Bisexual Bodybuilders Vol 3 Read online

  Bisexual Bodybuilders

  Bad Boy Bi Muscle Men and Their Wanton Women

  Volume Three

  Her Muscled Lovers

  by

  Emeric Varady

  Translated from the Hungarian

  by

  Sandor Vass

  Copyright © 2019 Emeric Varady

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or to persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except for the use of brief excerpts in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published by: Emeric Varady

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  SelfPubBookCovers.com/ Island

  Table of Contents

  Volume Three: Her Muscled Lovers

  Chapter Twenty-One: Her Untamed Alley Cat

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Two Tomcats in Heat

  Chapter Twenty-Three: After Working Hours

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Copulating Colleagues

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Backsliding

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Avoiding a Cockfight

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Two Muscle Men on a Man Date

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Private Workout

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Exploring the Bi Ways of Desire

  Also by Emeric Varady

  Volume Three: Her Muscled Lovers

  Chapter Twenty-One: Her Untamed Alley Cat

  “Bastard,” Mirella muttered. “You dirty bastard.”

  Her bulgingly muscled lover, Tibor, whose brawn threatened to burst the seams of his clothes, smirked, with his typical pumped-up, macho male arrogance. “Oh, don’t hold back,” he encouraged Mirella, mockingly. “Tell me how you really feel about me, my love.”

  “Be careful what you wish for. There aren’t enough swear words in the whole Hungarian language to cover that.”

  They were standing in the hallway outside her apartment door. Mirella was fumbling in her elegant little designer handbag for her key.

  “Damn it! I know the fucking thing is in here somewhere, but I can’t seem to find it,” she complained.

  “Maybe that last drink before we left the club was a mistake,” Tibor suggested.

  “I am not drunk!”

  “Too bad you’re not. If you were, you’d probably be in a better mood. Here, I have mine.” Tibor used his own key to unlock the door.

  “Thanks,” Mirella forced herself to say. “But if you think you’re sleeping here tonight, after the way you behaved, you’ve got another think coming.”

  “Now, Mirella—baby doll—!”

  “Don’t you try to sweet talk your way out of it this time, you prick!”

  “Keep your voice down,” Tibor urged her. “At least wait until we’re inside, before you start yelling at me. Do you want your neighbors to hear? Do you want them to know that you—the respectable businesswoman—that you’ve brought a guy back to your apartment, late at night, and you’re having an argument with him?”

  “I don’t care,” Mirella insisted. “I don’t give a damn! Let them all hear. Let them know what a filthy, disgusting pig I’ve let myself get involved with. You’re so dirty. You’re a pervert!”

  “Shut up. I mean, keep your voice down. Please.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me to shut up. You cocksucker. You ass fucker.”

  “Oh, nice mouth. Very ladylike. If only all of those stuck-up people down at your office could hear you now.”

  “You don’t want me to be ladylike. You like me to be a whore.”

  “Yeah? Well, right now, I’d be happy if you were a quiet whore. Jesus! No wonder so many men like me turn bi. Women! You can always count on them to make a fucking scene. Out of nothing.”

  “Nothing, is that what you call it? The way you carried on?”

  “Hell, yes. I didn’t do anything, did I? I didn’t get laid. I was with you, the whole time. Wasn’t I?”

  “You’re an animal.”

  “Aw, give it a rest, will you?”

  By now, they’d gotten the door open. Mirella entered her apartment. She tried to slam the door shut in Tibor’s face; but she’d consumed just enough alcohol that evening to slow her reflexes down a bit. Tibor held the door ajar, squeezed his bulky, hard-muscled body through it, and closed it behind him. He snapped the lock shut.

  “That’s better,” he said, as he flipped on the light switch. “Now at least we can shout at each other in private, behind closed doors, like a proper, respectable couple.”

  “An unmarried couple,” Mirella reminded him. “Which means there’s nothing legal, binding us together.”

  “Yeah, that’s one mistake we haven’t made,” Tibor retorted. “The dubious delights of matrimony—who needs that crap, when we can make each other just as miserable without it? Living in sin—that encourages impropriety, which is so much more stimulating, don’t you agree, my love?”

  Ordinarily, Mirella liked Tibor’s dry sense of humor. Tonight, though, everything he did or said seemed to set her on edge.

  “As though you’d know the difference between proper and improper behavior,” she taunted him.

  She should have known better than to have expected anything better from him.

  It had started out as a nice, romantic evening. Dinner in an elegant restaurant, one of the best such establishments in downtown Budapest, in fact, and followed by a trip to a trendy club. She and Tibor had danced. They’d drank. They’d even made out, a little, right there in a (comparatively) public place, surrounded by other people. She’d felt relaxed, glamorous, and happy. And she’d even experienced, ironically enough, moments of pride, at being seen in the company of her handsome amateur bodybuilder boyfriend.

  And then, true to form, her horny sex pig of a lover had spoiled it all for her! By coming on to another man.

  She stared at Tibor. She tried her best to see him objectively.

