Musclebros

by Emeric Varady

  Had they met by chance in a gay bar, Markus would have been willing to hook up with him and have sex with him for free! The escort had a feeling he was going to enjoy this assignment.

  The waiter, seeing Dietrich join Markus, returned to take their drink order.

  “I’ll have a garden sour,” Dietrich said.

  “What’s that?” Markus asked.

  “Rhubarb liqueur, mezcal, lemon juice, celery bitters. Want to try it?”

  The concoction sounded not only exotic, but vaguely disgusting. However, Markus was game. “Yes, I’ll have the same.”

  “I like to get to know the other man a little, first,” Dietrich remarked, frankly, after the waiter walked away. “Don’t you look fine! You haven’t been neglecting the weights, I see.”

  “Nor have you,” Markus responded, sincerely.

  “I belong to a very good gym in Munich—that’s where I live—with excellent personal trainers. They’re bodybuilders, of course. Big, hardcore fuckers. I need to be kept focused and encouraged and pushed, when I work out. Otherwise, my natural laziness would take over. Tell me about the gyms here in Budapest.”

  Markus mentioned that he belonged to one of the gyms owned by Jozsef Somogyi. Dietrich knew who Jozsef was, and he was impressed.

  “You know him personally?” the German asked.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “He’s on the agency’s website, too, I saw. He’s a very hot man. Doesn’t look his age. I imagine he must be very much in demand.” Dietrich flashed Markus a broad grin. “But I like you better.”

  “It’s nice of you to say so.”

  The waiter brought the cocktails, which were a visually striking reddish-orange color. Markus took a first, cautious sip of his. To his relief, it wasn’t bad.

  “That boy—Lajos—whom I talked to on the phone. I suppose he told you what I have in mind?” Dietrich inquired.

  “A massage, he said.”

  “It needn’t be the kind of massage that a real massage therapist might give.” Dietrich smiled. It was almost as though he guessed that Markus’s experience as a masseur might be limited and informal, at best, and that he was indicating it didn’t matter. “I just like to be rubbed with the oil I have, rather vigorously, all over. That’s always a good way to unwind, after a day spent in business meetings, with no break except for a business lunch. And then—if you’ll pardon my crudeness—I like to suck cock and have mine sucked, and I like to be fucked.”

  “I appreciate your frankness. I always like to give a gentleman what he wants,” Markus said.

  Dietrich’s smile broadened. “Maybe we needn’t be so polite with each other,” he suggested. “I like dirty talk, and I don’t mind it if the sex gets a little rough. Let’s have another couple of these excellent garden sours, and then I should be in the mood for some play.” He signaled to the waiter.

  Over the next round of drinks, Dietrich continued to chat. He had business dealings not only in Budapest, but in other Eastern European cities—Vienna, Warsaw, and Prague—visiting them regularly. He freely admitted that, on his business trips, his idea of recreation in his free time was hiring an escort to come to his hotel room.

  Ten minutes later, Dietrich let Markus into his room.

  “This is a good hotel,” Dietrich commented, as he set down his briefcase. “Very quiet. Very comfortable. The bed’s very large, as you can see, with the extra firm mattress I requested when I made my reservation. I like to sleep on a firm mattress. And have sex on that kind, too. Just like I prefer my men to be firm, too. Firm and hard. Everywhere! You look as though you’re just as you were advertised. Let’s get undressed, so I can get a really good look at you.”

  As they undressed, and when they were both nude, Dietrich displayed the same lack of self-consciousness, as though he and Markus were old fuck buddies, for whom physical intimacy was no novelty.

  “Beautiful,” the redhaired German murmured, taking Markus in his arms, kissing him, and running his hands from the Hungarian’s shoulders down over his arms, and then caressing his pecs. “You’re a big man—with a big cock.”

  “You’ve got a nice body, yourself,” Markus replied. “And your penis isn’t exactly small, either.”

  Dietrich chuckled. “So, we like each other, huh? We’re well matched? Come, help me with this, will you?”

  Dietrich removed the bedspread, blanket, and top sheet from the immaculately made-up bed. Then, to Markus’s surprise, he took the pillows and tossed them onto a nearby chair. Dietrich had a suitcase lying on a free-standing, folding luggage rack provided by the hotel for that purpose. Opening the suitcase, he pulled out a large square piece of gray vinyl. When he began to unfold the vinyl, Markus saw that it was in fact a fitted bottom sheet.

