Black and White

All Disclaimers

BLACK AND WHITE

Chapter 77--The Oprah Show

"By the way," I asked, as we headed to the front door of the men's wear store, "is there a good gym around here?"

Monte grinned. "Just up the street. I'm sure I could get you in for free as guests. I know the manager very well," he smirked.

"Oh?" Dave smiled. "Just how well?"

"Well enough to know he'd drool all over both of you," Monte laughed. "He's totally into buff couples."

"I assume, then, that's he's unattached?"

"Yeah, but that's not to say that he doesn't get more than his share of men to warm his bed," Monte said with a twinkle in his eye.

"That sounds like a personal recollection," Dave pressed.

Monte laughed. "Yeah, I've pounded his ass a few times. He's generally versatile, but if you got a big dick, he's a bottom." We smiled. "Thought so. You two are packin'. That's for sure." He winked at us and opened the front door to his shop, letting in the street noise. "Give me a call when you're ready to hit the weights. I'm off in another 30 minutes," he added handing Dave his business card.

"We're just gonna go back to the hotel and grab our gym bags. Why don't we do that and come back here? Then, you can take us to the gym and get us in," I suggested.

Dave stuffed the business card in his pocket after looking it over. "Thanks for the gym invitation, Monte. That's very kind of you to do that for a couple of complete strangers."

"The Oprah Show's been very good to me. I want to keep that relationship going. Besides, you're hot men and I wanna get to know you better," he winked.

Our gaydar had been working well. Monte was someone we'd agreed (with only a nod and a smile) that we wanted to get to know better, too. We exited the store and headed back to the hotel. "How slutty you wanna look for the gym?" Dave asked.

I thought for a moment. "Slutty!" I smiled. "VERY slutty. We're from outta town, no one knows us, and no one's gonna care." The warm afternoon air convinced Dave that I was right. He smiled. "Tank tops and cut offs, right?" I confirmed. He nodded and grinned evilly. "Aren't you glad I talked you into bringing them along, just in case?"

"Yeah, but you said that we might wear them to some gay clubs or bars. You didn't mention going out in broad daylight, or to a gym, no less!"

"I wasn't thinking of THOSE cutoffs," I blanched. "The other ones!"

Dave thought a moment. "Oh, those cutoffs," he grinned. "Yeah, we can be seen out in public in those." They were not cut quite so short, our butt cheeks didn't hang out the back of them, nor did our dicks hang out the front. However, they were just as worn and faded, but not quite as threadbare. The ones I thought we'd wear to the gym looked more comfortable than scandalous.

Changing quickly at the hotel, we grabbed our gym bags and headed back to Monte's store. His assistant had already gone home, leaving Monte with the locking up chores. He cleared the till, made out the deposit slip for the day, and checked it against the register totals. When all was ready, he locked the door, changed the sign in the window to indicate the shop was closed, and joined us on the street. "Let me stop at the bank first and make this deposit. It's only a block out of the way," Monte directed, as he turned left.

"We'll follow along with ya," I agreed.

"Damn! Don't you look FINE!" Monte chortled as we neared the bank. "Lots of guys and gals checkin' you out!"

I glanced around. We were getting some looks, and they were very friendly. I returned a couple of smiles from two men headed the opposite direction. They looked like they were headed to the gym or just back from it. Tank tops and shorts showed off some magnificent bodies. "You see that look?" Dave whispered to me. I nodded. "Friendly folk, aren't they?" he added, smiling back at another man who'd just undressed us with his eyes. I checked over my shoulder, and caught the guy looking at our butts. He grinned widely and I nodded cordially toward him. He turned and walked backwards, so he could check us out a little longer, and ran into a parking meter. I stopped, but he wasn't injured (except for his pride). He blushed a bright crimson, then, turned and fled.

I chuckled softly. I'm not sure I could have made an exit even that graceful. I'd probably have fallen all over myself, landing on my face. As I didn't want to look like I'd been through a battle with a parking meter for my television debut, I turned back the way Monte was headed. (Well, this wasn't exactly my TV debut. I did have that "Nancy Reagan moment" when Dave was doing his curbside speech at home.)

In the next block, the night depository was open. Monte stuffed the large envelope into the slot and turned to leave. Another good-looking man walked up to him with a smile, giving him a huge hug. "Monte, my man! What a pleasant surprise. Where you been keepin' yo' bad self?"

Monte smiled back and kissed him chastely on the lips. "Rashid! Where you been hidin'? I ain't seen yo' big ass fo' months."

"As I recall, it weren't my big ass you was into, Honey!" he cackled. He checked out Monte's ass. "You still got what I want, Baby."

"You dumped me, remember?" Monte smiled. "Some little number with a tighter ass as I recall."

"No one does it as good as you, Baby!" Rashid chided him. "Besides, it wasn't like we was married or nothin'."

Monte shrugged. When he turned, he remembered we were with him. After introductions, Rashid explained that he and Monte had "dated" for a while, but it just wasn't working out for them for reasons that made sense then, "but probably don't anymore," he smiled at Monte. There was some unfinished business between these men.

"Maybe, we rushed into it too fast," Monte allowed. "We needed to get to know each other before we got so attached. It got too tight."

"Tight's what I like!" Rashid laughed. Monte smiled. "You headed to the gym?" We nodded. "Good! I'll walk with ya, then."

I think I was the only "white boy" there. Between the Latinos and the brothas, I was the token. It felt odd, but with so much eye-candy about, I wasn't complaining. Monte had been right, of course. The guy at the front desk greeted us with open arms as friends of Monte's and didn't charge us for visitor's passes.

"I assume you guys know your way around a gym just by lookin' at ya. If you see a machine that's not familiar, just ask me and I'll show ya how it works," he smiled lustily. "But, Monte will probably be there before I could," he added wistfully.

