Everybody Loves Buck: Mason Edition

Mason was so happy he splurged on the sound-proof windows for his cabin. As he sat at the kitchen table with his laptop in front of him, he couldn’t hear a thing from any of the neighbors.

It was early spring in the northern hemisphere, with the leaves reappearing on trees and flowers beginning to bloom, but up in the mountains around Mason’s cabin, it definitely still looked like winter. The temperature hadn’t broken past 40 any of the days he had been there, and several inches of snow still blanketed the ground.

He had come up to the cabin to write. His first novel a few years back had been a big success, but he had struggled to come up with a second book. Mason decided that there were too many distractions back at his home, so he bought this cabin high up in the mountains where he wouldn’t be tempted to take a stroll to Starbucks or cruise for guys along First Avenue.

Unfortunately, he didn’t count on all the other folks also looking to get away to the mountains. There were five other cabins nearby, and several families with school-age children had arrived for spring break to sled, ski, and snowboard at the nearby resort. The kids around always seemed to be up early, squealing about in the snow, and the adults would get together in front of their fire pits for long meandering conversations (which always echoed through the area) about how lucky they were to afford their homes away from home. On top of that there was the sounds of cars, snowmobiles, and whatever new expensive toys were being tried for the first time.

To block out all that noise, Mason had the new windows installed, and they made all the difference in the world. It was completely silent in his cabin except for the tapping of his fingers on the keyboard. And as a result, he was finally making great strides in completing his follow-up story, and at the rate he was going, he would probably be done in a few more days.

Mason worked on his laptop all morning and didn’t get up until lunchtime. He realized he was starving and decided to make himself a sandwich or two – and maybe a can of chili. And a few cookies. Mason had always been a good eater and generally weighed between 200 and 220 pounds, which was a lot since he was only 5’8”.

“Maybe once I finish this book I’ll finally go on a diet,” he thought as he looked down at the tightness of his polo shirt around his flabby chest and belly. “I should try to look halfway decent for the press tour.”

Those thoughts dissipated once the food was ready, and Mason tore into his lunch like he hadn’t eaten in days. As he gobbled down the first sandwich, and then the second, he gazed out the kitchen window to see a large black truck had appeared in the driveway of the cabin next door. The license plate read BIGBUCK, and he wondered who that might be. He had seen an older couple at the place a few weeks earlier, but they drove an Explorer.

“I suppose they could have sold it. Or rented it to somebody. Or perhaps this Buck guy is their son? Or grandson? And I wonder how ‘big' he is?”

Mason didn’t have to wait long for an answer to his last question. A tall young man – maybe 6’3 or 6’4” by Mason’s estimate, and somewhere in his mid-20s – strode out of the house wearing a brown beanie, brown winter coat, jeans, and boots. Mason couldn’t tell much about the man’s physique because of all the clothes he was wearing, but he was definitely B-I-G in all the right places.

Forgetting all about his book, and his need to remove distractions from his life, Mason whispered, “Please, God, let him be the new owner.”

The man walked over to back of his truck and began pulling out what appeared to be some sections of a tree. He effortlessly hoisted them over his shoulder and stacked them near the woodpile on the side of the cabin.

“OK,” Mason thought. “He must have used a chainsaw to cut down a tree. Or he found a fallen one and carved it up. But those sections are still going to be way too big to fit into his fireplace.”

‘Buck” continued to pull the tree sections from the bed of his truck for about 15 minutes, and during that time he removed his beanie. Mason could see his wavy brown hair was quite sweaty, even though it was still only 35 degrees outside.

Once the tree sections were finally offloaded, the man retrieved an axe from the woodpile – he held it in his right hand and bounced it up and down a few times to make sure it had the correct heft, and then set the first tree section up on a large stump nearby. He paused for a moment, put both hands on the axe and raised it over his head, and then swung it down. The tree section was blasted in half, and both sides bounced off the side of the stump.

Mason instantly became hard. He had no idea wood chopping could be so erotic, but it was definitely going to infiltrate many of his future fantasies.

Buck picked up the two pieces and walked them over to the woodpile. He then selected another section of the tree and placed it on the stump. Whack! The axe came down again with the same force as the first time and blew this section in half as well.

Mason was in heaven, and didn’t want to take his eyes off the manly display, but he had to get the chili off the stove. He ran over, poured it into a bowl, and returned to his seat the kitchen table.

Two things were different when he returned: first, Buck was obviously getting warmer from his workout, and he had taken off his winter coat and tossed it aside. He stood there wearing a sweaty light blue t-shirt that was straining to contain his magnificent upper body. His arms were huge and pumped – Mason had never worked out before but had spent plenty of time jacking off to bodybuilder photos, and he knew these pythons had to be at least 21 or 22 inches around at their peaks. Buck also possessed a thick neck, incredibly broad shoulders, and a bulging chest that was capped with very pert nipples. Below his pecs sat an extended midsection that made him seem less like a bodybuilder and more like a World’s Strongest Man competitor – clearly Buck did not skip any meals. It wasn’t flabby, but solid like the rest of him, and every so often as he lifted his arms, Mason would get a glimpse of the bulky flesh underneath the shirt.