  “I don’t like to leave a mess for the maids to clean up,” Dietrich explained. “They’re probably used to dealing with various body fluids, but it’s not fair to leave them sheets and a mattress soaked in oil.”

  Markus helped Dietrich to fit the vinyl sheet on top of the fitted sheet which was already on the mattress.

  Next, Dietrich took from the suitcase a glass bottle of massage oil, and the kind of small desktop warmer which could be used to heat a mug of coffee or a cup of soup. He placed the warmer on the nightstand, plugged it into the wall outlet, switched it on, and set the bottle on top of the warmer’s pad.

  “We’ll give that a chance to warm up,” he said.

  “Ingenious,” Markus commented.

  Dietrich went into the bathroom, returning with two fresh towels, which he tossed onto the bed. He dimmed the room’s lights.

  He surveyed the room with satisfaction. “I believe we’re ready,” he declared. He jumped onto the bed, rolling over on it until he lay in the middle, and he beckoned to Markus. “Come here, big guy,” he urged, with a devilish glint in his eyes.

  Genuinely aroused, Markus joined his john on the bed. The vinyl sheet felt cool, and it had a slightly slippery texture, against his bare skin.

  The two men enjoyed some more kissing, accompanied by mutual groping. They toyed with other’s rigid cocks. But Markus was aware that he was expected to provide at least a token massage—and, he remembered, a “vigorous” one.

  Accordingly, Markus urged Dietrich to lie face down on the vinyl-sheathed mattress, which was large enough to hold comfortably two guys with physiques as bulky as their, with plenty of room to spare. When Dietrich was stretched out, already looking quite relaxed except for his erection, on the bed, Markus began to anoint his body with the warmed oil, which had a strong herbal scent, rubbing it into every muscle of his legs and thighs, every crevice of his back, and between his buttocks—the latter, of course, a task which Markus especially enjoyed. The German stud had a very nice ass indeed.

  “Shit, that feels good,” Dietrich moaned.

  “I like touching you—rubbing you,” Markus murmured.

  “Well, don’t be shy, my muscular friend! Do it! Rub me everywhere,” Dietrich invited him. “Damn, you’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” he accused the hustler, smugly.

  “A little,” Markus confessed, by way of considerable understatement.

  “A lot, I think! What the fuck? I don’t mind. There’s no reason why you can’t enjoy your work.”

  “Damn,” Markus breathed. “You’re very sexy, you know.”

  He resumed the oiling, and the full-body massage. When he was satisfied with the job he’d done so far, he said, “All right, you’re done on that side. You’re thoroughly basted, like a chicken on a spit! Roll over. Let me work on the rest of you.”

  Dietrich flipped over onto his back, and whorishly, with a complete lack of inhibition, Markus began again to stimulate him, starting with his toes and the soles of his feet, working his way up his muscular, shapely calves and past his knees to his bulging thighs, rubbing the oil tenderly up over Dietrich’s hard, flat belly and his impressively broad, deep chest. Then, with Dietrich’s body properly anointed, Markus slid his mouth into pla
ce around the other guy’s penis and he began massaging him in a different and far more exciting way.

  “Oh, yeah—suck me, you muscle stud,” Dietrich moaned. “Yeah—just like that! Oh, this massage is going to have a happy ending, all right!”

  Once again, Markus used his mouth, unselfishly, enthusiastically, to make love to his handsome, well-built customer. Sucking a cock like Dietrich’s, especially when it was attached to a man like Dietrich, had long ago become one of his great joys in life. With most of his sex partners, though, whether they were johns or freebie hookups, fellatio had tended to be foreplay. With a guy like Dietrich, Markus enjoyed sucking cock entirely on its own merits. While he sucked his German john, he fought his urge to masturbate, because having Dietrich’s thick sausage-like prick in his mouth was so exciting that Markus knew that the slightest direct stimulation applied to own cock would make him spurt. He didn’t want to come, not just yet. He wanted Dietrich to shoot—to feed him his hot load! Passionately, Markus strove toward that goal.

