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Leader of the Pack
|When I was a kid I was in the Cub Scouts and the Boy Scouts. In fact, I finally became an Eagle Scout. I have to admit that I cheated a little bit in getting my Personal Fitness merit badge, which is required to become an Eagle. I think you had to do 15 pushups to get the badge and I was (and still am) such a wimp I could only do 8 or 10. But that’s another story. This story is about a kid who was definitely not a wimp, a kid named Johnny. Yeah, he has the same name as me. But that’s about the only thing that was similar between him and me.
Johnny was only six months older than me, but because his birthday is in October and mine is in March he was in a grade ahead of me in school. He was one of the youngest kids in his class, but he was always very mature for his age and seemed older. Ever since he was a little kid he had muscles. I kept forgetting that he was only six months older than me. I always thought of him as this bigger, stronger, older kid. He only lived a block from me, so we used to see each other all the time. But we didn’t really play together very much. Johnny was very athletic and played with the other athletic kids in our neighborhood. As said, I’m a wimp and just didn’t fit into their group. The one thing that brought Johnny and me together was the Scouts. We were both in the same Cub Scout Pack and Boy Scout Troop. The Cub Scouts is for little kids, ages 8 - 10 or something like that, and the Boy Scouts is for kids 11 to 13 or so.
From the beginning of my time in Cub Scouts, Johnny was the leader of the Pack. He had this natural-born leadership quality that I can’t really describe. I don’t know if it was his self-confidence, his athletic ability, his good looks or what, but right from the beginning, Johnny was elected our leader by the other boys and he remained our leader until he left the Boy Scouts at age 14.
I remember going on hikes with the Scouts. Johnny would always be the leader, blazing the trail as 15 or 20 of us followed behind him. When he hiked, he hardly ever wore a shirt. All he would wear was a pair of khaki Scout shorts and some hiking boots. He’d strap his pack across his back and lead the way up the trail. Even in Cub Scouts Johnny had muscles. When he strapped on his pack, his muscular shoulders would bulge out from the sides. As he walked up the trail, those of us behind him could see the fibers of muscle in his shoulders flex, unflex and flex again under his tan skin as he moved his arms back and forth. The other muscles we could see from behind were his calves. Johnny had very muscular calves from all the sports he played. With every step he took, those calves bulged as they powered his athletic body up the hill, the two heads of muscle standing out in bold relief. Sometimes I would stare at Johnny’s calves for 10 minutes straight as we hiked, watching those hard muscles flex and unflex again and again and again.
Sometimes when we hiked Johnny would set such a fast pace that some of us weaker boys couldn’t keep up. He and the other more athletic boys would get way out in front of us on the trail. I would usually end up being last in line. After we had hiked for 30 minutes or so, Johnny and the other jocks would be about a quarter of a mile in front. Then they would stop and rest, sitting down and taking a big drink of water from their canteens and maybe eating an energy snack. By the time I caught up to them, they were all rested and raring to go. When they saw me approaching, all panting and tired, they hopped up and started out again up the trail. So I only had time to drink a quick swig of water and hardly any time to rest at all. If I rested any longer, I would be left hopelessly behind. I thought to myself that life just wasn’t fair. The strong kids had plenty of time to rest and we weak kids had no time at all. Life is sure a lot better if you’re strong.
I will never forget one particular camping trip. It was the summer between 5th and 6th grade for me. Johnny and I were both 11 years old. Johnny would be 12 in October and he was going into the 7th grade. We were going to hike up to a mountain lake and camp overnight. We did this a lot. Two Scouts shared one tent. I usually shared a tent with my friend Roger, another wimpy guy like me. Johnny usually shared a tent with his friend Jeff, a kid from his class who was also a jock. Well, just before we left for the trip, the Scoutmaster told Johnny and me that both Roger and Jeff were sick that weekend so Johnny and I would be sharing a tent together. I hoped Johnny didn’t notice, but my eyes lit up. I was tremendously excited. I had fantasized many times about Johnny’s muscular body. Now I was going to be able to sleep in the same tent with him. This was a dream come true.
I looked at Johnny with eager anticipation. But then I started getting jittery. I thought that maybe he would think this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe he wouldn’t want to sleep in the same tent with a little wimp like me. Maybe he would ask the Scoutmaster to find him another tentmate. All of a sudden I started to panic.
But much to my relief, Johnny looked me in the eye and smiled. Then he grabbed my hand with a firm grip and shook it hard. “Hey, this is cool,” he said cheerfully. “The two Johns finally share the same tent.” Looking back, I realized that this was one of the reasons Johnny was the undisputed leader of the Troop. Even though he was far superior physically to most of the other boys in the Troop, he was everyone’s friend. He never bullied any of us or acted like a cocky asshole or anything like that. Oh yeah, once in awhile he’d show off how strong he was. Like some kid would challenge him to an armwrestling match and Johnny would easily smash the poor kid’s arm to the table.
