This is a story, based on an actual incident that I experienced with a friend of mine, which I posted to the old MuscleGrowth muscle forum. Names have been changed to protect the guilty. 

I met a friend for dinner and it devolved into something else entirely.  We met up at the restaurant, and we hugged.  I always like hugging Gary.  He has a tiny waist and a nice chest and I enjoy the contrast between the two.  He also has nice arms and is strong and isn’t shy about giving me a good squeeze when we hug.

When we got seated, he removed his jacket before sitting down.  He was wearing a t-shirt with an ornate pattern printed onto fairly thin, yes, cheap, cotton fabric.  The shirt fit him well: snug around his arms, not quite so snug around his chest and loose around his waist.

“You’re looking good, Gary.  Still working out I can see.”

“Yeah.  Thanks.”

Then Gary did something completely unexpected.  In all the years I’ve known him, he’d never done anything like it.  He lifted up his left arm and flexed it!  He brought his arm up and flexed his left arm, keeping it close to his torso, and curled his fist right up close to his shoulder.  His biceps balled up in a wonderful tight ball of hard muscle, then he curled his fist around and back making his biceps slide closer to his fore arms, then back again.  He admired his own muscles.

Note: this is NOT a photo of my friend, but I thought an illustration would be nice.

I was completely shocked!  It was such a surprising thing for him to do, and in a public place, too.

“I figured I’d flex since you’re gonna comment on my arms anyway later in an email.”

Well, he was right about that.  I usually did shower him with praise for his physique after our get togethers.  I rarely said much more than “looking good”, or “still hitting the gym” or some such when we were face to face.

He pumped his flex a couple of time, still admiring his muscles, then turned to look at me and raised up his other arm flexing it too.  Both arms were held kind of close to his torso and not up high, with his fists up close to his shoulders.  Then he flexed his chest, too.  His face had a look of…I don’t know what, a knowing grin?  Smug superiority?  Cockiness?  Embarrassment?  All of those?

Again, NOT my friend, but a nice illustration of the moment.

“Wow!  Fucking amazing!”  I sputtered.  Unprepared for the display of muscle, I didn’t know what to say.

He relaxed and picked up the menu.  My eyes settled on his biceps as they supported the menu.  A prominent vein traced down the front of his biceps and down his fore arms.

“Shit, Gary, your arms are big!  That was sick.  You’ve made some gains in the past year or so.”

“Yeah.  Thanks.  I thought you’d like it.”

“Thank you for flexing for me!  I’ve always wanted to see you flex, actually.  I’ve always thought you were hot.  And you’ve only gotten hotter with more muscle.  Of course, you know I’m a muscle queen.”

“Yeah.  I can tell.  When we get together, you rarely look at my face.  You’re always looking at my chest or my arms.”

“Sorry, about that.”

“No, it’s alright.  I know you’re into muscle and I take it as a compliment.  And after we get together you always mention my arms or my chest or both.  So I thought you’d like it if I flexed for you.”

“Man, you thought right.  That was amazing.  And you did it right here in the restaurant.  That is so Alpha!”

“Alpha?”

“Yeah, like the Alpha Male, the Alpha is the man in charge, the man that everybody looks to and admires.”

“Me?”

“Totally!  The Alpha is the guy who is confident in his skin, in charge, not afraid to flex his muscle.  He is the top dog and expects to be deferred to.  He is worship worthy and knows it.  That was a total Alpha move, Gary.”

He looked dubious.  But he also sat up a little straighter and his chest puffed out a little.  He looked around the room.

“Did anybody else notice?”

“Honestly, Gary,” I said, looking around the room myself, “I didn’t notice.  I only had eyes for you and your muscles.”

He put the menu down.  Then he surprised me again.  He flexed both arms, lifting them both up like a bodybuilder would, parallel with the floor, keeping his fore arms at a 90 degree angle to his upper arms.

Still NOT my friend, but an awesome illustration.

“Total Alpha Male, Gary!  Damn, your arms are big!”