With Monte and Rashid catching up on old times, I wasn't so sure of the manager's conclusion. We changed in the locker room (a little worn, but serviceable), putting on some of our looser fitting workout clothes. But, we did get several appreciative smiles and mutters of some sexual pleasures they'd like to enjoy with us. It looked like the gym would be as friendly as the sidewalk, perhaps, more so.

As this was Tuesday, we worked on our legs. We had offers from several men to spot us as we did squats and leg extensions. Dave and I were doing them at different times, so we got a different group of men swirling around each of us. Monte and Rashid offered occasional introductions, but spent most of their time together.

Dave cut short his workout to join an aerobics class (followed by several hunks). I finished up with my last sets on the leg curl machine, then, found an open elliptical walker. It was of a type and design that I didn't recognize, but as they were all about the same idea, I quickly figured out what I wanted to do. Working with a scalable resistance touch pad, I found a comfortable level and settled in. Scanning the room, I saw several of my earlier benefactors, and nodded and smiled to them. When one of the elliptical walkers on my right was vacated, one of the good-looking Latinos who'd spotted me on the squats pounced on it, beating out at least two others who seemed to have the same idea. When the machine on my left opened, a mountain of a black man took that one. Other men took machines behind me and farther along to the right. I know they kept looking my direction as my "walker" was slightly behind theirs in the row of machines.

"You boyfriends with that brotha that came in with you?" asked the black mountain to my left. I grinned and nodded. "You guys mess around?" I nodded again, smiling even more. "See that hot fucker pushin' those weights around, the one in the blue muscle shirt and bicycle pants? The big bald dude." I looked over to the iron pile and spotted the man in question. Big muscles, big butt, and bald I noticed. Probably shaved his head. I nodded again. "That's mine," he grinned. "And we love to mess around with couples."

"Isn't that a nice coincidence?" I laughed. "You both into versatile?" He grinned broadly, nodding to the affirmative. "I was hoping you would."

"You, too?"

I nodded and added, "Yeah, we never could decide who likes top or bottom best, so we just go with the flow." He grinned and sized me up more directly. I checked him out again, too. He reminded me immediately of Jeremy, but a black version. "You do any, uh, professional dancing?"

He looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an onrushing semi. "Uh, yeah," he finally stammered out.

"Friend of ours at home is a stripper at one of the local gay clubs. He's awesome, just like you, and a great friend."

My new friend smiled and offered his hand. "Jeremiah," he said. "But, my good friends should call me Jeremy." I laughed out loud. "What's so fuckin' funny?" he bristled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Jeremy. That was unbelievably thoughtless of me," I apologized. "Our friend at home I was just telling you about is called Jeremy, too."

He started, then, grinned. "Well, I'll be damned!" he laughed softly. "Small fuckin' world!"

"And I'm Mike," I added shaking his proffered hand.

"My boyfriend's name is Saladin, but don't call him Sally if you wanna live," he wheezed in a giggle. "He hates that, but I call him that in bed. Of course, that really gets him goin' and he powerfucks me to death then. Just what I want!"

I laughed with him at his private joke. "My boyfriend's name is Dave."

"For some reason, you guys look familiar. Do you live around here where I might have seen you or where I shop?" he asked.

"No, we're from the Northwest," I evaded.

He frowned in thought. "It'll come to me," he sighed. "So, how long you gonna be here?"

"Just another day. Then, we're off to Europe for four weeks of vacation."

"Nice." We walked in silence for a few minutes. "I noticed you came in with Monte. How do you know him?"

"Uh, well, we're gonna be taping a show tomorrow and he was fitting us for some clothes." Again, I evaded.

"Oprah, right?" I was caught. I smiled weakly. "Yeah, you're gonna be on Oprah. What's the topic? And why do you need clothes from Monte?"

"Uh, well, at the last minute, they decided we were gonna be male models for a line of clothes in the afternoon show," I said.

"Yeah, and? You didn't just breeze into town and get 'discovered' and suddenly get put on the show."

"Uh, well, you see, Dave and I have a history that's kinda checkered. Dave tends to make speeches at curbside and we were involved in an incident with a drunk on a plane, and..."

"And you were in the Embassy that got attacked in, uh, Vancouver, wasn't it?"

"It's a Consulate."

"Whatever. I'm right, right?" I nodded and smiled. The guys around us had been listening. There were flashes of instant recognition from them as well. "Thought so," he grinned triumphantly. "Can't wait to tell Saladin about you! Hold this machine for me, will ya? I'll be right back." I agreed. Although he left his towel and workout gloves on the machine, three other men tried to take it. I told them that Jeremy was coming right back. They were disappointed, but stayed to chat for a few seconds before being pushed out of the way by someone else wanting to chat me up. Gay, white boys were at a premium in this place.

Jeremy brought Saladin back and introduced him. We talked for a few minutes, exchanging some vital information about what we loved to do in bed, but spent far more time on the attack on the Consulate as well as the drunk on the plane. Dave came out of the aerobics room for a drink. He waved at me and I pointed him out to Saladin and Jeremy as I waved back. They smiled. "Stud!" Saladin stage whispered. "That's the kinda man who makes me wanna bottom for the rest of my life!"

"It isn't easy for me, either, Saladin," I concurred. "Big fuckin' dick, but the man knows how to make love, giving or receiving. And he's a joy to be with."

"You ain't so bad yourself," Saladin replied, glancing at my ass. "Nice bootie."

"Both of you have hot butts. Can't wait to get into you with some tongue and dick action," I whispered.

"That's what the steam room's for," Jeremy blurted out. "Always lots of action in there." I laughed. "Same where you come from?"