And of course he usually would hike at a pace that us weak kids couldn’t keep up with. And we’d fall behind. Then he’d rest and drink water and be fully energized just as we caught up. He’d start hiking again, leaving us weaklings there panting. I’m sure he had no clue how painful that was for us. He just naturally hiked fast and when he was rested he just naturally took off, leaving us wimps in the dust. He didn’t really intend to be mean to us, it just happened. We wimps all accepted it. It was our fault for being weak.
Johnny seemed to just accept his physical superiority as the natural order of things and just expected that we would do what he wanted us to do. And he was right. He was a natural born leader. He had an inner self-confidence that was only strengthened by his physical presence. Even the wimpiest of the kids in the Troop knew that Johnny would stand by them in a pinch. Even though the wimps didn’t have a lot in common with Johnny, he was still their friend. Almost instinctively the rest of us looked up to him as our leader. We were eager to do whatever Johnny wanted. So it was totally in keeping with Johnny’s character that he said he was looking forward to sharing a tent with me that night.
We hiked up to the lake. It was a fairly long hike, about 10 miles up a steep trail with lots of switchbacks. We were all carrying heavy packs, with our tents, sleeping bags, cooking equipment and food. As usual Johnny and a couple of other jocks were way out in front of the rest of us as we hiked. And every time we wimps in the back of the line caught up to the place they were resting, they took off again, charging ahead. After about 5 miles my pack was really feeling heavy and I slowed down a lot. But I could tell that Johnny’s pack still felt like a feather to him. He seemed to have boundless energy. Every time I caught up, he threw his muscular arms under the straps and easily hoisted the heavy pack onto his back. His shoulders rippled with muscle. Then he easily stood up, lifting the pack as if it were nothing. Johnny’s pack was a lot heavier than mine was. Before we left the parking lot he agreed to carry our tent and all of our food and cooking supplies. He said the heavier pack would give him more of a workout. His thighs and calves looked really big and pumped as he stood up and flexed his quads. The super-heavy pack was definitely giving those muscles a good workout. Big slabs of muscle bulged in his thighs.
When I finally got to our camping spot I was totally exhausted. My skin was beet red and sweating profusely from the incredible strain my body had experienced. I was panting and wheezing, struggling to breathe. I felt terrible. I dragged myself into the campsite. I saw Johnny over on one side and I slowly stumbled over to him and threw my heavy pack onto the ground. Then I sat down to take a long rest. Johnny was already setting up our tent. He had the tent completely unfolded and had it neatly laid out across a very nice, flat piece of land. The ropes and spikes were all ready to go. When he saw me, he came over and stood over me. “Hey, man, are you all right?” he said. “You look really beat.” I nodded in agreement. “Here, drink some water. You’ll feel better.” Johnny handed me his canteen, which he had already filled up with cool water from the creek. I took a huge drink of the refreshing water, but I still felt like shit. I looked up at Johnny. He had a slight sheen of sweat covering his tan, muscular body, but otherwise he looked very fresh. He didn’t look the least bit tired. “Aren’t you tired?” I asked him. “Nah,” he replied. “That hike was a piece of cake. I could’ve gone another 10 miles no sweat.” He said this very matter-of-factly, as if it was completely normal for a kid like him to be so fit and in shape.
I looked at his legs, those legs that had just brought him and that heavy pack easily up the trail, with power and energy to spare. “Wow, your legs must be really strong,” I said. “Your pack weighed about double what mine weighed.” Johnny smiled and flexed his quads right in front of my face. “Yeah, they’re pretty strong all right,” he said. “That hike gave ’em a good workout, but they could have taken a lot more. They’re really tough. My calves are strong too. Check ’em out.” At that, he started to do toe raises, lifting his body up and down. He turned around so I could see the full glory of his calves as the muscles bulged with every rep. I had watched those calves for years but I had never seen them so close up and flexing just for me. They looked huge! “Wow,” I said. “Your muscles are incredible.” Johnny smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m glad you like ’em.” He was proud and confident but not arrogant. He knew he had a great body and I guess he didn’t mind another kid like me telling him so.
“Well, I gotta get back to work,” he said. “You just rest and I’ll finish putting up the tent.” As I sat there trying to recuperate, Johnny sprang into action. With military precision, he pounded in the spikes, guided the ropes and raised the tent perfectly. Usually this was a job for two boys, but Johnny did it himself easily. I sat there watching his body as he put up the tent. As usual, he was only wearing some khaki shorts and hiking boots. His whole body was right in front of me. He had light brown hair, cut pretty short, and hazel eyes. His eyebrows were very thick and almost met each other in the middle of his forehead. This gave his eyes and face a very powerful look. His face was square and handsome, with a strong jaw and chin. He had a perfect nose. His teeth were sparkling white. His skin was golden tan. He never wore a shirt in the summertime. As he worked, every muscle was perfectly coordinated. They all bulged and rippled in the right places and at the right times.
