Make Mine Muscle! Read online

  “Blow me. Deep throat that freaking meat of mine,” Gyula gasped. He sounded as though he was in sexual agony, at the mercy of his lust. Instinctively, I knew that it was my task to soothe and satisfy him, to the best of my ability. I longed to please him.

  He kept pushing my head lower and lower down on his stiff dick. After a moment, though, to my surprise and relief, I began to get the hang of it. Furthermore, I began to enjoy it. He no longer had to force me. I was now willing to take it all. I was as hot to suck him as he was to be sucked. I’d become instantaneously transformed from a virgin, into a hot-mouthed, hungry cock whore!

  “Blow it, bitch,” he gasped, sounding oddly vulnerable, as though he was at the mercy of his own lust. “Aw—hell! Sweet Jesus,” he groaned.

  I had my mouth all the way down around his cock, with more than half of it jammed down my throat, when he finally stopped pushing against my head and he dropped his hands away.

  “Okay, pussy boy,” he said, roughly. “You’ve got it, now suck it!”

  And I sucked it! I was grateful that he didn’t seem to realize that I was new to cocksucking. He didn’t complain that I was doing a lousy job. I seemed to be satisfying him, judging by the little tremors which shook his big body and the whimpers of pleasure which escaped from his lips. I worked on him as well as I could, learning how to suck cock by sheer trial and error, but his fucking prick was so thick that I really couldn’t give him much in the way of tongue action. I just moved that huge thing in and out of my mouth and I let my lips do all of the work.

  He was squirming against the wall, so restlessly that I could hardly keep his dick in my mouth. He kept groaning and panting for breath, and muttering obscenities. He told me, among other things, that I was just another dirty gym fag and that he was doing me a favor by feeding me his big, hard cock.

  “Bitch, you love swinging on that meat, don’t you?” he taunted me, at one point. “You’re nothing but a man cunt. You mouth feels like a pussy, working on me! Suck, you piece of shit! Suck!” I didn’t mind him insulting me. Perversely, it spurred on my lust. The verbal abuse excited me as much as the act I was performing aroused me.

  Altogether, I must’ve been down on my knees blowing him for about ten minutes, nonstop. My jaws were aching from being spread so wide apart, and I had drool running down my chin. He kept pumping his pelvis toward me, fucking my face, ramming his stiff prick into my throat, and I thought he was never going to come. I slipped my hand up between his legs and I cupped his big, smooth balls. By then, I’d dribbled so much saliva over his cock that it had run down and wet his nuts, so they were slippery. I started to rub them and roll them around in my fingers, while my mouth took him faster and faster. He liked having his testicles played with, as most guys do. I subsequently discovered that when you start stimulating a man’s balls while you’re sucking him, it turns him on twice as much, and it’s usually a surefire shortcut to orgasm.

  That was certainly so in this case.

  “Suck me, you goddamn freaking muscle queer!” Gyula grunted. “I’m going to give your mouth a bath, cocksucker! A cum bath! Get ready to swallow it! All of it, bitch!”

  That kind of talk excited me as much as it obviously did him. I sucked him desperately, fast and furious. He once again placed his hands on my head, holding it trapped in front of his groin, practically smothering me in the hot, funky depths of his thighs and crotch. His cock rammed in and out of my mouth and throat. His swollen nuts were rolling about in my hand like two heavy eggs.

  Jesus, even now, I’m getting a hard-on just thinking about that first-ever blow job of mine! I can still taste that arrogant straight bastard’s fat, meaty prick wedged in my throat. I can still hear his hoarse grunts of pleasure, and I can feel his huge dick pulsing against my lips and tongue. Maybe he wasn’t one hundred per cent straight, after all. He sure as hell seemed to like the way my male mouth felt on his dick!

  “Cunt! Hot-mouthed, cocksucking man cunt! Here goes,” he gasped, barely audibly. “Aw, fuck, yeah!”

  He dug his hands in my hair and held my mouth all the way down on him, and he started to come. And come, and come! God, it was like a firehose blasting out water full force!

  “Drink it, you bitch! Drink down that cum!” he shouted. “Swallow it! Suck it all down your cocksucking throat!”

