There were worse ways to spend an evening at home than by being fucked by two potent stallions in heat! Impulsively, Markus pressed his mouth against Arpad’s, while his fuck buddy smeared a handful of the slippery gel lubricant over his dick. Markus felt the other young man’s warm lips part in a gasp of lustful delight as he accepted and returned the hot, open-mouthed, spit-swapping kiss.
“You see?” Gusztav asked, mockingly. “It’s not so bad, once you make up your mind not to fight it.” He was half-sitting, half-lying on the bed, making himself comfortable, watching both of the other two men closely, and he let out a deep, throaty groan of approval when he saw Arpad’s well-lubed cockhead push its way inside Markus’s asshole. “Oh, yeah, stud—take that tight muscle ass,” Gusztav encouraged Arpad. “Stretch it out. Feel that hot hole throb all around your cock.”
Markus grunted, but he forced himself to overlook the slight discomfort which the insertion cost him. Determined to relax and take it, he surrendered his ass, and Arpad moaned with loud, boyish delight and animal excitement when his prickshaft slid in deeper, but now with merciful ease, quickly filling Markus’s ass completely. Markus cut off his gym friend’s lurid sounds of pleasure by thrusting his own tongue deep into Arpad’s open mouth, while Arpad began to fuck Markus with a thrillingly rapid, steady, in-and-out rhythm, really reaming out his manhole.
Markus’s sensuality, never exactly sluggish in its response time to such stimulation, was now fully aroused, and he suddenly wanted the sex even more, perhaps, than his two horny companions did. He desperately wanted to get fucked!
“Uh, give it to me, you hung bastards,” he heard himself groaning against Arpad’s sweet-tasting, warm mouth.
“Some ‘rape victim’ he is,” was Gusztav’s cynical comment.
“Hot-assed motherfucker—yeah, oh, yeah,” Arpad moaned, suddenly sounding weak and helpless, the prey of his own overpowering lust. It was almost as though it was he, not Markus, who wanted to pretend he was being taken against his will, used for Markus’s and Gusztav’s selfish pleasure. Markus’s asshole gripped and milked the full length of the dark-haired stud’s throbbing male organ.
“Fuck that ass, dude,” Gusztav urged Arpad. “Own his hole. Make it yours. Your property. Yours to fuck!”
“Ah,” Arpad cried out hoarsely, clearly excited beyond the point of any self-control by his possession of his handsome musclebro’s body, by the way Markus’s rectum impaled itself gladly—indeed, greedily—upon every thick inch of his virile young cockshaft. Wildly arousing was the way in which Markus’s anal muscles and internal flesh caressed and stroked Arpad’s prick, rippling around its bulk in feverish spasms of pure lust. “Ah, fucking hell! Your ass—it’s driving me crazy, dude!”
Markus ignored his fucker’s outcries and he concentrated on what he was feeling as Arpad fucked him. Markus couldn’t deny it—he was enjoying himself immensely. If having one Maine man in his bed was good, then treating himself to two at once were even better. Arpad was doing a fine job of screwing him. And Markus had Gusztav’s reliable cock in reserve! He felt confident that he was proving, once again, that he was one of the hottest fucks either man had ever had.
“I want it! And I want it hard and rough. Give it to me, Arpad, give me a real good fucking, goddamn you!” Markus gasped. “Get that prick of yours in there and fuck!”
Arpad’s prick plunged repeatedly into the heated depths of Markus’s ass. Markus groaned with sheer erotic delight when he felt his anal walls tightening up to squeeze his handsome young fuck buddy’s dick even more violently.
“What a sight,” Gusztav muttered, appreciatively, as he stared at the two hard-muscled young bodies banging together beside him on the bed, the mattress rocking under the repeated impact. “What a horny goddamn sight! This is better than watching porn.” The contrast between Markus’s pale, creamy flesh and Arpad’s darker, olive-toned skin excited him. He couldn’t decide which of the two studs he found more attractive, sexier. Luckily, though, he didn’t have to choose. He could have them both!
Arpad was still pounding his prick deep into Markus’s butt when Gusztav decided, instead of remaining an observer, to get into the act. The blond bodybuilder clambered clumsily into a different position on the quaking bed, positioning himself above Markus’s head. He lowered his hairy buttocks onto Markus’s face.
