by Milton Stern
Every day, Dr. Musclestein would unlock the door and enter the lab with two bags of fresh groceries – the highest quality proteins, fresh fruits and vegetables, and plenty of bottled water. After putting the groceries away, he would observe his lab rat, who could always be found working out. The lab rat, as per the doctor’s instructions, wore minimal clothing, preferring only a jock strap, sweat socks and sneakers.
Dr. Musclestein would pull out his tape measure and chart the lab rat’s progress. He would carefully measure his biceps, pecs, waist, glutes, thighs, and calves. The lab rat was doing well and had already put on ten pounds of solid muscle. His thick build had evolved into a ripped display of hairy, masculine strength.
Dr. Musclestein was pleased with the results, and every day, he would take the prior day’s dirty jock straps and sweat socks and lock the door. After returning to his section of the home, he would strip off his lab coat, shirt, tie and slacks and stroke his thick, hard cock, while sniffing the lab rat’s dirty jock, until he covered his smooth chest and belly in cum.
During the third week, Dr. Musclestein was so pleased with the lab rat’s progress, he decided to give him a treat. He usually did not check in on his subject any time after the morning progress report, but he decided to surprise the lab rat this particular afternoon.
He unlocked the door, and he was surprised not to find his subject working out. However, he did hear the shower going. Dr. Musclestein placed the tray he was carrying on the kitchenette counter and sat down on one of the stools, waiting for the lab rat to finish scrubbing up.
He heard the squeaking sound of faucets being turned off and the shower door being opened. A few seconds later, the lab rat appeared. He was stark naked, pumped as usual and dripping wet. Dr. Musclestein was pleased with his progress scoping out the subject’s beautiful muscles, especially the thick one that was hanging between his legs. The lab rat saw the tray and asked about it.
Dr. Musclestein pointed to the cake and ice cream on the tray and said, “I think you have worked very hard, and I brought you a reward.” He then motioned for the lab rat to sit on the stool facing him and not bother putting on any clothes.
The Doctor looked him over admiring the results of his experiment. He then grabbed a spoon and proceeded to feed the lab rat. The more he fed him, the more he fell in love with him. The lab rat looked up at the doctor and opened his mouth invitingly with each spoonful of cake and ice cream.
The doctor scooted in closer and placed a hand on the lab rat’s thigh while continuing to feed him his treat, spoonful by loving spoonful. His hand slid up the lab rat’s thigh until he reached the prize. As he stroked the subject’s hardening cock, he continued to spoon feed him. Precum was leaking heavily from the lab rat’s dick, and he used the goo to slick it up and increase his stroke.
And, they never took their eyes off each other.
The doctor put down the spoon and leaned in, gently kissing his subject, tasting the cake and ice cream and exploring the lab rat’s mouth with his tongue. His cock started to pulse as their lips moved across each other and their tongues intertwined.
Dr. Musclestein got up from the stool and leaned down in front of his subject. He removed his hand from the throbbing dick and with his mouth tasted a steady stream of sweet and salty precum, and as he cupped the large hairy balls that hung from the lab rat, he heard a quickening of breath, and felt the first shots of many of the subject’s sweet, thick load hitting the back of his throat. He did not take his mouth off the cock until he knew it was completely drained.
Dr. Musclestein got up and sat back down on the stool, and the two of them kissed, tasting the load that was just released. They kissed for a long time, acknowledging their love for each other.
When they released their lips, the lab rat looked deeply into the eyes of the doctor.
“That was hot, really hot,” Scott said.
“I couldn’t help myself; you look incredible,” Dr. Musclestein said. “Apparently, my theory works.”
Scott looked down at himself, pleased with his progress. The doctor ran the back of his hand across the young man’s hairy body.
“You know I have to be back to work tomorrow,” Scott said.
“Yeah,” the doctor acknowledged.
Scott stood up and put on a fresh jock. He looked over at the doctor and said, “Next month, I get to be Dr. Musclestein, OK?”
“Anything for you, baby,” Dr. Musclestein answered and smiled as he realized how lucky he was that they still enjoyed these games eight years after they first met.
BITCH, PLEASE
I had pretty much given up on dating. It was always the same thing. The guy would come on strong the week before the date, being all charming and sexy. Then, we would go on the date, have a pretty good time, maybe even have a second date. After that, we would make plans for another date. A few days later, I would get the message that he wasn’t feeling well. Then, he would have the flu. Then, he would cancel. And of course, we would never see each other again.
Sure I had been on dates, when I didn’t want to see the guy again, but I have balls, and I would be honest up front and say that I either didn’t see a future in this, or this wouldn’t work out, or I just wasn’t interested in him.
I don’t play games. I don’t tease. I don’t bullshit around. Maybe this is why I am single. I just don’t put up with guys’ crap.
Am I that repulsive? No. As a matter of fact I have been told I am sexy, beautiful, funny, smart, easygoing, you name it.
For the record, I don’t consider myself sexy or beautiful. I never go for guys who look like me. I always laugh at those clone couples. It is obvious they find themselves so attractive that every guy they date looks like their twin. If I saw me on the street, I wouldn’t give myself a second look.
