“Yes, please go right ahead and shoot, if you’re ready to,” Laszlo joined in, with a meek politeness in his tone of voice which struck Bob as downright surreal, given the circumstances. “Don’t worry at all about where it goes,” Laszlo added, with a quiet laugh. “Those tiles have been splashed with sperm often enough before. It washes right off.”
“Yeah, I’m not your only muscle boy, am I, Laszlo?” Adolar asked. “Not the only stud you like to have jack off for you?”
“But you’re my favorite,” Laszlo assured him.
“Until tonight,” Adolar suggested. “You like Bob, too, I can tell. That’s all right. Bob’s got a lot to like!”
The thought that other men—other bodybuilders, willing to prostitute themselves—had been there, had taken off all of their clothes and greased themselves up, had stood right where Bob and Adolar were standing now and had shot off their loads onto the patio’s tiles—that realization pushed Bob right over the edge into orgasm!
He came, hard and hot and wet and fast, his body buckling over, doubling up, so that he might have lost his balance and fallen, had not Adolar thrown his free arm around his waist and steadied him. Bob’s ass cheeks thrust back against Adolar’s groin, and his cock—throbbing wildly within Adolar’s fist—sprayed a thick, slimy white jet of fuck fluid in a glistening arc, far in front of them. Another jet followed, and then a third.
His semen splattered generously through the air and rained down upon the tiles, a few drops landing right where Laszlo was sitting, almost hitting his shoes. Adolar—still hugging Bob from behind—manipulated his dick and his nips until he was sure that Bob’s balls were completely drained of their potent load.
“Oh, my God!” Bob moaned, as he shot helplessly, the jets of hot fresh sperm escaping from the swollen tip of his prick again and again. “Christ—look at that motherfucking cock of mine going off!” he gloated. His eyelids closed again, as though weighed down.
“Yeah, like a pistol, dude! Damn! You sure come a lot,” Adolar said, admiringly. “Fuck, that’s hot!”
As he slumped out of Adolar’s embrace and got down onto his knees at Adolar’s feet, Bob opened his dazed eyes, and he saw that Laszlo was still groping himself with one hand, his fingers busily squeezing and stroking the long, thick outline which his dick made through his pants. He smiled at Bob, who wondered why the guy didn’t simply whip out his cock and jerk it off. What was Laszlo waiting for?
“Thanks, Bob. That was great, my boy. I really enjoyed watching you come like that. So hard! So much!” the doctor said. He was breathing hard, obviously excited by what he’d just seen. “But now I think it’s Adolar’s turn—right?”
“Hell, yes! I’m ready to pop!” Adolar gasped. “Come on, Bob. Help me out, buddy. Help me come!”
Bestriding Bob’s kneeling body like a nude, flesh-and-blood Colossus of Rhodes, with his legs spread wide, Adolar shoved his hot, horny prick over Bob’s bare shoulder and he began to beat it off with savage concentration, his arm muscles knotting up while his fist and forearm pumped away frantically on his cock.
“Szar—szar—szar! [Shit—shit—shit!]” Adolar chanted, monotonously. He was working his penis so violently that he looked as though he was in real, imminent danger of doing physical harm to himself.
Bob was still wildly excited after his own violent orgasm. He twisted his head toward the erection, stuck out his tongue, and began to lick Adolar’s hairy, oily balls.
He had licked and sucked on Adolar’s testicles often enough before, of course, but that had always taken place in the privacy of a bedroom. Admittedly, on occasion Vanessza and Urban had been there, too, observing, participating. Doing something so intimate to Adolar in front of Laszlo, with his slightly detached manner and his cool, appraising gaze, though, was different … more decadent, in a way. But the atmosphere of raw, unashamed sex out there on the patio, Laszlo’s obvious approval, and Adolar’s advanced state of sexual arousal, all conspired to break down the husky young weightlifter’s few lingering inhibitions and urge him to experiment, to abandon himself to the lustful impulse of the moment.
Still excited in the aftermath of his ejaculation, his own cock still hard and throbbing away in front of his groin, Bob licked his mentor’s penis, abjectly. The taste of the oil on the flesh didn’t bother him, and he found himself swabbing away, first at the cock, then once again lapping at both of Adolar’s testicles, eagerly, and then pushing his mouth back up to lick Adolar’s cockshaft, and even daring to rub his wet tongue over the knuckles of the hand with which Adolar was so energetically masturbating.