I couldn’t believe that this kid was only six months older than I was. We were the same height, but he must have outweighed me by at least 25 pounds and it was all solid muscle. His shoulders were wide and capped with muscle. I couldn’t believe that an 11-year-old could put that much muscle on his shoulders, but Johnny had it. His shoulders looked like those of a muscular teenager rather than a kid’s. His arms were very muscular. As he was putting up the tent, his biceps bulged into solid balls of muscle every time he curled his arms. I could see veins running across his arms under his thin skin. When he pounded in the stakes, his triceps exploded with shredded muscle as they powered the hammer to strike the stakes. It took him only about four blows to completely pound each stake into the ground.
His chest was big. His round pecs bulged with hard muscle. The muscle pushed out his nipples, which pointed firmly outward. His lats were extraordinary. Slabs of muscle that sprang out under his shoulders like wings and tapered down to a very trim, athletic waist. He had an incredible set of abs. All the kids in our Troop agreed that Johnny’s abs were the best of any kid they had ever seen, even much older kids. Johnny had an eight pack of shredded, corrugated muscle. Not a gram of fat covered that muscle, which pulsated under his tan skin right in front of me as he worked to pitch the tent. He had a firm, round butt, made of solid muscle just like the rest of him. And I already told you about his legs. They were big and muscular, the quad muscles bulging under his skin every time he bent down to pick something up.
I was mesmerized watching Johnny’s body. I guess I was kind of dreaming, because the next thing I knew, Johnny was standing over me again. “All done,” he said proudly. “You feeling better? Here, get up. Lets go see the other guys.” Johnny bent down and lifted me up off the ground. I was amazed at his strength. He just lifted me up like I was a toy. We went off to play with the other guys. Running through the woods, fishing in the lake, climbing rocks, playing Frisbee, just doing the things that Scouts do on a camping trip. Johnny naturally gravitated to his jock friends because they could play the rough games he liked. But every so often he would come over to me, ask me how I was feeling and smile or wink. He was a totally cool guy.
After an afternoon of activity, we cooked our dinner and ate around the campfire. After dinner we told scary stories for about a half-hour and then the Scoutmaster said it was time for bed. It wasn’t too late and it was still light, but he said we had to go to bed anyway because we had to get up very early the next morning. So Johnny and I said goodnight to the other kids and walked over to our tent. It was a very warm evening and Johnny still wasn’t wearing a shirt. When we got inside our tent, Johnny took off his hiking boots and then stripped off his shorts. All he was wearing was a pair of tight, white Jockey briefs. Without saying a word, he dropped to the ground and started doing pushups. He cranked out the pushups incredibly fast. I sat in awe watching his muscular arms pushing his body up and down like pistons. At the time, I could only do about 3 pushups and here was Johnny pounding them out like they were nothing. After easy 50 reps, he sat up facing me.
“Wow,” I said. “That was incredible. I wish I could do pushups like that.” Johnny smiled. “I do pushups every night,” he said. “I do 4 sets of 50 reps. I can do a lot more reps, but the 4 sets of 50 give my muscles a great pump. And they really seem to be growing. They’ve gotten a lot bigger in the last six months. I do pull-ups and sit-ups too. Four sets of 25 pull-ups and 4 sets of 100 sit-ups. I’m gonna do the sit-ups in a minute. I guess I’ll have to skip the pull-ups tonight ’cause there’s no chinning bar here like I have at home. The pushups are getting way too easy for me. I can do over 100 of ’em no sweat. My pecs — all my muscles — need more of a challenge. This fall when I’m in seventh grade I’m gonna start lifting weights. They’ve got a weight room at the junior high school and I’m gonna start training there. I can hardly wait to start pumping some heavy iron. Those weights are gonna make these muscles grow like crazy.” He looked over at his right arm and flexed his bicep. Instantly, a big ball of muscle bulged up under his skin.
Johnny looked over at his bicep proudly. He moved his forearm up and down several times. We both watched the big muscle extend and contract each time he flexed his arm. With each flex his bicep seemed to get a higher peak on his arm. It seemed to get bigger and more defined. It was getting totally pumped. I could see the fibers of muscle under his tan skin. Veins were crisscrossing the muscle. His forearm looked like a bowling pin with shredded muscle and veins popping out everywhere. He reached over with his left hand and squeezed his flexing bicep. “That mother’s really hard,” he said approvingly. He looked over and saw me staring at his bicep with my mouth open and my eyes practically bulging out of my head. “Hey, go ahead and feel it, John. It won’t bite you,” he said with a big grin on his face. My hand was trembling as I reached over and placed my fingers around Johnny’s bicep. Then I squeezed my fingers and was stunned by what I felt. I immediately pulled my hand away in a state of total shock. I was blown away by how hard that muscle was. It felt like warm rock. I had never felt human flesh that was so hard. I didn’t think human flesh could get that hard. I looked at Johnny’s bicep and then I looked into Johnny’s hazel eyes. He was still smiling. “Pretty hard, isn’t it?” he said. “But you didn’t feel it enough. You pulled away so fast you didn’t get a good feel of how big and hard my muscle is. Go ahead and get a good feel. I don’t mind. I think its cool you like my muscles.”
