Bisexual Bodybuilders Vol 4 Read online

  Bisexual Bodybuilders

  Bad Boy Bi Muscle Men and Their Wanton Women

  Volume Four

  Pumped Up for Porn

  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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  Table of Contents

  Volume Four: Pumped Up for Porn

  Chapter Thirty: A Visit to the Drug Store

  Chapter Thirty-One: The Doctor’s Bedside Manner

  Chapter Thirty-Two: All Juiced Up

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Bad Girls and Boys

  Chapter Thirty-Four: A Muscle Pup’s Porn Debut

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Why Stop Now?

  Chapter Thirty-Six: Muscle Bros

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: No Need to Fake It

  Chapter Thirty-Eight: Their Muscle Mentor

  Also by Emeric Varady

  Volume Four: Pumped Up for Porn

  Chapter Thirty: A Visit to the Drug Store

  Adolar had told Bob about his client Laszlo, the physician who lived in the suburb of Szentendre, and who paid Adolar for his sexual services sometimes in cash, but more often in performance enhancement drugs—either prescriptions for them, or samples of the real thing. Laszlo also prescribed Adolar “real” amyl ampules, which he and the bodybuilder escort both used as a recreational drug, to heighten sexual response.

  “He gets samples all the time, from the pharmaceutical companies. So why shouldn’t he pass them on? It’s time for me to make another visit to the drug store,” Adolar said, employing a euphemism, “and stock up. A guy can never have too many ‘roids. I’ve got to be ready for the next contest, and the next porn shoot. I’ve got both coming up soon. Maybe—” He hesitated.

  “Maybe what?” Bob asked.

  “Maybe you’d like to start doing some discreet escorting, too.”

  “Hustling?”

  “Well, that’s another word for it. I’ll be honest with you, Bob. As johns go, Laszlo is one of the more pleasant ones to deal with it. I’d like to do anything I can to keep him happy, and to accommodate him. He’s asked me if I know another bodybuilder, a reliable one, with whom he’d feel safe, for a threesome. And when I told him, sure, I know a few hot young gym rats, he got quite excited. He said that’d be perfect—a sexy young muscle pup, to contrast with my ‘mature’ manly charms.” Adolar smiled, in an ironic self-deprecating manner.

  “Let me guess. You thought about me. You want to recruit me. To be a man whore, like you!”

  “You’d be ideal. I took the liberty of showing Laszlo some of the photos of you I have on my phone. He was instantly smitten—”

  “Sprang a boner, did he?”

  “Big time.”

  “If I do this—team up with you, and prostitute myself to this dude,” Bob asked, bluntly, “will he give me some prescriptions for steroids, too?”

  “If that’s what you want. Also, he’ll give you some samples. He’s a doctor, after all, remember. So like I said, he gets drug samples all the time, either free, or at a low cost. And he’s always willing to share the wealth.”

  “I’d rather have that, the drugs, than the money.”

  “Me, too, at least from this guy. He’s a reliable source. Good quality juice. Guaranteed to increase one’s muscle mass, without the side effects which you can get from black market stuff.”

  “I’m tempted. God, I’d love to get bigger and harder than Istvan. More ripped.”

  Adolar grinned. “Sibling rivalry?”

  “You bet. You’d be there, the whole time, to steer me through it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, Adolar. I’ll do it. My ambition is to become just like you. A successful, famous pro bodybuilder.”

  “What about a porn performer? And, in the meanwhile, an escort?”

  “If I’m going to let you corrupt me, let’s take it slow, one step at a time.”

  Adolar set up the appointment with Laszlo, and in due course he and Bob drove one evening to Szentendre, the suburb north of Budapest.

  “Don’t be nervous,” Adolar urged his protégé. “This guy is harmless—a pussycat. And remember, he’s a bit of a masochist—a submissive. Don’t be afraid to take charge and order him around, a little. He’ll really get off on that. Just follow my lead.”

