Mark’s extra arms

by James Fourlegs

Mark really means it when he lends a hand.

“Hey, Mark, can you lend me a hand?” I said, as I got ready to move the stereo stuff into the new cabinet. “Sure,” he laughed, flashing me a smile from across the room as he leaned in from the garage-gym where he was working out.

He flicked his muscular right arm at me, and his hand came flying right at me, catching me by my right bicep. He laughed, disappearing into the garage.

“Darn it, Mark, I wish you wouldn't do that when I'm trying to keep my mind on something!” I said. I tried to pull the large, handsome hand off my bicep, but it playfully held on. It really rattled me sometimes, his sense of humor, especially since he knew how easily he turned me on. I quit trying to force the hand to let go, and instead ran my fingertips down between the long, graceful fingers of the strong young hand, and kissed the back of it. I slid my index finger under the palm. At that, the handsome long fingers closed gently around it. I rousted myself from the mess of stereo components and carried Mark's warm, heavy hand in both of mine back to him in the gym.

“Here,” I said. “Very funny.”

“You're welcome,” he smiled from under the immense up-and-down of the weights he was pressing. “I traded. You see that arm with those on the hanger? The one without the hand? That's the one.”

I attached the hand to one of Mark's muscular extra arms on the arm hanger.

The wrist section smoothly fit into the matching forearm end, and in a few seconds the seam vanished, and the hand relaxed. Damn, they were nice arms. I couldn't resist checking them out. I liked the way the arm hairs caught tiny glints of light, and the arms were still pumped from a recent workout. Mark rotated through all of his arms to work them out regularly, which not only did wonders for his physique and his cardio-vascular condition, but drove me wild with all the incredible, muscle-heavy arms he kept around.

I held the heavy forearms of a pair of right arms as they hung from the hanger, letting the hands relax in my own right hand, and feeling the biceps with my left. The arms ran all the way up to the bulging deltoids, and they were eye-poppingly, cock-spurtingly beautiful. Each of the specially made hangers held three heavy, dangling matched pairs of the gorgeous, long male arms. I was almost drooling. The hands of the two arms I was fondling gently clasped mine, and I ran my free hand up and down the smooth, muscular swell of both arms, loving their warmth and the light brush of the fine forearm hair.

The arms stretched and cuddled, their complex of well-developed muscles rippling as I held them against me.

“Wow, man, these arms of yours are really awesome,” I almost moaned.

“Thanks,” Mark said. He meant it, but I could tell his answer was a little brief, as it came during mid-set. He was doing rows with his special Nautilus equipment, and the wheels and cables turned back and forth in a complex slow waltz time as he worked the three sets of arms he was currently wearing. They gleamed with sweat as their radiant skin glowed with the workout, and Mark's face radiated the bliss of the endorphine-addicted athlete.

With this equipment, Mark didn't need my help during his workout, so I could be lazy and just drink in the sight of Mark's body as its magnificent muscles worked themselves into a swollen splendor. Normally, when Mark did his free weights, I spotted him, since we had been workout partners for years, since our earliest teens.

But now, I could lean back and enjoy my aching arousal as I watched his body.

The body he gave to me as my own. My body. My god, what a body Mark had developed. I was beside myself with desire, and from behind me I felt the warmth of Marks muscular extra arms as they lazily hung from the hangers. I backed my shoulders into the hangers, letting the three sets of arms rest on my shoulders and chest, with the long, heavy forearms and beautiful hands dangling down where I could gather them up in my own arms and press them to me. Since they were Mark's, they had his natural physical warmth and his gentleness, and they naturally held me of their own accord, returning my clasp.

“Oh, man, I need it bad,” I groaned to Mark, as my face pounded with the arousal that coursed through my veins. I was so hard and aroused that I felt my knees might collapse.

It only took a moment for the weights to stop moving and for Mark to get to his four feet and walk his quartet of bodybuilder's legs over to me. The only thing nicer than the six long, hot arms Mark wrapped around me now, and the six long arms from the hanger that rested on my shoulders and chest as I clasped them to me, was the deep, delicious kiss of his mouth on mine. I was surrounded by his maleness, wild and generous, and I was weightless, buzzed and stunned to the core of my being.

“That's why I'm here,” he smiled as he held me, my own developed muscles going warm and weak on me as I turned to butter in his gentle, enveloping symphony of arms. “Everything I have is for you.”

The audio equipment remained untouched for hours on end.

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