I was amazed at how relaxed Johnny was about me feeling his muscles. He was so open and uninhibited. It seemed as if he liked to show off his muscles to a wimpy kid like me. Without hesitation, I moved my hand back up to Johnny’s bicep and wrapped my fingers around the big ball of muscle. I squeezed as hard as I could, but I couldn’t make the slightest dent in the rock-hard fibers. Johnny grinned as he watched me feel his flexed arm. I ran both my hands over his upper arm and his forearm, feeling every bulging fiber and strand of muscle as he smiled and moved his arm up and down, flexing both his big bicep and his shredded, hard tricep. Tingles ran up and down my spine, as I comprehended the strength and hardness of his muscles. He let me feel his arm for over 30 seconds, 30 seconds of pure pleasure. This was the most incredible experience I had ever had in my 11 years of life. But even more pleasure was yet to come. As I was touching, feeling and squeezing the shredded hardness of his muscles he said, “Are my muscles hard enough for you John? You seem to be really liking them.” I nodded in total agreement, not able to speak. He grinned. Then he put down his arm and looked me in the eye. “I’m gonna do some more pushups,” he said. “But I want you to help me this time. Since regular pushups are so easy for me, I want you to put your hand on my back and press down while I’m doing ’em. That’ll give me some extra resistance and give me a better workout.”
I nodded my head, still not able to get out a word. Johnny dropped to the floor again and I placed my left hand in the middle of his back. He started doing pushups, fast and steady pushups. “Push harder, John,” he said. “I can’t even feel that.” So I pushed harder on his back, in fact as hard as I could. “That’s better,” he said, but the pressure of my hand didn’t seem to make a bit of difference and he kept cranking out the pushups fast and steady. “Hey, John,” Johnny said. “Put your other hand on my tricep.” I placed my right hand over the triceps muscles of his right arm. The muscles almost burst out of his skin every time he pushed his body up for another rep. They were as hard as steel and I could feel the three heads of muscle individually bulging under my fingers. “Pretty hard, huh?” asked Johnny, knowing what my answer would be. “Yeah, Johnny,” I said, finally able to speak, “they feel like steel.” Johnny seemed to get an extra burst of energy when I said that and he pumped out the pushups even faster. I squeezed the solid iron of his triceps as he pumped.
After he finished exactly 50 reps he stopped and sat up right in front of me. Our little Boy Scout tent was too short to allow either of us to stand up. So we sat on the ground right next to each other. Johnny was starting to sweat. I could see a light sheen of sweat covering his tan skin. “Wow, that was great,” he exclaimed. “My pecs and triceps really got a good pump from that set.” He jutted out his chest and flexed his pecs. I looked at the bulging muscle and gasped. I could see the striations of the muscle fibers rippling in his pecs. The hard muscle was pushing out his erect nipples. They pointed directly at me, firm and round and hard. Johnny looked down at his big chest and smiled. “Lookit how pumped they got, John. Lookit how big and hard those pecs are. Go ahead and feel ’em John. Go ahead and feel how big and hard they are.” Johnny was totally proud of his muscles and he wanted me to appreciate them.
Without a moment of hesitation, I placed my hands on Johnny’s pecs and squeezed the big, round, hard muscles. His skin was now sweaty, so my hands easily ran over its moist hardness. Johnny proudly flexed and unflexed his pecs for me. Every time he flexed, it felt like rocks were in my hands. He alternated his flexing, first flexing his right pec and then his left. He laughed as I stared goggle-eyed at his big pec muscles flexing at his will. I dug my fingers into his pecs as hard as I could. At first, he relaxed and let my fingers sink into his firm flesh. Then he flexed his pecs and that flexed muscle ballooned and turned into solid rock. My fingers were blasted away from that muscle like they were little insects. I got a twinge in the pit of my stomach as I took in the incredible strength of those pecs. I ran my fingers into the cleavage between those two bulging globes of muscle and then back over the round, striated hardness. I just couldn’t fathom how an 11-year-old kid could have that much muscle in his chest. Then I started circling his firm, erect nipples and finally pinched them with my thumbs and forefingers. I kept stroking and pinching those big nipples, hard young nipples that proudly popped out of his bulging pecs. Johnny closed his eyes and made a low moaning sound, a sound of pure pleasure, as I manipulated those sensitive organs.
