Author's notes and disclaimer: The author wishes to thank Nifty readers for their kind words and the uniformly positive feedback received. Any e-mails and critiques/suggestions are welcomed. This series is meant not as a work of art (I should be so presumptuous) but purely as an avenue of enjoyment for myself and the readers.
Any suggestions for plot lines or situations you might like to see the characters get involved in are welcome and will be taken under consideration (no promises). The present chapter is part one of three telling about Richard's first bodybuilding contest: it was a long time coming, due to computer and other problems. The next two chapters are already outlined, so hopefully they'll be out soon. Thanks for your patience.
The following is a fantasy, meant only for the eyes of those who are of legal age. Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. It depicts actions which the author does NOT condone, PARTICULARLY in this day of renewed increase in HIV infection rates.
Play safely, folks, for yourselves AND your loved ones.
VIII. The Contest, part 1: "Do you know what?"
So come the end of the month, Richard moved in with me. His roommates were bummed, having to scramble for a replacement on such short notice, but just before he moved out they found one. So happily they parted living together amicably. They were a bit quizzical, having heard the rumors that had been floating around, but since I had shut Fred up, they were able to justify in their own minds that what they had heard was the overblown ranting of a woman scorned. Besides, we had a cover: Richard was moving in with me "to train for the regional championship bodybuilding contest." The theory was that that having a live-in personal trainer was the best possible way to prepare. This was also true. Richard had never entered a bodybuilding contest, before, even though he had always wanted to do so. With the regionals being held right here in our very own city, this was the perfect opportunity. All this was a plausible story to tell the outside world as to why we were living together. Not that I gave a shit, but Richard had only been out of college a little more than a year, and hadn't worked up the nerve to come out. His parents were pretty conservative, and he just wasn't ready to face them with it yet.
Richard was apprehensive about the contest, as well: I had a hard time convincing him that he was ready for a challenge of that magnitude. After all, he kept reminding me, this was a competition which could potentially include contestants from NINE states! I finally calmed him down enough to focus on the task at hand by committing to help him as much as I could. "Besides," I reassured him, "we've got almost three months. You'll be GREAT. You already look phenomenal, and with a strict diet and training program, you'll be a hit."
True to my word, I got into the project as much as he did: learning all I could about diet and supplements and training and posing, we worked together as a pretty effective team. He was disciplined and committed, and day by day he became ever more of a mouth-watering study in beefy perfection. For my part, I fed the beast he was becoming: his ego with praise and admiration, his hungry asshole with Cram, and his hunky body with a strict diet of complex carbs and lean protein sources. I'm a pretty good cook, but it took real control to be able to stick to a diet like that. There are only so many ways one can fix egg whites, chicken breast, and tuna within the parameters of a bodybuilder's dietary restrictions. I did my best to keep it interesting, and mostly ate with him, but I'll have to admit an occasional surreptitious lunch foray to Wendy's for a double cheeseburger and fries DID help me keep my disposition from venturing off into the overly surly. Thankfully, Richard maintained HIS composure, partially because he wanted it so much, and partially because he was afraid of pissin' me off. He never veered too far over the weight limit for lightheavies, so it only took him about the last four weeks before the contest to lose the twelve pounds or so to make weight without too much pain.
An explanatory digression is necessary for some of you at this point. Most bodybuilding contests are broken down into weight classes, and most of THOSE are broken down as follows:
Bantamweight: No more than 143 lbs. (65 kg.)
Lightweight: No more than 154 lbs. (70 kg.)
Middleweight: No more than 176 lbs. (80 kg.)
Lightheavyweight: No more than 198 lbs. (90 kg.)
Heavyweight: No more than 221 lbs. (100 kg.)
Superheavyweight: 221 lbs. and over (more than 100 kg.)
Most bodybuilders concentrate on putting on muscle mass without worrying too much about their weight until a couple of months before a big contest. Consequently, some of them really balloon up (especially the big boys) and have to lose a LOT of weight in a hurry, while trying to keep both their muscularity and their sanity. Anybody connected to the sport can tell you that the last month before a big contest is when bodybuilders tend to lose significant others and friends, etc. But as I said earlier, we were lucky that Richard maintained a good regimen. We had a sign on the refrigerator: "Keep it under the boiling point (212)". A useful double entendre, and a good reminder for him AND me.
Fortunately, we WERE able to "keep it under the boiling point" in all respects, and we settled into a routine that did us both good. I lost some flab of my own, and being Richard's training partner sure didn't hurt my level of fitness! Richard was a monster in the gym: not only did I not have to encourage him, but it was all I could do to keep up with him! He pumped iron like a man possessed, throwing his entire being into his dream. Then, with him all pumped up and defined, I got to take him home and fuck him. Or, on the off days, he'd practice his posing. I'd oil his spectacular jockbod up and he'd flex for me, getting us both all excited, and then I got to fuck him.
OH HELL YEAH...