I nodded. "A really friendly place, Jeremy. Dave's brother met his new boyfriend there. The boyfriend's one of the trainers at our gym. They've been doin' the nasty ever since they met. Seems to have been lust at first sight."

"Well, I'm here to tell ya, if I didn't have this big mountain of muscles to fuck with, I'd sure make a play for ya, or your boyfriend," Saladin said. I blushed. He was probably 45 to 50, tight body, broad shoulders, big arms and legs, and a monster muscle ass. His shaved head and goatee gave him a sinister, nasty look. Tattoos on both shoulders and biceps added to the look. But, his smile could melt your heart. And the big bulge in his jock-less shorts made my butt pucker. I wondered how big that lurking monster was. Jeremy didn't show as much dick, but he wore a jockstrap. I could see the waistband of it.

Saladin went back to the iron pile and Jeremy and I continued our conversation, with additional input from several other men who came up and talked to Jeremy, but clearly wanted an introduction to me as well. I don't think I remember any of their names, but I remember thinking that any of them would be great as bed partners. They all had the "look" that I loved: sexy, tall, muscular, bright smile, and eager to fuck with me, kinda like that poor guy that ran into the parking meter.

Dave walked up to the line of elliptical walkers and smiled up at me. "Every time I looked over here, you're chatting with another man," he smiled. I introduced him to Jeremiah and three of the other, closest men. Soon, there was a circle of admirers, most of whom finally recognized us when they saw us together. Evidently, the videotape copies of Dave's curbside speech had hit Chicago recently. Our "Talk of the Nation" segments were also brought up.

When Jeremiah mentioned that we were going be on Oprah, Dave glanced at me. I told him (and everyone else listening) that he'd dragged it out of me. I didn't volunteer a thing. He'd put two and two together with Monte and came to the right conclusion. Dave gave me a forgiving smile. Several asked when the show would be broadcast, but we didn't know. "We only know about the taping times, but we're sure that the tickets are already gone for both shows," Dave concluded.

"Both?" Jeremy pounced. I had elaborated only the fashion show. Dave assumed they knew about both shows.

"Uh, yeah," Dave confirmed.

"What's the other one?" several asked.

"Well, you've heard the curbside speech," he began and there were nods nearly everywhere, "we've been asked to appear to discuss that message."

"And I don't see how you'll not talk about the drunk and the attack on the Embassy," Jeremy added.

"Consulate," Dave corrected.

"Whatever."

"Oprah keeps pretty tight control over the show content, so it probably won't even be mentioned," I pointed out.

"What about the second show you'll be on? Is that the fashion show thing?"

Dave laughed. "We'll be modeling a new line of clothes. I don't think they'll ask us to stay and chat about anything. That'll all get covered in the morning taping."

"How'd you get into that? Are you models?" someone else wondered.

Dave told the story of how we got roped into doing the second show, concluding that was how we knew Monte, who'd just joined us. The crowd of about 20 men continued asking questions about the show and us, taking another 30 minutes before we concluded with our abs work.

The showers and steam room were very busy. Many of the men working out that late in the afternoon were finishing at the same time, or just wanted to check us out. There were several wolfish whistles as we pulled our shorts down and exposed our round, hard asses and cocks. Several of them unabashedly made plays for us, patting our butts or squeezing our dicks. The more hands that pawed us, the harder we got. Was this a gay gym?

As if they'd been choreographed, two hot Latino guys dropped to their knees and started sucking on our hard dicks. We half-heartedly tried to push them away, but two hunky black guys started kissing us. Hands worked on our erect nipples. I felt a face wiggling deeper between my ass cheeks. I spread my legs to help him out. I know Dave was getting the same treatment, as I heard him moan his pleasure.

A low voice growled, "Save some of that for the rest of us." It sounded like Jeremy, but it could have been someone else. Whoever was sucking my dick was an expert. His throat easily accommodated my fat dick. With all the other action on my erogenous zones, I was heading quickly toward climax. I began gently, then, more urgently lifting and pushing men away from me. I wanted this to last at least a few more seconds. My cock jerked, but I didn't hit my climax. Nonetheless, a big drop of cum rolled out of my piss slit and reached for the floor. My cocksucker friend lunged for it, engulfing the head again and sucking hard. I back away before he could bring me off in a monster load.

My dark cocksucker wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled up at me. "I'd have gladly finished you off," he grinned.

"I don't wanna cum yet," I said, breathing heavily. "But, you nearly got my nut, anyway."

"Yeah, you got really sweet cum. But I didn't think you came, even though I got a couple drops of your cream. How do you manage to do that?"

"If I pull out just before I hit my climax, I'll sometimes have a rope or two of cum that rolls out. It makes great lube when I'm fuckin' my boyfriend."

He looked over at Dave. "Lucky dude," he grinned at both of us. Dave was having as much "trouble" extricating himself from his admirers as I was. But, with Jeremiah and Saladin helping, we escaped to the showers.

"Whoever it was that was eatin' my butt sure knows how," Dave chuckled softly as we hung our towels on the hooks inside the shower area.

"Thanks," Saladin said.

"Yeah," Jeremy agreed. "This mo'fo' knows how to munch bootie better than anyone I've ever known. That's one of the reasons I stay with him. That, and this fuckin' big snake," he laughed, grasping the big dick that hung menacingly between Saladin's big quads.

"You keep that up and I'll have to show you where this goes," Saladin warned.

"I already know where it goes, Baby," Jeremiah crooned. He dropped to his knees and sucked the big black python into his mouth.

"Fuck, Baby! You know how much I love that. Damn!" Saladin moaned with his eyes dreamily shut. "But, we should try to be a little more discrete with our out-of-town guests." Jeremiah only grunted, but didn't move. (Well, except for his head, which was bobbing up and down on the swollen member in his mouth.) Saladin finally pulled away, reluctantly. Jeremy remained on his knees, panting. His lover pulled him up and slapped him on the ass. "Get your butt in the shower, then, I'll work that ass of yours so good you'll be beggin' for it." Jeremy grinned like a child who'd been told he was going to Disneyland.