  Upon their arrival at Laszlo’s house, the college jock was relieved to see that their host, the doctor, was not “a creep”—as the muscular young stud had feared he would be—but an attractive and pleasant, soft-spoken guy, who didn’t seem particularly sex-crazed, or even obviously gay. He acted as though he and Adolar were old friends—which, Bob supposed, they were, in a sense—and that Bob was just as welcome on the premises, which quickly helped to put the nervous young bodybuilder more at his ease.

  Bob accepted a glass of wine, and, gulping it down a bit recklessly in an effort to suppress the last vestiges of his anxiety about making his debut as a male whore, he got slightly buzzed while Adolar and Laszlo made small talk in the elegantly and appointed living room.

  “It’s a very warm night. Why don’t you show Bob the patio, Adolar?” the doctor suggested, after about an hour of this pleasant socializing, during which all three men downed more wine, and Laszlo uncorked another bottle.

  Adolar had warned Bob that, with a john like Laszlo, who was exceptionally generous, an escort was smart if he didn’t watch the clock. Bob was prepared to be patient, and let the evening unfold at Laszlo’s pace.

  “Sure. This way, Bob.”

  Adolar led Bob to another part of the house, where, Bob was saw, there was a small sort of a conservatory—under a pitched glass roof like that of a greenhouse, with large glass doors on one wall opening onto the back yard, was a collection potted plants, including some small trees in tubs. Adolar slid open one of the doors, which opened onto a tiled patio, with still more flowerpots, and other plants growing directly out of the ground through gaps in the tiles. There were outdoor chairs, and small tables. A high brick wall enclosed the patio, concealing it from the next-door neighbor’s view.

  After turning on the patio lights, Adolar manipulated the dial and lowered the level of the illumination to an intimate glow.

  “Nice, isn’t it?” he asked Bob, who, definitely impressed, nodded in agreement. “Quite an oasis. And private, as you can see. Come on, buddy, let’s take off our clothes.”

  “Are we—Laszlo and us—are we going to do it out here?” Bob asked, naïvely.

  Adolar laughed. “Based on what’s happened during a couple of my previous visits—we’re going to get started out her
e, at least. And then move on from there. Come on, strip.” He began to undress.

  Bob looked around. “What happened to our host?”

  “He’ll show up soon enough,” Adolar assured him. “Come on, Bob—do what I do. Don’t fuck this up. There’s nothing to it, really. Nobody’s going to rape you, buddy—Laszlo just wants to get off on your hot body and big dick. Relax, and you might even enjoy it.”

  Somewhat gingerly, still not knowing just what to expect, Bob undressed, too. When they were both naked, with their clothes at their feet in neat piles on the patio tiles, Adolar picked up a large bottle of baby oil which was on one of the tables.

  “See?” he said. “This ‘just happened’ to be out here, waiting for us.”

  Unselfconsciously, he began to oil himself up—all over—as though he was getting ready to go onstage at a bodybuilding contest.

  “Do my back and I’ll do yours,” he told Bob.

  “Laszlo wants us to pose for him? In the nude?” Bob guessed.

  “Sort of. You are going to be able to get into this, aren’t you?”

  “I won’t let you down.”

  “Good man. Just do what I do,” Adolar repeated. “Follow my lead.”

  Silently, they helped each other to oil up, from head to foot. It was the first time that Bob had performed this service for Adolar, anointing his body. It was intimate contact while in the nude—not explicitly sexual, but pleasurable and stimulating for Bob. Adolar, furthermore, was so natural about it that Bob somehow didn’t feel embarrassed about being naked with him outdoors. The privacy wall was a factor, of course. After they’d taken turns oiling each other’s backs, and Bob thought the process was completed, Adolar quite nonchalantly reached out, took Bob’s large, soft cock in his slippery hand, and stroked it, coating it with the oil while Bob’s penis began to stiffen and expand within his grip.

