Think Big To Be Big (1 of 2)


It’s evening down on the beach, and I’m taking my leisurely stroll down the sidewalk–the same walk I usually take each evening. It’s a bit of exercise I suppose, but not nearly enough to make my doctor happy. “You’re nearly sixty,” he told me at my last visit, “you need to cut that waist of yours down, or you’ll be dropping dead sooner than you’d like.” A flair for the dramatic, that one. I suppose he is right–275 is a bit heavy, especially on my shorter frame, but I’ve never particularly minded my size. I’d much rather have my hair back, than a slimmer waist, I can tell you that.

The weather is nice, but the place is quieter than usual at this time. Maybe it’s just the first chill of fall in the air, driving everyone indoors early. I enjoy the relative calm, and the cool breeze. There is one person out, up ahead. Some young musclehead standing by a small folding table, with pamphlets weighted down by rocks against the wind. He’s got on one of those stupid looking tanktops–far too oversized, so it drapes low from his shoulders–obviously trying to advertise his body. In fact, it turned out he was advertising a new gym a few blocks over from the beach–the tank was branded with the gym’s motto–”Think big to be big.” It made me chuckle–the guy didn’t look like he did a lot of thinking at all. I expected him to ignore me–after all, I was hardly within his target market, but he turns to me, and waves, walking over with a pamphlet.

“Hey bro,” he says–I bristle–“Gots a brand new gym opened up over at the corner of Third and Grove. First month’s free! All are welcome, if ya wanna get big!”

When he says that, he flexes both arms up–I can see the bush of hair in each pit, and my nose curls up in disgust–and then…and then I catch a whiff of him, on the sea air, and…and I don’t know what comes over me. I step closer. He raises one arm a bit higher. I try to look around, wondering if anyone might see this, what I’m about to too, but my eyes can’t tear themselves away–I start eating out his pit. He moans, rubbing his cock through his gym pants, moving my hand down to feel him…to see how…big he is.

A moment later, he pushes me away, leaving me with salty sweat around my lips, and a raging hard on in my shorts. He winks at me, says, “Think big, bro,” and hands me a pamphlet. The next day…I signed up for a lifetime membership at Think Big Gym.

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