Make Mine Muscle! Read online

  Make Mine Muscle!

  Confessions of a Power Bottom Bodybuilder

  by

  Emeric Varady

  Translated from the Hungarian

  by

  Sandor Vass

  Copyright © 2018 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

  Cover design by: Ivan Nagy

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: An Oral Exercise

  Chapter Two: A Coaching Session

  Chapter Three: I Seduce a Straight Guy

  Chapter Four: Toilet Trysts

  Chapter Five: I Become a Kept Man

  Chapter Six: Czech Mates

  Chapter Seven: A Muscle Gangbang

  Also by Emeric Varady

  Chapter One: An Oral Exercise

  Call me Arpad.

  I’d be embarrassed to tell you my real name. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to share my story with you, in all of its explicit detail. And then there’s the fact that some of the things I’ve done, and which I’m going to describe, don’t necessarily reflect all that favorably upon me. I don’t want my family, back home on the farm in Siklós, to disown me. The big city of Budapest has corrupted me, as it has corrupted so other young men. In short, I’ve been a very bad boy!

  So, contrary to what my good buddy Joska once told me, taunting me, I do have a sense of shame. Fortunately for me, it’s not the kind of shame which prevents me from enjoying myself, especially when it comes to indulging in sexual activity.

  I’ve never thought of myself as an Adonis, but I flatter myself that I’m not exactly repulsive-looking, either. And, at the risk of sounding immodest, even arrogant, I do have a nice fucking body—fucking being the operative word. I’m a bodybuilder, and a good one. I’ve worked like a dog to realize my body’s potential.

  There seems to be no sitting on the fence when it comes to gay men’s attitudes toward extremely muscular physiques. Either they dislike them, finding large muscles—and I quote from comments I’ve overheard, and even directed at me, to my chagrin—“unreal,” “exaggerated,” “excessive,” “disgusting,” and “ugly”—or they are hotly aroused by them, to the extent of fetishizing muscle men. Needless to say, I prefer to associate with men who fall into the second category!

  Feel free to fetishize me all you want.

  I like to receive appreciation for all the hard work I put in at the gym. I love it when I have a gay guy worshipping my body, really getting off on it, watching me flex and pose for him. Using his hands and his mouth and his tongue on me, striving hard to stimulate me. Sucking my dick! Rimming my ass! Bending over and offering his own manhole to me, for me to fuck!

  Yeah, that’s hot. That’s the payoff, the reward, for all of those hours spent pumping iron in the gym. For the dieting and the aches.

  Sexually, I guess I’m what’s called a power bottom. Don’t get me wrong. I’m reasonably versatile. When a guy wants me to top him, I’m usually happy to oblige. Want your ass fucked? I’m your man!

  But my true delight is to submit to another stud. Just the sight of a virile, muscular man, with a stiff dick, is enough to get my mussy—my man pussy, or in other words, my asshole—hot and moist and tingling. I love getting fucked! The rougher, the better! And when a guy screws me, I don’t just lie there, taking it, accepting his use of me. No, I’m a very active participant. I know what I like, and I don’t hesitate to demand it from the man who’s taking me, to make sure that he satisfies me as well as himself.

  “Goddamn it, you’re one hell of a bossy bottom,” I’ve been told, more than once. I accept that, not as an insult, but as high praise. My manhole has its needs, after all. Why shouldn’t I express them, candidly?

  A lot of men have been surprised, and thrilled, when they’ve discovered that a big, tough-looking, butch muscle stud like me is really a submissive slut. A filthy man whore! A dirty sex pig! A cum dump! I’ve earned each and every one of those titles. And I’ve done it the hard way. Usually, by lying on my back, with my legs in the air, and my ass wide open, ready, willing, and eager to take on all comers! Being a man whore isn’t easy, I’ll have you know. It’s a lot of work!

  Not all workouts take place in a gym. You can put in plenty of exercise in the bedroom, too!

  Well, if I’m going to discuss my sexual history, then, logically, I’d better start at the beginning.

  I lost my virginity—specifically, my oral virginity—while I was a student, enrolled at Budapest’s Óbuda University.

  I wasn’t the most diligent scholar. I’d become obsessed with pumping iron as an adolescent, and by the time I turned twenty and I was enrolled at the university, I’d developed a pretty good physique, if I do say so myself. I was starting to enter amateur bodybuilding competitions. Occasionally, I won my weight division. (Starting out as a middleweight, I soon packed on some more hard muscle, and as a result I could compete as a light heavyweight.) After I moved from my home town of Siklós to Budapest and enrolled at Óbuda, I wasn’t going to let anything interfere with my weight training. Especially not something as boring as my studies! I’d much rather hit the weights than the textbooks.

  Maybe I didn’t shine, academically. But I was certainly a big man on campus, in the literal sense.