The week before the contest, we got a letter from the organizing committee: "Due to the exceptionally distinguished and large number of entrants in this year's contest, the time frame of the contest format has been expanded accordingly to accommodate the assembly of contestants. Please note the new schedule:
Thursday, 6 P.M. Meeting of all entrants. Not mandatory due to the short notice given, but strongly encouraged."
"Shit!" howled Richard. "There goes my last workout before the contest!"
"Chill, studmeat," I crooned, wrapping my arms around him and licking his earlobe. "You're ready, babe. One workout isn't gonna make or break you. You look GREAT."
"Yeh, yeh," he pouted, trying to work himself into a lather but beginning to fail as I massaged him soothingly. "That's what you ALWAYS say."
"That's 'cause it's TRUE, buttstuff," I asserted, nuzzling his thick neck and working the tension out of his meaty traps with my thumbs and the heels of my hands. "My God, dude. You were so hot SIX MONTHS AGO that I pulled a fucking gun on you because I couldn't STAND not getting' me some of this marvelASS." I slapgrabbed his buttglobe, tauter and more voluptuous than ever, jiggling it playfully. "C'mon, now, baby, settle down. What else does it say?"
"Thursday, 7 P.M. Teens and Masters classes prejudging."
"See?" I teased. "If we have to go down there, at least we get to look at the chickens and older guys strut their stuff. You never know when you might see a drumstick that strikes your fancy."
"Or YOURS, you old letch," he chuckled.
"Friday, 6 P.M. Women's prejudging.
Friday, 8 P.M. Men's open Bantamweight and Lightweight prejudging.
Saturday, 10 A.M. Men's open middleweight, Lightheavyweight, Heavyweight, and
Superheavyweight prejudging.
Saturday, 3 P.M. Womens, Teens, and Master's classes final.
Saturday, 7 P.M. Men's open class final."
"Wow," Richard said with a low whistle. Nearly 48 hours between prejudging and finals for the teens and masters. Those guys are gonna be PISSED."
"Yeah," I answered. "And the women aren't gonna be happy shoved out of the Saturday evening show, either. Guess it must be HUGE."
Richard agreed, the prospect making him apprehensive yet again. I tried soothing him for awhile, and when he continued to whine, I finally just yanked his pants off and Crammed him, abruptly and with a vengeance. Good thing about that was, when his ass was full of Cram, there wasn't anything else in the world, for either of us. When I fucked him to vent emotion like this, it was particularly intense: I rode him hard, slapping wetly against his lean meaty sculpted studframe, pounding him in a fury of need and desire and rapture. His colon muscles were like magic fingers on my delighted bone; swollen so hard it felt like it would burst from its own internal pressure, like an overcooked boudin. I felt that if I hadn't been able to cum, the pressure would have blown the top of my head off...
The next week passed with more of the same. Finally, thankfully, Thursday evening rolled around. We made our way down to the Civic Center, and walking up to the big auditorium we both simultaneously froze in the doorway, mesmerized by the sight that greeted us. Stud on the hoof, clear to the horizon. I could feel Cram twitchin' as I drank in the view. Clearing my throat, I nodded toward the collected throng of bods mumbling in a hoarse sotto voce "Gawddamn, what a smorgasbord THIS is."
"You ain't lying about THAT, bro," Richard agreed, his nostrils flaring and his own crotch beginning to tent. We both just stood there, scoping the scene.
So there I was, looking around the group, and who should I fuckin' well see but Jacob! I began laughing hysterically, pushing my way towards him and beckoning Richard to follow. Richard complies, a puzzled look furrowing his brow. I plowed through the crowd like a linebacker, coming into intimate contact with more than one hot musclejock along the way. Needless to say, by the time I reached Jacob I as fully boned and a little breathless. He was partially turned away from me and didn't see me coming. I clapped a paw on his firm shoulder, squeezing appreciatively, and causing him to jump with surprise...
"Hey!" he greeted me when the initial shock had worn off. He was still the same eager kid, and seemed genuine glad to see me.
"Hey yerself, dude," I shot back, sliding the hand that was on his shoulder slowly down his back to rest on his hip. "What brings YOU here?" I was hoping I knew...
"A couple of my friends are in the Teen contest," he said proudly. "My best friend Bobby: you remember me telling you about him? That, erm, night at the gym?"
"Oh, yeh! Right!" I grinned wickedly. His adolescent jackoff buddy! This was getting better by the minute...
"And Peter, the fullback from our football team is competing too, " he added, shifting from one foot to the other as I cupped his fulsome buttglobe. I winked at Richard, who gave me a blank look in return.
"Sounds like a good time brewing, Jacob," I assured him. "This is my roommate, Richard. He's gonna be in the competition too, as a lightheavy. Richard, this is Jacob, my friend from the gym I told you about. You know, the one from the grocery store, that I was spotting with squats?"
The light went on, and the smirk was instantaneous. "Oh, yeah! Right! Pleased to meetcha!" Richard pumped his hand with brotherly macho enthusiasm, winking back at me. Jacob blushed as he realized Richard knew what had happened between us...
