Placing both hands on his muscular thighs, I began blowing him, moving my head up and down, playing with his balls. I heard his groans of pleasure, punctuated by sharp, whistling intakes of breath. Inside my mouth, his prick seemed to be swelling to even longer, thicker dimensions. He writhed against me, fucking my face, working his narrow, sweaty hips as though he was gyrating on a dance floor.
“Shit,” he gasped. “I’m about to come. You’d better get ready,” he warned.
But I didn’t have time to prepare myself. And so I nearly did choke when a flood of hot salty liquid suddenly poured out of his swollen penis and into my mouth. I swallowed it thirstily, but there was so much of it that I couldn’t contain it all. The excess semen seeped out of the corners of my mouth and ran down my chin.
“Let me suck yours,” Tony pleaded.
“Not yet. Later, man. I want to pace myself. You wait here.”
It was my turn to go out front and stand lookout, while Renzo went inside the garage and amused himself with Tony.
I amused myself my speculating about exactly what the two of them were doing. But in fact I didn’t need much imagination. Barely two minutes elapsed before I heard the unmistakable sounds of anal sex—the slapping of thigh muscles against buttocks, and heavy breathing, interspersed with grunts and moans—being wafted toward me on the still, close night air.
“Aw, shit!” Tony complained, quite loudly. “That’s going in deep, man! It hurts!”
“Bend over, spread your cheeks, and open your hole,” Renzo demanded. “Let me have that cunt! Get fucked, bitch! You know you want it.”
“Go easy, for God’s sake,” Tony pleaded. “Jesus, you’re filling me up. You’re tearing me apart. Goddamn donkey-dicked bastard!”
“Keep the noise down, guys,” I called out to them, from my post.
“Why?” Renzo asked.
“Somebody might walk past and hear you, for Christ’s sake,” I suggested.
“Oh, really? Who’s going to be walking down this street at this time of night—unless he’s looking for what our buddy Tony’s getting, right now? Namely, an ass full of my dick?”
I couldn’t come up with an answer, because I had to admit that the chance of any pedestrian traffic coming along, at that time of night, was pretty remote.
Renzo interpreted my silence correctly, as my permission for him to go on screwing Tony. (Not that he’d have stopped fucking the guy, at my say-so!)
“Just tell us if somebody pulls in,” he requested, breathlessly. “If he does, keep him busy while we zip up.”
“Will do,” I promised.
“Fuck! Oh, fuck!” Tony moaned. “It’s like a baseball bat shoved up my ass, you dirty son of a bitch!”
“Yeah, and I’m about to score a home run,” Renzo told him.
A medley of lewd sound effects soon confirmed that Renzo and Tony had brought their carnal connection to a successful conclusion. In other words, Renzo had shot his load up Tony’s ass; and Tony, having jerked himself off to orgasm while Renzo was fucking him, had deposited his own load onto the garage’s cement floor.
I joined them. We raided the refrigerator, treating ourselves to some cold beers.
At our invitation, Tony stuck around until the end of our shift. Then he followed us to Renzo’s parents’ house. Quietly, the three of us slipped inside and went downstairs, to Renzo’s room in the cellar.
There, we stripped. We played with one another’s dicks. We took turns sucking them. It was a wild threesome, without restraint, without limitations.
Now it was my turn to fuck Tony.
Renzo seated himself comfortably on the edge of the mattress. He leaned over and gave Tony a smart smack on his hairy butt.
“Give it to him, Gino.” Renzo invited me. “He wants another dick up his ass.”
“Must you talk like that?” Tony objected. “So crude?”
“Get over yourself,” Renzo told him. “The bottom line is—do you want to get fucked some more, or don’t you?”
“I want to,” Tony muttered, shamefacedly.
“Then shut up, lie back, spread it, and let my man Gino get in there,” Renzo said,
“Okay,” Tony mumbled. “So fuck me, already! Jesus! Do you have to embarrass me?”
Personally, I had no desire to embarrass Tony. I just wanted to screw him.
Which was exactly what I did.