  Oh, he was handsome, all right. He had longish dark hair, habitually tousled where it fell down over his forehead, and a closely trimmed beard. He also had a nicely muscled body, and sexy, brooding, bedroom eyes. Among his other undeniable assets, he possessed—to be crude—an oversized, uncircumcised cock, which he admittedly knew what to do with it, in bed, to satisfy a sex partner. (A sex partner of either gender, in fact—which, from Mirella’s point of view, was the problem.)

  Most people did concede that Mirella and Tibor made an attractive couple. In contrast to her muscular lover, Mirella was a rather petite woman, although she had curves in all the right places. There was nothing boyish or androgynous about her. When Tibor screwed her, he couldn’t pretend he was fucking a boy!

  Mirella was an ash blonde. Maybe that wasn’t her natural hair color. But her hairdresser wasn’t telling!

  Tibor had a certain virile coarseness about him, and he also had an extremely strong sex drive. Not for the first time, Mirella thought he rather resembled an unneutered tomcat.

  The comparison suited him—all too well, she now thought. There really was s
omething feline about him … something sly. It wasn’t difficult to imagine him scooping plump, helpless goldfish, one after another, out of a fishbowl and gobbling them up. And then sitting there, licking his telltale wet paws, looking the picture of wide-eyed innocence.

  There were times, like tonight, when she was tempted to find some sharp-bladed instrument and perform a little veterinarian surgery on him. That might keep her alley cat from going on the prowl!

  She’d let him have his own key to her apartment, so that he could come and go as he pleased. He often spent the night with her, in her bed. When, of course, he wasn’t “too tired,” after his all-important workouts. Or … as she suspected … he was busy fucking one or more of his gym buddies, or some new male hookup.

  Banging Tibor was one of Mirella’s great joys in life. Sex with him never failed to put her in a good mood. But there were times, like tonight, when she wondered whether it was really worth it. After all, sex wasn’t everything—was it?

  “You are not spending the night,” she insisted.

  He shrugged. “All right. I’ll go in a minute. But first we really need to have this out. You’re behaving like a child, Mirella. You’ve never acted like this before. What’s gotten into you, all of a sudden?”

  She glared at him. He stood there, looking calm, and slightly amused. It infuriated her. But then, inexplicably, almost perversely, she suddenly felt a quite different emotion. She felt turned on! A familiar ache throbbed away beneath the thin, delicate fabric of her brassiere and her matching panties. Her nipples and her clit were both responding to Tibor’s mere presence, there in her living room. She hated herself for her body’s treacherous vulnerability. She hated herself for wanting him!

  Secretly, she was already reconsidering her insistence upon sleeping alone tonight. Maybe she’d been too hasty. She really didn’t want to send Tibor away, to make him go to his own place. Withholding sex from him had occurred to her as a good way of punishing him. But of course she’d only be punishing herself, too. She’d be denying herself what she so desperately wanted. What she needed, in fact, to keep herself sane.

  Like an addict, she needed her regular fix of stiff cock!

  In her imagination, she could already feel the familiar pleasure of having Tibor’s hard, muscular, naked body pressed against hers. The touch of his fingers on her flesh. His hot, expert, intimate caresses, which were always guaranteed to inflame her past the point of self-control. And then, inevitably, that virile penetration of her body, which never failed to drive her wild. His cock in her cunt. Yes, she pictured it, she worded it, as crudely as possible, in order to tantalize herself. She already seemed to be experiencing the clawing, the biting, the frenzied thrashing of naked limbs against rumpled, sweat-dampened sheets—! And then, ultimately, the wet, spasmodic, blissful release of orgasm—!

  She forced herself to return to reality. She had her womanly pride, after all. She wasn’t about to give in to him so easily. She’d teach this smug, oversexed, musclebound bastard not to take her for granted.

  “All of a sudden?” she said. “There’s nothing ‘sudden’ about it. This has been building up for a long time. I’ve wanted to say something, to let you know how I really feel. As if you’d care,” she added, bitterly.

  “I do care. I do care about you, Mirella.”

  “Don’t make me laugh! Do you think I’m blind? Do you think I don’t notice how you look at every good-looking guy we run into when we’re out together? How you cruise them—and how much you like it when they cruise you right back? I might as well not be there. I’m only in the way. It’s humiliating.”

  “You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Tibor insisted. He turned off the ceiling light. Then he moved casually over to an end table and switched on the lamp which was set on it, creating a more subdued illumination in her living room—a more intimate ambience. “I was only being friendly to that guy in the club—that’s all.”

  “Friendly? You only wanted to suck his cock and fuck him up the ass, that’s all,” Mirella shrilled. “That big macho act you like to put on in public doesn’t fool me for a minute, you know. You’re still a cocksucker. I saw you out there, on the dance floor, with that pretty muscle boy you were so interested in. I saw you prickteasing him, running your hands up and down his back, grabbing his ass.”

  “There may have been some reciprocal prickteasing going on, back and forth,” Tibor admitted, with a calm casualness which infuriated Mirella. “So what? It was harmless. It was just two guys flirting with each other. It’s a game we men play. And that kid did have a nice ass. Just the kind I like to fuck. It reminded me of yours, as a matter of fact. Plump and succulent. Not as jiggly as yours, maybe, but still a sweet-looking butt, just about begging for a big stiff dick to be jammed right up it—!” Lost in his lewd memories, Tibor allowed himself to get carried away, forgetting how his mistress might react to his enthusiasm.

