Urban Delights

by Emeric Varady

  We were both perspiring profusely. Delivering a blow job like that was hard work—and being on the receiving end of it was physically taxing, as well! But this was no time for me to slack off. If anything, I stepped up my oral efforts. My mouth pumped up and down on Brash’s prick. My lips massaged it. My tongue swabbed and tickled it. I soaked his turgid penis flesh in my saliva, some of which escaped from between my lips and dripped down my chin and dribbled onto his balls—which looked great in the finished video.

  I could tell my exertions weren’t in vain. Brash was getting close to coming, rapidly approaching that point of no return. I knew what he was going through. I knew the feeling only too well. It was like being balanced precariously, teetering, on the edge of a knife blade. On the one side, there was the increasingly overwhelming pleasure of constant, uninterrupted stimulation—which, however, was growing so intense that it had become more agonizing than pleasurable. On the other side, there was the promise of blissful release, that unique delight which only orgasm could provide.

  Then Brash fell over that edge. His legs pressed in tighter against me, his thighs clamping down on either side of my face and almost smothering me. Abruptly, breathlessly, he began to pant and whimper—not loudly, but in a stifled way which made him sound, incongruously, like a frightened small animal. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense and vibrate.

  “I’m there! I’m going to come!” the sexy Mexican-American stud warned me, in that same muffled tone of voice, as though his throat had swelled along with his cock and he was choking, fighting for breath. “Coming!” he repeated, hoarsely. “I can’t hold it back—!”

  I knew what to do, what was expected of me. Oh, how I wanted to take his load in my mouth, to feel the full force of his ejaculation shooting into my mouth and down my throat, filling me and glutting me with his sperm! But I knew that we had to give the camera a come shot. When I felt Brash’s overtaxed prick pulsate more strongly than usual between my lips, in that telltale way which meant his ejaculation was now inevitably, I forced myself to release him from my possessive oral grip. Wrenching my head back, I freed his dick—which, as it swayed and bobbed in front of my face, looked so red and swollen that I thought it was going to explode—literally!

  His piss slit gaped open wide, and then it spat out a thick white stream of semen, which smacked right onto my face. I kept my eyes and my mouth wide open. I got some jism in my eyes, which stung then, but I forced myself not to blink. I continued to stare lustfully at Brash’s prick as it unloaded, giving me a wet, slimy facial. I stuck out my tongue, and his next few jets landed right on my tongue, deliciously salty. He fired his last wads directly into my whorishly opened mouth, feeding me his cum.

  When I saw that he had stopped coming, I lunged forward and I took his cock in my mouth again, sucking on it just as hungrily as I had before, making sure I milked every last drop of rich potent seed from it. Then, once again in order to provide maximum visual interest, I pulled my mouth off the cock, only to rub my face against it, sniff it, and lick it clean with my tongue. Cock whore! Yeah, I was behaving like a total cock whore, an abject phallic worshipper!

  As planned, we went right on going.

  “Fuck me,” Brash urged me, quickly repositioning himself, kneeling on the bed on his hands and knees, with his ass enticingly thrust backward and up, in blatant invitation. “Get your cock in there!”

  I was more than ready. I hadn’t come. I hadn’t even needed to masturbate, while I was blowing him—my cock had stayed rock-hard, without any direct stimulation.

  I didn’t even bother to wipe Brash’s cum off my face. I could feel its wetness on my skin, running down, dripping off me. I guessed, correctly, that it looked hot, adding a touch of nastiness to the scene. I grabbed the lube from the bedside table and I slicked up my cock and Brash’s ass. Then, kneeling behind him, I let him have it!

  After inserting my cockhead between his buttocks and guiding it through his sphincter, again I paused for a few beats, just to jack up that all-important visual element. But then I lunged forward and I drove my dick all the way up my costar’s tight, warm, clenching ass. Oh, what an anus that guy possessed! It felt like a strong greased fist, grasping and stroking my cock! Brash’s obviously experienced and well-trained anal muscles squeezed my prick and massaged it like no other ass I’d never fucked!