I gave my penis a few strokes to ready myself, which really wasn’t necessary, because I was fully hard. I pushed myself up on the bed, and I leaned over Tony, who was there beside me on the mattress on his hands and knees, mutely offering me his behind. Hesitantly—as though he might flinch or recoil from my touch—I stroked his thighs, my fingers lightly grazing the moist coating of hair on his heated flesh. His lean buttocks quivered slightly as I eased my hands onto the twin mounds. Filling my palms with their firmness, I massaged the cheeks of his ass, not yet daring to let my fingertips stray into the darker valley that split them into two almost perfect spheres.
Then, still caressing his backside, I got to my knees between his widespread thighs. I stuck two of my fingers inside my mouth to wet them with my saliva, and then, bending closer to the muscular temptation of Tony’s buttocks, I pressed my fingertips carefully into the warm furrow of his ass. My fingertips parted the light growth of hair and traced the circle of his anal pucker. I could feel the sphincter tense and resist at my touch, but I persisted, and I gently pushed my fingers inside him.
After playing with his ass for a few minutes, I eased my fingers back out of the hole. Next, I scooped up a generous blob of Vaseline from the jar which Renzo always kept on the nightstand beside his bed, and I greased my erection thoroughly with the slippery petroleum jelly.
With my left arm thrust out straight, my hand pressed flat against the mattress to steady myself and keep my weight off him, I moved up into position and guided the head of my prick into the crease between Tony’s buttocks, using my right hand to center my cock against the target of his pucker at the proper angle for penetration.
Tony tensed beneath me, the ring of muscle guarding his ass closing like the eye of a camera’s shutter.
“Oh, go easy, big guy,” he begged me. “I’m still sore from the way your buddy reamed me out.”
My stomach muscles were tensed, jerking with the effort it cost me to hold myself back. When I felt him relax once more, I let him feel a little more pressure and once again his sphincter snapped tight. Then, little by little, he began to lose his fear of being fucked. Without hurting him any more than was necessary, I applied a steady pressure against his anus. With a patience I hadn’t thought myself capable of exercising, I let my weight slowly force the knob of my cock into the rubbery constriction of his rectum. He groaned a little, but I could tell he was trying hard not to clamp down on me. Once the head of my prick was lodged inside him, I paused to give him a chance to get used to the stretching and the pressure.
“Do it,” he gasped. “Push it in!”
Once more I leaned into him. This time my cock slid slowly and very hotly into him, until I felt the hair at the base of the shaft pressed into his buttocks. Carefully, I let my entire weight sink down on him. I pressed my abdomen against the small of his back and I rubbed my chest over the smoothness of his shoulder blades. Just below the disheveled curly hair at the nape of his neck, I kissed the velvet of his skin as I slid my palms onto his shoulders. I could feel the slow and delicious heat of his asshole radiating up into my groin through the conduit of my cock. Kissing the back of his neck and massaging the curves of his muscular shoulders, I lay on top of him for some time, hoping that he wasn’t being hurt by the bulk of my embedded member deep inside him.
“Okay? Does that feel okay? Are you ready for me to start fucking you now?” I asked him.
“Yeah. Go ahead. Go for it! Fuck me!”
When I began to move, Tony shuddered. I kept my thrust and withdrawal slow at first, reveling in the feeling of his hot channel suck at my cock, the ou
ter ring of his sphincter pushing outward as I retreated, contracting inward with each slow thrust I made into him. Since I had already come once that evening I knew I could make love to him for a long time without climaxing.
After he had grown used to the feel of my cock within him, Tony began to rotate his buttocks in a sensuous circle, causing my probing rod to stir within him, slipping into places I hadn’t reached yet. It also created a kind of gentle milking motion along the embedded shaft of my cock. Feeling him churn beneath me was even more stimulating than stroking into him. In an effort to control the sensations coursing through me, I relaxed above him, letting him keep up the grinding motion with his hips as I nibbled at his neck and shoulder with my lips.
