MEN, MUSCLE, and MAYHEM

by Milton Stern

  MEN, MUSCLE

  & MAYHEM

  AN EROTIC COLLECTION BY

  Milton Stern

  Herndon, VA

  Copyright © 2011 by STARbooks Press

  First Edition

  ISBN 10: 1-934187-84-4

  ISBN 13: 978-1-934187-84-5

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, situations and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Published in the United States by

  STARbooks Press

  PO Box 711612

  Herndon VA 20171

  Printed in the United States

  Many thanks to graphic artist John Nail for the cover design. Mr. Nail may be reached at: tojonail@bellsouth.net.

  Jose A. Dennis created the image of Kosher Man based on Mr. Stern’s narrative. Mr. Dennis can be reached at gryphta@gmail.com. His Website is http://www.josedennis.com.

  Other Titles by Milton Stern

  The Girls (1985)

  America’s Bachelor President

  and the First Lady (2004)

  Harriet Lane, America’s First Lady (2005)

  On Tuesdays, They Played Mah Jongg (2006)

  Michael’s Secrets (2009)

  Dedication

  To Christopher Pierce, my editor and fellow author, for his support and constructive suggestions.

  For Esmeralda Stern, who finally learned that some human beings are capable of love.

  The characters and events in this book are purely fictional.

  None of these stories ever happened … but they could have!

  CONTENTS

  FOREWORD CHRISTOPHER PIERCE 1

  INTRODUCTION MILTON STERN 3

  KOSHER MAN AND THE SHEGATZ 5

  A REAL GYM 27

  THE GUY DOWN THE HALL 43

  CLOTHING OPTIONAL 51

  A MARRIED MAN 59

  CONFERENCE CALL 63

  THE LAB RAT 67

  BITCH, PLEASE 73

  A JEW FOR ALL SEASONS 81

  THE EDGE OF OBSESSION 95

  THE EX 103

  DUDE, IT WAS JUST A BLOW JOB 109

  STEPBROTHERS 113

  SCRUBBING UP 123

  THE ONE GIVING THE ORDERS 129

  WHO’S THE DADDY? 145

  LASSO AND TLEM 163

  THE AFTER-WORKOUT 175

  GAYDAR 183

  THE WINDOW ESTIMATE 187

  THE CENTER OF ATTENTION 197

  FOOTBALL DADDIES 209

  KOSHER MAN GETS PORKED 221

  SELFISH PRICK 233

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR 251

  FOREWORD

  CHRISTOPHER PIERCE

  First, let me say what an honor it is to have been given the opportunity to edit this first collection of erotica by my friend and colleague, Milton Stern.

  MEN, MUSCLE & MAYHEM is not merely a book of stories where (incredibly) hot men hook up and (spectacularly) get off. The book also acts as a field guide of sorts to that much sought-after animal – the gay muscleman. Here, we find many specimens of the species both in their natural habitat (gyms) and free ranging in some unexpected places.

  MEN, MUSCLE & MAYHEM also contains quite a bit of laugh-out-loud humor. I will now be checking the skies for a glimpse of Kosher Man sailing through the clouds. Yarmulke on!

  INTRODUCTION

  MILTON STERN

  To some, this may be my crossing over to the dark side, but to me, this is just an extension of my dream of becoming a well-known, published author. With the release of this book, I am not abandoning my life-long aspirations, just broadening my horizons and maybe gaining a new audience.

  The way I see it, everything we do in life is for our obituaries. I might as well give them something interesting to say.

  KOSHER MAN AND

  THE SHEGATZ

  Mordecai was sunning himself on the roof of his building, enjoying the peace and quiet of a hot summer day. The temperature was to hit 100, but that didn’t faze him, for his people always vacationed where it was hot and enjoyed humid weather as well. Build a resort on the sun, and Mordecai and his tribe would be the first to make a reservation. After forty years in the desert, they grew to love the heat. That may have been over 3,000 years ago, but Mordecai was as kosher as they came.