  And that’s exactly what I did. I drained him. I took all the cum he had to give me!

  Chapter Two: A Coaching Session

  “Any time I want some more of that, you’re going to give it to me,” Gyula insisted.

  “Sure, dude,” I agreed. “Whatever you want.” Already, I was turning into quite the man whore!

  After that first experience with Gyula, I sucked him off often. He was coarse and crude, but I enjoyed using my mouth on his cock. And, inevitably, now that I’d finally embarked upon my career of homosexual debauchery, I started to hook up with other guys, too. Needless to say, not all of them were straight guys who were just looking for a blow job. I soon had openly and unashamedly gay sex partners, who went down on me as eagerly as I sucked them. Reciprocation—what a revelation! These guys also taught me about sixty-nining and rimming.

  So, at first, my sexual repertory was confined to oral acts. Sooner or later, though, I knew that I was going to have to give anal intercourse a try. It was just a matter of waiting for the right man to come along, to initiate me.

  He appeared sooner than I’d anticipated. His name was Tivadar Toth, familiarly known as Coach Tiv, or simply Tiv. He was a strength trainer and coach who worked in the university’s athletic department. He was a popular, well-liked man.

  With the cluelessness of youth, I thought of the coach as “old.” In fact, he was only a year or two past forty. That meant that, technically, he was old enough to be my father. But, to my way of thinking, he was better qualified to be my “daddy,” in the gay slang sense of the word. I had a crush on him. And I had plenty of company. Lots of my fellow students were hot for Coach Tiv, too. And who could blame us?

  For one thing, he had a great physique, for a man of any age. For another, he was handsome. A few facial creases around his eyes and mouth did nothing to detract from his appeal. It could be argued that they even enhanced it. His most striking features were his intense, bright blue eyes—and his thick mane of shoulder-length hair, which was light brown streaked with silver, and which tended to look rather unruly. I never saw him tie it at the back, behind his neck, although sometimes he pushed it up out of the way under a cap.

  As a coach, he was a firm disciplinarian, without feeling any need to bark like a drill sergeant, or demean anybody. Because of this, he was respected by the athletes with whom he worked. Many of them developed a hero-worship sort of affection for him. Man crushes, in other words. I suppose I was as susceptible as any of my fellow jocks.

  As a student, I could of course use the gym facilities in the campus’s athletic center, any time I chose. Often, after I was done with my classes for the day, I would put in a workout there, instead of heading across town to what I thought of as my “real” gym, the grimy blue-collar establishment, where I felt more at home, among the hardcore iron pumpers.

  Coach Tiv took an interest in my weight training, and with his advice and encouragement, and under his supervision, I made good gains. Whenever I entered a physique content, he showed up in the audience, and he’d come backstage afterward to congratulate me, win or lose.

  One afternoon, after my on-campus workout, I had showered and dressed. I was sitting on a bench in the locker room, staring into space in a kind of stupor, when Coach Tiv passed through and saw me.

  “Good workout?” he asked me.

  “A rough one. I kind of pushed myself,” I said. “And now—already—I seem to ache, all over. I guess I’ll pay for this, tonight, when I won’t be able to fall asleep, and tomorrow, when I’ll get up sore.”

  “You don’t want to over train,” he advised me. “What you need is a good massage. Come on, Arpad. I’ll give you one.”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d massaged me. It was always an enjoyable and relaxing experience, so I didn’t hesitate. I followed him into the massage room, which was a cubicle located just off the locker room.

  He locked the door behind us, which, again, was nothing unusual.

  The massage room was equipped with a little electrical hot plate, designed to keep a mug of coffee warm. But it could also be used to warm a plastic bottle of massage oil, without any risk of melting the plastic. Coach Tiv selected a bottle of a thick-textured, herbal-scented oil and he began to warm it, while I stripped naked and stretched myself out, face down, on the padded massage table, with my head resting on a pillow. It was common practice, during a massage, for the masseur to drape a towel over the recipient’s bare butt or genitals, but Coach Tiv always dispensed with that. I thought nothing of it. I was perfectly accustomed to being nude in his presence.