Little by little, Tony began to increase the pace of his motions. When I resumed my own thrust and withdrawal at the increased tempo, he raised himself up on his elbows and began to meet my every plunge with a muscular backward motion of his hips. My cock bent at the middle, then straightened itself again and shot into his ass with jarring force. We both began to sweat as the speed of our lovemaking accelerated.
“That’s right, Gino,” a gloating Renzo coached me, from the sidelines. “Fuck his ass! Really give it to him. Don’t let the son of a bitch fool you. He likes it rough.”
Tony groaned gutturally, heaving himself back against the impalement, twisting from side to side to send my burning erection into him from a new angle. Each time I drew back from him the pucker of his asshole drew itself closed around my retreating shaft, narrowing the channel into which I would immediately thrust once more. And each time I plowed into him, he groaned, his whole body shuddering. My belly had grown slippery with sweat against his back as I continued to ride him, sliding slickly in to hesitate a fraction of a second while my cockhead throbbed within him and my hipbones depressed the convex mounds of his buttocks.
Grasping his shoulders, I pressed myself into him as deeply as I could, my breath caught in my throat. Like a cascade of burning gasoline, my orgasm trickled down the entire length of my body, widening into a sheet of liquid flame as it licked my flesh, until I was convulsed from head to foot by the first fiery tremor. The sensation seemed to condense in my groin until it felt like a bolt of pure, sizzling electricity hitting the spot between my asshole and my balls. The scalding wash of fluid shot out of my cock and into Tony’s ass not like ordinary semen, but like molten white lightning.
I fell against him, the spasms racking me no longer subject to my control. With painfully tightened muscles, our rigid bodies jerked and quivered together as my orgasm escaped from my dick and flooded Tony’s anus. My cum seemed to pour out of me in an unending stream. The moan of ecstasy bursting from my lips rose in intensity to a wail, until I ran out of breath and my cries faded out in gasps and whimpers. Suddenly depleted, I collapsed on top of him, every muscle in my body twitching spasmodically. Choking and gasping as though I had just completed an especially grueling workout with the weights, I gathered enough energy to free myself from the tight clasp of Tony’s ass and roll heavily onto my back beside him on the rumpled bed.
When I had caught my breath, I rolled onto my side toward him and covered his face with kisses. No offense to Renzo, who sat there on the bed smirking at us; but there was something about the novelty of a new sex partner which was extremely arousing. Tony was a good fuck, and thanks to him I’d had one of the strongest orgasms I’d enjoyed in a long time.
“That was one hell of a hot fuck,” I whispered, my lips brushing his cheek.
“Yeah, you really pounded his ass,” Renzo agreed, with glee.
Tony turned toward me, the sheets rustling under him. I let him pull me against him, pressing my head against his shoulder. Renzo lay down beside us, and the three of us fell asleep.
Chapter Four: A Photo Op
One day, Renzo and I were hanging out together. We stopped at a newsstand to pick up the latest issues of our favorite bodybuilding magazines.
The newsstand was manned by a dapper old gentleman, a grandfatherly type with snow-white hair. Smoking a cigar, he read one of the newspapers he had for sale. He ignored our presence as we selected the magazines we wanted. Only when Renzo put the magazines down on the counter next to the cash register did the man look up.
“You boys must work out,” he commented, glancing at the way our shoulders, chests, and arms filled out our shirts.
“We’ve been known to lift a weight or two,” Renzo admitted, drily.
“Doesn’t all that muscle turn to fat, the minute you stop working out?”
This was a common misconception. Renzo seemed amused.
“We wouldn’t know,” he replied, “because we have no intention of ever stopping working out.”
The old guy puffed away on his cigar. He still made no move to begin ringing up our purchases. He did look around, as though he was making sure no one else was in the store. This struck me as strange—until he spoke again.
“Would you boys be interested in something more—specialized?” he asked.
“Huh?” was my response.
As usual, Renzo was the more streetwise of the two of us.
“What’ve you got, Pop?” he asked, casually.
From under the counter, the man produced a stack of “girlie magazines,” as they were called at the time—publications featuring “photo studies” of voluptuous, slutty-looking naked women, all of whom possessed big breasts.