“Suck my ass, bitch!” Gusztav panted, reaching down to spread his ass cheeks wide with his hands, as he rubbed the furry cleft between them over Markus’s lips. “Get your fucking tongue up in there. Lick and suck! Suck my ass for me while your hot stud buddy screws you!”
Markus stuck his tongue far out of his mouth and up the horny bastard’s asshole. Gusztav shuddered above him, and, leaning forward, he held Markus’s ankles high in the air, keeping Markus’s legs spread in a wide V-shape so that Arpad could hump him more easily.
“Thanks, man,” Arpad gasped. “That helps.”
“Teamwork,” Gusztav replied. “Let’s use Markus like the man whore he is. That’s what he wants from us.”
Leaning forward still more, Gusztav kissed Arpad on the mouth, while Markus rimed Gusztav and took Arpad’s dick up his ass, the relentless fuck tool driving into him again and again.
As the three men’s naked bodies shook together on the bed, Markus felt his asshole flexing wildly against the cylindrical mass of his fucker’s cock. Then Arpad came in him, pumping his sperm into Markus’s butt in quick, high-powered spurts of fluid which helped to push Markus over the edge of orgasm, too.
Arpad had barely stopped shooting, deep within Markus’s now semen-inundated ass, when Gusztav moved still closer to the two other men on the bed. Gusztav had his cock in his hand and he began to masturbate himself, frenziedly, while Markus went on rimming him for a moment. Then, after Arpad reluctantly yanked his dripping dick out of his willing victim’s ass and he collapsed on a vacant part of the bed, Gusztav took his place between Markus’s legs.
“Okay, men,” Gusztav announced. “Now I’ll show you how it’s done.”
“You’re awfully goddamn macho, all of a sudden,” Markus taunted the blond guy.
“You’re about to see just how macho,” Gusztav warned him.
Gusztav—Markus was quickly reminded—was well-hung, too. Maybe he wasn’t quite as spectacularly endowed as Arpad, but he was more than adequate! And the deceptively good-natured blond guy really knew how to use his sexual equipment to plow another man’s ass. Markus’s jism-lubricated anal canal welcomed the second hard-on which was now shoved up it with abrupt, businesslike haste. Within a few moments, before he’d even had a chance to catch his breath after sucking Gusztav’s ass, Markus was being fucked again, his body once again squirming and shuddering under the weight of another horny, rutting male.
Gusztav treated him to a good, rough, flat-out fuck for several minutes before he suddenly blasted his own load of sperm inside Markus’s hot ass, nuzzling Markus’s chest with his lips and tongue as he swung his muscular, sweaty body down against Markus’s again and again, piledriving his prick into Markus’s bunghole with long, fast strokes which soon had Markus moaning with shameless pleasure.
Arpad, watching Gusztav take his friend like that, had to admit that the pretty blond guy did seem to know a trick or two!
As things turned out, Gusztav and Arpad had bitten off more than they’d been prepared to chew. They were both startled by Markus’s whorish abandon and stamina, when their suddenly quite aggressive “rape victim” used his hands and mouth to excite them both again, insisting that each of them screw him to orgasm a second time before he gave them a chance to rest. With four loads of fresh, potent sperm flooding his anus, Markus finally allowed his sex partners to take a break and get something to drink.
“We used our buddy’s mouth and ass the way nature intended them to be used, didn’t we?” a gleeful Gusztav asked Arpad.
“We sure did, stud,” Arpad replied. “To look at you, I wouldn’t have thought you were the aggressive, alpha
muscle male type. Must’ve been something in that pizza which set you off. The oregano, maybe.”
“Yeah, that must’ve been what made Markus’s ass so smoking hot,” Gusztav agreed.
“Guys, I’m right here,” Markus complained. “I can hear you talking about me, you know.”
“Did I hear the sex slave say something?” Arpad joked. “Something along the lines of, ‘fuck me some more, sirs, please,’ maybe?”
“Bastards,” Markus grumbled. “I really need to start hooking up with a better class of men.”
“Well, you’re not likely to find them down at the gym,” Gusztav warned. “All the guys there are as oversexed as we are.”