After a minute or so of this, I moved my fingers up to his big delt muscles. Those muscles had also gotten a great workout from the pushups and they were bulging like little cannonballs on the tops of his shoulders. I kneaded his delt muscles with my fingers, feeling the hard striated muscle as he moved his arms back and forth, his rippling delts flexing and hardening with every motion. His delts felt so hard and thick. As I was kneaded his delts, Johnny looked me in the eye and said, “My shoulders are really strong, John. I’ve always had strong shoulders. I bet I could pick you up and lift you over my head. I’ve done that with some of my friends. Maybe I’ll try that on you tomorrow.” I gulped, as I thought of the power in those young deltoid muscles I was feeling. Johnny raised his arms up and down several times, pretending his was lifting a heavy weight, a weight like me. I reveled in the feeling of his delts flexing and bulging as they powered his arms up and down.
Finally, Johnny lowered his arms and dropped to the floor again. “Third set,” he said. “Try to press harder this time.” He started pumping out pushups as I pressed as hard as I possibly could on his broad, muscular back. “Feel my pecs working, John,” said Johnny. “Feel those mothers pumpin’ up and gettin’ huge.” I reached my other arm under Johnny’s body and felt his pecs as they powered his body up and down. The muscles bulged with incredible hardness with every rep. I could feel with the tips of my fingers the individual strands of muscle that crossed his bulging pecs like striated iron cords. Slowly I moved my hand below his pecs onto his abs. It was amazing how hard and shredded Johnny’s abs were as he was doing the pushups. Every ab muscle was as hard as a brick and I could easily feel the individual ridges between those rock-hard muscles that made up his washboard. “Pretty hard, huh?” said Johnny, as I fondled every ridge of his tight ab muscles. He knew what the answer was.
I moved my hand up onto his lower back, just below my other hand. I was amazed at the size and hardness of the two ridges of muscle in Johnny’s lower back. I kneaded that muscle with my fingers, pushing even harder on Johnny’s back as I pressed in with my fingers. But the muscle was so hard I couldn’t make the slightest dent. Johnny’s lower back was a fortress of muscle. Next I moved my hand down to his firm, round butt. His ass was moving up and down as he did the pushups. I placed my hand directly on top of one of the big globes of muscle and squeezed. Johnny’s ass muscles were so hard that it felt like I was squeezing a bowling ball. I ran my fingers over his tight jockey briefs, feeling his strong ass muscles bulge under the white fabric and trying to penetrate his tight ass crack. His glutes were so hard that I couldn’t get my fingers into that crack at all.
After exactly 50 reps, with me pushing as hard as I could on his back, Johnny finished his third set of pushups. He quickly sat up and faced me again. He was sweating more, but he didn’t look the least bit tired. He jutted out his pecs and flexed them for me. “Feel ’em, John,” he said. “Feel ’em good. They’re pumped and hard as hell.” He pointed his nipples right at me. I knew what he wanted me to do. I placed my hands on Johnny’s incredibly pumped, hard pecs and rubbed them all over. I pressed hard into Johnny’s flesh. After I had pressed into his flesh for a moment, he flexed. My fingers sprang back. It was like I was pressing into solid rock. Solid mounds of rock. Slowly I worked my way towards Johnny’s big erect nipples. I knew he wanted me to pinch them right away, but I wanted him to wait, to enjoy the anticipation. Finally, after massaging his hot, sweaty, bulging pecs for awhile, I started stroking and pinching his stiff nipples. He closed his eyes and started moaning, louder this time as his pleasure was reaching new heights. I kept this up for about a minute. Johnny started rolling his head around, totally enjoying the sensuous feeling his nipples were experiencing. Finally I stopped and he opened his eyes, looking directly at me, obviously disappointed that I had stopped. “You’ve got one more set to do, stud,” I said. “Now get to work.”
Johnny dropped to the ground and then looked over at me. “Ya know, John, those pushups were still way too easy even with you pressing on my back. I wanna really push these pecs to the max. I want you to lay on my back while I do my last set. Your whole bodyweight as extra resistance. That’ll give my pecs an incredible workout. They’ll grow like crazy.” I thought Johnny was crazy himself, thinking that he could do pushups with me lying on his back. But I hopped on, straddling his muscular body and hanging onto his big delts. Immediately I felt his muscular bubble butt bulging into my soft gut and crotch. My little cock was hard, as it had been from the moment Johnny started doing his pushups, and I hoped that he couldn’t feel it pressing into his musclebutt. Without hesitation, Johnny started doing pushups, with me hanging on for dear life to his shoulders. I felt those delts bulge with every rep. The muscles were so striated that I could feel the individual fibers flex under his thin skin. I started moving my hands around, feeling his triceps and pecs as well as his delts, as he cranked out the incredibly heavy pushups. With every rep my hard cock pressed against Johnny’s firm, round ass. I knew he could probably feel it but he didn’t say a word about it. After about 20 reps he started slowing down a little. I couldn’t believe that Johnny could do 20 pushups with a kid lying on his back while I couldn’t do even three pushups with just my own bodyweight. Johnny was super strong! After 25 reps he stopped and bucked me off his back.