Do I think I am ugly? Hell no. If I were ugly, would I be America’s heartthrob? Would I be openly gay and still be landing roles as a sexy straight man, bedding every young, firm actress in Hollywood?
Women eat me up. Once they see the first fifteen minutes of one of my latest movies, they forget I suck cock and take it up the ass. They believe I am totally into eating pussy and slamming my man-hammer in after I have warmed it up with my sexy mouth.
But, some heartthrob. I cannot get past date number three. Is it the guys I date? Probably. Let’s face it. I can’t just walk into a club and pick up some guy anonymously. The paparazzi follow me everywhere.
A lot of guys want my life. Let me tell you. Getting laid when you are famous is not easy. You can’t pick up guys online because you don’t know what kind of stalker or weirdo you will let into your home. Or, he could go running to the tabloids with all the details.
As I said, I am out, but even if I were straight, I would run into the same issues with some hot chick, who just wanted to sell her story to The Enquirer, telling them how big my dick was or how fast I came.
So, how does someone like me get a date? Well, I could date other actors, but I find them so self-absorbed, and they can be worse than those outside the business. Most are closeted, and the others are just looking for a way to advance their careers. Therefore, I depend on friends or those I meet through my charity work.
Hard to believe that someone as famous as I does charity work, isn’t it? Well, my uncle always said you have to give something back. I feel very fortunate to have the life I have, and when I am on a break from filming, I devote my time to those who need it most – animals. I enjoy this part of my life more than the work some times.
I may come across as a hard ass or a heartless bitch, but one has to be tough to have made it as long as I have in this business. I have been acting since I was nine years old, so I don’t know any other world. But, I know that if I never became an actor, I would have had a career where I helped animals.
I met Tyler at an adopt-a-pet given by a local animal rescue organization. He was also a volunteer. The first thing I noticed was how the volunteer T-shirt hugged his body. The second thing I noticed w
as that he was more about doing the dirty work than telling me how much he loved my movies and crap. The third thing was his sense of humor. He made me laugh. This is a huge plus in my book. Usually, I am the one who has to be entertaining.
We spent the day talking to people as they came by to see the dogs. He and I also walked the dogs around the venue, so they wouldn’t get keyed up from sitting for so long. And, we chatted and joked around the whole time.
I found out he was a director of public relations for a local charity and had only lived in Los Angeles for a couple of months. He didn’t like bars or crowds, and the only hobby he had was the gym.
At the end of the day, I did something I never did. I gave him my private number. Usually, if I was to set up a date, I would have my assistant field the calls in case I was murdered. That way they could find the killer through his cell-phone records.
We texted and talked for two weeks. He was going back east for a wedding the weekend between, so we set our first date for the weekend after. I was excited about going out with Tyler. He seemed different from all the others. We had the same passions and the same warped sense of humor.
The Saturday of our date came, and he was running late, so he called because his GPS could not find my street. I knew it wouldn’t and told him so. My street is fairly new and unless you’ve updated your system in the last month or so, you won’t find it.
I talked him to my home. I didn’t ask him what he was driving. I guessed it would be a black BMW. It was. When I saw it approach the gate on my security camera, I buzzed him in.
We decided to go out to dinner. There is a nice Italian restaurant not far from where I live that is way off the beaten path, and no one has ever bothered me there. I let him drive, since a black car would be unnoticeable in LA. Who doesn’t have a black BMW in this town? Oh yeah, I don’t.
Dinner was nice, and he ate like a horse, which is another turn on. I get so sick of guys who won’t touch a piece of bread or salad dressing or dessert.
We came back to my place, and I took my dogs for a walk. He came with us. I already knew he liked dogs, and he was kind to the waiter in the restaurant.
You know what they say. Watch how a man treats dogs and waiters and that is how he will treat you.
I suggested watching a little television. Being in the business, there are two things I hardly have time to do – go to movies or watch TV. Can you believe it? I am usually on a set for twelve to fifteen hours a day, so who has the time?
We happened upon this show called Drop Dead Diva. I had heard about it, and there was some kind of marathon of first-season episodes on Lifetime, ‘television for women and gay men.’ We settled in. I fell in love with the show, and so did he. I had to get a box of Kleenex after the first couple of hours because we were crying at the sentimentality of it.
I made a mental note to call my agent and ask him to get me a guest spot on the show. I also found the actress who played the fat girl to be the most attractive woman I had seen in a long time. I like big women, and Brooke Elliot is just breathtaking. Tyler agreed.
After episode five, we started making out. He was probably the best kisser I had ever had the pleasure of tonguing. I was hard in an instant. This went on for a good hour before I led him to my bedroom.
That is when things got really hot and heavy. I slowly removed his shirt to reveal a very hairy, muscular body. I was so glad he didn’t shave his chest. I ran my face along his torso and bit his nipples, which apparently, he loved. It took a while to unbutton his jeans, and he managed to get mine off a lot quicker. We continued making out, biting, licking, and feeling with our briefs on. Mine were black with white stripes; his were red with black stripes. Both pairs were wet with precum stains.
