“Okay, maybe I don’t have a pair of the pecs of death, like you so,” Tex said. “But I’m not exactly ugly, am I?”
“The pecs of death? What a curious expression,” Petr said. “Is that American slang? What does it mean? How can a pectoral muscle harm someone?”
“It just means you have a really nice muscular chest. Which you do, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
Tex kicked his training shoes from his bare feet and began to unzip his tight white pants.
“You are undressing?” Petr asked, incredulously, trying not to be obvious about it as his indifference faded and his violet-gray eyes hungrily devoured the other man’s body.
“I sure am,” Tex teased. “I usually end up nude, sooner or later, during one of these sessions. Might as well get it over with, right up front.”
He had nothing on now but the tiniest pair of underpants that Petr had ever seen. They strained to accommodate the bunched-up mass of the masseur’s cock and balls. The circumcised head of Tex’s prick was clearly outlined by the translucent nylon material, which molded itself lovingly to what little of the young stud’s hips and ass cheeks it covered. Tex had obviously sunned himself in the nude and his body was a warm, glowing dark olive color all over as a result. Petr was glad he was lying on his belly so that his instant, incriminating erection wasn’t visible.
“You massage your customers in the nude?” Petr asked.
“Sure. Me in the nude, them in the nude.”
“Is that customary, here in America?”
“You bet it is.”
“Why?”
Tex grinned. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“I’m afraid it isn’t. Not to me. Please explain it to me.”
“Uh…well, it’s more comfortable, for both of us. And I don’t have to worry about staining my clothes, if I work up a sweat. Or spilling the massage oil on my clothes.”
“I see. You have a very nice body,” Petr said.
“Thanks, man. So do you. This way, I can move around freely and it won’t matter how sweated up or oily I get,” Tex improvised. He hesitated again. “Listen, big man. Are you sure you’re not a cop?”
Even back home in Czechoslovakia, Petr had seen American cop shows on television, and American cop movies in the theaters, in both cases dubbed into Czech. He knew what a cop was, and he was a little baffled by Tex’s persistent accusation. “Me, a cop? A police officer? You are making fun of me, surely. Come now. I want my massage,” he insisted, more than a little petulantly. “You will please begin.”
Shrugging, Tex dipped into his bag, rummaging around inside it as though to see what he might have in there that might prove useful for the task at hand. He found some musk scented massage oil and began to spread it all over his palms, and then he applied it to Petr’s broad back and shoulders and thighs.
“How’s that?” Tex asked, in a soft, seductive tone of voice.
“It’s a beginning.”
“Does it feel good?”
“Yes…yes, it does. Don’t be afraid to do it harder. Much harder.”
“Yeah, you look as though you can take it. Fuck, have you ever got a hard body!” Tex exclaimed.
“Thank you. I have worked hard to develop my physique.”
“All that work sure shows.”
Petr groaned with pleasure and relaxed, letting Tex’s uncertain hands rub the oil into his tired muscles. He didn’t even think to ask why Tex wasn’t kneading and pounding him the way other masseurs did. Perhaps here in America they did it differently. In any event, this was pleasurable, so far.
Tex, he realized, was quite skilled at his job. He helped himself to as much of Petr’s chiseled body as he could reach. His hands slid down over the oiled thighs and caressed Petr’s feet, rubbing oil into the soles and the spaces between the toes. Petr grunted as his cock got even harder. When Tex instructed him to roll over, he hesitated, embarrassed, but then he obeyed. His dick stood straight up from his blond pubic bush at a perfect right angle, and he tried not to react when he saw Tex’s eyes widen at the sight.
“Fuck, man, you look like you’re really tense,” the masseur muttered. When Petr didn’t answer, Tex eagerly set to work on his shoulders and chest and belly, until Petr’s upper body was gleaming from the oil. The masseuse let his hand brush against the smooth shaft of Petr’s pulsing cock. Petr groaned faintly but didn’t move. Tex touched that immense hard-on again for a second, just letting his fingertips come into contact with the swollen flesh. Still nothing.
“You must not be a cop,” Tex muttered, speaking more to himself than addressing Petr.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand this preoccupation you seem to have with police officers.”