  “Yeah,” Adolar declared. “Looks like you’re ready for showtime. We’re going to put this big thing of yours to work tonight, for fun and profit.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Bob moaned, as always enjoying having his dick played with by Adolar like that, but worried about the inevitable effect the other bodybuilder’s manipulation on him might have. He didn’t want to come prematurely. Especially not with a paying customer there in the house, who expected him and Adolar to put out for him! “Don’t make me shoot,” Bob warned his companion. But he made no physical move to discourage Adolar, who lubricated his penis very thoroughly indeed, even massaging some of the oil into Bob’s balls.

  “Come on, get it hard,” Adolar coaxed him, playing with himself with his other hand and setting the example by quickly giving himself a full erection, which he slathered with a fresh palmful of oil. The surplus dripped from his hard-on onto the tiled floor at his feet. “Yeah, that’s good. Now try to keep it hard,” Adolar whispered. “Here he comes.”

  Bob had spent too many hours in locker rooms to feel too bashful about his nudity, or even embarrassed by the fact that he was standing there outside a strange man’s home with a hard-on.

  Laszlo, still fully dressed, now reappeared. Smiling, he joined Adolar and Bob on the patio and pulled up a chair, seating himself in it with his legs spread so that he was facing the two naked, aroused bodybuilders, whose flesh gleamed like polished ivory in the subdued lighting thrown upon them. Laszlo had brought the wine bottle and his glass with him, and he took a sip of the wine.

  “How fantastic both of you look,” Laszlo said, quietly, while Adolar took care to position himself and Bob directly in front of Laszlo’s chair. “Adolar, are you going to let me take some more pictures of you like that, the way we did last time?”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Adolar said, smoothly. “This time, I don’t think I want to do a photo session—unless Bob agrees to do it, too. And anyway, it’d be much more ‘interesting’ for the two of us to pose for photos together. After all, I’m shy,” he joked. He took a step behind Bob, and to one side, giving their host an even better chance to appraise Bob’s physique and compare it to his own oiled nudity. “I need my buddy Bob to give me immoral support. Didn’t I tell you he was built—and hung?”

  Adolar sounded rather smug. Without waiting for an answer, he began to pose and flex his muscles for Laszlo’s benefit, in a way which was almost too innocent to be truly narcissistic or sexually provocative. He obviously took a great deal of pleasure in his own fine body, and he was enjoying displaying its considerable attractions to his small but highly appreciative audience.

  Within a very few minutes, Adolar was sweating heavily under the layer of baby oil on his skin, from the effort of tensing his muscles, so that rivulets of mingled oil and sweat ran down his chest and belly and thighs, and began to drip like a fine rain onto the tiled floor around his bare feet.

  Laszlo, Bob thought, watched Adolar almost casually, a slight smile on his lips. The doctor glanced back and forth between Adolar and Bob—who still stood there motionless, feeling awkward. Laszlo, Bob noticed, didn’t even seem to have a hard-on! Nonchalantly, the man just sat there and drank his wine.

  “Come on, Bob,” Adolar urged the other naked stud, with a deep, rasping intake of breath. “Show Laszlo your muscles. All of them, muscle boy. Especially that big, thick ‘love muscle’ you’ve got there, sticking up from between your legs! Show him your cock!”

  Bob began to get into the spirit of things, too, grinning sheepishly while he did his best to imitate Adolar and the other professional bodybuilders he’d seen—and lusted after—at physique contests, either live or shown on cable sports channels, or in videos.

  He still had a hard-on, which he supposed was appropriate to the situation and a good sign—and, after a few minutes of intense posing, Adolar coaxed him a step farther. Breathing hard, he stepped up behind Bob and embraced him with both brawny arms. He hugged Bob tightly back against his chest, so that his pecs and stiff nipples pressed against Bob’s shoulder blades, and his equally stiff prick rode in the deep groove tucked away between the clenched cheeks of Bob’s ass. The agitated erection was practically fucking back and forth within that valley separating the younger guy’s oiled and slippery buttocks.