  Except for jacking off, I was still totally inexperienced, sexually. Aware from an early age that I was attracted to other guys, I’d secretly lusted after some of my sexy farmer neighbors, but I’d never fooled around with a girl. And I was naïve about gay life. Sometimes a guy my own age—or older—would compliment me on my build. I’d accept this praise, while feeling a bit flustered by it. There were times when I suspected that my admirer was making a discreet, subtle pass at me. I was dying to have my first gay experience, of course, but I didn’t know how to respond to these advances, how to encourage them and convey my willingness. So I went on masturbating, while indulging in the most lurid fantasies imaginable about muscular men. In these sexual reveries, my sex partners were always hard-muscled behemoths, who manhandled me, ramming their grotesquely oversized cocks in my mouth and up my ass, forcing me to submit to their lewd whims. In a way, this was good training. Eventually, I was able to bring some of these fantasies to life!

  My luck changed for the better, one afternoon, down at the gym.

  The gym I belonged to wasn’t a fancy “fitness center,” catering to snobbish urban professionals. It was a small facility, located on a narrow back street—almost an alleyway—in Budapest’s downtown business district. The building was tucked away among warehouses and small shops. Inside, the gym was a bit rundown, and sadly in need of some cosmetic repairs, but it was well equipped with machines and free weights, which was all that mattered to me. The members tended to be working-class laborers, although several of my fellow students belonged.
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  Among them was a guy named Gyula, whom I’d met at the gym, and who, by coincidence, was in a couple of my classes at the university.

  Gyula was straight, and he prided himself on being quite a ladies’ man. He was always bragging about how women found his physique irresistible, and about how much pussy he got. To hear him tell it, the mere sight of him was enough to make some horny broad spread herself for him! He could be kind of a jerk, but he did have a good body, bulgingly muscular. We started to work out together, and we hung out together during our leisure time.

  Gyula guessed I was gay, which didn’t require much detective work on his part. After catching me, on more than one occasion, checking out the other guys at the gym, or on campus, he asked me, flat out. I admitted to him that I was gay. I was too embarrassed to tell him I was a virgin. Not bothered by my sexual orientation, Gyula shrugged it off. Like a lot of highly sexed men, he was open-minded. Fucking was fucking, to his way of thinking, and precisely which orifices were penetrated during the quest for sexual satisfaction was a purely incidental, subsidiary consideration.

  “At least we won’t be competing for the same bimbos, which means that much more juicy pussy for me,” was the refined, gentlemanly way he put it. “Maybe we can double-date some night,” he joked. “Me with some hot-cunted slut, and you with a hot-assed man whore. If we find out they’re both good at sucking cock, then we can always switch. I’ve always heard that you queer guys are the best cocksuckers. Are you? Do you give good head?”

  Because of my total lack of experience, I was in no position to know. I blushed in response to his teasing. I only wished I knew how to hook up with a man whore!

  A month or so later, on that fateful afternoon, Gyula and I had completed our workout, and we were shooting the breeze while we showered and got dressed.

  “I’ve got an hour or so to kill before my next class,” Gyula remarked.

  “Me, too.”

  Standing in front of my open locker, I had a chance to admire Gyula’s torso—all big shoulders, heavy arms, and massive, hairy pecs—for one last time, before he put on his shirt.

  He caught me looking at him, and he smirked. “Like what you see?” he asked.

  “It’s all right,” I told him, in a carefully cultivated offhand manner. “Want to go grab a coffee, or something?”

  “Yeah, why not. The ‘something’ sounds good.”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “Never mind,” he said.

  Dressed, we left the gym together, each of us with his gym bag slung over his shoulder.

  To my surprise, Gyula hesitated, once we were outside on the sidewalk. He didn’t venture in either direction.

  “Follow me,” he told me, brusquely, after a moment.

  I was even more surprised when Gyula turned on his heel and led me into the narrow space which separated the side of the gym’s building from the side wall of the structure next to it. The passageway was cramped to the point of being slightly claustrophobic, especially with two oversized young guys like us negotiating it—we wouldn’t have been able to walk through it side by side.

  At the end, we came out into a small rectangular open space, surrounded on all four sides by the rear walls of other buildings. Three of the walls were windowless, and the fourth had all of its windows boarded up on the inside. A row of old, battered galvanized steel cans emitted an assortment of pungent odors. There was brickwork paving underfoot, and through gaps between the bricks weeds had sprung up. It was a pretty depressing spot. Typical urban blight!

  “What?” I inquired, baffled by why Gyula had brought me there. The thought occurred to me that maybe he was going to invite me to smoke some pot. If so, I was game.

  “You know what goes on back here, don’t you? Especially at night, when the gym’s still open, or right after it closes?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Gyula shook his head in disgust. “God, you are a real innocent from the provinces, aren’t you?” (I wasn’t a native of Budapest. I’d moved there from Siklós, a town in the county of Baranya, near the Croatian border, to go to school. So far as Gyula was concerned, I was a rural yokel, little more than a shit-kicking peasant—and, in Budapest, he had plenty of company, when it came to his urban prejudices.) “What a dumbass. For your information, farm boy,” he said, sarcastically, as though explaining something to a child, “some of the guys come here after their workouts, to drop a load before they head home.”

  “Drop a load? You mean—?”

  “Do I have to spell it out for you? Jesus, you’re the one who’s supposed to be gay! They jerk off out here, sometimes, yeah. Usually, though, they come here to get sucked. Or one guy bends over and he lets the other guy fuck him in the ass. That’s right. Cocks in mouths, cocks in asses, out here, in the open. Shit, the look on your face! You needn’t be so shocked.”