  He knew he could enjoy the mid-day sun alone as he lay there on the chaise, wearing only a dark blue Speedo that barely concealed his more than ample package, and on his head, he wore his dark blue yarmulke with a white Mogen David (Star of David) embroidered on it. No one else in his building enjoyed the heat, and in all the years he lived there, he never saw anyone come up to the roof in the summer.

  Mordecai was tall, over six-foot-four, with very broad shoulders, large, naturally hairless pecs, six-pack abs, bulging biceps, and powerfully muscular legs, all covered in dark olive skin, which at the moment was glistening with olive oil. Mordecai never needed sunscreen, for he never burned. He was also known for his rather round and hugely muscular tuchus – buttocks to all you gentiles out there. His feet, at size 15, were not only quite large, but also magnificently beautiful.

  But, it was Mordecai’s face that drew people to him. He had black, curly hair that he wore short except for the top, and at over forty, his temples were graying, making him look all the more distinguished. Mordecai also had thick black eyebrows, hovering over bright green eyes framed in double rows of lashes that gave the impression he was wearing make-up, and his prominent Semitic nose led one’s eyes to his full lips and gleaming white teeth. Mordecai’s innocent smile could melt the coldest of hearts and made all the yentas and buhbbies want to pinch his cheeks.

  On days like this, Mordecai cherished these peaceful times alone. By day, he was a cataloguer at the Jewish History Museum in Greenburg, a popular metropolis on the East Coast that drew the cosmopolitan as well as the seedy. But, cities have a tendency to do that, and Mordecai didn’t mind. However, when the sun set, Mordecai emerged from the basement at the Jewish History Museum and headed home, and at the first sign of trouble, he donned a white mask and dark blue tights with a large white circled “K” emblazoned on his chest, along with white boots and a flowing white cape to become “Kosher Man.” Mordecai wanted to forgo the cape as it always got in the way, but his mother insisted, and a good Jewish boy always obeys his mother. He also wore a dark blue yarmulke on his head with a white circled “K” as well (it was actually the flip side of his everyday yarmulke). His best kept secret was how he never lost the yarmulke while fighting evil even though one never saw a yarmulke fly off an Orthodox Jew’s head during a wind storm either.

  But, the cape was his biggest nemesis. Often when flying, it would flap in his face, making it difficult to navigate, or he would go to punch a crook and end up tangled up in the cape instead. Whenever Mordecai experienced these mishaps, he thought of the joke:

  What do you call a Jewish ballerina?

  A klutz.

  He thought the same applied to a Jewish superhero as well.

  Mordecai could have lived a normal, quiet life, but he displayed special abilities from a young age. While still a toddler, he showed great feats of strength, lifting furniture and other heavy objects around the house. As he entered puberty, his body transformed without ever having lifted a weight or participated in sports. His mother insisted he read because one could get an eye poked out playing sports. In high school, coaches wanted him to play football, but participation in various geeky academic clubs precluded his lettering in any sport. Mordecai was relieved because he was aware that he sometimes did not know his own str
ength, and he was afraid he would more than poke someone’s eye out if things got out of hand.

  One day, when he was in college, he was late for class, and as he started to run across campus, he suddenly found himself airborne and gaining altitude. Startled at first, he held onto his books while extending one arm in front of himself to guide his journey, and within days, he mastered his new-found talent. Mordecai then flew home to show his mother, and she did not act surprised, for she had expected this day to come.

  “When I turned forty, I knew I did not have much time left to become a mother,” she told her son, after he landed in their front yard and sat beside her on the porch. “I prayed, and an angel appeared before me and told me I would have a son and this son would be very special. He would be one of the chosen ones. He would have abilities not seen for thousands of years. He would have the strength of twelve men, the wisdom of twelve rabbis, and he would soar like an eagle, yet have the heart of a dove.”

  Mordecai listened intently as his mother continued.