Bob knew he was behaving like a gay whore. But he didn’t care. He loved it! And … after all, now he was a gay whore, in the literal sense of the term!
“Shit!” Adolar roared, again, sounding nearly hysterical as he abandoned himself to his fierce self-induced ejaculation.
Staring down at Bob, Adolar came quickly, blasting his sperm onto the tiles, where it formed a second series of gooey white puddles right next to where Bob’s own load still gleamed wetly while it slowly dissolved on top of the tiles.
“Lick it up,” Adolar told Bob.
Wild with desire, Bob got down on his hands and knees, and he did so.
Chapter Thirty-One: The Doctor’s Bedside Manner
They all caught their breath, and then Adolar, laughing breathlessly, pulled Bob to his feet and gave him a quick hug—face to face this time, so that their chests and genitals were pressed together in intimate, sweaty, oily contact.
“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” Adolar demanded, smiling into his buddy’s eyes.
Bob looked at him. Adolar opened his mouth and offered it to Bob, who didn’t hesitate. He parted his own lips and hungrily accepted the other young stud’s kiss. While their lips ground together, Adolar pushed his tongue inside Bob’s mouth, and Bob felt a corresponding jolt of renewed lust pulse through his prick.
Laszlo, Bob was curious to notice, had stopped masturbating, and he didn’t seem particularly anxious about having an orgasm himself, although his hard-on still made an uncomfortable-looking bulge in his pants.
He said nothing, but smiled at the two other men in an indulgent way, before he rose from his seat and led the way back inside the house, and upstairs.
“I’ll get some towels,” Laszlo said. He went into the bathroom.
“You doing okay?” Adolar asked Bob, in a low tone of voice.
“Yeah. I’m a little drunk,” Bob admitted. “I could stand some sobering up. But—what the fuck is Laszlo going to do? Anything?”
“You mean, what’s he going to do, sexually? It varies,” Adolar explained. “Once or twice, he hasn’t wanted to do anything himself, not even come, and I just got dressed and headed home—with my ‘roids. Other times, I got my dick hard again and I shot off for him a second time. Usually, though—he’s gotten undressed, too, and we’ve had more or less normal sex. This could be one of those nights. He really likes you, I can tell. You may help to bring the dude out of his shell.”
None of this seemed all that “normal” to Bob, but he was willing to accept the fact that his own experience was limited and in need of broadening. And so far Laszlo had been the perfect host, polite, accommodating, and undemanding. Bob felt quite comfortable in the man’s presence, and he realized, with a slight shock, that he was perfectly willing to have sex with him. Including “more or less normal sex,” whatever the blasé Adolar meant by that!
Laszlo returned, wearing nothing but a bathrobe, and carrying fresh towels, which the bodybuilders used to wipe the oil and sweat from their bodies.
“If you get any on the sheets, don’t worry about it,” Laszlo said, graciously.
Adolar stretched out comfortable on the unmade bed. He patted the mattress with his hand, inviting the other two naked men to join him.
“Let’s fuck,” he said, bluntly. “Lose the robe, Laszlo.”
“I’m so embarrassed,” Laszlo protested.
“No need to be. Yo
u’ll get over it,” Adolar promised.
“Compared to you two, my body—”
“You look just fine to me,” Bob said, which seemed to be the right thing to say. The doctor positively beamed, in response to the compliment. He shed his robe, so that he, too, was naked.
And Laszlo did indeed get over his shyness, once Adolar took him in his arms and kissed him, rather tenderly, on the mouth—taking his time, easing the physician into the sexual activity.
Bob decided to get into the act, too, and he embraced Laszlo from behind, playing with his nips while he nuzzled his lips against Laszlo’s shoulder muscle, licking his delightfully smooth, creamy skin.
Laszlo, he discovered, had exceptionally responsive nipples, and, because he obviously got off on having them pinched or sucked, Bob and Adolar both worked on his chest at the same time—each muscle man sucking hungrily on a tit while they used both of their brawny right fists on Laszlo’s large, very erect, and semen-dripping prick. Laszlo quickly not only forgot about his embarrassment, he got so turned on that he writhed between them in a veritable erotic frenzy.