  I could feel my face warming, as I no doubt blushed scarlet. “And you know this because?” I challenged Gyula.

  He shrugged. “I’m not going to turn down a blow job, if I’m horny and the other guy is good-looking and he knows what he’s doing. Hell,” he added, after a moment’s reflection. “I’d even let an ugly motherfucker go down on me, if he’s a good cocksucker. What the fuck? A mouth is a mouth, a suck is a suck, and a come is a come,” he declared, philosophically.

  I was stunned! In my rustic naïveté, it had never occurred to me that a guy who identified himself as straight would let another male go down on him. No matter how hard up he was, or how much he wanted sex!

  Gyula unslung his gym bag from his shoulder and dropped it to the ground. He stood with his broad back turned to one of the windowless walls, which was constructed of rust-red old bricks, scarred here and there with age and exposure to the elements. The mortar had crumbled and fallen out from some of the gaps.

  “Man, I’ve been aching to get off all morning,” Gyula proclaimed. With an insolent grin on his face, he placed the palm of his right hand over his crotch, and, to my astonishment, he began to rub his cock through his pants—brazenly, right there in front of me! “Okay, you frigging muscle queer,” he went on, adopting a tough tone of voice. “I guess this is going to be your lucky day. You’ve wanted to suck my dick ever since we met, haven’t you? Well, now’s your chance.”

  “Fuck you,” I told him.

  “Who do you think you’re kidding? You know you want my cock in your mouth, bitch.”

  His smug tone of voice and manner infuriated me. I hated his guts! But, perversely, I was aware of another emotion, surging up inside me. It was an unthinking, overpowering lust! For a moment, I strove to suppress it. But I did so in vain!

  “We’d better not—” I was going to say, We’d better not do it here, where anybody can come along and catch us, and I was about to suggest that we go either to his place or mine, where we could fool around together with impunity, behind closed doors. But he interrupted me.

  “Stop being such a goddamn prickteaser, Arpad,” he growled. “Come here and get busy.”

  I lowered my own gym bag to the ground.

  “Are you sure it’s safe here?” I asked, although the truth was I didn’t give a damn whether we were risking getting caught or not. When he stood there like that, the lump his genitals made in his pants looked like it went all the way down to his knee. Shit! I’ve have been willing to blow him at high noon in the middle of Kossuth Lajos Square, if that was the only opportunity I had to suck his dick!

  “It’ll do,” he said, with a laugh. He just leaned back against the dilapidated brick wall and he unzipped. I couldn’t believe what he hauled out of his pants! It was a monster cock, long and thick and hard.

  Mesmerized, I watched him extract that thing, and then he stroked and petted it as though it was a tame snake, until it stood up almost a foot in the air, as big around as my forearm. I was so excited that I almost creamed my pants. I had a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball, choking me, and I was aware of a burning lust ins
ide me which was making me break out in a sweat, as though I was still inside the gym working out.

  But it was my mouth which he wanted me to exercise.

  “Don’t just stand there staring at it,” he told me, all gruff impatience. “Get down on your knees and suck it. Come on, faggot, put it in your mouth. We both know you want to.”

  I did want to. I also wanted to tell him that I’d never performed fellatio before. But, tongue-tied, I didn’t confess my oral inexperience. Recklessly, I decided that the only way to learn the stunt would be to just go ahead and take the plunge, so to speak.

  I knelt in front of him, and he spread his legs a little wider, mutely offering me access to his crotch. I just stayed there, admiring his endowment, for a moment. Then I stuck out my tongue and gave his meaty erection a quick, tentative lick. There was a faint salty taste, which stung my tongue and seemed to intoxicate me, as though I’d absorbed some orally administered drug. Groaning, I began to lick my tongue up and down the shaft to get it slippery enough to fit easily inside my mouth, which I was certain was impossibly small to accommodate all that swollen manly flesh.

  But I hadn’t licked his penis more than a half dozen times before Gyula grabbed me by the hair and shoved my mouth right down on him!

  “Go on, you prickteasing muscle bitch!” he snarled. “Quit fucking around! You know you want that dick, so take it! Take it! Suck my cock!”

  I thought I was going to choke! I couldn’t believe I’d taken so much solid prick in my mouth, all at once. Later on, of course, with practice, I learned how to take the biggest dicks in captivity without any difficulty. I became one of the best cocksuckers in Budapest! At the moment though, this tough guy was raping my no-longer virginal mouth, and he was really giving me a throat fuck! It felt like he was stuffing his fist down my gullet!

  “Open your mouth and work it,” he instructed me, callously. “Suck! Goddamn you, suck!”

  Gurgling in useless protest, I forced myself not to gag. I took the abuse. What choice did I have? Gyula was so sexed up, so determined to be blown, that he was probably perfectly capable of beating me up if I resisted him. Maybe I could have taken the son of a bitch in a fight—maybe not. I wasn’t about to put the question to the test. Instead, I took what seemed to me to be the only way out. I sucked his cock!