With a quick rinse, they rushed to the steam room. "Meet us there," Jeremy called over his shoulder as we soaped up. Four more men joined us at the gang shower post. Three black men and one Latino checked us out with smiles and winks. One black man and the Latino headed for the steam room, the other two black men hung around. The one nearest me reached out and stroked my soapy ass while he stroked his growing, fat dick. The other one moved closer to Dave and bent slightly to suck an erect nipple between is thick lips. His hands worked over Dave's round ass and his own expanding throbber. I returned the favor by dipping my fingers in my new friends ass trench. He moaned loudly when I hit his butthole. He turned and bent over, showing me his deep ass, round melon buns, and tight pucker. He pretended to soap up, but it was clear what he was looking for.

"Fuck me with that big thing, White Boy!" he insisted. "I know you like black ass," he added glancing at Dave. Dave nodded. He had his own, new friend who needed his butt plugged.

"I didn't bring a condom," I warned. Dave handed me one. "But, my boyfriend did," I smiled. My new friend rolled it on for me and backed up on to my dick like he'd been fucked all day long. I slid in easily without lube.

"Fuck, YEAH, White Boy! Fuck that ass! Fuck me, Man, FUCK me!" he begged. I wasn't doing more than keeping my dick pointed in the correct direction. He was doing all the fucking, impaling himself with deft expertise. I dared not watch Dave fucking his partner. The sight of that monster dick going up any man's hot ass was too exciting for me. I'd cum for sure. But, this guy was having a good time without much input from me. He was flailing his dick and grinding his ass into me. As he was looser than what I was used to, there was little danger of me cumming.

In less than a minute, he was bellowing out his climax, spraying a creamy load down the drain and powerfucking himself on my hard 9" dick. He pulled off, thanked me, and left with his still hard and cum-dripping dick leading the way back to the locker room. I stripped the condom off my dick and tossed it in the wastebasket in the corner. Dave was slowly working deeper into the ass of the guy in front of him. His new friend had a nice piece. I wondered what it tasted like. I moved in front of him and knelt. Capturing his throbbing dick, I sucked hard on the bloated head. It jerked in my mouth; he moaned and thrust forward. Torrents of cum flushed from his balls, filling my mouth with his sweet nut nectar.

Dave pulled him to a standing position and nuzzled his new friend's neck as Dave's monster slowly exited the well-fucked passage. The black stranger thanked both of us and left, his shiny dick drooping heavily over his emptied gonads.

"You cum?" Dave asked me. I shook my head and checked his tight condom. No sign of cream in the tip. "Neither did I. Shall we join our friends in the steam room and see what kinda trouble we can get into?" he smiled, stripping off the condom. I love the way that man thinks.

They sounded like a herd of lowing cattle, when we stepped into the steam room. So many men were groaning and moaning their sexual pleasures. Through the heavy mists, I spied Jeremy and Saladin. They were watching other couples in various stages of mating, slowly stroking each other's heavy weapons. Jeremy had been right. Saladin was very big in the dick department. It surpassed Dave by at least an inch in length and in width.

"What took you so long?" Jeremy asked.

"We had to entertain a couple of other gym rats before we could rinse off and join you," I grinned.

"Didn't blow your loads did ya?" Saladin asked.

"No," Dave said. "We saved them for the steam room." Dave looked around through as much of the steam as he could. "Friendly place." Couples, three and foursomes were strewn about the multileveled room, sucking, rimming, and fucking. Was that Monte and Rashid fucking in the corner? Through the thick mists, I couldn't be sure. Only Saladin and Jeremiah were stroking. Everyone else had buried their dicks in welcoming butts or mouths.

"You save that for us?" I asked indicating their hard dicks.

"In a manner of speaking," Jeremy smiled. "We love doing it all, just like everyone else, but only with each other. An audience makes it that much more fun."

"No participation from outsiders?" Dave pressed.

"Well, no ass fuckin'," Jeremy clarified. "We try to restrict the rest of it, too. No taking some guy's load in your mouth. Suckin' his dick or eatin' his butt is fine and he can do the same for you, but no cum and NO fuckin'."

"We go a step further. We love fuckin' and creamin', but only with condoms if fuckin', but drinkin' cream is fine with us. Butt eating is a major event we both love," Dave added.

"You guys ever bareback each other?" Saladin asked.

"Yeah, all the time," I smiled.

"We love doing that. You felch?"

"What's that?" Dave asked.

"Eating your cum outta the guy's ass you just fucked." Dave pulled a face. "If the guy's cleaned out, you only get your cum back. It's really hot with your lover sitting on your face and you eating his ass, getting your creamy load back. We love it," Jeremy insisted.

"Whatever works for you," Dave said, trying to sound agreeable, but I could tell by his look that he wasn't even remotely interested.

"Well, shall we begin with a friendly ass-eating train?" Saladin suggested.

"I have dibs on Jeremy's big ass," I jumped in.

"I get Saladin's hot butt," Dave said nearly at the same time.

"So, who gets to be in the middle?" Jeremy laughed.

"I want that tight, white ass of Mike's," Saladin said. "I seldom get white meat."

"You're in for a TREAT, Mike!" Jeremy smiled. "He's the best butt-eater I know."

