Oh, shit, Konrad, that sweet fresh boy nearly creamed himself then and there, just from hearing how I swore to take him! I spat out some of the dirtiest language a gay man ever said or heard, and he loved that, too. His cock was so hard every time I grabbed it, that he begged me to stop jerking him, because he didn’t want to come too quickly. I warned him that he was only allowed to shoot at my command. He couldn’t even touch my dick without almost going over the edge and orgasming.
After holding him down on the mat and grinding my oily naked body and my slippery cock against him a few times, I finally jammed my dickhead in between his sexy glutes, and I felt his incredibly tight virgin hole resisting me. With a little more effort, I pushed myself through his pucker and inside his anus, and he yelled like a girl. But within a few seconds, he was sprawled there on his back with his legs in the air and his butt raised and pressed into my crotch, taking my cock, begging for it, loving it. I raped his ass. But, as they say, you can’t rape the willing, lol! Patrik was with me all the way, so hot for it that he was practically out of his mind with lust.
A boy’s first fuck, yeah, that’s always something special.
He was stroking his dick while I fucked him, hard. I knew that my big muscle prick jammed up his ass must be hurting him, but I didn’t care. His hot tight fuckhole was just too exciting to screw. My balls ached and my dickhead kept spitting out pre-cum while I pounded his butt, sliding roughly in and out of his ass, making a man out of the boy, teaching him what sex between guys was all about. While I hammered him, I grabbed his big dick and I started jacking it off.
Konrad, you wouldn’t believe the amount of cum that kid shot off. Or maybe you would, because I bet a real muscle stud like you is a dirty dog, just like me, who’s had his share of such juicy young muscle pups, begging you to fuck them, to initiate them and break in their butts.
The moment I felt Patrik’s no longer virgin hole throbbing around the shaft of my meaty muscle shaft, squeezing down on it in an orgasmic frenzy, my own goddamn cock was so overstimulated that I spewed out my own huge, thick load of sperm, deep inside his sweet young ass. Oh, man, what a fuck! What a come! Shit, dude! In that moment, I was the most sexually satisfied guy in Budapest. No, make that in the whole of Hungary!
That sexy little muscle bitch now knows that he can come to me any time, and I’ll use him right, continuing his training—and I’m not talking about weight training, lol! He’s coming over to my place again tomorrow night, after the gym, and I’m trying my damnedest to keep myself from shooting off a load in the meanwhile, because I want to save my seed for my boy. I’m going to see whether I can drown him in cum.
But I still want to hook up with you, stud, for some hot, intense mutual muscle worship and sex play.
I’ve obtained some of that hardcore American porn that my fuck buddy Lajos likes so much. How I’d enjoy watching one of those videos with you, while we jerk off together and we edge each other, delaying our ejaculations for as long as possible, because we know that we’ll come that much more strongly when we do let our semen spurt.
If you’re interested, Konrad, then here’s what I propose. Meet me at the Café Molnar on Friday evening at seven P.M. Okay? You’ll recognize me. You’ll know me by sight, from the gym. And I’ll know you, big guy, by that hot body of yours, even when it’s covered up by clothes.
Soon you may know me much better, more intimately.
Signed—Your Secret Admirer
The next time Konrad saw Patrik at the gym, he went out of his way to engage the boy in conversation.
“How’re your workouts going?” Konrad asked.
“Okay. Could be better, I guess. Gains are hard. Takes time,” Patrik replied.
“Yeah, don’t I know it! Hey—maybe I could spot you, and give you a few tips,” Konrad suggested.
“Oh, wow, Konrad, that’d be great!” Patrik was all agog, starry-eyed at the thought that Konrad was taking an interest in him.
After their workout, in the steam room, Konrad began his interrogation—subtly.
“Do you ever go to the Café Molnar?” Konrad inquired, casually.
“Ah—sometimes.” Patrik seemed a bit wary, as though he sensed this wasn’t a purely spontaneous question on Konrad’s part.
“I’m feeling the need for a caffeine fix,” Konrad said. “Why don’t you let me buy you a coffee—and a pastry—there? I could use a quick sugar rush, too.”