  I probably wouldn’t have had to hump him at all. I could have stayed immobile, and let that incredible talented rectum of his work on me and, eventually, inevitably, bring me off. But that would’ve looked strange, so after catching my breath, I did begin to fuck him, slowly at first, pacing myself, but gradually, almost imperceptibly, picking up speed. His body tensed and quivered under him. His glutes flexed, on either side of my penetrating shaft. His anal tunnel seemed to shrink around me, molding itself to my manhood. Those internal muscles continued to do their magic on my cock. What an ass!

  “What an ass!” I exclaimed, aloud.

  “Glad you like it,” Brash responded. “Make good use of it. Fuck it. Come on, stud, don’t spare me, don’t hold back! Fuck that ass! Pound that hot, dirty hole!”

  “Micsoda végbélnyílás! Micsoda lyuk!” I cried. In my excitement, I’d reverted, momentarily, to my native tongue. Quickly, I corrected myself, supplying an English translation. “What an ass! What a hole!”

  “Easy for you to say,” Brash quipped. Even in the heat of passion, he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. “You just go on fucking me, dude, Hungarian style! Show my hot horny American ass how you Budapest boys like to fuck!”

  With Jerry capturing every nuance of our anal intercourse on his videocam, we proceeded to do precisely that!

  Chapter Four: We Could Get Used to This!

  Sandor and I were really enjoying our stay. We were receiving VIP treatment.

  “If this is what being ‘kept’ is like, then I’m all for it,” Sandor remarked. “Where do I sign up?”

  “Men have offered to keep me,” I bragged. “But I’m too damn independent to be a stud in a gilded cage.”

  Sandor laughed. “Speak for yourself!”

  Our hosts couldn’t have been more considerate. They spoiled us. Bo and Trent were the epitome of gracious hosts. They made sure we had everything we needed or wanted, and they went out of their way to keep us amused and entertained. But they had the knack of knowing when their guests wanted to be left alone for a little while, to just chill, without intervention.

  We were served three excellent meals each day—plus snacks. When it came to the snacks, Sandor developed a taste for an American specialty—namely, massive triple cheeseburgers, consisting of three fat juicy beef patties stuffed between the halves of a bun, with lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, slices of cheese, strips of bacon, and sauce, accompanied by onion rings on the side. Shit, sometimes, for good measure, Sandor had his tall, stacked cheeseburger topped off with a fried egg, just to provide a bit of additional flavor and decadence!

  But I was no better. I lusted for “hoagies,” extravagant high-calorie meat sandwiches on split loaves of French bread, with “everything,” piled on them, as the Americans put it, and also with crispy French fries and meaty, hotly flavored chili served on the side. Big baked potatoes loaded with sour cream and chives were also offered to us as side dishes—a temptation which should never have been placed in the way of two hungry men. Shamelessly, we stuffed our faces with all of this delicious, filling junk food at every opportunity which came our way during our stay.

  All this, washed down with limitless quantities of free booze—! Jesus, this was gay heaven!

  Let’s not even talk about Florida’s deep dish, loaded pizza, with one’s choice of toppings, which could be ordered and delivered anywhere via a few pushes of buttons on a cell phone. Or its ice cream, gelato, and sherbet, all of which were so delectable on a hot day! To say nothing of the frigging cannoli and other pastries! What the fuck? Americans seemed to have dietary excess available and accessible to them, at a moment’s notice, at th
eir fingertips!

  God, what culinary torture!

  I warned Sandor that, if we kept this self-indulgence up, we’d be hopelessly out of shape and flabby by the time we returned to Hungary. But, sure enough, Trent and Bo had one room of their sprawling house set up as a home gym. It was quite well equipped, with machines and free weights, so Sandor and I spent some time there, working out, every day. The other porn performers also used it to pump up, keeping their muscles hard and defined before they went in front of the camera.

  The house was so luxurious, such a self-contained, self-sufficient refuge, that there was almost no need ever to leave it.

  We did make day trips, though, to the nearby public beach, which was a real treat for us residents of a landlocked European country. Sandor and I loved swimming in the sea, and relaxing on the sand. Admiring the other virtually nude male bodies on display on the beach was a pleasant diversion, too. We began to get so brown from exposure to the sun that we could almost pass as Hispanic, ourselves!