He looked at his left biceps, then turned and looked at his right biceps, then turned and looked straight at me.  This time, the look on his face was totally confident and cocky.  All embarrassment was gone.

“You like this, Dave?”

“Yes, I love it.”

Gary glanced around.  I followed his eyes.  Yes, other people in the restaurant were looking at us.  He looked back at me and nodded.

“Totally, Alpha Male, Gary.”

He relaxed and picked up his menu again.

“That was fun,” he said.

“Totally,” I agreed.  I was still recovering my composure.  But I wondered how far he was willing to go.  A thought occurred to me.

“Gary, can I feel your arm?”  I looked him in the eyes.

“Here?”

“Sure, why not?”

He thought for a split second.  He leaned forward and placed his right elbow on the table and flexed his biceps.  I quickly leaned forward and reached over the table with my right hand and grabbed the ball of muscle.  It was hard and warm in my grasp.  I squeezed it and he flexed it harder.  It was really amazing.  I’d never felt another man’s biceps before and certainly never conceived of doing it in a public place.

Still NOT my friend, but imagine leaning across a table to grab those biceps!

“Wow,” I whispered.  “It’s so hard.  It fills my hand.  It feels even bigger than it looks.  I can hardly grasp it all with one hand.”

He rolled his fist forward and back.  His hard, flexed biceps slid under my hand.  I squeezed it harder and he pumped his flexed arm.

“Shit, that’s just fucking amazing, Gary.”  I tore my eyes away from his arm and looked up at his face.  He wasn’t looking at me.  He was looking at another guy a couple tables away who was staring at us.  The look on Gary’s face was unfiltered confidence.

“That’s right, Gary.  You are a total Alpha Male.  They all want to touch your muscles.”

“They do, don’t they?”

I looked around the room.  I caught several eyes darting away; embarrassed looks flitting across faces.

“Yes, Gary, they do.”

The waiter came over, with an odd look on his face.  It was a look of stern friendliness.  “Ah, gentlemen,” he paused, looking down on us, “I’m sorry, but, ahh, could you not do that here?  This is a restaurant.”

He looked down at me with a trace of disdain.  He looked down on Gary with a different expression altogether.  Jealousy?  Desire?  His eyes flicked over Gary’s chest and arms.

“I’m sorry,” I said, ready to resume a normal meal.

The waiter, did he just roll his eyes at me?

“Is this really a problem,” Gary asked, lifting and flexing his left arm and twisting his torso slightly to the left to face the waiter.

I noticed the waiter, swallow hard and lick his lips at the sight of Gary’s fled muscle.

“I mean, really?  Is this a problem,” Gary said, lifting his right arm up so that his hand was on the back of his neck.

The waiter looked around nervously.  I could see other tables all looking at Gary.  He kept his eyes on the waiter and switched his arm positions, so that his left arm was up behind his head and his right arm flexed.

“Ah, sir, please.”  The waiter’s head moved like he was trying to look around the room, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Gary’s muscles.

“What?  Is there a problem?” Gary paused, switching his arm positions again.  “Touch it.  You know you want to.  Feel my muscle.”

“Ah, sir, no, really, please.”

“No, feel it.”

I could see the internal battle going on inside the waiter’s mind.  He glanced quickly around the room and reached out with his right hand and touched Gary’s biceps.  Just as he did Gary tensed it harder.  It looked like an electric shock had hit the waiter, as he yanked his hand away so quickly.

“No.  Feel it.  Grab it.  Really get your hand on it.”

The waiter let out a small groan.  He reached out again with his right hand and grasped Gary’s tensed muscle.  His eyes went wide with wonder.  Clearly without thinking, he brought his left hand around and tried to get both hands around Gary’s big biceps.

Gary pumped his flex and rotated his fist, making his muscle dance under the waiter’s double grip.

“So is there really a problem?”

“Ah, no, sir.  Not really.  Damn.”  The waiter let go.  “You must be a very strong man.  Your muscles are like stone.  Sorry, do you want water?”  He scurried away before we could answer.

“You are so fucking the Alpha Male, Gary.”