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Wow. I saw this guy in my gym a while back and I almost creamed my pants. The epitome of my type, blond, beefy, the guy was huge. At least 6’2”. He was doing chest workouts with a tank-top that had trouble covering his belly. So I would catch it peeking out every-now-and-then. Bliss.
This was the first time Kerry Clark had been to this gym at lunch time. Practically empty with a small group of really hot guys—just how he liked it. His latest obsession? That Dutch guy doing push-ups. He looked almost Filipino…perhaps half?
“Guys like that never go for big guys like me,” he mumbled to himself, staring longingly at his happa-crush. Kerry moved to California to find a husband, but he never had the courage to make the first move. And now his crush was walking towards him, making un-faltering eye contact.
Every step closer his heart beat faster.
“How many more sets do you have?” Kerry’s stomach jumped into his throat. He couldn’t react. Couldn’t talk. Why did he always fall for the straight guys?!
I love guys with feminine names. Kerry, Terry, Allison, Judy…it’s so cute! Especially when they’re big and burly to counter their name.