I smiled. We'll see, I thought to myself. Dave's a pretty amazing act to beat. As we began to arrange our grouping, several other men joined us (having overheard our conversation and negotiations). When we were finally in position, Jeremiah was sitting on my face, I was on my back with Saladin's face deeply plumbing my butt, and Dave did his best to munch on Saladin's ass (having assumed the same position I was in). An unknown, but very talented mouth was sucking my hard dick, another man was munching on Dave's ass and the muncher's friend was sucking on Dave's monster dick. Jeremiah was playing tonsil hockey with a short, muscular man while being blown by the Latino guy that had been on the elliptical walker next to me earlier. Saladin was face fucking someone, too, but I couldn't tell who it was.

Heavy breathing and moans filled the steam room. From my position with my face in Jeremiah's ass, I knew our group effort was appreciated and added to, even though I couldn't see a thing with his big, hairy nuts resting in my eye sockets. I licked open his ass and used my fingers to pry him even more open. He relaxed easily and my tongue drilled deeper. Saladin had been fucking him recently. I could taste strawberry lube and cum. Perhaps, there was something to this felching stuff that they were raving about. It wasn't nasty at all. I moaned my delight. Jeremiah chuckled and wiggled his ass more resolutely in my face.

Jeremiah grabbed my legs and pulled them under his arms, elevating my ass for his lover to more fully take advantage of me. He squatted more squarely over my face, fucking himself on my extended tongue. I felt more than heard Saladin munching on my raised ass. His throaty moans rumbled through my body as he licked deeply into my open hole. With his big fingers, he stretched me open even more. His fingers or his tongue were massaging my prostate. With each deep, rectal probe, my dick jerked and throbbed.

The guy who'd been sucking my dick couldn't get to me anymore, because of the contorted position I was in. And it was just as well. The multiple, sexual contacts had me reaching my "overwhelmed" point rapidly. I sighed as my tongue reached deeper into Jeremiah. But, Saladin wasn't about to let me relax. He doubled his efforts on my ass, licking, rimming, sucking, and fingering me as deeply as he could. His face moaned into my ass again. I heard a muttering of words, but didn't understand them from my "compromised" position.

Suddenly, Jeremiah dropped my legs and rose up to his hands and knees. Saladin pushed in behind him, ramming his 12" monster deep up his lover's ass in one long shove. "FUCK!" he moaned, and bucked hard, then, harder. He pulled out and stroked once, directly above me. A long, white rope of cum shot out and disappeared up his lover's open ass. He pushed forward again, and moaned as Jeremiah's ass gripped the ass stretcher. Errant cum dripped down Jeremiah's ass, rolling over his big nuts and hanging from them. I rose slightly, licking his cummy nuts as Saladin hungrily pounded Jeremiah's deep ass, pumping more dick gravy where Jeremiah's big, muscle ass loved it.

Before they'd finished, Dave had rolled over and was pushing my legs back up. Saladin's wet tongue and fingers made Dave's entry an easy one. I groaned as I felt his familiar monster spreading and stretching me open. Dave leaned in, slipping his tongue up Saladin's ass as Saladin slowly diminished the pumping action into Jeremiah. Jeremiah pulled away from the shrinking dick that had uploaded sperm deeply into his butthole and got behind Saladin. Dave's tongue had moistened Saladin enough for Jeremiah to slide in as effortlessly as his lover had just mounted him.

Again, I watched from the "front row seat." In less than 30 seconds, Jeremiah was inundating his boyfriend's ass with his own version of a sperm flood. He pulled out as the last waves of climax shook his body, flailing his dick and squirting and splashing the last ropes of cum against Saladin's well-fucked butthole. He pushed Saladin forward, burying his face in Saladin's ass, licking hungrily, searching for the cum he'd just punched into him. Once more, Jeremiah's big, hairy balls hung over my lips. I licked at his nuts and tasted cum. Saladin's recent load was oozing from his butt, coating his balls with cream. I licked higher, sampling more of his stud lover's nut cream.

Dave continued pounding on my ass, getting closer and closer to his building climax. More cum drained from Jeremiah's ass. He leaned in and sniffed the round, muscle butt in front of him as my tongue lashed Jeremiah's cum-dripping perineum. Dave licked tentatively at the cum rolling out of Jeremiah, then, lapped heartily. That triggered his heavy cream rush into me, fucking me harder and deeper than I'd felt in some time. This was turning him on enormously. Of course, the taste of cum and Dave's monster snake in my ass was all it took for me to hit my point-of-no-return. In a chorus of grunts, groans, moans, and bellowing men, we came together. I showered my dick honey over everyone and everything within four feet of my spraying hose without having touched my cock. He thrust deeply, cumming as hard as Jeremiah and Saladin had up each other's rumps. His seed planting slowed as the last of my sperm gushed on to my abs in a weak finale of my room-coating geysers. Dave pulled out slowly, then, leaned in and kissed me hungrily.

"Best fuck I've had since the last time," he smiled, breaking our kiss and leaning back. The Latino swooped in and began licking up drips and ropes of cum from my chest, abs, and face. Dave pushed him out of the way and took over. Undaunted, the dark stranger moved between us and began sucking Dave's dick. My lover winced and tried to push him away from his sensitive dick, but our new friend wasn't to be denied. He sucked hard on Dave's leaking monster, extracting more cum dribbles. Satisfied that he'd pulled all he could from Dave's dick, he begged me to sit on his face. "Come on, Man! You got a great ass and your boyfriend has a really hot dick. I love eating barebacked cum. Please!" he moaned.

I looked at Dave and shrugged my shoulders. He just smiled and sighed. "Whatever," he muttered.

The hot Latino muscleman rolled on to his back and smiled up at me. "Right here, Man!" he grinned, pointing to his extended tongue. I squatted over his face and got the tonguing of my life. His cool, lapping tongue soothed my well-fucked asshole. I thought he compared well with Saladin's butt munching expertise, which had nearly surpassed Dave's. "Relax, Man!" he moaned. "Need summa dat cum!" I did the best I could, not wanting to gross both of us out with an "accident." He moaned and ate hungrily. Evidently, I was doing the right thing. I looked up at Dave. He smiled and shrugged as I had. Dave kissed me, then, finished cleaning me off with his tongue.