  When the blow job had come to its inevitable conclusion and Markus had swallowed a mouthful of the other man’s sperm, Dietrich had a surprise in store for him. Far from seeming physically depleted or even momentarily tired out by his orgasm, Dietrich behaved as though he was more aroused than ever!

  “My turn,” he insisted. “Now I’m going to give you a massage. And I’m not even going to charge you for my services,” he joked.

  He pushed Markus down on the bed. Reaching for the oil, he imitated what Markus had just done to him, in every detail. But when Dietrich followed the massage with fellatio, before he could bring Markus off, Markus held his head in his hands and gasped, “No, wait! Don’t make me come. I’m enjoying this too much. I want to try to make it last, for as long as we can. Please?”

  Dietrich smiled, and sighed with pleasure. “My thought, exactly.”

  “What else would you like us to do?”

  “Fuck me. Use the oil for lube.”

  Dietrich lay on his belly on the mattress. Markus massaged his erotically overwhelming buttocks again, rubbing in more of the slippery, scented oil. Carefully, exercising a restraint which he rarely showed with his other sex partners, he eased an oily fingertip inside Dietrich’s sphincter ring, and he began to finger-fuck the tight little asshole, stretching it, coaxing it wider open, encouraging it to relax and accept the penetration. When, after much patient manipulation, Dietrich was able to relax his anal defenses completely and he sighed with pleasure, Markus felt he was ready to get fucked.

  Markus hoisted himself onto the broad bed atop Dietrich, placing one knee between Dietrich’s thighs, and he massaged his broad, smooth back as he pulled the knee back and he lowered himself onto Dietrich, until his chest crushed into Dietrich’s back, and his thighs pressed against the insides of Dietrich’s thighs.

  Markus lay that way for a moment, brushing himself lightly against his bedmate’s bare flesh, and then he pushed forwardly, slowly, but with firm intent. Inch by inch, his bloated cock sank inside the other muscular young stud’s asshole, which stretched to receive its bulk. For many long, increasingly delirious moments, Markus proceeded in this cautious manner, giving his dick to Dietrich an inch at a time, until he seemed to cross a threshold and Dietrich reared back up at him, pushing his hips and buttocks up as far as they would go.

  At this stage in the proceedings, Dietrich suddenly cast off all restraint. It was as though finding himself the passive partner in an act of anal intercourse had flipped a switch inside him. Dietrich began behaving like a real cock whore!

  “Fuck me, you goddamn Hungarian muscle stud!” he gasped. “Oh, God, big man, you’re in me all the way! I can feel your big, hard dick sliding right up my ass! Fuck me—yeah, fuck me! Christ! I never thought it would feel this good!”

  Markus wrapped his arms tightly around his client’s chest, thrilling at the touch of his smooth skin and the pin pricks of his hard, hot nipples. Then he began to move back slowly, and when they were nearly disengaged, again he plunged down into Dietrich’s rectum yet more deeply, with undeniable lust, but also with patience and with something resembling real tenderness.

  Dietrich lay there fairly passive at the beginning. After some time had elapsed, though, he started to rouse himself and he joined in the erotic dance, squirming his hips away from his fucker’s and then crushing his buttocks back into the hard, flexed tops of the other bodybuilder’s thighs. Markus’s head was pressed into Dietrich’s neck, his lips sucking at the sweaty, salty-tasting flesh, his teeth nipping at it, and Dietrich turned his face slightly to that side.

  Markus took his lips from Dietrich’s neck and he positioned them over the other guy’s mouth. But before they kissed, Markus opened his eyes, looked at Dietrich for a moment—and then Dietrich’s own long-lashed eyelids fluttered open, too, and the two young muscle men exchanged a triumphant, joyous gaze of total mutual desire and satisfaction.

  It was then, if not before, that Markus fell madly and irretrievably in lust with Dietrich. Their mouths locked in a hot kiss, and, furiously, they began to celebrate the new depth of their passion with their bodies, their anointed limbs slithering and pounding in the rhythms of their pulses, moving together toward orgasm—which suddenly poured through both men’s straining, spasming bodies like a pure, clear, blinding light.

  “I love your ass, Dietrich!” Markus blurted out, sobbing the confession into Dietrich’s ear as his cock burst inside the man’s ass and the lustful explosions continued. “I love fucking you!” he repeated, moaning, nearly crushing the other man in his embrace.