The second thing that Mason noticed was the Buck seemed bigger than before. He originally estimated the man’s weight to be around 220, but now thought Buck must have been closer to 250 or 260. Maybe even 280. Mason wasn’t sure what was going on – Buck just seemed bigger, or closer, or more in focus. Maybe the surrounding world was just falling away, but the constant staring at this hunk definitely made Mason harder.

Buck kept on chopping the wood he had removed from his truck. His energy never seemed to wane, and he kept throwing down the axe with a tremendous amount of force. Whack! Whack! Whack! The sweat poured down his forehead and stained additional areas of his shirt, but none of that seemed to bother the man.

Mason eventually finished his stew and left the kitchen table to grab some of the cookies he considered earlier. As he stood, he also decided to remove his pants and underwear. “Nobody will be able to see that I’ll be naked underneath the table,” he thought. “And my cock needs room to grow.”

So the writer disrobed from the waist down, took a package of Oreos from the cabinet, and sat back down in his chair on his naked ass.

As with before, two things had changed in the minute he had stopped ogling his neighbor: first, Buck had also stripped down, this time removing his jeans. He still had on his sweaty shirt and his boots, but the only other thing on was a pair of tight pair of black boxer-briefs wrapped around his groin and upper legs.

Like his arms, Buck’s quads radiated power. They looked like they had done a million squats with a million pounds – beefy and godlike, with a circumference so huge that Mason could hardly guess. 35 inches? 38? 40? “Tree-trunk” was not good enough to describe them – these were more like two Empire State Buildings holding up his body. Also impressive was the outline of Buck’s cock, which could easily be seen through the fabric of his briefs. Mason had been with his fair share of men, and he knew that all of those guys would have killed for even half the endowment the Buck had.

The other thing that changed was that, again, Buck looked both closer and bigger than before. “Was I wrong that he weighed 260, because now he looks like he’s at least 300 pounds,” thought Mason. “Or could he just really be pumped from the workout?”

Either way, Mason didn’t care. His right hand had moved to his cock and he was stroking it up and down as Buck whacked, whacked, whacked his way through the wood. Mason began fantasizing about a man who got bigger and stronger the more he exerted himself – not like working out, where the results would come with time, but a stud who could pack on the beef instantly just from a little effort. Of course that fantasy man was Buck, who in Mason’s mind was indeed growing at a phenomenal rate. Every time he raised that axe, his biceps would grow – from 22 to 23 to 24. And his mighty chest would swell up and bulge out from his rib cage farther and farther. And he’d be getting taller, too, transforming from well-muscled woodsman into a Paul Bunyan-like super-hunk.

Mason thought about having sex with someone that enormous and overwhelmingly masculine. Muscles everywhere, with an ego to match. Unflagging energy. A cock that wouldn’t stop. A total dominant alpha just fucking his brains out over and over and over.

The author felt like his groin was about to burst into flames as he stroked it. He was consumed with the thought of a monster man doing whatever he wanted and growing bigger muscles as a result. He thought about Buck taunting him, calling him names, and making fun of his weak body in a deep, guttural voice. “You cannot resist me,” Buck would say. “I’m the only man you’ll ever want or need.”

Cum suddenly shot forth from Mason’s cock and sprayed across the table. He closed his eyes and then passed out from pure ecstasy.

Sometime later, Mason came to and saw Buck staring down at him. “Where am I? What happened?”

“You’re in your bed,” Buck replied. “I saw you fall over through the window and got worried.”

Mason was confused. “But how did I get from the kitchen to my bedroom?”

“I hope it’s OK, but I came in. Your door was unlocked, and I carried you here after finding you on the floor. Are you hurt?”

“I don't think so. You...um...carried me to my bed? But I weigh like 225 pounds.”

Buck smiled and flexed his massive right arm. “That’s not a problem for me. You were as light as a feather.” The cuff of Buck’s right sleeve was frayed from the flexing of his arm, making it appear that it wouldn’t hold out much longer.

Mason, unsurprisingly, still felt aroused. His cock was already hard and pointing directly at Buck. “I’m sorry for meeting you this way. I usually make a more…um…dignified introduction. I’m Mason.”

“I’m Buck,” the big man replied as he placed his calloused hand of the author’s soft tummy flab. “And there’s no need to be sorry, Mason. You seem like a man who goes after what he wants. It shows confidence, and I find it quite sexy.”

“Well, OK, Buck. It's nice to meet you. And as long as you find it sexy, can you help me take care of the situation I got going on down below?”

“With pleasure,” Buck said, letting his fingers drift from Mason’s stomach to his groin.