Jeremy and Saladin left the steam room, followed by Monte and Rashid and two other couples. Four more men crowded around, looking for more action. One of them worked the Latino's legs up and plugged into his ass. That got my ass-muncher to eat me out even more aggressively.

But, I was wrung out. I'd had enough. Besides, it was getting hot in the steam room. I needed a break in the action and some cooler air. I was sweating profusely and needed a rinse, too. Dave pulled me up from my squatting position, accompanying me to the door. In the shower room, we soaped up and enjoyed the cooling cascade of water. A quick conference confirmed that we needed to get back to the hotel, get some dinner, and go to bed. We had to be "on" tomorrow, and didn't want to look like we'd be dragged through a knothole backwards.

Wednesday dawned bright and clear. The humidity was low and the temperature promised not to exceed 75 degrees. (Not that it mattered. We'd be inside most of the day.) We arrived (after a light breakfast) at the Oprah studios at 7:45. Monte was there to greet us. The rack of clothing was stashed in one of the "green rooms." His beaming smile spoke volumes. "Get some brown sugar last night?" Dave asked.

Monte smiled. "That fuckin' Rashid is so HOT! But, this time, we're taking it slower. But, the sex is better than ever," he added in a whisper. "But, we need to get on with this. Come with me. I wanna see if the alterations worked." We followed him into one of the small rooms at the rear of the stage set. He fussed with a couple of items, cupped our full manhoods with his hands, and smiled at the tight underwear we'd selected. "You guys are way hung, so tight underwear is essential. This is a family show, ya know. You bring the jocks, too?" he smirked. We nodded. He finally pronounced the line of clothing ready for the show. "The bitch will be in later, so you'll have to try them on one more time for her. When the fashion show starts, be ready to rip these clothes off the minute you get off stage. These are fast changes. There'll be a couple of guys to help you on and off with everything. I know they're gonna cop a couple of feels. You guys are SO hot!" he laughed.

"Thanks, Monte. You're a saint," I said. Dave nodded his agreement.

"You gonna wear that on the first show?" he asked, looking us over with some distress.

"Uh, yeah," Dave admitted.

"Wrong! Come back to the store with me. I'll get you into something really classy, but comfortable. I want you to look REALLY good, not just for the fashion show," he laughed.

We followed him back to the store. He selected colorful polo shirts for both of us, red for me, and a bright purple for Dave. Grey slacks for me, and black ones for Dave completed the look. At the last minute, he added black loafers for both of us.

The morning taping started at 9:00. We walked on the stage to wolf whistles and loud applause. We blushed brightly at the attention. A segment of Dave's curbside news conference had already been played, but seeing us in the flesh had them checking us out in a more personal way. We were on for only 20 minutes, but the audience ate it up with a spoon, totally agreeing with everything Dave and I said. I'm not going to repeat it here, because you've read it all before from the taped interviews and the NPR call-in show. A still photo remained on the large screen behind us of Dave's curbside news event. I blushed beet red at my Nancy Reagan pose. Oprah noticed and laughed with me after I shook my head and pointed out how goofy I looked. The audience laughed and clapped at the humor in it all.

But, Oprah quickly got down to the serious side of the issue. She mentioned that we'd seen hate personally, bringing up the airplane and Consulate attacks. Not dwelling on the specifics, she moved on to the more general message of hate messages as news.

The two media representatives didn't try to defend their position after being shouted down by nearly everyone in the audience when they tried to duck behind their First Amendment rights. We tried to give them some room to wiggle by bringing up their arguments without trampling on them. There is a time and place for news that's news. Hate, being broadcast as news, isn't.

At a commercial break, we left the set and moved backstage as a new guest waited in the wings. Oprah conferenced briefly with a couple of her assistants (one of them fixing a smudge of makeup); then, she moved back to her place on stage. "Gawd! I'm glad that's over," Dave sighed. I completely agreed.

"How about some lunch in another couple of hours?" one of Oprah's assistants asked.

"You name it, where and when?" I replied.

"Oprah would like you to dine with her here. It's always catered and always good," the assistant said. "I hope you don't mind low-fat and low-calorie foods."

"Not at all," Dave smiled. "We don't wanna look like a couple of well-stuffed pigs for the fashion show this afternoon."

The designer was cool, but efficient towards us. She knew we were Oprah's guests and didn't take on her usual condescending attitude. We practiced our walk down the stage after the first show was over and the audience had left. She complimented us on our posture and walk, and Monte on the good fit. She even suggested that we had potential as models. However, "you'll have to loose a few pounds. Television makes everyone look heavy." I like our "chunky" look, you Bitch, I thought!

After a light lunch (during which our hostess regaled us with funny tales of what had been edited out of several of her shows), we put on our first "drag" of the afternoon for the fashion show. The new fashions would be featured near the middle of the second taping of the day (which started about 1:00, but our segment wasn't up until about 1:20). We got into our first "costume," the dark, winter-weight suits. They were different styles with different dress shirts beneath. I wore the same loafers as I had for the first taping, but Dave wore sturdier Oxfords. The ladies went first, strolling down the stage about five seconds apart. Polite applause greeted them as they strutted, turned and walked back behind the curtain as the designer did the voice-over, explaining the clothes and the "look" she was trying for.