“Naw.” Renzo looked and bored. “We like guys. Let’s see some muscle—okay?”
Embarrassed by my buddy’s frank admission, I could feel myself starting to blush. But the old geezer didn’t so much as turn one of his white hairs. Grunting, puffing on his cigar, he put the girlie magazines away, and replaced them with a stack of what were euphemistically called “physique” publications. They were nothing like the respectable bodybuilding magazines. The models in these “physique” rags were all photographed stark naked.
Renzo took his sweet time, inspecting the magazines, flipping through them.
“I like these two,” he said, at last. “What do you think, Gino?”
“Whatever,” I muttered. I was mortified that he’d addressed me by name. I had visions of the authorities somehow using that information to track me down. Cops would show up at my parents’ house, telling them that they were there to arrest me for having purchased and viewed homosexual smut.
“We’ll take them,” Renzo told the man. “Add them to the pile.”
The old guy rang up our purchases. He slipped the two nude publications into a flat brown paper bag, which he secured with tape.
“Let’s take this shit to my place and check it out,” Renzo suggested, after we’d left the newsstand.
“I can’t believe you just bought pornography.”
He snickered. “Correction, buddy. We just bought pornography.”
In Renzo’s basement room, we sat on his bed and studied the two magazines, page by page.
By today’s standards, of course, they were soft-core stuff. The models were nude, all right, and they weren’t shy about showing off their penises and their bare butts for the camera. But there wasn’t an erect penis on display, anywhere. And all of the photos were solo shots—no pairs of guys, posing together or interacting. The models preened and flexed, but they didn’t touch themselves. There was none of the masturbation or anal fingering which later became commonplace in gay magazines.
In the back of each magazine, there were several pages devoted to advertisements.
N-Large, the scientifically proven penis enlargement process, one ad proclaimed. After many years of research in this most sensitive field, a scientifically proven method has finally become a reality, available to consumers. Our researchers are confident that this method is not only reliable—it is also natural, and 100 per cent safe. This new method will dramatically increase the size of the penis not only in its erect state, but even in its flaccid position.
The ad was accompanied by a photo of a handsome, muscular young mo
del. He was nude, but he had one hand strategically positioned in front of his crotch, blocking the camera’s view of his genitals. He had his head thrown back. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was open in a silent moan. He looked as though he was ejaculating, presumably after having jerked his N-Larged penis.
At $39.95, which included “postage and handling,” it sounded like a steal.
“No sale,” Renzo joked. “Hell! You’re already always complaining that my dick is too big. That you have trouble taking it down your throat and up your ass.”
“Yeah, but I do take it, don’t I?” I retorted.
“I have to admit—you always do seem to manage.”
Male Order, another advertisement punned. Now you can have slides and glossies of your favorite bodybuilders. Suitable for framing or projection. All muscle, all nude! All male!
These sets cost seven dollars for either four eight-by-ten black and white prints, or six 35mm color slides, plus eight-five cents for postage and handling.
“Huh,” Renzo grunted. “That’s some racket. I wonder how much these guys get paid for posing naked?”
“Not enough,” I guessed.
The last few pages consisted of classified ads. They were organized by city or geographical area, and, not surprisingly, they were considerably more explicit than the personal ads published in the mainstream bodybuilding magazines.
We began to read some of the ads, concentrating on those placed by guys either in New Jersey or in the New York City area.
NJ W/M bodybuilder 28 6’ 220 lbs 50” chest 19” arms 33” waist. Brown hair, eyes, neatly trimmed beard. Clean straight looking, seeks all heavy hung guys, all cultures except pain. Nude photo (returned). Phone # a must.
“Sounds good,” Renzo commented.
NJ W/M 26 good-looking slim well-muscled seeking straight looking clean cut bi & gay men age 20-35 into sports, outdoors, bodybuilding. Seeks very heavy hung guys in NYC area, preferably uncut, but must be huge. Any race, respond with photo please if possible.
“He sounds like a possibility, too,” I suggested.
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