I landed on my own back. Johnny immediately climbed on top of me and pinned my arms to the ground. I looked up at his handsome face and hazel eyes. “That was great!” he said. “That was a fantastic chest workout. Look how sweaty I am. My muscles are red hot!” He released my arms, sat up and flexed his biceps. They bulged with incredible definition. His tan skin was reddish from all the blood flowing into his muscles. Veins were popping out everywhere. I reached up and felt both of his flexing arms, squeezing the hard muscles and feeling the rippling fibers. Johnny looked over at his right bicep and smiled as he saw the bulging muscle flex under my little fingers. Then I moved my fingers over to Johnny’s big torso, feeling his shredded delts, his pumped-up lats and of course his incredibly bulging and pumped pecs. Finally I started rubbing my fingers over his washboard abs. They were hard even though he wasn’t even flexing them. “Hey Johnny,” I said. “Its time for your situps. You told me you always did four sets of 100 reps. So get going! I wanna see these hard little mothers do some work!” Johnny smiled and rolled off my body.
He got on his back, bent his knees, put his hands behind his head and started cranking out the situps. He did them incredibly fast. It seemed like he was doing about one per second. I kneeled behind his knees watching his thin tan skin ripple as his abs flexed and unflexed underneath. His tight, white jockey briefs were very low on his hips, clinging to his hot, sweaty body. Every cut of his eight-pack ab muscles, from the bottom of his chest to the top of his crotch was clearly defined. The muscles seemed to undulate under his skin as they tensed with each rep. In what seemed like no time, he had finished 100 reps.
He got up on his knees and faced me. He looked down at his abs and flexed the hard muscles. “OK, feel ’em, John. They’re warming up. They’re starting to get really hard. One hundred reps is nothing for my abs, John. I did 1,000 situps once in a contest as school. The teacher made me stop because I had already beat all the other kids by 950 reps. My abs are really strong and tough.” I reached down and placed my hands on Johnny’s hot, sweaty abs. I poked my fingers into the muscle and it felt like I was poking into rock. His abs were incredibly hard. Then I ran my hands over the washboard of muscle, feeling every crevice and bulge. “Wow, Johnny,” I said. “Your abs are so buff. They’re as hard as bricks.” Johnny looked down at his rippling muscles and said “Yeah.” He didn’t have to brag. He knew I was just stating a fact. I ran my hands lower and felt the muscles of his oblique muscles, which slashed up from his crotch to his narrow hips. He had ridges of muscle that I had never seen before. His obliques gave his lower abs an incredibly sexy look. They seemed to point directly at his crotch. I stared at his tight white Jockey briefs, thinking to myself of what might lie underneath.
Suddenly Johnny flipped over on his back, bent his knees and started doing situps again. I sat right over his abs, watching those hard, tight muscles work. “Feel ’em, John,” he said. “Feel ’em while they’re working. They get really hard when they’re working.” I placed my fingers on Johnny’s abs as he raised and lowered his torso at an incredibly rapid speed. The muscles were as hard as steel and they undulated under his thin skin as he moved up and down. I moved my hands up and down his abs, reveling in the feeling of the washboard of muscle. His skin was very sweaty by now, so my hand literally glided over the corrugated iron. I pressed down with my fingers as hard as I could but it didn’t faze Johnny in the least. It was like he couldn’t even feel it. He just kept cranking out the situps. Finally after exactly 100 reps he stopped and kneeled beside me again.
“Good pump,” he said, looking down at his eight-pack, which was now shredded to the bone. I stared in amazement at Johnny’s washboard. Sweat was now dripping down his skin, making the rippling muscles stand out in bold relief. Suddenly Johnny made both of his hands into fists and started pounding on his abs. He was really pounding those muscles hard. Every time a fist hit the flexed muscle it made a loud smacking sound, like it had just hit a canvas mat covering a sheet of solid iron. Johnny smiled approvingly as he watched his steel hard abs easily deflect his own strong blows. “These mothers are really strong and hard,” he said as he rubbed his hands over the corrugated muscle. “Here, you try it John. Punch my abs as hard as you can. Let’s see what you can do to these babies.” I sort of hesitated and shook my head. I didn’t want to hurt my friend. “Come on, John,” he said. “You can’t hurt ’em. They’re tough. They can take anything you can dish out.”