  “But, the angel made me promise that no forbidden food would ever touch his lips. He would study the Torah and honor his parents,” she said. “I was told he would have one weakness and that he also would never father children of his own.”

  “Why would I never father children?” Mordecai asked.

  “I asked the same thing,” his mother answered. “The angel told me that if I wanted a child, there were sacrifices I would have to make and mine was never to be a grandmother. I asked if you would be sterile, and the angel said it was more complicated than that. So, I pursued it no further. He then made me promise again that no forbidden food would ever pass through your lips.”

  “And, I have kept kosher for you, Mother,” Mordecai said as he kissed her on the cheek.

  Just a few months later, his mother presented him with his first getup as Mordecai referred to his tights. And ever since, he has been Kosher Man.

  # # # # #

  The sun was baking Mordecai, but he did not care as the heat energized him. He thought about moving to Boca or Palm Springs but figured he’d wait until retirement when perhaps another crime fighter would emerge to take his place.

  Mordecai was starting to doze when he heard the yell of a man in fear. He sat up on the chaise and tried to hone in the location of the scream.

  “Five blocks northwest,” he said out loud. Then, Mordecai jumped from the chaise and headed for the door to the roof, opened it and disappeared down the flight of stairs to his apartment on the fourth floor. Within seconds, the window to his apartment opened, and a flash of dark blue and white flew out the window toward the northwest corner of Greenberg. Mordecai often wondered why no one ever noticed him flying out his window. But, city people were so oblivious to their own surroundings.

  Once airborne, Kosher Man scanned the city, and his cape again flew in front of his face. “Vaysmir with this feshtungina cape,” he cursed out loud. He swept the fabric from his face then he located the man in trouble. In an alley next to The Lost Tribe Bar, a blond man was surrounded by four men dressed in jeans and black T-shirts, which was unusual for broad daylight, even in Greenburg.

  Kosher Man slowed down and slowly descended upon the scene in the alley landing almost quietly behind the four assailants, except for the metal trash can lid he knocked over with the cape. The four men turned around.

  “Oh look it’s the caped kike,” one of them said as he pointed to Kosher Man, laughing.

  “Whom are you calling a kike?” Kosher Man said as he lurched forward, grabbed the insulter by the collar and slammed him against the wall, instantly knocking him out cold.

  Within seconds, like a streak of light, Kosher Man had rounded up the other three men and wrapped them up in a water hose before they realized what hit them.

  “Do you have a cell phone,” Kosher Man asked the blond man.

  “Ye … yes,” he stammered. “Who are you?”

  Over twenty years in Greenburg flying around fighting crime, and Kosher Man was surprised someone didn’t know who he was. “I’m Kosher Man,” he answered. It was then that Kosher Man got a good look at the man. He was in his early thirties if that old with a thick blond buzz cut, blue eyes, pale skin, but strong features. He was wearing a tight red shirt that displayed a fine physique, and he stood about five-foot ten. Kosher Man rarely went for the WASPy type, but he thought a romp with this one would be worth a few minutes of his time.

  “What are you, some kind of superhero?” the man asked.

  “You could say that. Now call the police before these hoodlums get loose. I have a city to patrol,” Kosher Man said as he prepared for takeoff, dramatically sweeping the bane of his existence – the dreaded cape – behind him.

  “Wait!” the man yelled.

  Kosher Man turned back to the man and looked at his pleading gentile eyes. “What? Call the police now,” the superhero asked then ordered.

  “Don’t you want to know my name?” the man asked.

  The Hebrew hunk thought for a moment, then answered, “That’s OK, kid, something tells me I’ll run into you again.” And with that, Kosher Man took flight.

  He figured the shegatz (male shicksa) with the goyshka cup (gentile brain) would forget to call the police, so he swooped down on the first police car he saw, told the familiar officers what happened and where to find the criminals, and with that, he disappeared into the sky in search of more damsels – or dam-boys – in distress.

