Gym Fights

Guysmiley: I’m in Philly for a conference and stepped into a bar adjacent to my hotel. As I take a stool and order a drink, I see an arm wrestling match going on across the room. I have to admit the one fellow is a welcome sight, muscles everywhere. I sip my drink while watching the action.

Price: I see this fit older guy at the bar watching me entertain the few guests. There value if bar half a block from the best gym in the city. Post work out food and an occasional drink is always welcome. But I love the cocky gym rats who want to continue to primp and prime and mask in their after work pump. Arm wrestling just feels like a great way to blow off excess testosterone. And I love putting every growing arm to the test.

Price:

Guysmiley: I’m watching the match intently when I realize you’re staring at me, eyes locked as you slam your opponent’s arm to the table. It’s as if you’re challenging me. The defeated bloke gives up his chair but no one else takes his place immediately. Eyes are still locked on me.

Price: “Let’s see what that built old timer can do. Free geritol for the loser”. I call over to you as I flex up my bicep.

Price:

Guysmiley: Talking to his friends nearby but loud enough for me to hear, he issues a challenge disguised as an insult. That’s when he sealed the deal by flexing. I couldn’t guesstimate its size but close to ny own 17 inches. I swallow my remaining drink then slowly get up and walk towards your table.

Price: I knew you looked like worthy adversary and I’m happy you took the bait. “Damn Sir. You don’t miss arm day do you?”

Guysmiley: His bicep still flexed, a couple of his buds rubbing or squeezing it, greets me. “Damn sir, you don’t miss arm day, do you?” It’s an innocent enough question but I can see on your face that you’re anxious for a reply. I sit down in the empty chair across from you and reply, “Nope,” as i give you a double bicep show.

Price: “Not a bad display of muscle there pops. I always appreciate mature muscle. You want to see how you compare against a youngish buck?” I put my elbow on the table. I show off my forearms and biceps.

Price:

Guysmiley: You’re quite the exhibitionist as you continue to display your muscles. I can’t help but admire it as you place your elbow on the table in front of me. “I appreciate it,” I reply as I bring up my opposite elbow. “I have one request, that we do a true test of strength where we just use our arm power, not our body weight. What do you say?” Your buddies are leaning in closer, not wanting to miss any of the action.

Price: “I’m all about the arms.” No need to use anything else. I somehow know you have actual real power in those things”. I grab your hand. Locking a grip. Look at you and nod.

Price:

Guysmiley: Reaching across the table, you grab my hand and I can already feel your tensile strength as you lock in on our grip. No one starting us…just a simple nod…and it’s on, as both our biceps engage, hardening like marble. I give you a smile. The noise around us is all for you in the moment.

Price: Your bicep swells up and I feel a burst of power. I hold you steady as we engage. No one moving an inch but our exertion is clearly evident. I slowly twist my wrist to force you to adjust. I take a nice slow approach as I hope to grind you down so we can enjoy the pump.

Guysmiley: The exertion between us is palpable…each giving a little but then regaining position. A slow and minute twist of your wrist forces me to adjust but not enough to gain the upper hand. Grind against grind, sweat developing on my forehead…you’ve got more gas in the tank than I gave you credit for. My eyes flick to your bicep, your veins looking like a roadmap. Time for me to show you what taking me on is all about. With a roar, your arm is pushed towards the table.

Price: I watch you strain but I know the dude has power. It’s evident. My wrist twist forces you to adjust but not allowing me to get the top roll I was after. You give a nod as if acknowledging that you have a strategy. You flex up and I see the muscle fibers work. This is getting fun and you push. Hard. Effectively and my arm does go down toward the table. The guys watching gasp. I squint. I grip harder and I push your arm back up though not quite to the top. Power and your ego refuse to give my even.

Guysmiley: There it goes I think as I see your arm going down…that is until it’s not…your grip tightens in my hand and we change direction…fuk as the two hard-muscled forearms switch positions…almost…as I somehow stop the momentum just shy of their starting position. From the disappointing groans of your buds, I know I’ve gained ground….now to keep it.

Price: My buds are stunned at the position. It’s rare. But this was earned. I don’t deny it I breathe in. I flex and do a quick fast burst of power into the arms to attempt to get us back to the start and potentially down to my side.

Guysmiley: I don’t figure you lose easily, If ever, as I witness your bicep nearly doubling in size as you do a quick move of relaxing, then attacking with a burst of power that threatens to end the match as my arm is almost slammed to the table top before I respond, putting everything I have into reversing your attempt. I hear your buds cheer with hope before groaning as I bring us back to the starting position. I’ve lost my edge but at least I haven’t lost. My arm is shaking from the explosion of energy by us both.

Price: You succumb to my power but manage to stop me in my tracks. I get within a whisper of winning but you fight back. You stop my progress and push me back up to the start. I smirk. I tighten my grip. My knuckles turn whiter and I push into you and slowly take you half way down. But you dig in. Make a stop. And hold me there in a stallmate.

Guysmiley: It takes everything I can muster to bring you back to the starting position and even more as your grip turns both our knuckles white as you start pushing my arm back down. A deep breath and my arm stops you, holding you there about halfway down to the dismay of your buds. They pound the table in frustration.

Price: I simply smirk. I grunt and twist your wrist and at the same time thrust a good quick push as both of our biceps rise up. My forearms flex and veins pop out as I feel your arm starting to quiver and shake. I pull hard. And I feel you start to drop as my friend let out a yell.

Guysmiley: There’s not much I can do about the smirk twisting your mouth, any more than I can about the tremors in my arm from the strain. Pulling the same wrist twist and sudden influx of power as  before and both of our biceps swell, our veins popping as my arm starts on its descent once more. Suddenly, your friend who lost to you earlier, let’s out a yell that nearly scares me. But what it actually does is awaken my testosterone and with it, my own power burst that literally brings your arm back up and over. I give you a smile as I go for the win.

Price:

Guysmiley:

Price: I see the strain in your face as you come back. My eyes widen. I smile this time and slowly and forcibly start to inch your arm down. Slowly. Deliberately. Inch by inch as my bicep grows and pumps. My knee knocks into yours as I turn your wrist. I watch your face get red.

Guysmiley: The sudden influx of power has you looking bug-eyed but as you smile at me deliberately, I feel your own power level slowly start bringing my arm back down. I’m holding you with all my might, turning my face red as inch by inch, the table top gets incrementally closer. I pour everything I’ve got in my tank but the silence I now hear from your buds tells me all I need to know…it’ll soon be over.

Price: And thud. I get the hot muscle daddy down with a final push. The effort shows on both our faces as I keep your hdnd down for effect.

Guysmiley: The sound of my hand hitting the table top is almost unheard over the noise your buds burst out with, hands slapping your back, words of congratulations…your final push bringing you the win. I figure my face shows the extreme effort as does yours. You continue holding my hand down in a sort of “beat you old man” sign of superiority. “I concede to the better muscle,” i say as you finally let go of my hand. I stand and shout to the bartender, “drinks all around on me.” 

End of part 1