So I made a fist and pulled back my right arm. Then I landed what I thought was a really hard punch right in the middle of his gut. My fist made a loud smacking sound as it hit Johnny’s abs. It bounced off the hard muscle like it had hit a steel plate. I didn’t make the slightest dent in the muscle and my hand really hurt from the impact of the punch. Johnny grinned. “Try it again. Punch me lots of times with both your fists.” I made both of my hands into fists and pummeled his abs with about a dozen hard punches. I tried different angles and different parts of his abs, high and low. Nothing made a difference. I was punching a brick wall. I was punching a wall of thick, hard muscle that felt just like a brick wall. Finally I stopped and Johnny broke into a broad smile. “See, I told ya,” he said. “My abs are stronger than any punch. Lots of kids at school, kids a lot bigger than you, have tried to punch my abs but the same thing happens to them. They give up punching because these abs are just so strong and hard.” I stared in awe as Johnny flexed his abs, making them undulate under his sweaty, tan skin.
Johnny looked over at my stomach. “Lemme feel what you got,” he said. He reached over and squeezed my flabby gut. My gut was so soft and mushy that he was easily able to poke his fingers into my stomach. He gently pinched my skin and saw the fat roll up in his fingers. Then he pinched his own fat-free skin which was as thin as paper under his fingers. “My abs are a lot different than your abs, aren’t they John,” he said. “You just don’t have any muscle at all and I’ve got tons of muscle, real hard muscle.” He made a fist and pulled back his arm, like he was getting ready to punch my gut. I got a look of total horror on my face as I saw his big arm and shoulder muscles flex, preparing to unleash devastating power to his big fist. He looked at his arm and then looked at my gut and smiled. “Don’t worry, John,” he said. “I’d never hit you. I know what these muscles could do to you. I’ve beat up some kids real bad, but they asked for it. Its not your fault you’re so weak. You’re still a good guy. Besides, I wouldn’t want to have to carry you all the way down the hill to the hospital!” He laughed at his joke and wrapped his muscular arm playfully around my neck in a mock wresting hold. After squeezing my neck just a little with his big bicep, he rolled over onto the ground and started his third set of situps.
I kneeled over Johnny as he cranked out the situps. This time I used both of my hands to feel his muscles as they worked. I glided my hands over his sweaty skin as the hard abdominal muscles underneath pulsated with each rep. I felt his thighs and marveled at how his quads flexed into hard slabs of muscle each time he raised his torso. A couple of times my hands “accidentally” roamed over his tight, white Jockey briefs and felt his cock underneath. His cock felt big and almost like it was half-hard as he cranked out rep after rep of easy situps. Johnny kind of glanced at me through the side of his eyes and grinned as my hand touched his cock through the fabric of his briefs, but he pretended not to notice and he didn’t slow down the fast pace of doing the situps. After exactly 100 reps, he stopped and kneeled in front of me again. Johnny and I were facing each other on our knees inside the small Boy Scout tent.
Almost instinctively, I reached over and started feeling Johnny’s shredded abs again. I just couldn’t get enough of his buff muscles. Johnny looked down at his white briefs and then he looked over at mine. My little dick was poking out against the fabric as hard as it could. It had been just like this the whole time Johnny was working out, but he never let on that he noticed. “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” he said. He completely startled me by saying this. For a moment I didn’t understand what he was talking about. But as I saw his eyes looking at my stiff cock, I knew exactly what he meant. “OK,” I said, trying not to reveal the enthusiasm in my voice. Without a moment of hesitation we both ripped off our briefs and kneeled in front of each other buck-naked. “Wow, your dick is at full attention,” said Johnny. “It must like what it sees.” He flexed his abs and as I looked at the throbbing muscles, my cock jerked up still another notch. He smiled.
I looked at Johnny’s cock. It was only half-hard, but it was already much bigger and thicker than mine. “Feel my pecs, John. Feel ’em the way you did before. Do that thing to my nipples again. That felt really cool. That was totally sweet,” said Johnny, as he looked down at his pecs and his cock. The big organ started getting harder even as he was saying this. He pushed out his chest and flexed his pecs. His hard nipples were erect and firm, being pressed out from his chest by the solid muscle underneath. I reached up and started feeling Johnny’s pecs. He relaxed the muscles and I drove my fingers into the firm flesh. Then he flexed and my fingers felt like they were being pushed away by hardening steel. He flexed and relaxed and I pushed and kneaded. My cock was rock hard as I took in the awesome size and hardness of Johnny’s pecs. Johnny’s cock had also gotten hard. It was now pointing straight up against his abs. It was several inches longer than mine and much, much thicker. Slowly I moved my fingers closer to his erect nipples and started circling those erotic, sensitive, pleasure-points. He started moaning. Then I started pinching them, sometimes with my thumb and forefinger and sometimes with my other fingers, all the while digging my fingers into the muscles of his pecs. His moaning got much louder. I looked down and watched his dick twitching up and down, rock hard and throbbing. “Oh, John,” he moaned, “that feels so good. I’ve never felt so good before.” I watched as his cock twitched and flexed without being touched by anything. “Looks like your cock likes it too, Johnny. It’s flexing just like the rest of your muscles. And it’s huge. It’s twice as big as mine. It’s big, just like your muscles.” Johnny looked down and watched his thick, steel-hard cock twitch back and forth and up and down. Then he said, “yeah, I guess it’s big and strong just like the rest of me.” At that he jumped at me and wrestled me to the ground. I could feel his hard cock digging into my stomach as he pinned my arms up over my head. He thrust his hips up and down, forcing his stiff cock up and down my soft gut in a moment of primal domination.