Eagerly, Patrik agreed. He was happy to spend more time in Konrad’s company.
They showered, got dressed, and left the gym, walking the few blocks to the café. They drank cups of strong black coffee, with dollops of fresh whipped cream floating on the surface in the cups. Patrik stuffed his face, shamelessly, with boyish glee, with Maina Piskstatekercs, raspberry cream sponge cake rolled into a roulade shape, while Konrad contented himself with a slim slice of a rich Esterhazy torte.
“How’s your sex life been, lately?” Konrad asked.
“Aw, Konrad—don’t tease me,” Patrik pleaded.
“No, seriously. There’s no need to be embarrassed about it. Have you gone home with any of The Body Shop’s regulars, recently?”
“Well—there’s this one guy. He’s really hot. And he’s got such a dirty imagination, when it comes to sex, you know? He’s into roleplaying and nasty talk. He’s bossy. Likes to be the one who’s in charge.”
“Um, that sounds interesting. Tell me more. What’s his name?”
“He’s out, but still—! If I tell you who he is, will you be discreet?”
“Patrik, I’m the soul of discretion,” Konrad vowed.
“It’s Domonikos.”
“Ah.”
Now Konrad had a name, a face, and a physique, to go along with the cryptic messages he’d received.
That figures, he thought.
Domonikos was a bit of a loner, who came to the gym, put in his workout, took the steam, showered, got dressed, and left—all without interacting too much with any of the other members. He fit the profile of a sex-crazed stalker, all right!
He was dark-haired, dark-complexioned, thick-set, thick-limbed, hairy-bodied, and indeed kind of swarthy. Konrad had in fact speculated that the guy might have Roma, or Gypsy, blood. This wouldn’t have mattered to Konrad, although some Hungarians were prejudiced, hanging on to archaic notions about ethnicity.
Outwardly, on the surface, though, Domonikos was a perfectly innocuous, seemingly ordinary and harmless, guy. Soft-spoken—butch, in a laidback, unaggressive way. Maybe he didn’t have the most Adonis-like facial features—he was pleasant-looking, rather than stunningly handsome—but he did possess one hell of a bitching body, large and hard-muscled, nicely proportioned.
To reward Patrik for being such a good source of information, Konrad took the muscle pup home with him, and there he fucked the hell out of him.
Because he now knew, thanks to the second one of those explicit letters, that Patrik was into muscle worship, big time, Konrad encouraged the lad to lick his body all over, before he had Patrick concentrate his oral efforts on sucking his ass and his cock. Then he made Patrik get astride him and ride his well-greased dick, long and hard, giving Patrik’s anus and his own penis a good workout.
Domonikos had taught Patrik well. The boy was a born muscle bitch, but Domonikos’s tutelage had obviously jacked up his innate submissiveness to an altogether higher and more piquant level.
Konrad bred the muscle pup’s ass, satisfying them both. He added Patrik to his long list of fuck buddies, guys whom he could contact when he was horny, inviting them to get together with him again for some hot but essentially casual fun and games in bed.
Meanwhile, Konrad had that Friday evening assignation, to keep.
More than a little apprehensively, he walked into the Café Molnar. But Domonikos, looking infuriatingly at his ease, was seated at a table, waiting for him.
“I’m so glad you came,” he purred, when Konrad seated himself opposite him.
“Believe me
, I had my misgivings,” Konrad admitted.
“Oh? Really? Why?”
“This whole thing is kind of weird, Domonikos. You surely must admit that.”
“Call me Dom, for short,” Domonikos invited Konrad.
“That suits you, doesn’t it? You being such a tough guy, such a hard ass, and all,” Konrad said. He was referring to the fact that, making a pun in English, dom was the slang term, short for dominant, for the top man in a master-slave, or top man and bottom man, sexual relationship. “Just for your information, though, dude,” Konrad went on. “My nickname isn’t ‘Sub.’ Never has been, and never will be.”
Dom laughed. “Understood.”
