Amazing Race is the property of Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS. I am simply writing a story based on some hot men. Don't copy this without my permission, do not read this unless you are over 18 (have to say that), please register to vote, et al. Most of all, give me feedback or ideas if you want another chapter!
Colin thought that being a male model was hard work, but it was nothing compared to the daily, grueling pace of this fucking reality TV show he and his girlfriend had signed up for. Colin and Christie had come in first for two legs of the race now, and he could practically feel daggers gouging the back of his neck every time the other teams were around them. Especially from that crazy midget.
Even worse, the accomodations for this leg (Egypt) stunk. Literally stunk. The motel room was crawling with who knows what. Christie had screamed and cried and acted like a big girl and refused to stay in the room. Colin wasn't sure what to do, until Brandon and Nicole, the other leading team, knocked on their motel room door to confess they had the exact same worry. The answer became simple, if inconvenient for the guys. Nicole and Christie went off to a better hotel, while Brandon and Colin saved money by sharing the bug-ridden room.
Being a model meant that Colin had seen a number of delectable men and women in various states of undress. He had sampled a few of them...at least of the female variety. But as he watched Brandon undress, he was in awe. Even the scrawniest of models would slobber with envy over Brandon's slim, trim waist. The tiny midsection was in direct contrast to broad, well-muscled plates and firm biceps. Every curve of his hairless upper body was highlighted as he leaned upwards to toss his shirt into a folding chair.
Brandon hitched his hands in his baggy short, pausing when he remembered he had company in the dimly lit room.
"It's OK." Colin stammered. Why was he so nervous? He'd seen naked guys plenty of times. What was so different? Why was he looking forward to this?
Brandon slowly stepped out of his shorts, almost as if he were teasing...nah, a good Christian boy would never do that. His boxer shorts had an off-white tint to them, as if they hadn't been washed recently.
"What about you?"
Colin hadn't even realized that he was still dressed. His shirt hit the floor quickly. He tried not to notice the blue eyes boring into his well-muscled chest. His pants, tight and suffocating from sweat, came next. The erection in his black boxer briefs was painfully noticeable. Brandon certainly noticed, if his wide eyes were any indication.
Both men slid under the tattered covers. Hands stayed squarely at their sides. Even the briefest touch of fingers set off electric sparks. They had to stay still. They had to sleep. Had to ignore what their pent-up lust and testosterone were demanding. So they did.
A few hours later, Colin, drowning in sweat, bolted upright from the bed. Something had touched him. One of those fucking bugs.
Then he felt a squeeze. On his crotch. A bug can't do that.
"I'm so sorry, man...I'm gonna go to hell. I'm gonna burn in hell. I can't stop man. You're so perfect. I..." Brandon cut off his sobs as he used his teeth to pull down Colin's pre-cum soaked boxer briefs.
Colin tried to stop him. His soft hands got entangled in those Christopher Atkins curls, and he nearly pulled the young man up off him. Then Brandon licked around Colin's fat head. Colin moaned. Christie never kissed his cock. Never. By the time Brandon deep-throated him, Colin had nearly shot his load. He'd never had any woman who could Hoover his fat 7 inches like this. It was always too thick, or too wide, or too much. Not for Brandon though. Brandon whose hands were massaging his egg-sized, hairless balls and who was running a thumb nail up and down Colin's perineum. Taint, the tainted touch of Brandon's unbelievably long, nimble digits. When one of those magic fingers slid into Colin's moist crack, he whimpered and then roared, his taut hips flying off the bed as he unloaded gallon after gallon of pent-up seed into his new lover's mouth.
Colin had barely caught his breath before he felt that tongue licking up his chiseled chest, those teeth feasting on his erect, silver-dollar nipples. He could sense, and hear, Brandon stripping out of his boxers. He felt Brandon's long, thin penis slapping against his gaunt cheeks. He wondered what he should do next.