  At night, our hosts took us on “road trips,” to a few of the local gay bars and clubs. If I may be so immodest, I must say that Sandor and I were big hits, there. We were fresh, unfamiliar faces and bodies, after all. The fact that we were foreigners only seemed to increase the local boys’ prurient interest in us. We both were bombarded with blatant propositions. I was hobbled by the fact that I needed to conserve my sexual energy, store up my cum, in anticipation of shooting the next scene in our porn video.

  But Sandor was under no such constraints. My man whore of a buddy cut quite a swath through the area’s gay population. To put it bluntly, Sandor fucked those Floridians like a mink! There seemed to be no end to his whorishness!

  And, worse, far from trying to discourage him, Trent and Bo actually encouraged Sandor’s excesses! They told him to feel free to bring his pickups back to the house, where he could fuck them in comfort. On the living room floor. Out on the terrace, beside the pool. Under the stars. In the pool, for God’s sake, risking drowning while they screwed! While I, aware of the need to conserve my sperm, tossed and turned on the guest room’s bed alone, frustrated!

  Of course, our hosts may not have been completely altruistic. With Brash and the other porn performers staying in the house, plus the various strays brought home, Bo and Trent had plenty of opportunities to observe other men having sex, and to participate in the fun themselves.

  I was in the habit of whoring around, for cold hard cash. I was scarcely in a position to chastise Sandor, for giving himself to all these American men for free!

  [Translator’s note: Thank you, Emeric, for that unsolicited testimonial. But may I be so bold as to remind you that you were the one, who said we should take advantage of every opportunity which came our way, to have fun, during our visit to the United States?]

  [Author’s note: That’s true. But, based on our experiences in Florida, the United States would appear to be generously supplied with its own, native cum dumps. There’s no need to import them from Europe!]

  Still, though, I felt obligated to make a token protest. After all, I was the one who’d talked Sandor into making this trip, in the first place. I’d lured him to this Sodom and Gomorrah by the sea!

  [Translator’s note: I’m glad you admit it, buddy!]

  [Author’s note: I wouldn’t dream of denying it, Sandor. Anyway, let our readers be the ultimate judges, of which of us was the bigger whore during our stay in America.]

  [Translator’s note: The smart money will be bet on you—!]

  [Author’s note: Aw, shut up, and let’s go on with the goddamn story!]

  “You are such a whore,” I grumbled, when, finally, Sandor, having sent his latest trick home, would join me in bed.

  He was unrepentant. “There’s something about this hot, humid climate which is conducive to sexual excess,” he told me, airily.

  I grunted, in disgust. “What you mean is, there’s something about your ass which is conducive to whoring around!”

  “Look who’s talking,” he taunted me.

  Well, he had me, there! In my professional capacity, as the new stud in Brash’s stable, starring in every single one of the scenes in this third video of his, I wasn’t exactly leading the life of a monk, there in what the Yanks called The Sunshine State! If anything, the bright Florida sunshine was glaring down voyeuristically upon my own shameless activity, every day!

  “Oh, go to sleep,” I told Sandor.

  A veritable sex madness seemed to have taken possession of me. I was hellbent upon making sure that this video would be the hottest one I’d done in my career, to date!

  I was there in Florida to work, of course, and if do say so myself, I worked hard. I threw myself into the video shoots. On the set, I was a sex pig, insatiable.

  But there was down time as well, during which we could relax and have fun.

  I helped Trent and Bo with the cooking, and in fact I took over their kitchen at times, making Hungarian dishes. They loved my goulash—my chicken paprika—my palacsinta [crépes]—and my Töltött Káposzta [stuffed cabbage]. When I whipped up Gesztenyepüré [chestnut purée] for dessert one night, that was a big hit, too. You see, I wasn’t just a muscular body, a pretty face, a big cock, and a hot tight ass. I had nonsexual domestic skills, too! A whore in the bedroom, but an angel in the kitchen—to coin a phrase.

  Despite all his own whoring around, Sandor was still intrigued by Ramon, our hosts’ sexy Hispanic houseboy. My buddy carried on an ongoing flirtation with the lad, who didn’t seem averse to the possibility of availing himself of some prime Hungarian muscle and cock. Instead of jumping right into bed together, though, the two guys bided their time, delaying, allowing some sexual suspense to build up between them.