  “Let me take this fucking shirt off, so I don’t get any oil on it,” he said. “Oh,” he added, as he stripped off the shirt, exposing his brawny, hairy torso, with its impressive set of arm and pectoral muscles. “I shouldn’t say things like ‘fucking’ in front of you students. It doesn’t set a good example.”

  “That’s all right,” I assured. “I’ve been guilty of using bad language, myself.”

  He grunted. “So long as you draw the line at bad behavior. Or do you indulge in that, too?”

  “On occasion,” I admitted, evasively.

  “Mustn’t let it get in the way of your training.”

  “Never, Coach.”

  “Good boy.”

  Stripped to the waist, he set to work on me. He had strong, calloused hands, which, slicked up with the warm oil, slowly and thoroughly massaged every part of my body.

  “You have an incredible pair of glutes,” he told me, as he began kneading them.

  “I’m glad somebody appreciates them,” I replied, without thinking.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh—you know. Supposedly, one of the first things a guy notices about another guy is whether or not he has a nice ass.”

  “What kind of guys have you been associating with? Are you telling me, no girl has admired yours?” he teased me.

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “I find that hard to believe. What about these guys whom you’ve just mentioned?”

  “Ah—what about them, Coach?” I asked, uneasily.

  “Men have been known to admire other men’s bodies, too. That’s perfectly natural.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of course.”

  For some reason, I suddenly felt bold. “There’re always gay guys, checking out other guys—at my gym downtown, also at the gym here, and whenever I compete.” I didn’t specify that I was one of those gay guys, myself!

  His hands were stroking my back. “How do you feel about that?”

  “Oh, live and let live, I guess. No skin off my ass,” I joked.

  I was feeling reckless—and agitated. Erotically agitated. I was glad I was lying face down. I was acutely aware of the fact that I had sprung a boner, which was trapped between my belly and the padded surface of the table. That treacherous male organ of mine kept pulsing with barely pent-up need, despite my efforts to take my mind off sex and give it a chance to return to its innocuous flaccid state.

  “Don’t tense up,” Coach Tiv told me. “It’s counterproductive. Now, roll over.”

  “Uh—!” I mumbled, stalling for time.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m kind of—you know, hard. My junk, I mean. I’m stiff. Can’t help it.”

  He chuckled. “I thought so. It happens. Roll over,” he repeated. “We’ll work around it,” he said, in a droll tone of voice.

  I lay there on my back, with my incriminating erection pointing toward the ceiling.

  He massaged the front of my body, seeming oblivious to my stiff dick, which I was acutely aware of.

  “How’s your sex life been, lately?” he asked me.

  “Uh—Coach—come on—really!” I sputtered.

  “There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he insisted. “Sexual frustration can get in the way of your training. Impede your progress. Are you enjoying any kind of relief, on a regular basis?”

  “I jerk off,” I confessed, shamefaced.

  “Well, that’s one way of dealing with it,” Tiv said. “What about sex partners?”

  “What about them, Coach?”

  “Do you have them?”

  “Not nearly enough,” I blurted out, recklessly.

  “Huh,” was his enigmatic response.

  “I’m so frustrated,” I blurted out.

  “So I see. We really ought to do something about that, my boy,” Coach Tiv said, smoothly, blandly. “Of course, you do know, I could get into trouble, fooling around with you students—!”

  “I won’t ever tell. I swear! I like older men,” I confessed, in a voice which was tight and breathless with lust.

  “Do you, Arpad? How interesting. Quite a coincidence. Because, I’ll have you know, I like beautiful young well-built boys,” he admitted, salaciously.

  I groaned. “Stop teasing me!”

  “I don’t mean to.”

  “Fuck me, for God’s sake, Coach, if you want to,” I invited him, brazenly.

  “Are you sure? Sure you want me to do that?”

  “Hell, yeah! Oh, dude, do it to me! Fuck my ass!”

  “Very well. If you insist.”

  “I do insist!” I yelped. “Come on, I need it. I want it. Let me have it!”

  Tiv laughed. “Bossy, aren’t you? All right. Put your legs up,” he told me. “Up high! On my shoulders!”