“Go ahead and fuck me, Adolar,” Laszlo suggested, panting. He gestured toward tube of lubricant which was conveniently displayed on the nightstand.
Adolar greased himself thoroughly, and Laszlo spread his legs, and his butt cheeks, wide, offering his asshole to Adolar’s cock, which penetrated him quickly and completely. While his fuck buddy humped the doctor, Bob slicked up his palm with some of the lubricant and masturbated Laszlo, leaning over him to suck on his nips again.
“Oh, man, you really do have a nice, tight ass,” Adolar gasped, as he labored between Laszlo’s buttocks, quickly establishing a fast pumping rhythm.
“Aw, hell, a big muscle stud’s huge goddamn dick in my hole,” Laszlo gloated. “That’s what I like—what I think about, when I jack off—!”
“No need to jack off,” Adolar told him. “Not when you’ve got us to take care of you.”
“Oh, you’re a couple of very dirty muscle boys,” Laszlo decreed.
“That’s right, we’re filthy, aren’t we, Bob?” Adolar asked. “Absolutely filthy—!”
“A pair of degenerates,” Bob agreed.
“I’m going to come, guys,” Laszlo warned. And he did indeed ejaculate—all over himself, his cock drenching his torso with slippery-wet fluid. “Don’t stop, Adolar,” he groaned, while his dick was still spurting inside Bob’s forceful grip. “Keep fucking me until you come, stud. Let me feel your hot semen filling me up, flowing deep into my ass! Oh, baby, breed my horny hole!”
Inspired by their host’s hot ass and lewd talk, Adolar shot off, too, his semen exploding into Laszlo’s rectum like a tidal wave of liquid potency. But, still wildly aroused, he went right on humping, thrusting his cock forcibly back and forth inside the man’s anus on a warm, slippery bath of his own seed.
Finally, though, he pulled out with a grunt, and then Laszlo urged Bob to straddle him, so that Bob’s dick stuck out over his chest, its tip aimed at Laszlo’s face like a loaded pistol.
“Jack off, Bob,” Laszlo begged. He reached up with both hands to tease Bob’s own stiff nips. “Spray your fucking stud jizz right into my face! I like to watch a big dick shoot off, and I like to feel a guy’s load dripping down my face. It turns me on!”
Bob gave him what he wanted, and Laszlo groaned in sheer ecstasy when the semen soiled his nose and cheeks and chin, clinging to his handsome features like a slimy facial mask.
Now that the ice had not only been broken, but melted, Laszlo seemed ready for anything.
And Adolar, just as eager to continue the sex play, needed no more than a moment to catch his breath before he was making further obscene suggestions. He was, Bob soon discovered, an amazingly inventive sex partner, who encouraged the other two men to get into a variety of positions with them, and who showed them any number of ways to get their rocks off together. At one point, for example, he fucked Bob, while Bob sucked Laszlo’s cock, and Laszlo took both of Bob’s balls inside his own mouth and slurped on them. Bob reveled in it all, fascinated by this thorough introduction to gay sex.
He especially liked being screwed yet again by Adolar, his well-hung buddy, who certainly had the right tool for the job! The initial insertion hurt a bit, as Bob had feared. It usually did, because Adolar’s cock was so large But Bob’s manhole quickly got used to being stretched and filled and pummeled by the other muscle stud’s bulky, solid cock, and his anus flexed with desperate abandon around Adolar’s hammering piston, squeezing it, stroking it, milking it with a whorish greed and delight.
Bob’s excitement, and the steady friction of his butch asshole all around the circumference of Adolar’s fuck tool, quickly brought Adolar to the melting point again. With a hoarse cry of erotic triumph, he blasted his full load into his gym buddy’s rectum, flooding Bob’s guts with his thick, foaming sperm.
“Aw, Christ,” Bob moaned, when it was all over and he lay there shivering, stretched out between the other two men’s bodies, hugging them both closely to himself for warmth and reassurance. “I never—shit, I never thought I’d get into all this. Let alone get off on it!”
Adolar just smiled.
The two weightlifters showered, then got dressed. Laszlo had slipped back into his thick, soft terrycloth bathrobe, and they all returned downstairs, where they sat down in the living room for a final glass of wine.
