The Strength Contest Part II : Squats

The Contest Part II :  Squats

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Jamal continued, “…let’s see how strong your legs are.”

Mule’s felt an unaccustomed flash of self-doubt.  If there was one area of Tyrone’s body that was particularly intimidating it was that pair of redwoods that comprised his legs.  Mule found himself looking down at Tyrone’s legs again, and yes-- it was confirmed; those babies were big.  Tyrone now allowed himself to look at Mule, and a very slight smile formed at the corner of his lips.  If Mule had to concede anything, it was that this gorilla had him beat in the leg department. Man, those legs were as thick as most men's waists. Mule's mouth just may had finally written a check that his ass couldn't cash.  He just stood there sneering.


The squat rack, although very large and heavy, looked very simple.

Jamal gave the men their instructions.  He was particularly pleased with this contest since he participated in it, kind of.  Mule would go first.  He would do as many squats as he could-- but in addition to a barbell with 300 pounds on his back, he would also have the added weight of Jamal sitting on his shoulders.  Afterward, it would be Tyrone’s turn

The two musclemen walked to the rack.

“Mule-- you’re first,” Jamal said.

Jamal climbed up on the rack and Mule bent under the barbell that had been loaded with 300 pounds.  After he stood up with the weight balanced on his muscular shoulders, Jamal lowered himself down, placing his own massive legs around Mule’s head, draping his calves and feet in front of Mule’s chest.  His taut butt nestled onto Mule’s trapezius muscles.  Mule could feel the mass of Jamal’s python cock at the back of his neck.  Mule’s hands were raised onto the barbell, balancing it.  Jamal balanced himself by placing his strong hands on Mule’s bunched-up deltoids.

“Proceed, Mule,” Jamal smiled.  “And remember-- We want to see full, deep squats.

Mule shifted his, and Jamal’s, weight-- 500 plus pounds, from leg to leg, positioning his feet for the squat.  As he prepared, he looked over at Tyrone, who was standing strong, obviously fully recovered from his loss at on the bench contest.  Tyrone’s cock was at full mast, hopelessly probing the air as he contemplated the next muscle match.  What other response could he have?

Mule’s legs twitched as he bent his knees.  Slowly, he lowered himself.  Jamal sat comfortably, enjoying the smooth ride.  Mule went deep-- lowering into a full squat; his upper legs were parallel with the floor.  If Mule knew how to do anything, he certainly knew how to do a proper, full, squat.  He tightened his legs and raised upward.  The 300 pounds plus Jamal’s body-- Mule estimated it to be maybe 240 pounds-- was a weight - 540 lbs. -- that he had squatted countless times for reps; although the distribution of the mass, with Jamal riding so much higher than the barbell, took a little getting used to.  It required more balance, more control.

After the preliminary squat, Mule felt better about his chances.   Yes, it was difficult to concentrate, but he completed the second squat with deftness.

During the third squat, Jamal slowly flexed his ass cheeks on top of Mule’s traps, causing a momentary loss of concentration on Mule's part.  Mule struggles; Jamal's giant thighs and the feel of his balls on the back of Mule's neck had become highly distracting to him.


Mule faltered at the sensation, but quickly recovered.  He could hear Tyrone and Jamal both chuckle. As payback he grinds the back of his head against Jamal's trapped meat and hears him gasp.

At the sixth rep, Mule began to tire.  He slowed.  The reps came with much more effort now.

Fuck, that monster is heavy.  And the high distribution of the weight was taking its toll on Mule’s balance.  Balance takes a lot of work.

By the eighth rep, Mule’s legs were quivering uncontrollably.  His quad muscle fibers were vibrating like boiling water, and he was unable to make them stop.  He pushed laboriously to straighten his legs, and he groaned loudly.  At the top of the rep, Jamal massaged Mule’s shoulders again with his powerful glutes.  Mule fought to concentrate.

Slowly, he lowered himself for a ninth rep.  He didn’t feel very good about this.  He bent his legs cautiously.  The two men moved downward.  Mule settled into the bottom of the squat, but he knew he was in trouble.  With all his might, he pressed his feet into the floor.  He gritted his teeth.  His upward progress was minimal.  He stopped.  He inhaled, and then panted.  Then inhaled again for one last push.  “Aggggggrhgggg!” he yelled.  Still, barely any movement.

Jamal reached up and grabbed a bar above his head.  He pulled himself off Mule’s shoulders, bending at the waist, raising his legs in front of him.  He did a pull-up to put even more distance between his body and Mule’s.

At this relief of weight, Mule pressed himself all the way up, and then racked the barbell.  He grabbed the side of the rack, nearly falling to the floor-- but not quite.

Jamal gymnastically moved and dropped his beautiful body to the ground, landing on his feet, standing. He flashed one of his dazzling, seductive smiles that Jamal used often to great effect.

Mule was exhausted, too exhausted to succumb to Jamal’s charms.

Both Jamal and Tyrone applauded.  “Good effort, Mule,” Tyrone said.

Mule felt like he was going to puke.  He remained bent over, breathing hard.  He was also still having a hard time controlling the twitching in his quads.