  I found this bromance amusing, although, eventually, the way Sandor kept mooning over the object of his desire began to get on my nerves.

  “Just nail him and be done with it,” I suggested to Sandor.

  He smirked. “All in good time.”

  I also asked the obvious question—well, it seemed obvious to me, under the circumstances. Namely, why Ramon wasn’t a budding porn performer, appearing in the video, too. I learned that Brash, Bo, and Trent had all encouraged him to do so. But Ramon had other ambitions. He was serious about his college studies, and he was afraid that, when he graduated with his degree and he embarked on a professional career, a sordid past in porn might come back to haunt him.

  I couldn’t disagree with that. I had no reputation to lose, which didn’t mean that other guys shouldn’t be more circumspect, if they so chose.

  One night, Brash took Sandor and me to a gay bar. For once, the cruising and flirting didn’t lead to any hookups. During the drive back to the house, we passed through a commercial strip—the road lined on either side with more bars, liquor stores, tattoo parlors, and takeout food places. When we stopped at a traffic light, we saw, on the block up ahead, the garish neon sign promoting an adult sex shop and book and video store. Forthrightly, the business was called The Ball Park, although it obviously had nothing in common with conventional athletic events.

  “Hey, let’s stop in there and check it out,” Brash suggested.

  “Yeah, why not?” I agreed. “I’ll be curious to see if the sex shops here are anything like the ones back home.”

  “I want to see if they have my latest videos in stock,” Brash admitted. “My first two made on my own, of course, but also the ones I’ve done recently for other studios.”

  Sandor was amused. “You do that?”

  “Sure. On a regular basis. I ask the clerk how they’re selling,” Brash admitted.

  “Okay, I must confess—I’ve been known to do that, too, back home. Not just in Budapest, but when I’m in a foreign city,” I said.

  Sandor shook his head. “Nothing wrong with you guys’ egos. Narcissists!”

  “Businessmen,” Brash corrected him.

  Inside the store, Brash and I found several samples of our individual work on display, for
sale.

  “Just think,” he told me. “Soon there’ll be another one, featuring both of us.”

  “Let’s hope it becomes a bestseller,” I replied.

  The sales clerk, who was manning the cash register, looked bored. I engaged him in conversation. I asked him whether any customers asked for Emeric Varady’s videos. Were they popular?

  “Emeric Varady?” The guy seemed puzzled. “Isn’t he that dirty Czech muscle whore who does all the barebacking videos? The guy’s a real cum dump, isn’t he? And all pumped up and ‘roided out? What a loser! Past his shelf life, from what I’ve heard.”

  I guessed I was put in my place! Czech, indeed! As for the rest of the calumnies—steroids, yes. Shelf life? I begged to differ! I was still in my prime. No—I had yet to hit my prime, surely!

  Everybody’s a critic!

  Brash purchased several bottles of liquid poppers—a dozen, to be exact. Back in the car, he divided them equally among the three of us.

  “Here you go,” he said. “These may come in handy during the next few days. On and off the set.”

  “Let us reimburse you,” I offered.

  “No, it’s my treat.”

  Back at the house, Brash excused himself, saying he was ready to get some sleep. It was a sultry night. Sandor and I decided to go for a late-night swim, before we went to bed. We went into the pool nude. Knowing that most of the other guys were probably asleep, we took care not to make too much noise.

  Ramon appeared on the terrace, wearing only a pair of shorts.

  “Can I get you guys anything?” he asked.

  “No, thanks,” Sandor said. “Aren’t you officially off duty?”

  “Yeah. I thought I’d go for a swim.”

  “Well, come on in.”

  Shedding his shorts, Ramon joined us.

  What can I say? Some horseplay in the pool led, inevitably, first to some more explicit physical intimacies in the water, and then to Sandor and I inviting Ramon to come to our room. After quickly drying ourselves off, we retreated there, and Sandor and Ramon finally had their opportunity to get intimate together. Far from resenting my presence, they welcomed it. Ramon made it clear he wanted a threesome! I imagine his logic was that, if one Hungarian hookup was good, then two would even better!