  Bob moaned. He moaned again, louder, with undisguised but guilty pleasure, when Adolar’s left hand strayed across his pecs, teasing his nipples into erection with a deft, poking and pressing fingertip. With his right fist, Adolar grasped Bob’s cock and began to manipulate it.

  “Look at him, Laszlo. He’s one hell of a hot muscle fuck, isn’t he? Nice big pecs … and fat, hard, juicy nipples to suck on. Big dick, too,” Adolar gasped, while he played with Bob’s large prick. His movements were slow and voluptuous, and his oily hand felt incredibly good stroking Bob’s raging erection from its base to its tip, dipping down to caress his balls as well, lifting Bob’s heavy genitals away from his torso and holding them out toward Laszlo like some obscene offering. “Yeah, look at that big piece of meat,” Adolar gloated. “It’s sticking right out at you. And, shit!—the stud’s already dripping jizz, isn’t he?”

  “Very nice,” Laszlo murmured. “Most impressive. He’s like a younger version of you, Adolar.”

  “Yeah,” Adolar agreed. “And just as hot and horny. Bob can keep going—come more than once—just like me.”

  “He could be your kid brother,” Laszlo suggested.

  “My kid brother whom I fuck,” Adolar said, with a laugh. “That’s not so far from the truth. I taught this sexy little muscle pup everything he knows.”

  Now, Laszlo had set his wineglass on the small table beside his chair. His right hand strayed down between his spread legs. Cupping his palm over his crotch, he began to rub himself through his trousers.

  “Come for him,” Adolar whispered into Bob’s ear, before his teeth closed around Bob’s earlobe and bit it gently, but with devastating erotic effect.

  “Yes, come for me, please, whenever you’re ready,” Laszlo gasped, suddenly looking and sounding much more erotically agitated. “Take your time, son.”r />
  Adolar bit Bob’s ear again, more forcefully. Bob grunted, but more in pleasure than in pain. The nip on his ear seemed to send a corresponding throb of extra excitement coursing through his cock, and also through his taut-clenched sphincter muscle. His anal pucker, and his big, hard glutes, were still compressed tightly, in instinctive self-defense, as they rubbed restlessly against the slippery oiled barrel of Adolar’s steadily thrusting cockshaft.

  Bob couldn’t believe he was actually doing this, that he had let his lover talk him into participating in this bizarre scene. He wasn’t an exhibitionist, he told himself. Or was he? Weren’t all bodybuilders showoffs, to a lesser or greater degree? He was sure getting off on this, on feeling Adolar’s hand on his cock, massaging it so expertly toward orgasm—and he was also getting off on meeting Laszlo’s steady gaze and reading the approval and growing excitement in the doctor’s warm eyes.

  And, when Adolar began to pinch his tits for him, hard, moving his hand back and forth between Bob’s sweaty pecs to torment each stiff nipple in turn—then Bob knew, half-drunk though he was, that he wasn’t going to have any difficulty at all in climaxing this little performance with one hell of an ejaculation. He was going to come for Laszlo, all right. He was going to shoot his freaking cum all over the fucking place!

  “Are you getting there, stud?” Adolar hissed, before biting Bob’s earlobe again, and then swabbing out the inside of his ear with his tongue, for good measure.

  “Oh, hell, yes, I’m going to come!” Bob heard himself blurting out, as he stared at Laszlo, who smiled at him in a most encouraging manner. The doctor was still groping himself through his pants, even more energetically than before. Bob squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, dazedly. The whole dimly lit area of the patio seemed to swim before his gaze in a blur of hypnotic subdued and sensual light!

  “Let it rip, buddy!” Adolar urged him, heatedly, with boyish glee. “Let all of your goddamn stud jizz fly right out of your big, hard prick! Shoot that load, fucker! Shoot that big, wet load!”