The stage director gave me the cue and I walked out on stage. "Next is Mike, in a light winter-weight suit with a silk power tie and muted silk-blend shirt." The whistles and applause were as embarrassing as the first taping, but I recovered quickly, smiling and winking at the ladies in the front row. I spotted one of the guys from last night's fun at the gym and smiled even bigger. The audience loved it (not seeing who I was smiling at). I opened the jacket, showed the lining and the shirt. Removing the jacket, I turned and walked back toward the curtain. That brought an even bigger response, and a few more catcalls and whistles. I guess they liked my big, muscle ass. I smiled over my shoulder one more time.

"Down, ladies, DOWN!" Oprah laughed.

The designer tried to compose herself. "Next is Dave, in another winter-weight suit, but this one has a more formal cut with the double breasted look, silk tie and matching shirt." Dave sauntered (as only he can) past me and smiled as I winked at him. I disappeared behind the curtain and raced to get out of these clothes and put on the slacks and casual shirt. I kicked off my shoes and jammed my feet into another, softer pair of shoes.

Meanwhile, Dave was getting a bigger response than I did. I was almost embarrassed for him, until I saw him on the monitor, grinning, turning, showing off his magnificent physique, and smiling and winking at the ladies and a few gay men that I know he saw. The applause was certainly louder than it had been for the female models. This was supposed to be a fashion show, not a striptease act. But, the women were enjoying the hell out of it.

"The old bitch is having a hissy fit!" cackled the dresser we'd worked with yesterday. "Have fun with this, Boys!" he added as Dave rushed backstage for his refitting. "Who knows if this will even make it into production!" he laughed. "That's quite a response you're getting. Most male models are too pretty, too skinny, and too sour. The audience loves ya! You're so natural!"

An assistant checked my short hair with a quick brush as the ladies came off the stage, again. "Again, Mike in casual wear. Notice the comfortable drape of the slacks and the loose, but flattering cut of the pull over shirt," she said checking her notes and not even looking up at me. I had the sport coat flung over my left shoulder. I didn't even put it on. My hard pecs stretched the fabric across my broad chest, my nipples erect (the fabric had been rubbing softly against them, making my nips and my dick harden). Again, the sustained applause and a few whistles reverberated around the studio. I flexed my biceps as I flung the jacket over my other shoulder. A button flew off my open sport shirt, stretched too tightly over my pecs. I turned and picked it up. The whistles and applause reached a crescendo. I stood instantly and blushed fiercely. I didn't even think that I was mooning them, although the slacks fit snuggly. Beating a hasty retreat, I nearly ran off the stage as Dave walked on.

More applause greeted him as the designer tried to talk over the noise. He smiled and put his hands into a motion to indicate they should quiet down. They did, but reluctantly. He grinned as they complied and the designer was able to say her piece. I have no idea what she said as I was laughing at him having such a good time.

"This bit is running long," the assistant said. "We're sending both of you out, together for the beachwear. I dashed behind the screen and took off everything. I quickly pulled on a jock over my nearly hard dick and forced it inside. The two stagehands stopped and smiled at my hard dick and muscle ass. One handed me the shirt, brushing my erect, right nipple. The other gave me the jungle pattern camouflage shorts, making sure his hand brushed against my packed jockstrap.

"You're not helping matters," I smiled, as the designer described the sportswear the women models were parading. I slipped my feet into sandals as they helped Dave into his similar beachwear. I grinned as they gave him the same treatment, but the one handing him the shorts copped a jockstrap-encased feel of Dave's thickening trouser snake, while the other one slipped a couple of finger deep into Dave's ass trench, then, licked his fingers, grinning. They quickly added beach hats that would cover your head and had enough of a brim on it to keep your ears from getting sunburned, but not big enough to keep the hot sun from scorching the back of your neck or most of your face.

We strode on stage together, smiling. The gasps and applause grew to a deafening crescendo. Again, Dave gestured for them to restrain themselves. The designer glared at us. Oprah asked what the look was this time. The designer consulted her notes, read them briskly, and glowered at us, again. I wanted to stick my tongue out at her SO bad. But, I didn't. Dave flexed in the muscle shirt, getting a huge gale of sighs from the women and several men. He nodded and we turned together, stopped, looked at the audience over our shoulders and walked back behind the curtain to more sustained shouts of encouragement. I halfway expected to see room keys tossed on to the stage.

The women modeled their last set, while we rushed through our last change. The applause, again, was polite. We'd pulled off the army shorts and muscle shirts. The beachcomber pants and Hawaiian shirts went on easily. We went barefoot for this last appearance. "Fuck! I'll be glad when this is over," Dave laughed. "I feel like a piece of meat on women's night out at a strip club."

"Be grateful they aren't stoning you or throwing rotten vegetables," I smirked.

"It wouldn't make any difference what you guys wore," one of the helpers said. "They'd go ape shit for you in anything." He paused. "More than likely, there'd be a stampede on to the stage if you'd worn real beach wear like Speedos and nothing else."

"And finally, Mike and Dave in beachcomber wear, the hottest new trend this season," the designer nearly spat. We walked out on the stage, having grabbed two table chairs, acting like lion tamers to keep the audience from pouncing. They loved it. Hoots of laughter and loud applause kept the designer from saying anything more. We walked to the end of the stage, put the chairs down, blew the audience kisses over our shoulders, and departed for the comparative safety of backstage. I barely heard Oprah shout above the noise that the show would continue "right after these messages."

We leaned against stage props, catching our breath, and laughing with the stagehands about our outrageous conduct. We heard some shouted words from the designer as she stalked loudly off the stage. There were scattered boos about the audience. "With the kind of reaction you got, this will probably be the biggest run on men's wear in years," someone near to us said. Others nodded.

An assistant came rushing up. "Oprah wants you back in your clothes from this morning's taping. We're extending this segment a few minutes. Hurry! And be ready to come back on stage when introduced, again. This audience doesn't know you like this morning's does." We gazed with bewildered stares as she retreated back to Oprah.

