As she spoke, she stepped toward him. Her cunt was already tingling with anticipation—with impatience!
Squirming around to kneel directly in front of him, her voluptuous breasts shaking inside the lacy cups of her bra, Vanessza fluttered her expertly trained tongue up the underside of Bob’s hard-on, until her wet, slippery tongue-tip reached the groove around the base of the head. She tickled that extra-sensitive part of his prick with her tongue, picking up a stronger masculine sex taste—and her licking and teasing made Bob writhe in an erotic agony of impatience.
Now she was ready to take the plunge, Vanessza decided, heatedly. She was going to suck her husband’s young lover’s cock! Bob probably thought that Adolar was a good cocksucker. No doubt he was; God knew he’d had plenty of practice. But now, Vanessza was going to show this boy what a blow job could really be like!
She backed up a bit, then bent forward, positioning her face right over the tip of his cock. Her tongue slid out of her mouth. First, she licked the tip of the throbbing penis, lapping up the clear, sticky fluid which was leaking, drop by drop, out of the pouting slit. Then she snaked her slurping tongue all over the hard, smooth cock knob, widened her lips, and—with a greedy groan of lust—she enveloped his entire glans in her cock-loving mouth.
She closed her eyes and sucked Bob, blissfully. She was wildly turned on. Her vagina was on fire. It felt as though a couple of pints of hot, steaming cunt-honey were spilling out of her pussy and wetting the crotch of her panties, gluing them against her feverish slit. Her body went tingly hot all over. She bobbed her head up and down, back and forth, from side to side, attacking Bob’s cock from every angle and taking it deep into her mouth. She even let the thick head slide down into the clasping pressure of her throat. Masochistically, she choked on it.
Bob moaned and shuddered. Vanessza was every bit as good at sucking cock as Adolar, he was discovering—much to his delight. He loved what the physique chamption’s wife was doing to him.
Vanessza’s red lips surrounded the base of his prick, and then they glided up toward the head again, before slipping back down, until her nose was crushed into his wiry pubic hair. Bob’s balls churned with their load of hot cum. As the pro bodybuilder’s wife hungrily pumped her mouth up and down on his turgid cock, he realized that he wasn’t going to be able to hold his ejaculation back for long. He decided there was no point in even trying!
He wanted to warn her that he was going to come. After all, that was the least a guy could do, when a man or a woman was going down on him! But it was already too late. Before Bob could formulate the words, his semen came to a boil, and overflowed.
Within seconds, his jism was spurting out his prick and flooding Vanessza’s mouth and throat. From her happy gurgle and the frantic swallowing noises she made, he deduced that she was enjoying herself … that she loved this part of giving him a blow job as much, if not more, than the cocksucking itself.
“Oh, wow, Mrs. Mezey!” Bob gasped. “That was terrific!”
Vanessza eased her mouth off his dripping prick. She had so much semen in her mouth that she had difficulty speaking clearly at first.
“I’m glad you liked it,” she mumbled. “I liked it, too. I liked it a lot. So, tell me, Bob. Who gives a better blow job—me, or my husband?” She cleared her throat, and then she chuckled. “Never mind. I know that’s an unfair question.” Vanessza stood up. “There’s one thing the big man can’t do for you, though,” she added, lewdly. “But I can!”
“What’s that, ma’am?” the ever-polite Bob asked.
“Adolar doesn’t have a pussy,” Vanessza pointed out. “I do, and right now it needs attention. Come upstairs with me, Bob. I’m going to teach you how to make love to a woman. How to really make love to her, until you have her screaming with pleasure, and begging you for more.”
Chapter Nine: Better Bodies, and Better Sex, Through Chemistry
There was a reason why Adolar was late coming home on that evening, when Bob showed up unexpectedly on his doorstep, and Vanessza entertained the eager young muscle pup, during her husband’s absence.
Adolar was turning a trick. In his capacity as one of Budapest’s most in-demand male escorts, he had made an appointment with a new john. But no ordinary john, not just another horny man who wanted to get his rocks off in the company of a sexually versatile, accommodating bodybuilder. This client was willing to pay Adolar not only in cash, but with drugs. Specifically, steroids!