As soon as Tyrone was ready, he ordered Jamal up onto the top of the rack.  Jamal climbed up, and Tyrone positioned the bar on his thick, wide shoulders.  Jamal sat down on Tyrone’s shoulders.  Jamal's mighty cock began to grow, just being in this position.  Tyrone was so firm, so strong below him.

Tyrone did his first squat purposefully. Jamal steadied himself on Tyrone’s delts, as he had done with Mule.

Down-- all the way down again.  It was a deep squat; and Tyrone held it there more than enough time to make it a legitimate squat.  Then he pressed his legs into a straight position.  He seemed to rise effortlessly.

Down again, and up again.

Jamal flexed and rippled his powerful glutes, massaging the massive shoulders under them.  “Ahhhh,” Tyrone sighed as he completed a rep.  “That feels really good, Jamal.  Do that some more,” he taunted.

Jamal kept it up, it didn’t seem to be distracting him.  Indeed, with each repetition, Jamal’s muscular massage of Tyrone’s shoulders did in fact appear to invigorate the black giant.

“Ohhh, yeah,” Tyrone laughed.  “Your ass feels so good on my shoulders.”

Tyrone didn’t seem to be slowing down at all.  He had gotten to eight reps, and was easily settling into his ninth.

Then the tenth.

Eleven...unnnnnn.  He was slowing down now.  But it didn’t matter.  He and already done more than Mule had done.

Tyrone stood with the weight balanced on his mighty shoulders. He wasn’t even bothering to grip the bar, it was of such little consequence. But, after allowing the awesomeness of his strength to sink in with those watching, eventually he did so and racked the bar.

“I know you probably don’t want to get off, Jamal,” Tyrone said.  “But try and force yourself.”

Jamal reached up to the bar lifted himself up, jumping down behind Tyrone.  Tyrone turned around and grinned.  “Sorry, Mule,” he smiled with teeth so perfect and sensually seductive lips.  “Guess you need to do some work on those puny legs of yours.”

Mule sneered.  Annoyed, yet irritatingly attracted to the beautiful perfection of Tyrone.  He wanted to smash his fist into the ebony stud’s face, yet his cock swelled with disloyal salutations.

“Come give us a kiss, Ty,” Ursula smiled.

Tyrone bent over to lay a sensual, wet kiss on Ursula.  The blood rushed to his cock as he did, causing it to stir.

Tyrone kiss with Ursula was long, and Mule found himself thinking about what Ursula was feeling with that powerful god’s face in hers, and his thick, long tongue in her mouth.  As they kissed, Ursula ran her hands over Tyrone’s mounds of muscle—her fingertips exploring every contour in reach.

When the kiss ended, Ursula whispered something into Tyrone’s ear.  Jamal obviously heard what Ursula had said, because an evil grin formed on his gorgeous mouth. Tyrone stood and walked toward Mule.

He looked down at his legs and put his hands on them.

“Ursula wants to see a little more what these babies can do,” he smiled.  With that, he pushed Mule to the floor and quickly maneuvered him into a scissor hold.  Mule tried every move he knew to prevent the hold.  But even though he knew what was coming, he was unable to stop it.  Tyrone was simply too powerful.

Tyrone’s gargantuan legs wrapped around Mule’s torso.  He played with his heel on Mule’s calves, running his feet up and down Mule’s lower leg, teasing him.  He flexed his quads.

Mule’s hands were on Tyrone’s quads, trying to push them away.  But quickly, as they began to feel the boulder-hard striations of huge muscle, his hands faltered, opting instead to feel out the massive trunks of human rock.  Tyrone locked his ankles and began to tighten his hold.  His legs grew and hardened into the biggest vise grips on earth.

Mule groaned.  “You’re mine, bitch!” yelled Tyrone as he got Mule into a full body scissors.  He squeezed with all his might.   Tyrone reached over to smack his rivals’ muscle butt.  “You’re ass belongs to me, Muscleboy.”

Tyrone squeezed the air out of Mule’s powerful lungs.  With unrelenting force, his legs tightened their grip even more, bending Mule backward.  The pain was excruciating.  His lungs were being expunged of all air.  He began to feel faint.

Mule pounded Tyrone’s quads with his fists, flailing.

But Tyrone seemed to enjoy the ineffective effort of the huge man.

Still the powerful legs squeezed.  Jamal jumped in to pull Tyrone off Mule.

“Take it easy on him.  We have a lot more planned....”  Jamal said to Tyrone as he bent down to Mule and slipped his hands under Mule’s lats, lifting him and helping Mule back up to his feet.

As Mule regained more of his strength and looked up into Tyrone’s eyes, Ty said: “Sorry about that, buddy.  Guess I just didn’t know my own strength,” the big black ape continued.

One each so far and all to play for. From the way he had explored Ursula's mouth with his tongue, it looked like Ty figured he was home and dry. His eyes were like lightning bolts directed at Mule. All Mule could see were those impossibly wide shoulders and massive biceps but Mule had taken him before and could do it again...

“There’s one final contest for this particular game,” Jamal announced.  “Arm wrestling.”

***Continued in "The Contest Part III :  Arm Wrestling"***