Muscle Man Novels & Stories

that is why you have suddenly lost your sense of reasoning. This isn't about sex, I said quietly. Oh? Oh, it's not? You want to tell me that you have never imagined him bending you over? You haven't? I blinked, because I had, and I had done more than that. I had touched myself to the sound of his voice. I had touched myself to interviews of him, and the subtle brush of his skin against mine has almost made me feral. He's a changed person, and I understand why you would not believe that, but we actually talked. He makes me feel comfortable. He listens when I talk. He doesn't laugh when I stutter. He could have been cruel and made jokes and treated me like I was still that kid in high school,

a middle-aged man from the tribe said to a bald, burly man furiously. The bald man was over two meters in height and held a steel rod in his hand, as thick as a grown man’s thigh. The sight of him was extremely shocking. Moreover, every part of his body was encased in bulky muscles.

Another one roared. "Can someone call security?" The others suggested. "Don't worry, ladies. I'll handle this." They all looked satisfied when a man walked towards Marionne. He looked like in his mid-40s, yet still, look formidable and elegant. "I know you, Marionne, right?" Marianne felt like he was showered with ice-cold water. The man in front of him was the father of Ava. "Uhm—yes—yes, sir." He struggled to answer.

Every inch of his body displayed his ripped muscles. I just smirked. Although I knew that there was no way I could have beaten that man I came with a plan. I saw Kyle give me a pleading look. “Don’t worry, I have fought worst. Go ahead I don’t want to fight you.” I said and he visibly relaxed then as he was walking away and got a glimpse of my new opponent, he tensed. I just shrugged it off and I got in my fighting stance. The man walked on the ring raging like a bull. I think his name was red bull. And man did it fit him.

*Punch* *groan* *screams* * kicks* Covering my ears I looked for him. My head snapped to a long tall, strong, and masculine man in a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. I gasped watching the way his muscles bulge every time he hit his prey. I gasped in horror watching his other side. Today he is looking like a furious devil ready to burn down hell in his fury. Everyone present there is trembling after watching the monstrous side of him. He was fighting so inhumanly that even I started to get scared of him. Is he the same man who was pampering me like a child a couple of minutes before? No!

the man says with a sad smile. Blossom? Where have I heard that name before? How do I know this man? Or how does he know me? He’s 5’7” with black hair that’s shaved at the sides and back, deep dark brown eyes, peachy-gold skin, a pointed nose, a sharp jawline, and rounded chin. He has a tattoo going down his left side and inside his left bicep. He’s only wearing a pair of sweatpants and he is covered in muscles.

He holds a similar energy just like his father's but I refuse to be intimidated by him. "I don't want to have anything to do with you, clearly you're nothing like the girls I like. You're simply not my type". he smirks as his grey eyes scan me, more like checking me out. Oh I definitely know how to deal with cocky jerks like you! "The feeling is mutual Mr..." I try to remember his name "Nathan" he completes "Nathan" I repeat. You can't be my type, you're too old for me, what are you like, 30?"

A towering figure, tall and massive, walked with an air of intimidation. The man's physique was imposing, muscles straining against the fabric of his dark shirt. His skin was a tapestry of scars and tattoos, each one telling a story of a life lived on the fringes of society. This was Macho, a man known for his brutality and ruthlessness in the criminal underworld.

I hear Valeria say, as I glance back to see her move up onto her knees slowly. “That wasn’t me,” I comment, making her frown in confusion. “How are you doing that?” Manon hisses. “She’s not. I am,” says a deep voice to my right. I look over to see a muscular man with mixed-Asian features standing at 7’4” with muscles that even as a lesbian I can appreciate. He’s wearing a black tank top that dips low at the sides and grey sweatpants, and no shoes. He looks like he just rolled out of bed but in an attractive way. He has bright azure blue hair and piercing crimson eyes. Wait, he’s a sanguidae? With magic? Power is radiating off him like a nuclear bomb just waiting to detonate, and I realise wh

His upper torso was bared to my view, perfectly sculpted muscles on display. My eyes went to a wound on his chest that was knitting itself back together, a testament to his werewolf healing abilities. So whoever had been in the basement…had hurt him too. The thought made something in my chest ache. He turned fully towards me and I couldn’t help but admire him. The man before me was a vision of strength and power. With broad shoulders and chiseled muscles, he stood tall and confident, his defined abs and arms rippling with raw primal strength. Even with his injury, he seemed perfect, like a living sculpture of the Greek god, Adonis.