  At around 4:00 am, Kosher Man zipped back into the open window of his apartment, closed the window, and with a flash, stripped off his costume, hiding it in the secret compartment in the back of his closet. He then brushed and flossed his teeth and showered in a manner of seconds and climbed into bed hoping for a good three hours of sleep.

  However, Mordecai awoke two hours later with a raging boner. Spending his evenings fighting crime, with the exception of Shabbat, which he spent with his mother, and his days at the museum, stuck in the basement cataloguing, he rarely had a chance to go out and troll for sex.

  Now, his balls were swollen, and his twelve inches (seven inches around in case you were wondering) of circumcised kosher meat with its large purple mushroom head was leaking precum like a faucet, begging for release. Mordecai ran his left hand down his muscular torso and using the abundance of precum, slicked up his dick and started stroking. It only took a few minutes before he was shooting straight for his open mouth, as he caught all he could, letting the rest drip down his chin, only to scoop it up and swallow it as well. Mordecai loved the taste of his own cum almost as much as that of the few Jewish guys he was able to pick up when he had those precious moments of free time.

  He enjoyed a few more minutes basking in the afterglow and marveling at how his over-forty-year-old dick remained hard for quite a while before finally going slightly soft. Mordecai then climbed out of bed and took a long hot shower – rather than his usual supersonic one – before heading to work.

  He had been in the basement for only a couple of hours, tending to his duties, when Sylvia came down, calling for him.

  “Mordecai,” she bellowed over row after row of books and artifacts.

  “Back here,” he answered, as he was looking at a piece of parchment through a magnifying glass while sitting at his desk.

  Sylvia found her way back to his desk and stared at Mordecai. He was wearing loose fitting dark blue pants and a white oxford shirt that hung on his physique, being a size too large. On his head was the familiar yarmulke, and he was wearing his gray, plastic framed bifocals. (Even superheroes need reading glasses after a certain age, so when Mordecai’s time came, he chose bifocals. This way he could continue wearing his disguise all the time.) Mordecai looked up at Sylvia.

  “You know, Mordecai, sometimes you remind me of Clark Kent,” she said with a smile.

  He chuckled inside, wondering if she realized how close to reality she was with that observation.

  “Anyway, Moshe called in sick,” she continued. “And, I nee
d to go to a meeting. I need you upstairs to be the guest docent for a few hours until I get back. The fresh air will do you some good.”

  “Now?” Mordecai asked.

  “Yes,” she said motioning him to get up.

  Mordecai stood up from the desk and ducked his head as he worked his way through the cramped basement.

  “It is amazing you have any color at all being in this basement all the time … what has it been? twenty years?” she asked as she followed him upstairs.

  “Close,” Mordecai answered as he walked upstairs to the main lobby of the museum, “but I sun myself on my rooftop on the weekends.”

  With a flourish, Sylvia left, and Mordecai stood in the lobby looking awkward as usual. He strolled around and straightened a few of the pictures, when the door opened and a blond man walked in. Mordecai turned around and immediately recognized him – the victim from yesterday.

  The man walked to the reception area, and Mordecai strolled over to greet him.

  “Hi, how much to tour the museum?” he asked.

  “Five dollars,” Mordecai answered. The man handed him the money, and with that, Mordecai gave him a ticket and a tour.

  “And that is the end of the tour,” Mordecai said as he led the man back into the lobby an hour later.

  “Can I ask you something?” the man asked, turning to face and look up at Mordecai. “What is your name?”

  “Mordecai,” he answered. “And what is yours?”

  “Robert … Robert Madison,” the man answered as he extended his hand. They shook. “Can I ask you another question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

  Mordecai thought for a moment. In all his life, he never went on a date with a gentile. He hadn’t even had sex with one. But, he figured it had been a long time since he did anything. “Sure, but we will have to eat at my mother’s restaurant as I keep kosher and cannot eat forbidden foods.”

  “OK, where’s that?” Robert asked.