"The lady commands and we obey," the dresser shouted. "The clothes are right here," he added, grabbing them off a rack that was going back to Monte's store. "Get 'em on fast, Boys!" We scurried behind the screen, ripped off the beachcomber outfits and quickly pulled on the "drag" from this morning. I had to admit, we did look good in these bright pullover shirts and slacks. Dave looked particularly delicious.

We waited in the wings for another 30 seconds while Oprah set the audience up for what was coming next. US! To enthusiastic applause, we strode back on to the stage (our lion taming chairs had been removed), gave Oprah a chaste kiss on the cheek, and sat in the comfortable chairs next to her. When the applause died down, Oprah said, "Aren't they delicious!" The audience laughed and applauded again. We blushed. "Okay, we just pulled a fast one on you. Mike and Dave aren't models." The audience moaned and buzzed with questions. "They were on yesterday's show and I knew they'd be perfect for modeling those designer clothes. Most male models don't look this good," she smiled. Laughter and applause rose again. Of course, it wasn't yesterday's show, but the television audience wouldn't know that. "But, we talked them into it. I think they did a great job." More applause. "And I think they'll probably cause a sensation in men's clothing for next season. Everyone will want to look as good as they did." Screams and shouts of agreement greeted that pronouncement. I think she was covering her butt from the way we ruined it for the bitchy designer. We hadn't conducted ourselves in a "professional manner." Well, fuck her!

"Now, what's with the chairs in that last bit?" she asked. The audience laughed.

"Well," Dave began, "I thought the audience was really getting into, so I thought we'd participate as well. It seemed a good idea at the time."

"And I'm an unindicted co-conspirator," I agreed. "I thought we'd have a little fun with the sour-faced models that you so often see. Spontaneity seems to be a lost concept with them. Sometimes, they can seem so scripted and so stiff," I added. Again, there was applause. Oprah smiled, but she couldn't look too pleased. The designer may never come back on her show, again, as it is.

"So, what do you do in real life, now that we know you aren't really models?"

"I'm trained as a lawyer and Mike's a CPA," Dave evaded.

"For those of you who are starting to figure it out, Dave and Mike are the two men who subdued the drunken passenger on a flight to Vancouver, BC. Subsequently, that same evening, as guests of the American Consulate there, they (and the members of the Consulate staff) were attacked by a gun-wielding madman determined to take revenge on all of them for some words exchanged at the press conference discussing the drunk on the plane and what these brave boys did." Nods of recognition dotted the audience. "The show you missed yesterday was about hate and how it's reported in the media. Dave and Mike obviously have first hand knowledge of that. You've probably seen them on news clips and heard them on talk shows on the radio, if you think about it." More people were finally making the connection.

"We just happened to be at the right (or wrong) place at the right time," I clarified. "It wasn't something we really thought about on the plane and nothing we could do about it at the Consulate. But, those Marines are terrific men, well trained, and excellent protection for our official presence in other countries. I don't think they get enough recognition or thanks. If it weren't for them, we wouldn't be having this conversation now." The audience erupted with sustained applause.

"So, what now? Are you looking at modeling careers?" Oprah laughed.

We laughed along with the audience. "Not a chance," Dave said finally. "We're off to Europe for an extended vacation. We need to get away for a while and regroup. Too much has been coming at us all at once."

"Have a terrific vacation," she smiled. "And thanks for being such good sports about being models for a day." She turned to the camera. "We'll be right back after this." She thanked us again off camera.

We left the stage, changed into our real clothes, and hung the last of the borrowed clothes back on the wheeled dolly to return them to Monte's store. The "handy" and hunky clothes helpers asked us to join them later for drinks at The Manhole, a local gay bar on Halstead that caters to the leather/muscleman crowd. But, as it doesn't open until nine, we said we were going to the gym first, and might see them there later. They smiled and said they'd look for us.

The gym was nearly a repeat of yesterday. Only the players were different. Wednesday was shoulders day, but as we'd be on a plane most of Thursday and miss our "arms day," we added that to our workout. By the end of two hours, we'd finished all that we needed to do, and were exhausted. Hitting the steam room at five o'clock was similar to any rush hour on the freeways. Men at this hour often checked out the steam room before AND after their workouts to catch any action that looked good to them. If anything, it was more crowded than yesterday. As the token white boy, I was besieged with requests to fuck and get fucked. Of course, Dave (stunning as ever) was just as popular.

We ran out of condoms before we ran out of men. But, 30 minutes of nonstop rutting was enough. I had at least a dozen men (including the manager) wanting to pump my ass in that time. At least half of them shot their loads into condoms while fucking me. I know I had that many or more back up on my thick 9" dick before I finally blasted my cream into a particularly hungry black butt. The fact that his lover was banging my ass with his curved 10" monster, hitting my overly stimulated prostate just right, had to help.

Checking with Dave in the shower afterwards, he reported similar experiences. But, his load was lost in the talented throat of our hot Latino friend of last night. Somehow, he'd been able to swallow Dave's monster python and get it to burp out its baby sauce. Having another hot man plowing his ass sealed the deal. "It does make you wonder if this is a gay bath or a gym," Dave mused smiling.

"A delightful combination, I think," I replied. "Too much muscle here to be just a gay bath. And it's a good thing we don't have this at home. We'd be at the gym all the time."

"Except for Wednesdays," Dave reminded me. "Today being the exception."

"Except for today," I repeated laughing. "You still up for The Manhole later?"

"Right now, no," he said. "But, after dinner and some rest, sure, why not. We don't have to catch our plane until 9:10 tomorrow morning. So, we'll just have to leave by 11:00 tonight. And even if we don't," he added with a big grin, "we have a long flight to London. We could catch up on our sleep, then."

I love the way this man thinks!

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