The john, whose name was Laszlo, was a doctor, and he lived in Szentendre, a quiet, picturesque suburb which was about twenty kilometers [twelve and a half miles] north of Budapest.
Adolar had found the doctor via his website, the one on which Adolar advertised his escorting services.
Let’s barter! This hot bisexual bodybuilder, recently awarded the title of Mr. Hungary, seeks a physician who can prescribe “performance enhancement” drugs for him, Adolar had posted, shamelessly. Help me to get even bigger and harder, and we should be able to work out an arrangement to our mutual advantage.
With an equal frankness, Laszlo had replied. Legitimate doctor here. Muscle enthusiast. Can supply your needs in exchange for intimate activities, including abject, submissive muscle worship on my part, and rough, brutal domination from you. I am willing to be your slave.
Well, that was all Adolar needed to read! He contacted Laszlo, and they set up a day and time to meet.
On a Monday evening, Adolar drove from downtown Budapest to the neighborhood on the northern outskirts of the city where Laszlo lived.
The doctor, Adolar discovered, had a small but pretty two-story brick house, set back a little from the street, and with a walled garden on one side of it. The windows were equipped with shutters painted bright blue, and window boxes planted with flowers. When Adolar rang the doorbell, Laszlo opened the door almost at once.
“Ah, there you are, Adolar. Come right on in.”
“I know I’m a little early,” Adolar said, apologetically. “But I don’t know this part of Szentendre very well, and I was afraid I might have trouble finding the address. But your directions were excellent. And of course—”
“Yes?” Laszlo prompted, when Adolar hesitated.
“Well, of course I used my GPS.”
Laszlo smiled. “And I’m sure that helped to bring you right to my doorstep.”
“Yeah.”
“The important thing is that you’re here, however you got here. Let’s go into my study. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Sure, but don’t go to any trouble. What are you having?”
“A cognac.”
“Then I’ll have the same, please.”
Adolar followed Laszlo into his study, where his host poured out the drinks. The room’s French windows overlooked the garden. It was a masculine retreat, with furniture in dark wood tones, upholstered in black or brown leather. Laszlo’s medical bag was on his desk.
“How exciting it is to meet you at last,” Laszlo gushed. “I have all of your videos. I can’t wait for the next one to come out. And of course I never miss one of your competitions. I was in the audience when you won Mr. Hungary. And the other night, when you guest posed at that amateur event.”
“You should have come backstage.”
“I wanted to, but I was too shy. Now, though, I have you all to myself. I’ve often thought about hiring your services. But again, I could never seem to work up the nerve. When I saw your post about wanting to trade sex for steroids—well, that tipped the balance.”
“This is a very nice house,” Adolar said, trying to make the conversation not sound like too much a commercial transaction. “And you obviously have an easy commute, to and from your office in the city.”
“Yes, it’s very convenient. How’d you know I work in Budapest?”
“Oh, just an educated guess.” The truth was that Adolar was a cautious whore, who always checked out his new potential johns, whenever that was possible. Laszlo had given him his real name, and a sim
ple Internet search had confirmed that he was indeed a doctor, with a practice in the city.
Adolar took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “I’ve, ah, taken the liberty of making a list of what performance enhancement drugs I want.”
“That usually simplifies matters. Let me see it.”
Adolar handed over his list, which Laszlo scrutinized.
“And what results do you hope to achieve, by taking these substances?” Laszlo asked.
He sounds more like a doctor than a john, Adolar couldn’t help thinking. Aloud, he replied, “I want to get bigger, of course. More muscular. And more defined.”
Laszlo smiled, and he shook his head. “Aren’t you guys ever satisfied with the way you look? No, I withdraw the question. Because I know the answer is ‘no, never.’ Well, I ought to be able to help you.”
Emboldened, Adolar said, “Can you prescribe me amyl? The real stuff, not the crap which passes for it?”
“That won’t make you bigger. It’ll just make you hornier,” Laszlo said, bluntly.
“Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“Amyl nitrite is a potent vasodilator, used to treat angina. Gay men discovered its recreational uses generations ago. But using it can be dangerous is there’s anything wrong with your blood pressure, or your heart. That’s one reason why, before I prescribe that, or anything else for you, I’d like to give you a brief examination, first.”
“I’m sure you would,” Adolar joked. “Well, feel free. I’m at your disposal. That was our agreement.”
“No, I mean a real physical examination—if a cursory one.”
“Oh. Sure. But why?”
“To be blunt—I don’t want to risk prescribing something for you that might make you drop dead,” the doctor said. “What we’re doing here would be considered unethical by most of my colleagues. But I’m not entirely without scruples.”
“Few people are,” Adolar replied.
“Would you like to get undressed?” the doctor asked. On the surface, his manner and his tone of voice were businesslike; but Adolar had been around long enough to detect the hint of urgency underlying them.
He treated the other man to his most seductive smile. “Sure. I’ll get naked, for you.”
He began to strip, not exactly making a performance out of it, but taking his time. He removed his shirt, and then he sat down on one of the leather armchairs to unlace his training shoes and tug them off. He peeled off his socks as well, balling them up and depositing them inside his shoes. He stood up again and unbuckled his belt. Maintaining eye contact with the other man now, Adolar noted with satisfaction that Laszlo was staring quite fixedly at him—and was no longer making any effort to conceal his lust.
Adolar’s smile broadened into a sly grin he opened the waist button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper. Slowly, teasingly, he pushed the jeans down his thick thighs and calves, and stepped out of them.
He was now nude except for a pair of pristine white cotton boxer shorts. While getting dressed for this visit, he’d known he’d be dropping his trousers for the doctor, sooner or later, and he’d debated whether to wear no underwear at all. But that seemed a bit slutty and obvious. Then he’d been torn between putting on a tight pair of skimpy bikini briefs, or something more modest. He’d finally decided on the latter option. The freshly laundered boxers looked good on him, they were comfortable, and—at the moment, as he stood there in front of Laszlo wearing nothing else—they left at least something to the imagination. Adolar suspected that Laszlo possessed a vivid imagination, and was having no difficulty whatsoever visualizing what was (barely) hidden away behind that white cotton fabric.
“Should I leave my shorts on—for now?” he asked, mock-innocently, but taking care to give those two words for now an unmistakable, provocative inflection.
“Ah … yes, Adolar, you might as well.”
Adolar submitted to Laszlo’s inspection with a good grace. Laszlo took his pulse and his blood pressure, and then he used a stethoscope to listen to Adolar’s heart. To Adolar’s surprise—and almost to his disappointment—when Laszlo touched him, he did so in an apparently impersonal, professional way.
“What’s the verdict?” Adolar asked.
“You seem to be quite disgustingly healthy, on the whole.”
Adolar smirked. “I can be disgusting in all sorts of ways, given the opportunity.”
“Let’s be serious for a moment, Adolar, please. You’re a young man, in excellent physical shape. You have every incentive to stay healthy. I know that your bodybuilding is important to you. A regimen of steroids, properly administered and monitored, probably won’t harm you. But the problem is that young guys like you don’t want to stick to the regimen. Their attitude is always, ‘more is better.’ They assume that doubling the dosage will give them twice the results. They’re wrong. They end up putting a strain on their bodies and their internal organs, and wrecking their health.”
“I’m not like that,” Adolar insisted. “I’m not a young, dumb, ambitious kid. I’m thirty-two years old, Doc, for Christ’s sake, and I’ve been pumping iron since I was fourteen. I believe in going after long-term results, not short-term ones. I flatter myself than I’m pretty disciplined. I’ll adhere strictly to the stack you prescribe.”
“And you’ll let me check you out periodically, to keep track of how you’re doing?”
“I put myself in your hands.” Adolar grinned. “Hell, I’d be foolish not to want to put myself in the hands of such a caring doctor … and such an attractive one.”
“Oh, you find me attractive, do you?”