Finally naked, we really got down to business. I don’t know who was more into oral, but we competed with who could suck the best and longest. I think he won. I then flipped him on his stomach and took a dive for his hairy ass, but not before I admired his muscular legs. I never saw such muscular legs in my life. He flexed them for me, and I was his forever.
His ass was a true delight. I kidded him about how it glowed in the dark, being so white against his tan skin. Mine is the same shade as the rest of me because I suntan nude on my private pool deck.
I ate him out as if they had not served me enough at dinner. My tongue gave his pucker a good workout, then I worked a wet finger into his hole, and he moaned and wiggled his butt.
He begged me to fuck him. So, I put on a raincoat, lubed up my pole and his hole, and I slowly entered him while he moaned and pushed back wanting more and more of my dick.
Tyler was so sensual and so sexy and so nice and so funny and so my type, that I decided to forego the usual Olympic-style fucking I usually perform and give him a slow, easy, loving fuck.
I reached around and pinched his nipples while I licked his neck and fucked him all the way in, and all the way out. He was moaning and begging for more and telling me how much he loved it. I was able to keep up for some time, and after a long while, he announced he was going to come.
He came all over the sheets underneath us, and the feeling of his pulsing ass made me come as well, filling the condom completely.
I asked him to spend the night. But, he said it was best he went home. However, he asked if we could get together the next night. I, of course, said yes.
I slept well that night. In the morning, I knew I would get the usual text message. You know the one. It is the one you get after a long while of hot and heavy communications followed by a phenomenal date and earth moving sex.
My phone buzzed around ten in the morning. There was a text message.
“I woke up feeling like hell. I won’t be able to make it tonight. How about next weekend?”
I just rolled my eyes. I texted back, “Wow. Guys usually wait until the second or third date to get sick, and then we never see each other again. Feel better.”
It is amazing how predictable some people are. I called that one the minute he begged me to fuck him. Some call this psychic ability.
I call it “bitch, please.”
A JEW FOR ALL SEASONS
For Sammy, Christmas was his least favorite time of year. The season always annoyed him, for he felt bombarded by reindeer, snowmen, Santas, elves, stockings and everything else that made the season unbearable. He remembered the other kids teasing him about being Jewish when he was growing up in the South, but what he hated most was being asked, “Is Hanukah the Jewish Christmas?” He would always answer, “No. Christmas is the Jewish Christmas. Jesus was Jewish, Mary and Joseph were Jewish, and at least one of the Wise Men was Jewish. That would be the one who brought the fur.” He would then go on to tell them that Christmas was not Jesus’s birthday as he was born during the month of Elul, which falls in August or September, depending on the lunar calendar cycle. But, they weren’t interested in education, and he would be beaten up by a gang of them during this time of peace and holiness, for ridiculing their yuletide cheer.
So, it was ironic that during the recession of 2008, Sammy, would find himself grateful to have a job as a department store Santa, for he had been almost nine months without full-time employment. He was also grateful for Christmas Eve as that marked his last day in the red fat suit. December 24 also marked the last day he would have to work with Marvin, the ornery elf they assigned to him for the prior month. To make the day even more special, the last kid to sit on Sammy’s lap lacked bladder control.
Both Sammy and Marvin had similar features, dark curly hair cut short, piercing green eyes, olive-toned skin and full lips, but that was where the similarities ended. Sammy was over six-foot-two, and Marvin was a little over four feet.
Sammy walked back to the dressing room that was reserved for Santa and his helpers to change and quickly stripped himself of his costume. He no sooner had put on his jeans and sweatshirt when Marvin walked in and began to strip.
“Fucking brats,” the holiday elf said as he took off his green felt shirt.
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Sammy didn’t bother to look at the little guy because his attitude was a turn off, nor did he respond.
“I’ll bet you’re glad this gig is over,” Marvin continued.
“Yeah, but I do hate to lose the paycheck,” Sammy answered.
“Me, too. It’s been tough finding a job.”
Sammy wanted to comment on Marvin’s attitude being a hindrance to finding gainful employment, but he just was not in the mood to get into a conversation with him, and now that this job was over, he didn’t have to.
“You want to get a drink?” Marvin asked.
Sammy, who had his backpack over one shoulder and was heading out of the dressing room, turned around and gave Marvin a look of disbelief.
“Well?”
“It’s just that you’ve been pretty much an asshole this past month, and you haven’t said two words directly to me since we started. Now you want to go out for a drink?” Sammy asked.
“Yeah. Look, I hated this gig, and besides you tall people always get to play Santa while the real elves,” and Marvin gestured to himself as if on display, “don’t get to play the jolly ole St. Nick. So, forgive me if I’m not such a happy leprechaun. I also don’t care too much for the goyim or their spoiled kids.”
“You’re Jewish?” Sammy asked.
“My name is Marvin Minkoff.”
“Who knew? Mine is Sammy Sagman,” he said with a smile.
“I know. I looked at your application after they hired you. What do you know? Two members of the tribe celebrating their lord and savior’s birth,” Marvin said as he put on his jacket.
“Which took place during Elul,” Sammy said. “What the hell? Let’s go get a drink.”
