'll be back in a moment and then we'll pick out the pose that's the best for you." Mike walked over to an empty platform that lay between an uncut block of marble and the statue of Dennis. He stood on its smooth surface and began to strike a series of poses. Compared to other men, Mike possessed the rare mass and muscularity of a true super-heavyweight. Yet he moved his six-foot-six frame with the same enormous grace and flexibility of all professional bodybuilders. He held each stance for a few seconds before advancing on to the next in a smooth fluid transition. After a few of these, he began to pose faster, with great panache. His brutally handsome smile flashed with great confidence. The cave was warm and sweat cascaded from his exertion, increasing the glow of his still-glistening 260-pound physique. However, he enjoyed the heat flowing through his hard flexed thews in the course of his continuous posing. A dreamy expression filled his face. The throbbing pulse of blood coursing through the veins of his well-pumped muscles had a deep soothing effect. Meanwhile, a thought had occurred to Mike. "Say, Euryale?" he called out. "Yes, Michael?" she queried back. "By the way, I fergot to ask," he said as he kept posing. "Have y'seen Dennis since y'did the statue of him? Some of th'guys said he ain't been 'round fer workouts lately. So mebbe y'seen him more recently?" Euryale came back into the room with a hammer and chisel in a leather belt slung round her waist. Like old TV star Jack Benny, she held an elbow in one hand and two fingers of the other pressed against her cheek. Mike glanced at her face, a whimsical mixture of indifference and innocence. She began sweetly as she tapped her cheek, "why... I don't believe so, Michael. In fact... I can honestly say that I haven't seen Dennis since... well, since I made a statue of him." "Aww, that's OK." said Mike through clenched teeth as he turned back to the mirror and went back to his posing. "He don' need a keeper, anyhow." Euryale looked with swooning excitement upon Mike's sweaty body. She muttered, fluttering her eyes and fanning her cleavage, "Oh my! You ARE the handsome devil, aren't you? Do... do you mind if I touch your body while you pose?" Mike curtly nodded his affirmation with a heavy grunt. At each held pose, she ran her fingers over his tightly flexed physique. The sculptress explored his every vein and striation in a gentle, thorough caress. She circled the bodybuilder, oo-ing and ahh-ing while running her hands up across his expanded chest for one pose, down against the hard pillars of his legs for the next. Then she stood behind him and massaged his broad muscular back and shoulders for yet another. As Mike continued in his posing, Euryale allowed her touching to become more intense and more sensual. Her hands now moved continuously over the body of her model, with her caresses attempting greater and greater arousal. A knuckle ran through the deep clefts of his abs and circled his navel. A nipple was lightly rubbed and tweaked between thumb and forefinger. Her hand squeezed a tightly flexed limb with gentle firmness. The bodybuilder's respiration rose to match the growing stimulation of her touch along his sweaty skin. And all the while, Mike's long rod began to awaken from its semi-quiescence. "Gosh, Michael," she marveled with genuine excitement, "Why, you have a body resembling one of those heros or gods of ancient Greece..." "Gee, thanks!" grunted Mike at the complement. "Y'really think so?" "Of course, of course!" she agreed, adding in cryptic undertone, "I should know." But she swiftly added, "you know, the bodies of these mythical figures come down to us from ancient times in the form of sculpture, their marbled physiques so perfect and godlike, so hard and mighty in statuesque poses..." "'At's cool," he muttered, seeming to grow even bigger with pride. "I'm always tryin' t'create th'perfec' bod fer myself." And with that, he increased the intensity and pace of his posing. Mike wiggled and waggled his frame to hit a few more highly ripped free-style positions. He displayed his massive torso and limbs with even greater textured detail than before. His skin grew darker, taking on a ruddy complexion from the heavy flow of blood throughout every inch of his body. The vasculature overlaying his physique stood out in sharp relief. The ridges zigzagged along the tight, striated sinew beneath. The sculptress continued to massage his bulging muscles. She traced her fingertips along the slick warm flesh with its hot pulsing veins. It was like caressing a living anatomy chart. Despite his concentration and furrowed brows, Mike still grinned fiercely while he posed, his eyes dark but smoldering. He was getting aroused a great deal as the woman ran her hands over his gigantic and stunningly beautiful physique. His cock began to stand erect, but he paid it no mind. If it didn't freak her, then that was fine by him. It was part of the art of posing and all professional bodybuilders and models ignored it as a matter-of-fact. Mike crouched slightly over in this way and that, concentrating as he jiggled around to hit a variety of muscular poses in succession. He inhaled through a wide smile as he slowly raised his elbows on high, clasping his wrists behind his neck with his large hands. Placing one leg before the other, he tensed his thigh and flared his lats. As he exhaled, he crunched the plated muscles of his stomach, bringing fine definition and vascularity to the abs. "How's about an ab pose?" he asked. Euryale reached up, grasping the line of Mike's jaw gently in one hand and ran the open palm and fingers of the other along the front of the man's magnificent torso. "It's a terribly nice pose," she said to her subject as she petted his chest and stomach. "But I've already got one of those," she added, gesturing towards the statue of Craig. "Plus, it doesn't show off those really humongous arms and shoulders of yours as well as they should." Batting her eyes, she said, "Mmmm... try something else for me." Mike nodded. Arms, huh? Then he had just the thing. In one fluid motion, the handsome bodybuilder swung both his massive well-pumped arms out to one side, twisted his chiseled torso at the waist, and struck a mighty double biceps side pose. Freaky vascularity popped out along the entire length of his arms in thick branching ribbons, from his powerfully built shoulders to his massive fists with their large tightly-clenched fingers. His chest and shoulders, ruddy and slick with sweat from his posing, crinkled with rich striation. He positioned his legs in a well-balanced stance, his thick diamond-shaped quads and rock-hard calves holding his super-heavyweight bulk steady. His cock stood at attention, its nine thick inches stiffened to full erection.