More lager refreshed the three muscle men and quenched their post-coital thirst. But it did nothing to extinguish the erotic fires which still smoldered in their loins.
Before too long, the three guys resumed their frenzied nude sexual grappling, joining their bodies in every configuration possible, and coaxing orgasm after orgasm from one another, until—long after midnight—they finally admitted defeat and they slumped down on Markus’s bed together, in a pile of limp muscle, to grant themselves some well-earned and much-needed sleep.
Chapter Ten: Not So Poor, Not So Little
Markus had been giving a lot of sex away for free recently, and although he didn’t regret having done so, he was still willing to make money by exploiting his physique. And so he was delighted when he received a call from the escort agency.
The caller was, as so often, his pal Lajos, one of the guys who handled the bookings.
“You told us you were free tomorrow evening,” Lajos reminded Markus. “Still up for an appointment then?”
“Oh, definitely,” Markus assured him.
“Good, because I’ve got a live one for you. He saw your photos on the website, and he sounded all excited when I talked to him on the phone a moment ago. He wanted to know if you really look like that. Specifically, if you’re really ‘a huge hardcore motherfucker with muscles out to here,’ as he so delicately put it.” Lajos laughed, and Markus echoed him. “I told him that ‘of course, sir, our escorts are exactly as depicted and described.’ He wants you for four hours. Eight to midnight. Okay?”
“Okay.” Markus calculated what his cut from a four-hour session would be. “In call, or out?”
“Out. And get this. The address is in Rózsadomb. That’s a very exclusive, expensive neighborhood, you know. And this is a house, not an apartment building. You may have hit the jackpot, if this guy becomes a regular.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“The odd thing is—well, I know you can’t always judge from voices. But this guy, Bertok, sounds very young over the phone. Still, his credit card is good, which is what matters.”
“Maybe he’s a senior citizen with a deceptively youthful-sounding voice,” Markus speculated.
“Maybe. Guess you’ll soon find out, big guy. Here’s the address.”
Markus’s car was an older model, purchased second-hand. The body was nothing to look at, with a few dents and rust spots, but the vehicle was mechanically sound. Arriving in the Rózsadomb, or “Rose Hill” neighborhood, where he felt distinctly out of place, Markus managed to find a parking spot on the street near the number Lajos had given him.
The house was a three-story structure in Second Empire style, red brick embellished with cut stonework, with a mansard roof. A tall iron fence separated the property from the sidewalk. The gate was secured by a keypad lock, and, standing in front of it, Markus saw a security camera mounted on a pole and aimed directly down at him.
He pressed the button of the intercom built into one of the gateposts.
“Yeah?” a voice drawled. “Oh, it’s you!”
“I’m Markus. I think you’re expecting me?”
“I sure am. Wow! You really do look just like your photos, dude! That guy Lajos wasn’t kidding me.”
Markus’s lips twitched as he fought back a smile. The unseen john’s disembodied voice did sound very youthful—almost juvenile.
“May I come in?” Markus inquired.
“Oh, yeah, of course.” There was a buzz, and the gate opened, with a click.
Bertok opened the front door before Markus had a chance to knock on it or ring the doorbell.
Markus’s new client was indeed very young—nineteen or twenty at the most, Markus estimate—and he had a college jock look about him. He had a burly physique, which in this warm weather he was showing off by wearing khaki shorts, training shoes without socks, and a tight-fitting orange T-shirt.
“Come right on it,” Bertok invited Markus. “This way. Let’s sit down and have something to drink. My parents are out of town. They’re in Debrecen, visiting family there. We have the whole place to ourselves. Well, except for the servants.”
“The servants?”
“Yeah, Agnes the housekeeper, Karola the cook, and Rudi the chauffeur. They’re the only ones who live here. The maids come in during the daytime, and so does the gardener when he’s needed. Anyway, I told Agnes, Karola, and Rudi I wouldn’t need them tonight, so they won’t bother us. My Mom and Dad expect them to babysit me while they’re gone. But as long as I’m here in the house—they don’t need to keep me under observation. After all, what could possibly happen to me, if I’m just here entertaining a friend?” Bertok asked this rhetorical question, with a lewd, satyr-like leer on his boyishly handsome face. “My folks have already called, to make sure I’m here and I’m behaving myself. So we’re all set. Good to go.”