“In my line of work, a guy has to be careful. A cop would’ve busted me by now.”
“Busted you? Do you mean arrested you? Why?”
“Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“I’m afraid you may have to.”
“For prostitution, of course. Jesus…just how new to this game, are you, man? Did you just get off the boat?”
“I came here on an airplane. Are you telling me you are a prostitute?”
“I’m not a Boy Scout.”
“Are you telling me you have sex with men, for money?”
“Bingo,” Tex declared. “You just hit the jackpot!”
“Did you think I called you on the telephone—did you think I wanted you to come here—to have sex with me?”
“You got it.”
“I’m sorry. There has been a mistake. All I wanted was a massage.”
Tex shrugged. “It’s six of one, half a dozen of the other, to me. As long as I get paid.”
“Oh, of course I will pay you for your time.”
“You’d better,” Tex said. “I didn’t come here for my health. What’s the matter, stud? Aren’t you enjoying your massage?”
“I am enjoying it, so far, yes.”
“I could make it a lot more enjoyable for you,” Tex purred.
“How?” Petr asked.
“You just lie back and relax, and I’ll show you.” Casting off all restraint, Tex became more aggressive. He began to massage the thick thighs. His thumbs dug into the creases on either side of Petr’s perineum until his balls were being rubbed by the friction, swelling larger within their bag. Petr squirmed a bit as his cock seemed to all but beg to be touched, to be relieved of its accumulated tensions. He was getting very aroused, as much by the sight of Tex’s all but naked body pressed against his as the masseur straddled his lower legs as by the relentless pressure of his warm, lubricated hands on Petr’s tingling flesh.
Was Petr imagining it, or was Tex actually fondling his balls? It gradually dawned on Petr that this was no conventional massage treatment.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Massaging your nuts,” Tex said.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Ah, because,” Petr began to protest nervously, trying to think of a logical reason. And then his whole body tensed in delicious excitement as Tex’s slick hand closed in a tight fist around the root of his aching cock! “Because I am getting aroused.”
“So what? What’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t know,” Petr confessed.
“How about this?” Tex asked. “Is this a good idea?”
“Don’t,” Petr gasped in feeble protest as Tex began to jerk him off with slow, provocative motions of his hand up and down around the shaft of his penis. Then Tex bent over quickly at the waist, his hair falling down and getting into his burning eyes. He licked his full red lips to lubricate them. And then, with a smile of knowing invitation, he lowered his head still more and Petr thrilled to the sensation of those wet, warm lips sliding down over the head of his cock. Tex’s fist squeezed it at the base at the same time he tightened his lips around the head. He began to suck.<
br />
Petr sat up on the bed, and Tex took his hand away so that Petr’s sudden movement could drive his shaft down his throat. Petr reached for the other young stud’s broad, tanned shoulders and gripped them to hold that sucking mouth in place. He stroked Tex’s hair, his neck, his cheeks as they puffed out and turned red from the enthusiasm with which the masseur was blowing him.
Petr had never paid for sex in his life. This is wrong, he told himself. This is immoral. And I’m sure it is against the law. We will surely be “busted,” as Tex put it. But…it does feel good! Oh, so very good!
He’d gone this far. He decided he might as well go the rest of the way!
“Turn around,” he gasped. Tex kept his mouth locked on his cock, while Petr quickly guided the masseur’s body into the position he wanted. “Yes, like this, please. Facing me…I want to suck you, too! Take off your underpants. Get naked!”
Still sucking, Tex grunted, which Petr interpreted as assent. Deftly, Tex pushed his underwear down his legs, first as far as his knees, then down around his ankles. He freed his feet from the flimsy undergarment and kicked it aside. Now he, like Petr, was totally nude. Tex’s cock protruded from his groin, thick and swollen, its shaft adorned with a pattern of blood-engorged veins.
Within seconds, Petr was reciprocating what Tex was doing to him, his own mouth greedily feeding on the turgid bulk of Tex’s hard tool.
The two men enjoyed their sixty-nine for long minutes on end. Tex was a good cocksucker. Too good! His efforts soon drove Petr to the brink.