“Just wanted to clarify that, from the start.”
“You’re extremely butch.”
“Thanks.”
“Butch guys have been known to give it up, though.”
“True,” Konrad agreed. “By the way. I fucked your boy, Patrik.”
He almost hoped that Domonikos would be jealous, infuriated. But the other bodybuilder seemed merely amused. And tolerant.
“He’s a frisky little muscle pup, isn’t he?” Dom asked.
“Yeah.”
“I hope he took good care of you.”
“He did.”
“Fine. I don’t mind sharing him. He could use some variety, you know? Some range of experience, when it comes to his sex partners.”
“Tell me something,” Konrad said, rather aggressively. “Are you in the habit of writing dirty notes like that, anonymously, and slipping them to other guys on the sly?”
“Only when the other guy is exceptionally hot, like you,” an unperturbed Dom replied.
“Some guys might take offense.”
“Did you? Take offense?”
“Well—to be honest, no. I was a little creeped out, at first. But then I became intrigued.”
“Most men are intrigued, by a hint of the taboo—the forbidden,” Dom suggested. “They’re curious. Ready to experiment. Want another coffee? Or shall we go to my place, and play around?”
Konrad had showed up for this strange rendezvous fully prepared to act haughty, and to tell Dom to go fuck himself. Now, though, he was experiencing quite different emotions. To his annoyance, he liked the guy. He wanted him! So much for pride.
“Yeah, let’s,” Konrad mumbled.
In Dom’s apartment, he was a gracious host, who served Konrad Egri Bikavér, or “Bull’s Blood of Egri,” a robust red wine. The two men sat side-by-side on Dom’s large and luxurious leather-upholstered couch, facing his huge widescreen television set. Dom loaded a DVD into the disc player, and he thumbed the remote control.
“I think you’ll get a kick out of this,” he predicted.
“American porn?” Konrad guessed.
“Yeah. The best porn! They sure know how to fuck, over there,” Dom said, with relish. “Sit back. Make yourself comfortable. Drink up. And enjoy!”
Curious, Konrad picked up the DVD case and studied it. His English was good enough to allow him to read and understand the blurb on the back cover.
There, inserted among the postage-stamp sized photos of the video’s cast—all of whom were shown naked, smiling, and erect—was the text. Superstar muscle stud Colorado Drake begs for it, deeper and harder, as he takes a dozen big cocks down his throat and up his butch fuckhole, in an epic gangbang that ends with the cock-crazed stud taking load after raw load up his sloppy, fucked-out manhole! But all that fucking and breeding isn’t enough for the piggy bottom, and soon he’s craving still more dick. Who says that thirteen is an unlucky number? Big, tough Jock Ramwell is ready to step into the breach and provide his fat daddy dick to stretch out the slutty bottom’s hole to the max and fill him with another huge, hot load. Then it’s bukkake time, as the twelve other well-hung stallions milk their fuck tools and drench Colorado in their cum.
Konrad found the names Colorado Drake and Jock Ramwell to be quite exotic-sounding, and the small but revealing photos of the burly performers were certainly promising.
Meanwhile, the television screen had come to life, and there in living color was Colorado Drake, being efficiently gangbanged by an assembly line of tough-looking, exceptionally well-endowed, priapic studs.
“Jesus,” Konrad muttered, almost spilling his wine as he raised his glass to his lips and drank. “How can one guy’s hole take so much cock?”
“Oh, mine has,” Dom boasted.
“Really? Then I guess my merely adequate dick isn’t likely to satisfy you,” Konrad suggested, pessimistically.
“I’m willing to give it a try, if you are.”
The next thing Konrad knew, he and Dom were both naked. Still seated on the couch, Konrad’s butt was sunk into the soft leather cushions, while Dom’s lips and tongue and hands roamed freely all over Konrad’s body. Staring intently at the porn video, watching the brawny American sex performer having his manhole reamed out by cock after cock, Konrad let Dom play with him. The other bodybuilder ignored the video for the time being—no doubt he knew how the story turned out! He concentrated on Konrad’s physique, licking his armpits, sucking on his nipples, toying with his balls, jerking his cock. Mutely, he encouraged Konrad to lift his butt a bit, so that Dom could finger-fuck his ass with one hand while his other fist pumped away furiously on his cock.