  He kicked off his training shoes. He wore no socks. He dropped his sweatpants to his ankles and he freed his feet from them. He wore no underwear, either—he’d gone commando. When he was as naked as I was, he hopped up onto the massage table with a remarkable agility, positioning himself on his knees between my legs.

  I saw it all in that moment. My inevitable sexual fate, which I’d feared yet also longed for. He was going to stick his cock in me. Up my ass! Just like he’d stuck his finger up there, only his penis would surely feel even better. His cock was so big, the feeling had to be much stronger. I awaited it, eagerly, insane with desire.

  I wasn’t scared at all. I subsequently heard a lot of stories from my friends and tricks about their first fuck, how much it hurt, so that it wasn’t really all that pleasurable, and so forth. But it wasn’t that way with me. I was born to get fucked, apparently. My ass was made for it!

  I put my legs up, just like he wanted. I spread my ass cheeks apart willingly, with both hands. In that position, my butt was high off the massage table and several inches in the air. Coach Tiv gave each of my glutes a hard squeeze.

  “You’ve got a great ass, boy!” he declared, chuckling. “I don’t know why we’ve waited so long. We should’ve started putting that hole of yours to work long ago!”

  A moment later, I felt him inserting a greased finger into my sphincter muscle. My asshole automatically clenched shut in attempt to protect itself, to repel the invader, as mike began to push his finger deeper. He had no trouble shoving it right up my ass to the knuckle, though. I groaned and I let out a nervous little laugh.

  “How does that feel?” he asked me.

  “Strange!”

  “But good?”

  “Yeah—I think so!”

  “Wait, boy,” he promised me. “You’re going to know so, in a minute!”

  He was as good as his word. He started wriggling his finger around inside my ass, moving it slow in and out, and then curling it and tickling me until he had me grunting and grinding my butt down against his hand. He slipped his finger out of me and he grabbed the bottle of the massage oil he’d using on me. He slathered the warm, scented oil all over his erection. Then he took a firm grip on the base of his cock. He moved in closer. The swollen head of his slippery prick nudged against my vulnerable anal pucker. I felt him push. His oiled penis started to go into me. I groaned. He pushed harder. My asshole began to open up, to take his cockhead. His prick was pushing into me. Up my ass!

  “Oh, God!” I moaned. “Coach! Jesus!”

  “Feel good?” He grinned.

  “Oh, yeah! Give it to me, you fucker! All of it! Give it to me!”

  I clamped my hands on his hips and I started to pull him toward me. I wanted to make sure I had every inch of his cock inside me. But I needn’t have bothered. He was in control of the situation, and he knew what to do. All of a sudden, he made a deep, grunting noise in his throat, and he shoved himself at me. His groin smacked into my upraised and split buttocks, and his cockshaft rammed right up my asshole! Every inch of it! That long, thick, hard prick was lodged deep in my anus. My cherry was well and truly busted. Busted? Hell, it felt as though it had been crushed, and pureed!

  I was no longer an anal virgin. At first, I couldn’t decide which was stronger—my emotional response to my anal initiation, or my physical reactions. I quickly realized that the latter prevailed. My whole muscular body seemed to convulse and quiver, at the mercy of my overpowering lust!

  Coach Tiv’s thick dick seemed to be stretching me obscenely wide open. The sensation of being penetrated and filled like that was so intense, I thought I was going to pass out. I actually saw stars, as the expression goes, bright dizzying flashes of light seeming to pass before my eyes. The penetration did hurt a little bit at first. He was hung big! And I’d never had a cock up there before, of course. But when he started to fuck me, I felt nothing but pleasure—hot, intense, frantic pleasure. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. And right away, I couldn’t get enough of it! Fucked! I was being fucked. And I wanted to be fucked!

  Aw, shit! Talk about a fantasy come true! The coach was fucking me! With his long hair hanging down around his face, to his shoulders, he looked like a marauding Viking invader, a barbarian, raping my ass! Except, you can’t rape the willing, as they say. I wanted his cock in me so badly that I was delirious with desire. Even the slight pain which his penetration of me cost me initially was a source of delight to me, to the extent that, when it ebbed away, I almost missed it.