My Fantasy Night with the Incredible Bulk, Part 1

OK, this is just story, but I wish it was real! It all stems from this magazine cover from 1989.

I’ve never told anyone this story before, so you’re going to be the first to hear it. I swear every bit of it is true, and it’s about one night over 30 years ago that completely changed my life.

I guess I should start by introducing myself, in case you haven’t heard of me. My name is Trevor Montana, and at the time of this story back in the spring of 1989, I was a 21 year-old student at a small college near Los Angeles. I had gotten a scholarship to play football at this school – and only this school – making it the sole place my family could afford for me to go. I had hoped to play on a powerhouse team like USC or UCLA, but I wasn’t near big enough to get recruited into the Pac-10. I was decently sized at 6’1 and 210 pounds, but still probably the smallest college lineman in the country.

I was getting my education paid for, and that’s what mattered, so I played the hardest I could for my team. We didn’t have a winning season through my junior year, but I had hopes that things would turn around when I was a senior in the fall.

Most of my time that spring was spent in class or staying in shape for football, but I had taken on a part-time job at a restaurant to earn some extra money. My scholarship covered tuition and room and board, but I still had expenses like my car/gas/insurance and nights out with the boys. I think I got hired mainly due to my size and strength – we did a lot of catering and private get-togethers, and the manager needed a few young bucks to carry the heavy stuff.

So one night back in May of 1989, I was scheduled to work in the banquet room. A small party had reserved it for the evening – not because they needed all the space, but because they were having some sort of celebration and wanted privacy. As the restaurant was near downtown LA, this request usually didn’t mean it was going to be a birthday party or bar mitzvah, but rather that someone famous would be in attendance.

I arrived in the mid-afternoon, helped get the area set up, and then stuck around for the dinner. I wasn’t going to be the waiter, but would help bring out food, keep the glasses full, and make sure everything went smoothly. I got dressed in my standard service uniform of a white button-down shirt and black slacks. I checked myself out in the employee break mirror and thought I looked pretty good – the outfit was a bit tight, but that just helped to better show off my football-conditioned body underneath.

Around 7:00pm, a group of men in nice suits and women in fancy dresses arrived, none of whom I recognized. But then the final member of the party ducked his head and entered the front door: Tony Mandarich! I had just seen him on the cover of Sports Illustrated and could not believe he was at the restaurant. He was just as big as the magazine had said at 6’6” and 315 pounds. Unlike everyone else who had dressed up for the night, Tony was wearing a tight black t-shirt that tightly hugged his muscular torso and what looked like the same shorts he wore on the cover of S.I.

And that cover – fuck me – that was some photo! I remember when it arrived in my mailbox and how I got a huge erection within seconds of seeing it. Back then, before it was easy to find beefcake shots splattered all across the internet, those types of photos were few and far between in magazines or on TV. As soon as it arrived I went back up to my bed and jacked off three times in a row because Tony was just my type – huge, cocky, and not afraid to show off his assets. That slight hint he was about to pull down his shorts – woof!

Anyway, I digress…

Turns out the party was the celebrate the recent NFL draft, where Tony was the second athlete chose after Troy Aikman, and the other guests were mostly sports agents and managers and their spouses. The group took their seats and those of us working shifted into gear: the water was poured, the appetizers came out, and alcohol was delivered. I did my best to stay focused on my tasks and not ogle America’s newest and most famous pro offensive tackle, although I did spend way too much time wondering why Tony was the only one who didn’t seem to bring along a spouse or a date. Maybe he was still looking for “the one?”

Even without a date, however, Tony seemed to have a good time. He chatted with the others, made several toasts, and ate everything that came his way. I swear I didn’t see him turn anything down. The bread, the crab cakes, the mozzarella sticks – he inhaled it all. I guess one does not become the Incredible Bulk by eating light.

Every so often Tony would let out a large belch, which made the other diners laugh, but I found them incredibly erotic. He was a man doing fuckin’ manly things and he didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought.

After a while the group ordered entrées and Tony selected the largest steak of the menu – and then, figuring that it wouldn’t be enough to fill him up, asked for a second. When the man seated next to him asked if he was worried about eating too much red meat, Tony just laughed. “Fuck no,” he replied. “I can’t get enough. Every time I eat protein it makes me feel even bigger and stronger. Like it’s going straight to my muscles and pumping them up.” Then he hit a double bicep pose and those guns did their best to rip right through the fabric of his sleeves.

If there was anything he could have said or done to turn me on even more, that was it.

I’d been trying to avoid Tony most of the meal for fear of jizzing in my pants, but at one point I had to go over and refill his water. I could see him eyeing me as I got closer to his chair – he cruised me up and down – and then he slyly winked as I began to pour. I smiled. He smiled. I raised my eyebrows. He licked his lips. A lot was communicated in those 5 seconds, but I knew at that point we were on the same page.

After filling his glass, I remained standing next to Tony waiting for my next task. He was on one of the ends of the table which gave me a great view of everyone’s settings, and of course I wanted to stay close to the hunk in case he needed anything.

What Tony needed, apparently, was me. Using his left hand, which was discreetly out of sight of the other dinner guests due to his position at the head of the table, he gently put it on the back of my thigh and gave it a squeeze. I smiled again, nodded, and took a half-step closer to him to signal my approval, and he slowly slid his hand up toward my ass, groping my hamstring all the way up. Within a few seconds he had worked his way up to my ass and began caressing my butt cheeks and doing his best to finger the crevice in-between.

I let a slight moan, hoping the din of the rest of the group would cover my utterance. Tony then glided his hand under my ass and tickled my balls, which caused an even greater moan (it felt fucking amazing!). That one I tried to disguise as a cough, but I'm not sure how successful my deception really was.

I would have stayed there forever, but duty called about a minute later and I had to resume my work. Also, another few seconds of Tony’s fondling and either his finger would have torn through the fabric of my slacks, or I definitely would have cum – and I’m not quiet when I do it. In fact, I’ve been told I’m quite loud. The moans I gave when Tony was touching me are nothing compared to the howls I give later.

Anyway, I moved around the table and held the water pitcher and bar towel in front of me so the others could not see my erection. I could feel Tony’s eyes on me the whole time, and it felt awesome. Here he was the hottest new star in the NFL, and he was checking me out. I was in heaven!

The dinner finally ended around 9:30pm, and while the others headed home, Tony said he was going to grab a drink in the bar. The rest of the staff and I cleaned everything up in the banquet area, I changed back into my sweatshirt and jeans in the employee area, and then headed home…making sure to leave through the bar. My eyes locked with Tony as I past his table, and he smiled at me again. Tony quickly stood up, threw a $20 bill on next to his empty glass, and followed me outside.

Once on the sidewalk, he silently motioned toward the cabs parked outside the restaurant and we both got into the first one in line. Tony grabbed the seatback to leaned forward, and as he did so, he put his free hand directly on my crotch and gave it a squeeze. It felt really, really, really good, so I put one of my hands on top to make sure he kept it there.

Tony gave the driver an address I didn’t recognize, and then leaned back. As we sped off, his musky scent quickly filled the car – it was as if he just had so much testosterone that it was surging out of his pores. I closed my eyes and took a big whiff, imagining what the rest of the night would hold.