“Christ,” Konrad moaned.
“You’re so hot,” Dom told him, in a passionate whisper.
“This is better than just fantasizing about me, and jerking off thinking about me, isn’t it?”
“Much better, big guy.”
“Let me work on your dick, too, while you pound mine and you finger my ass.”
“Jack me, dude, but let’s try to come yet. Make it last. Watch the video. This is the good part, coming up. The bukkake. Those bastards are going to surround that guy Colorado and cover him in their cum.”
“Shit. Aw, shit,” Konrad gasped, as the obscene spectacle unfolded between his eyes. Colorado ended up so slathered with semen from head to foot that he resembled an insect emerging from its sticky cocoon.
“I’d like to have every hot guy at The Body Shop get together and do that to me,” Dom declared.
Next, Dom sat in Konrad’s lap, astride him, facing the television screen, where the lurid sex activities were still playing themselves out. Dom rode Konrad’s cock, lustily, athletically, with a frantic anal itch which only deep, hard phallic penetration could soothe.
“Fuck me, stud!” Dom yelled. “Oh, fuck me hard, you big-dicked muscle son of a bitch, and fuck me deep and hot! Come on, give me that cock. Make me feel it. All of it!”
Manfully, Konrad strove to satisfy the other man.
This was a freebie, he realized. Dom wasn’t a john. He was just another hot gay guy who loved muscle sex. Konrad couldn’t fault the man for that. Hustling was all very well and good. It served its purpose, bringing in some extra money now and then. But there was something to be said for purely recreational sex, too!
Keeps me in practice, he told himself, philosophically. Yeah—a fuck like this helps to keep the equipment in good working order! Lol!
Chapter Nine: A Married Man Becomes a Sex Object
One evening, Konrad had put in his workout at The Body Shop. Stripping naked and stowing his sweaty gym clothes in his gym bag and securing it in his locker, he grabbed his towel and he treated himself to a long sweat in the steam room. Then, slowly and languidly, he showered.
He was seated on the bench in front of his reopened locker, drying off, getting ready to put his street clothes back on, when another member approached him and struck up a conversation.
Konrad already knew this man by sight. He was “old” by Konrad’s standards, maybe in his mid-forties. He wore a wedding ring, which Konrad, thinking of Todor, knew was no guarantee of marital fidelity. The guy had a pretty good body for his age, and a full head of iron gray hair, which he wore rather long. He scored points with Konrad because he didn’t dye his hair in an attempt to look younge
r. Konrad wasn’t really prejudiced in terms of age. He’d been intimate with too many mature men who were truly fantastic in bed. There was something to be said for experience, after all.
“Good evening,” the older man said, addressing the young bodybuilder.
“Hi,” Konrad responded, amiably enough.
“I’ve seen you here so often, but I’ve never quite worked up the courage to speak to you, until now.”
“Well, as you see, I don’t bite.” Konrad did bare his teeth, but only in an ingratiating grin.
“With a physique as impressive as yours is, you must have a lot of men annoying you.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want to be one of them.”
“You’re not annoying me,” Konrad said, graciously. “Not at all. I admit it, I don’t like to gab a lot while I’m working out. Afterward, though—I’m approachable enough, I hope. Sociable, I mean.”
“I must admit, I’ve been thinking, looking at you—you must have trouble finding clothes that fit you, as big as you are,” the man remarked.
“Well, I do like them loose,” Konrad said. “Off the rack clothes can be a problem, sure.”
“Some bodybuilders wear everything real tight, to show themselves off.”
“I guess that’s their choice. Me, I don’t like to feel constricted. Plus,” Konrad added, boldly, “I don’t really need to advertise, if you know what I mean. I get a lot of guys admiring my build, even when it’s covered up. Kind of the way you’re admiring it, right now,” he suggested, slyly.
“Am I being that obvious?”
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