  “Disgusting,” Mirella said. “You are absolutely disgusting. And I’ve got bad news for you, mister. If you think you’re going to shove your dick in my back door tonight, while you fantasize about humping that kid—well, you’re in for a big disappointment. My rear end is closed for business. Go find yourself another hole to fuck.”

  “God, I like it when you talk dirty, Mirella,” Tibor exclaimed.

  “Do you? Then you’re going to love what I’m about to say to you. Namely, fuck off, you buzi [faggot]!”

  “You haven’t had too many fags fuck you the way I do,” Tibor boasted. “Fuck you, make you come—make you beg for more. I must be doing something right.”

  “You’re all right, when it comes to cheap, sleazy, impersonal sex,” Mirella conceded, cuttingly. “Because God knows you’ve had enough practice at that sort of thing. But when it comes to anything else—anything decent—you’re sadly lacking.”

  “I didn’t know that ‘decency’ was what you wanted from me, Mirella. You’ve sure seemed happy with all the indecency, up to now.”

  “You’re totally disgusting.”

  “And you’re a fucking hypocrite. You like sex. And you like it crude and hard and dirty. You like it ‘indecent’ and ‘disgusting,’ to use your own words. You wouldn’t want it any other way. Stop kidding me, and stop kidding yourself.”

  “You pig.”

  “You slut. And don’t get me wrong. I consider ‘slut’ to be a compliment. High praise. I love sluts.”

  “Yes, you do, don’t you? Female sluts … and male sluts. Man whores, like you. That’s about your speed.”

  “I don’t deny it. Come on, Mirella. Get off this high horse of yours. Get real. Right from the start, we agreed that we wouldn’t be exclusive,” he reminded her, coolly.

  “We could’ve at least agreed that we’d be exclusively heterosexual.”

  “But think how boring that would be.”

  “There are times when I think I’d be willing to settle for boredom.”

  “Ha!” Somehow, Tibor managed to make that monosyllabic exclamation sound most eloquent, conveying doubt, derision, and contempt.

  “I don’t want to argue anymore,” Mirella said. “Not tonight. It’s late, and I’m tired.”

  “I don’t want to argue anymore, either. I can think of much better things we can do. With our clothes off.”

  “Forget it,” Mirella insisted. “I want you to go.”

  “Do you?” There was a cool arrogance in Tibor’s tone of voice, now. “Do you really want to go to bed and sleep alone? Wouldn’t it be nicer if we made up? You know what they say about makeup sex. It’s the best sex.”

  “Second best, in your case,” Mirella retorted. “Because we both know that, as far as you’re concerned, the best sex is sex with another man.”

  “It’s very flattering, to think that you can be so jealous of me,” Tibor purred. He took a step toward her. “To know that you want me so bad, that you’re not willing to share me with anybody else.”

  “I don’t want you. Not any longer.” But, even as sh
e said that, Mirella knew it was a lie. And so did Tibor. “Your gay boyfriends can have you, all to themselves. Yes, you can just wallow in the gutter, in depravity, you nasty gay and bi boys, all you want. Leave me out of it!”

  “I do have fun with the guys,” Tibor admitted. “But all of them rolled into one are no match for you. You’re my girl. The only girl I’m interested in. Think of that. Your pussy has such power over me, it makes me indifferent to all other women.”

  “Liar. You sure seemed interested in that boy tonight. He made you forget all about me.”

  “But it’s you I went out with, and it’s you I came home with. It’s you I’m with, now. Doesn’t that tell you something? How many times do I have to tell you—you’re letting yourself get all worked up over nothing,” Tibor said, touching her lightly on the shoulder. “That pretty little muscle pup. Did you really find him so threatening? He didn’t mean a thing to me. Not a damn thing. Hell, I wouldn’t even fuck him, unless I was hard up. Unless I was desperate.”

  “Yes, you would. You’d fuck him. And then you wouldn’t hesitate to come running to me, right afterward, and stick your dirty cock in my mouth, or in my ass. Like I said—you’re disgusting.”

  “Yeah,” Tibor whispered. “I am disgusting. I’m no good. I don’t deserve you—”

  And then, his arms were around her, and she felt herself melting, sinking into the whirlpool of sensation that always accompanied his touch. She was lost, powerless to resist.

  “I’m so filthy,” Tibor told her. “I’m so nasty. Such a bad, bad bi boy.”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, you are. Don’t touch me. Let me go. I hate you.”

  “That’s right,” he urged. “Hate me. Hate me a lot. The hatred—the disgust—it gets you hot and wet, doesn’t it?”

  He kissed her. She parted her lips as his tongue wedged itself deeply inside her mouth. She felt her flesh come to life, trembling with desire, anticipating what he was going to do to her. Hot and wet? Yes, to her shame, he was getting her hot and wet!

  “You really are nothing but a tomcat,” she insisted. “An alley cat. A stray, that I made the mistake of letting inside and feeding.”