Petr gasped and let Tex’s meat pop out from between his lips as he felt his entire body shuddering in orgasm. His hips jerked wildly as he began to pump his hot load into Tex’s throat. Tex dug his fingers into Petr’s grinding ass cheeks and held on, keeping his mouth pressed around the root of Petr’s cock. Petr exploded again and again. Expertly, not even pausing to take a breath, Tex sucked him dry of his sperm.
While Petr lay back, panting, still recovering from the intensity of his climax, Tex evidently decided to do something to soothe the giant hard-on that still throbbed between his own muscular thighs. He knelt on the mattress and rubbed some of the massage oil over his cock. Then he seized Petr’s legs and pulled them around his narrow waist. The Czech knew what was coming and let it happen, moaning to encourage Tex. Not that the oversexed stud needed much encouragement. He plunged two lubricated fingers into Petr’s tender ass hole to prepare it for the insertion of his eager prick. His fingers massaged Petr’s anus with an expertise they hadn’t demonstrated earlier. Petr laughed breathlessly as he suspected that he was about to discover just what an “inside and out” massage entailed. Namely, Tex’s cock up his tail!
The probing fingers were withdrawn from his craving ass hole.
“Do you take it up the ass?” Tex demanded.
“I am not sure what you mean. Take what?”
“Cock,” Tex specified, bluntly. “Do you like to get fucked?”
“I like to fuck and to be fucked. I have no preference.”
“Good for you. Me, too. But right now, I’m in the mood to do the fucking.”
“I would be delighted to accommodate you.”
“How do you want it?” Tex asked. “Bareback, or with a rubber?”
“With a rubber, of course,” Petr replied. “Do you ever do it without a condom?”
Tex shrugged. “I do whatever the customer pays for.”
“I only practice safe sex.”
“Good for you,” Tex repeated. “Why don’t we have ourselves a little practice session, right now?”
“All right.”
Tex had already extracted a condom from his bag. He tore it open, pulled out the prophylactic, and tossed the empty packet onto the floor. He unrolled the rubber down over his thick, throbbing cock shaft. He took a tube of lubricant from the bag as well, and used a palmful of it to slick up his cock. He squeezed another blob of the gel out onto his fingertips, which he inserted between Petr’s buttocks.
“Um, that’s a pretty little hole you’ve got there, buddy,” Tex whispered. “It’s nice and tight. Maybe we’d better get some of this lube in there, first.”
“Go ahead.”
Tex fingered Petr’s ass hole again, transferring the slippery gel onto it. Once again, he withdrew his fingers—but this time, they were instantly replaced by the blunt, insistent head of his cock. He pressed his body forward to guide his lubricated weapon between Petr’s thighs, between his buttocks, against the narrow opening of the sheath that was waiting for it.
As he felt his anal mouth parting to swallow up the stiff flesh that was being crammed into it, inch after potent inch, Petr knew that he’d made a good choice when he’d picked Tex’s ad in preference to the others. He was getting a real taste of American gay culture at last!
Chapter Three
Laundry Duty
During the new few weeks, Guy had little free time on his hands.
His workouts were going exceptionally well. Petr Adamec had turned out to be an ideal training partner. He and Guy pushed each other, hard.
Outside the gym, Petr had a laid-back personality. Guy found it interesting that a man who was so aggressive and unsparing whenever he hit the weights could be so phlegmatic when he wasn’t exercising. Guy enjoyed Petr’s company, but he had to admit he hadn’t spent much time with him except when they were working out. Ordinarily, Guy would have gone out of his way to socialize with a new training partner, to get to know him better. He hoped Petr didn’t think he was being standoffish toward him.
The one thing Guy had done was admit to Petr that he was gay. He didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings between the two of them on that score.
“I broke up with my lover a while ago,” Guy told the Czech.
“I am sorry, Guy.”
“Don’t be. We wanted different things from life. I’m over it.” Even as he spoke, though, Guy wondered if that claim was really true. “I’m not ready to get into another relationship. I just want to have fun.” Guy paused, and smiled at his new training partner. “And what about you?”