  And Dietrich responded. “I damn well love what you’re doing to me, too, you fucker! Ah, you Hungarian men are wild! You’re like animals. Even more so than the Czechs. None of the studs I’ve ever hired in Prague has fucked me this well!”

  Markus accepted this no doubt sincere compliment. He was determined to live up to Dietrich’s impression of his skill. After all, Hungarian national honor was at stake!

  Markus was convulsed with climactic joy, staring down into Dietrich’s rapt, flushed face. The two men’s lips met in another impassioned kiss. Rarely had Markus ever lost himself so wholeheartedly in a sex act for hire.

  “Don’t stop. Do it again,” Dietrich pleaded. “Oh, God, Markus, do it again! Fuck me some more! And then—maybe—I can fuck you, too, huh? Can I, big man? Can I have your ass?”

  “You sure can,” Markus vowed. “You can screw me all you want!”

  Chapter Six: Bouncing Back

  When Dietrich and Markus were finally satiated with sex, they took turns showering. Then, while they got dressed, with Dietrich changing into casual clothes, they talked.

  Dietrich was surprised to learn that Markus didn’t have another appointment scheduled that night.

  “Pardon me, but I took it for granted, that, ah, young guys like you—you were kept very busy, by the agency,” the German said, frankly.

  “I won’t turn more than one trick a day,” Markus replied, with equal candor. “It’s not fair to the clients. And even my stamina has its limits,” he admitted. “I’m worn out.”

  “I am, too, thanks to you,” Dietrich said, happily. “I’m hungry. Come on, I’ll treat you to dinner. But first—” He handed Markus an envelope stuffed with banknotes. “By way of appreciation,” he explained. “For a job well done.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Thank you. Come now, Markus. The fact that this was a business transaction. That needn’t prevent us from enjoying each other’s company over dinner, should it?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Good.”

  They ate in the hotel’s dining room. Dietrich promised to book Markus again, the next time he came to Budapest on business. He was a charming man, and Markus looked forward to seeing him again.

  A few days later, Markus and Gusztav happened to be at the gym at the same time, and they agreed to work out together.

  “That was fun,” Gusztav declared, when they were done.
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br />   Despite his shortness of breath, Markus managed to laugh. “You’ve got a strange idea of ‘fun,’ buddy. I’m worn out. But it was a good workout. I’m hungry. Are you?”

  “Famished.”

  “Want to get some takeout, and go to my place? We can eat it there. And hang out. And—whatever.”

  Gusztav grinned. “The ‘whatever’ sounds interesting. If you’re sure you’re not too tired?”

  “I’ll bounce back,” Markus promised.

  They stopped at a café.

  “I’ve got salad fixings at home,” Markus said. “So we can just get some entrees.”

  They got stuffed peppers and cheese noodles to go. At Markus’s apartment, they ate greedily, while drinking Dreher beer.

  “Feel better?” Gusztav asked.

  “Much.”

  “Think you’re up to another workout?”

  “I’ll give it my best shot,” Markus promised.

  In Markus’s bedroom, the two men stripped. Nude, they got on the bed together.

  “I want to suck you, buddy,” Markus moaned.

  “Okay—I guess I wouldn’t mind if you did that for me,” Gusztav joked. “Get down there!”

  Gusztav’s hands squeezed Markus’s bare shoulders, silently urging him into the right position to perform fellatio on him. Markus bent his head down to the waiting cock, opened his mouth, and sucked it deeply inside his mouth, quickly filling his throat, too, with its solid thickness. He forced his lips down around the dark pink shaft, inch by inch, until his face was pressed flush against Gusztav’s belly and the growth of silky blond pubic hair which sprouted luxuriantly above the root of his prick tickled Markus’s flared nostrils. Markus held the cock inside his mouth and throat like that for as long as he could, not breathing, not even moving his tongue on the other young man’s turgid flesh.

  Markus could feel the hot, excited blood pumping through the cock’s veins as they throbbed against his lips. He was intoxicated by the subtle, masculine scent of Gusztav’s crotch which cut through the patchouli and filled his nostrils when he finally did draw in a slow, shuddery breath through them to refill his lungs.