Markus was still trying to absorb the mere notion of having live-in servants—plural. One of them the chauffeur, no less!
“Huh,” he mumbled, for lack of anything else to say.
During this conversation, Bertok had led him from the vestibule into one of the rooms in the front of the house. Too elegantly furnished to be called a mere “living room,” the space was more like a drawing room, or a salon. There was an abundance of marble, gilt, crystal, and polished dark woods. Virtually everything else, though, was in carefully coordinated shades of blue, with white and gold accents—the wallpaper, the Oriental rugs underfoot, the plush upholstery and throw pillows, the window drapes. A collection of blue-and-white Chinese porcelain was on display, including a pair of enormous vases set on the floor, flanking the marble fireplace. With blue dragons coiled about their creamy white backgrounds, the vases were over six feet high, taller than Markus.
Gesturing for Markus to sit down on one of the overstuffed armchairs, Bertok went toward a gleaming brass bar cart on casters.
“I’ve already had a couple of citrus flushes,” Bertok said. “But I can make you anything you want.”
“Ah—what’s a citrus flush?” Markus asked. It sounded like some sort of purgative treatment. He rarely drank any alcohol beverages other than beer or wine.
“Red grapefruit flavored vodka, orange juice, and lemon lime soda,” Bertok explained.
“Oh. Well, I’ll try one of those, please, if it’s not too much trouble. Easy on the vodka, though.” With a four-hour sex session of him, Markus didn’t want to risk getting too buzzed too soon.
“Coming right up.”
Markus sipped his drink cautiously, nursing it. He saw that Bertok, seated near him, imbibed more freely. The boy wasn’t drunk, but he was definitely in a relaxed mood, and not at all self-conscious. It was as though he and Markus were old friends.
“How’s the drink?” Bertok asked.
“Fine.”
“This is really expensive vodka. So drink up. There’s plenty more. I’ve got to say one thing for my Mom and Dad. They taught me to spare no expense when it comes to entertaining guests. Not that I’m the one paying for the booze, of course,” Bertok said, with a little giggle. He scrutinized Markus, looking him up and down, with unabashed, possessive desire. “You’re huge,” he remarked. “Huge and hard. All over, from the looks of you. Just what I ordered.”
“I take my weight training pretty seriously.”
/> “Are you on steroids?”
Markus saw no reason to be coy. “One of my regular clients is a doctor.” He was referring, of course, to Ferenc Mészáros, the physician who often hired Jozsef and Markus, either individually, or together, for a threesome. “He keeps me supplied with oral steroids. But I’m careful. I only take them in moderation, and I follow his directions. They can enhance your physique. But you still have to put in the time at the gym and pump the iron.”
“I like men with big muscles. What’s it like, being a male prostitute?” Bertok wanted to know.
“It’s a job.”
“I bet you have to have sex with a lot of creeps.”
“I try to be professional, and see the good in everybody.”
“You must not often have a chance to fuck a guy as young and as good-looking as me,” Bertok said, smugly.
Nor one as modest as you, too, Markus thought. Bertok, he had concluded, was a bit of a spoiled brat. And yet Markus couldn’t dislike him. There was a combination of arrogant entitlement and almost childlike glee in the lad which was provocative and more than a little titillating.
“You’re very handsome,” Markus said, graciously.
“So are you.”
“Do you do this often?” Markus inquired.
“What, hire escorts? Sure. Maybe every six weeks or so. In between, I fuck around with my school friends. Hiring a stud is something I treat myself to, and I look forward to it. Of course, I can’t spend all my pocket money on guys like you, as much as I’d like it. My parents let me manage my money, I mean my allowance, myself, but it’s not that much. Everything else is tied up in the trust funds, and I can’t touch them yet.”
“I see.” The rich certainly are different from us common folk, Markus was thinking. This kid’s frigging “pocket money” had better include a decent tip! Something tells me this brat is going to make me earn every goddamn forint of my fee, before we’re done.
“I wish I had my own apartment, so I could have men over all the time,” Bertok said, wistfully. “Of course, if I could do that, I’d probably spend so much on you guys that I’d run through all my money.”
Musclebros Page 11