“I, too, prefer to have sex with men.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“I enjoyed myself in Florida. There was no one man who was special.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have any trouble meeting somebody here.”
Petr smiled. “Neither should you.”
But the truth was that Guy was simply too busy to do much socializing, either with Petr or anybody else. He was kept busy fucking that hot little number, Jeremy.
Guy and Jeremy were getting along famously. They never discussed their expectations of one another. But, as though by mutual, unspoken agreement, both men knew that theirs was a physical relationship. It was a fling, with no romantic element in it and no prospect of becoming long-term. They were fuck buddies. They could enjoy each other’s bodies, until other sex partners came along.
Guy liked to keep his personal life private, and he appreciated the fact that Jeremy was discreet. At the gym, Jeremy would smile or wink at Guy, who would often engage in a little sexually charged banter with him. But no one observing the two men interact would have suspected that they were having sex with each other. Avery Jones didn’t seem to miss too much that went on in his gym. But Guy flattered himself that his liaison with Jeremy was a secret even from Avery.
Hooking up with Jeremy couldn’t have been simpler. When they ran into each other at the gym, one of them would ask, “Hey, are you doing anything later on tonight?” or “Do you have any plans for this weekend?” And then they would arrange a rendezvous.
They usually met at Jeremy’s place. Jeremy was an inventive and versatile sex partner, and indeed was more than a little kinky.
Their sessions usually began with what Jeremy described as a little body worship. They’d both strip naked, and Guy would pose and flex for Jeremy’s benefit. Not content merely to admire the bodybuilder, Jeremy would feel an
d caress his muscles, then explore various parts of Guy’s body with his lips and tongue. Before long, Jeremy would be treating Guy to one of his first-class blow jobs.
Then he would invite Guy to fuck him, not only with his cock, but with Jeremy’s extensive collection of state-of-the-art butt plugs and dildos, which he kept stowed in a toy box underneath his bed, for his private use when he was flying solo, or to share with a trick who was receptive to the idea of a little ass play.
Jeremy’s repertory included light bondage and discipline. He’d invite Guy to tie his hands behind his back, and then “force” him to service Guy with his mouth. Jeremy liked to have his nipples worked on—to have them pinched, even bitten, or compressed by clothes pins. A special thrill for him was having Guy turn him over his knee and spank him—again, as a prelude to fucking him. Guy was a good sport who gave Jeremy what he wanted. Guy had to admit that he found most of the games they played together quite enjoyable.
As Guy got to know Jeremy better, Jeremy was equally forthcoming about discussing some of his other proclivities, including his mild fetish for other men’s underwear and socks. He confessed to Guy that he sometimes went on foraging expeditions—entering the gym’s locker room surreptitiously to borrow one or more items of discarded workout clothing some member might be careless enough to leave out in the open, instead of stowing away in his locker while he used the steam room or the showers. Jeremy would conceal these stolen goods in his own locker, and then, at the close of his shift, he would take them home with him. Meanwhile, of course, an irate member would be wondering what the hell had happened to his things. After using the purloined items to jack off, Jeremy always laundered them, then returned them to the gym, where he’d deposit them, just as stealthily, in the front desk’s lost and found bin—so he insisted that no real harm was done.
If Jeremy could score some intimate and well-used garment that belonged to one of the members he especially lusted after, so much the better. So far, he boasted, his greatest prize had been a ruinously threadbare and disgustingly sweat-sodden jockstrap belonging to none other than Avery, his boss—a jockstrap the strapping Australian muscleman wore while putting in his own workouts. Jeremy told Guy how he had masturbated himself into a frenzy for three nights in a row, each time with the pungent pouch of the athletic supporter draped over his face, before he reluctantly decided he’d better not press his luck. He washed and returned the jockstrap, much to Avery’s relief. The muscular gym owner had assumed his jockstrap had somehow gotten misplaced. It was annoying, Avery said, to have to break in a brand new athletic supporter, and he’d actually commented to the shameless Jeremy that he was afraid he might be getting prematurely forgetful.
Tales From the Gym Page 4