We spent the next five minutes wrestling, both of us completely nude and our cocks both rock-hard. Johnny easily pinned my arms to the ground many times. Then he’d drop down on top of me and rub his sweaty body all over mine. After awhile, my whole body was covered with sweat — Johnny’s sweat. Sometimes he’d pin both of my arms with one hand and rub his sweaty armpit in my nose, covering my nose and face with his jock-boy sweat. I loved breathing in the smell of his sweat, the sweat of a real athlete. Then he’d let me go and let me pin him. He’d relax his powerful muscles and let wimpy little me pin his arms to the ground. Then I’d drop on him and rub my skinny little body all over his big, muscular chest. I’d thrust my hips up and down just like he did, rubbing my hard little cock over his shredded, washboard abs. He’d laugh when I’d say “give up?” as I pressed his arms over his head. “Not yet,” he’d say as he began pressing his muscular arms up off the ground, effortlessly lifting me up with them. Then he’d easily flip me over and pin me again.
Sometimes, he’d get me into a half-nelson, forcing my arm up my back but not enough to hurt. I’d try to escape from his hold, but he was much too strong. Then he’d let me get him into a half-nelson and let me force his arm up his back as hard as I could with both of my arms. Then he’d look at me with kind of a sly grin and say “is that all you got?” When I nodded “yes” he would start extending his arm and there was nothing my two little arms could do to stop him. His triceps bulged and rippled with shredded muscle as his arm pushed my arms out of the way like annoying insects. Then he’d laugh and tackle me, wrestling me to the ground again.
We were playing like two young puppies, one big muscular puppy and one little wimpy puppy. But puppies nonetheless, enjoying their youth and their bodies. Johnny and I both knew that he could have crushed me like a grape. But he never tried to hurt me. We playfully wrestled together in youthful bliss, bonding together with every pin.
Finally he stopped wrestling and rolled over on his back to do his last set of situps. I was totally exhausted after the wrestling and couldn’t have done one rep of anything. But Johnny was still fresh and energized and started effortlessly cranking out the situps totally nude in front of me. By this time I was completely uninhibited and moved my hands around every part of Johnny’s glowing body, including his still-stiff cock. He smiled as my fingers felt his rock hard muscles and cock as he did his situps. When he finished his 100 reps, I jumped on top of him and we wrestled again for a few more minutes. I would have liked to hold onto Johnny’s body all night, but we both decided that it was time to get some sleep. We put our briefs back on and lied down on top of our sleeping bags. We were both too hot to get inside the sleeping bags. Johnny’s body was still sweating profusely. And it was pretty warm outside. So we lay on our backs and talked for awhile. We talked about all kinds of things. The kinds of things 11-year-olds talk about. I found out that Johnny was going to play football in Junior High School and High School and probably college as well. He was the starting quarterback on his Pop Warner team and he was looking forward to being the quarterback on his school team too. He said all the kids on his team and all his coaches thought he was a great quarterback. I could see why. Not only was Johnny an incredible athlete, but he was a true leader and a kid who didn’t put anyone down. I would have followed him anywhere. After college he wanted to be a jet fighter pilot. I told him I wanted to be a lawyer. Of course any kind of sports in school were out of the question. Johnny said he understood.
Finally Johnny said he was getting sleepy and he stopped talking. Within a matter of minutes I could hear the deep breathing of his sound sleep. I looked over and saw his abs going up and down with each deep breath. They moved up and down effortlessly as they helped his athletic lungs take in big breaths of air. His barrel chest also expanded and contracted with each breath. His pecs and abs were still very defined, even asleep. I just kept watching Johnny’s sleeping body until it got completely dark. Then I finally went to sleep, dreaming the whole night of Johnny doing pushups, Johnny doing situps, Johnny playing football, Johnny wrestling with me.
The next thing I remember I looked up and saw Johnny sitting on top of me, still dressed only in his tight, white briefs. It was morning, and the bright sun was streaming into our tent. “Wake up, sleepy-head,” he said. “It’s gonna be a great day!” He flexed his arms and smiled. He was right.
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