“I hope you’ll become a regular visitor here,” Laszlo told Bob. “Just like Adolar is. In fact, I hope you’ll continue to visit me as a pair. It’d be so much more exciting to entertain you both at once, instead of one at a time.”
“Sure,” Bob said.
“Next time, we’ll do some photo taking,” Adolar promised. “For that private collection of yours, Laszlo.”
When they left the house, Bob, like Adolar, not only had some prescriptions tucked away in his pocket—he was clutching a cardboard box filled with an assortment of pill bottles—his own supply of steroids. Laszlo had produced the two packages and handed one to each of them, as casually as though they were party favors, when he escorted his guests to the front door.
“Thank you so much for coming,” he told Bob, without conscious irony. “Adolar knows what to do—what an appropriate steroid cycle is for a beginner, I mean. You just do what he tells you to, and you can’t go wrong.”
This was a remark which struck Bob as apropos, indeed. After all, he’d been doing what Adolar told him to do, or showed him how to do, all evening. He thanked Laszlo, fervently—and he once again promised to come back and see him, in Adolar’s company, again, and soon.
Cynically, he realized that Laszlo was no fool. By doling out no more than a few weeks’ supply of the drugs at a time, he was practically guaranteeing that Bob and Adolar would agree to visit him again before too long, for another round of exhibitionism and sex—and another fix.
“Any surplus, we can hand out to our gym buddies. Or sell. I told you Laszlo was all right,” Adolar remarked, when he and Bob were in the car, headed back to the campus. He grinned at Bob, knowingly. “You got off on it—every minute of it—didn’t you, stud?” he teased. “Hell, you don’t have to feel embarrassed about it, or ashamed to admit it. Not with me, anyway. I’d do worse things than this to keep myself supplied, and I admit it.”
Bob reserved judgment, saying nothing. After all, he decided, he was no better than Adolar.
Chapter Thirty-Two: All Juiced Up
Bob began to visit Laszlo regularly. Occasionally, if Adolar was busy, he went alone. As a rule, though, he and Adolar went together, in order to perform as a duo for their pleasant, generous host. Laszlo seemed to prefer it that way, and Bob wanted to keep the man happy. If the doctor invited other male prostitutes to his house on other nights, as Adolar insisted he did, then he was certainly discreet about it. Bob never heard any scandalous gossip about Laszlo circulate in bodybuilding circles, or at the gym.
The steroids worked, all right. There could be n
o doubt about that. Bob found himself gaining muscle mass almost visibly, even between one workout and the next! The drugs had a few less desirable side effects, which Adolar had prepared Bob for.
Bob got moody and irritable when he was in between cycles, to the extent that both his school work and his social life suffered. Ultimately, too, he developed a slight but disturbing case of what Laszlo diagnosed as “gynecomastia,” but which Adolar more bluntly referred to as “bitch tits.” The flesh of Bob’s pecs around his nipples swelled slightly, until his tits did indeed resemble the teats of some milk-producing, nursing female farm animal! Fortunately, when in due course Bob stopped taking the steroids, the telltale puffiness, a common enough occurrence in hardcore bodybuilding circles, went away, leaving him with an impressive pair of pecs indeed.
But the worst thing about being “on the juice” was that the steroids increased both his aggressiveness and his sex drive. The two things seemed to go together. No matter how hard Bob pushed himself during his workouts with Adolar or other bodybuilders, he still seemed to have plenty of energy left over to devote to sexual activity. He and Adolar now got together for sex almost every night, but still Bob found himself looking forward to their weekly sessions with Laszlo, as an additional outlet for the seemingly endless supply of hot, wet, tormenting sperm which kept building up in his balls.
“So go with the flow,” Adolar advised him, when Bob discussed the problem with him. “You know I’ll put out for you, suck and fuck with you, any damn time you want, man. We’re asshole buddies now, aren’t we? And we still have plenty of jizz left over to keep the doc satisfied. So what’s the big deal?”
“There’s got to be more to life than working out and sex,” Bob protested.
“Can’t think what that could be.”
“If I keep going at this rate, I’m going to flunk out, for one thing.”
“It’ll all peak, and then it’ll level out, once your body gets used to the routine,” Adolar predicted. He grinned. “And when you’re an old man who can’t get it up on a bet, then you’ll look back on this and wish you could do it all over again.”
Bisexual Bodybuilders Vol 4 Page 2