“Of course I do. You seem surprised.”
“I hope I’m not exactly repulsive,” Laszlo said, drily. “But I’m not under any illusions that the bodybuilders who come to me all end up falling madly in love with me. After all, this is a business transaction.”
“There’s no reason why a business transaction can’t also be a pleasurable experience—for both of the parties involved.”
“True. Let’s have another drink, while I get this out of the way.”
This was the writing out of the prescriptions. Nude except for his boxers, Adolar sat in the armchair and watched as Laszlo, who was still fully dressed, seated himself behind his desk. The doctor took out a pad of prescription forms and an expensive-looking fountain pen, which he uncapped. He set to work, methodically. Both men sipped their cognac while Laszlo wrote out prescription after prescription, adding them to a growing pile. For a physician, he had unusually legible handwriting. It occurred to Adolar that there was something almost surreal about the situation, and the transaction which was taking place.
“To avoid a pharmacist getting suspicious,” Laszlo said, as he completed his task and pushed the stack of little squares of paper toward Adolar, “it might be a good idea not to have all of these filled at the same drug store.”
“I understand.” Adolar found his discarded trousers, and tucked the wad of papers into one of its pockets.
“Good. Are you satisfied?”
“Very. And don’t worry,” Adolar added. “I’m going to make certain that you are, too. Where’s the bedroom?”
“Upstairs.”
“Don’t you think it’s about time we went there?”
“I suppose so.” There was a studied diffidence in Laszlo’s tone of voice. “Bring your drink with you.”
“Let’s go.”
They rose, taking their glasses and the bottle with them, and Laszlo led the way, up the stairs and into his bedroom.
He’d obviously anticipated entertaining a visitor in his bedroom, and in his bed. The drapes were drawn over the windows. The only light in the room came from one of the two small, shaded lamps set on nightstands on either side of the bed. The lamp was turned down low, so that it cast a soft, warm suffused glow over the bed. The bed, made up was freshly laundered, luxurious linen sheets, was turned down. On the same nightstand as the lit lamp were set out the unmistakable accessories of se
x—two neatly folded clean towels, a bottle of silicone gel lubricant, and a cardboard box (white, with blue lettering) containing amyl nitrite ampules. Slung over one of the bedposts was a silver neck chain threaded through the holes in the base of a silver-plated, bullet-shaped inhaler.
Adolar saw no reason to be coy. He pushed down his boxer shorts, stepped out of them, and deposited them neatly on top of one of the chests of drawers.
He stood there naked, relaxed, unselfconsciously displaying himself. The fact that he was, for all practical purposes, not only exhibiting himself to his new trick, but using his body as a commodity to barter with, excited him. He felt his cock stirring as it filled with blood and began to harden and throb, insistently, as though it was deliberately trying to call attention to itself. It was a summons that Adolar always found hard to resist. He reached down, grasped the shaft of his swelling prick in his hand, and began to stroke it gently, helping it get fully hard.
Laszlo had begun to get undressed. As he stripped, he stared excitedly at Adolar’s already nude body, and his exposed genitals.
“You really are magnificent,” he whispered. “Your photos don’t you justice.”
“Thank you.”
“I feel puny next to you.”
“Don’t be absurd. You’re very handsome. And I can tell you have a nice body. Come on, let me see the rest of it,” Adolar coaxed. “Get naked. It’s not fair, for me to be the only one standing here without a stitch on.” He sat down on the edge of the mattress, and, curiously, took the silver chain and inhaler from the bedpost. “May I?”
“Of course.”
Adolar saw how the base of the inhaler unscrewed, so that one of the ampules could be dropped inside it. Twisting the top of the inhaler exposed an aperture through which the fumes of the amyl good be snorted. Adolar took one of the ampules from the box on the nightstands. The fragile-looking little object was sheathed in a thin covering of fine-textured mesh.
Laszlo had stripped off his underwear, so that now he, too, was nude.
“Pinch it lightly between your thumb and your forefinger to crush it,” he instructed Adolar, “and drop into the inhaler and twist it closed. Then you’re good to go.”
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