"Richard's my best bud, Jacob," I confided. "We should get together after your friends do the prelims and compare notes." I patted him on that ripe tail, my eyes narrowing as I leered at him suggestively. "Richard and I have studied the sport pretty extensively: we might be able to give your friends a few pointers" 'Yeah, like this pointer in my pants, for example,' I snickered to myself.
"Hey, that's a great idea!" His reaction was typically enthusiastic. He was longer on willingness than he was on brains, and I was hoping his buds, if they looked anything like I thought they might, were the same...
The meeting started: the usual boring shit, yadda yadda, and then it was time for the Colonel Sanders floorshow. Bobby was a middleweight, Jacob informed me, while Peter was a lightheavy. "Good," I told him. "Can't wait to see them." Cram twitched in anticipation.
Bobby was on first, of course: a stocky, powerfully built kid, he was a middle even though he was only about 5'5". He was of the peculiar lineage that people term "Black Irish". Whereas some people of Irish descent are very fair and many are redheaded, Bobby had a mop of thick curly black hair and laughing eyes so dark THEY were almost black. He wore it a little long, partially to compensate for ears that protruded a bit too much, and along with full red lips and a broad upturned button of a nose, it gave him an impish air that was extremely cute. He was long-torsoed and short-limbed, his arms and legs and butt compensating in power what they lacked in stature. His quads and upper arms were his best features, and though he lacked a bit in the definition department, still carrying a thin layer of puppy fat, he was undoubtedly a toothsome morsel. Richard and I discussed his build and presentation as Jacob assiduously took notes.
Next up were the lightheavies, and my eye was immediately drawn to one kid in particular. "There's Peter," said Jacob, pointing towards the very one that I was already staring at.
"It certainly is," I breathed, a plan, as usual, hatching in my fertile horndog imagination. Cram stiffened in anticipation.
Peter looked in many ways like a junior version of Richard! Almost the same height, he was maybe 10 lbs. lighter, and there wasn't an ounce of fat on him. Of German lineage, he had light brown hair that he had peroxided the tips of and wore gelled and spiked. He was very fair, and didn't tan well, so he had put so much canthaxathin fake tan on that he was brown, but it was a color brown no human ever turns. More like walnut. He had it on evenly, though, and all over (even his eyelids) so it didn't detract from his appearance, and it DID make him look better on stage. The rule of thumb is, the darker you are on stage, the more your definition stands out. And Peter sure did have plenty to display! He was thinner in the legs than Richard, and in general not as fully developed or rounded, but his shoulder girdle was extremely wide, giving him one of the most impressive V-tapers I've ever seen. His fleshy nipples were HUGE, fitting decorations for his fine chiseled pecs. His abs and obliques were world class. Top it all off with an exceptionally handsome face, square jawed and with bright cobalt blue eyes and cheeks that showed a faint tinge of rosiness even under all that dye, and he was a total package that was begging to be Crammed. It was obvious that he was a major contender for the overall Teen title, not just his weight class. Richard and I showered well-deserved praise on him as Jacob beamed, hurriedly scribbling our critique for posterity. Peter flexed his scrumptious dyed and well-oiled young bod to good advantage, garnering more than one shout of praise and admiration. He knew what he had, too:at one point in his routine he merely crossed his arms, rested his lantern jaw in his hand, and gave the audience a self-assured look that said better than any words ever could that he KNEW he was devastatingly handsome and sexy. The gesture was greeted by whoops of approval from the spectators, including me.
After the round was over, Peter and Bobby found Jacob, who was babbling in his excitement. After introductions, we began discussing their presentations. They were both very well-spoken and polite, especially Bobby, who was a real sweet-natured kid. I could tell why he and Jacob were so close. They were all impressed with Richard, and even more impressed that we knew as much as we did about the sport. It was the first contest for both of THEM as well. I praised them highly: it was well deserved, and also fit neatly into my nefarious little scheme. "You both did a good job," I assured them. "And YOU," I turned to Peter, "Damn near brought the house down." He flashed me a 200-watt smile, his white teeth even more dazzling due to the dark brownness of his skin. Off the stage and out of the glare of the lights, he was even darker than he had previously appeared, but it was still not unappealing. Nicely browned, lightly salty, and ready to eat.
"Thanks," Peter said. "What about my posing?" I really don't know too much about that, and anything you can suggest would be most appreciated."
"Me, too, sir!" chimed Bobby. I smiled warmly. "Tell ya what, guys," I offered, "Why don't we go back to our place and you can practice your posing while we give you pointers." It was all Richard could do not to laugh at this point, but a glare from me reminded him to keep his composure. Of course, they readily agreed, and he surreptitiously winked at me as we trooped out to our cars. I smirked back. He knew exactly what I had in mind, and teased me about being a chicken hawk all the way home, doing a Foghorn Leghorn imitation that had me laughing so hard I almost had to stop the car. Meanwhile, I told him the particulars of my plan.
We reached the house, and the boys sat down in the living room, chattering in animated exuberance. " Put on a demo for them, Richard. Meanwhile, I'm gonna make smoothies. Who wants one?" I invited, chuckling inwardly. Asking teenaged boys if they want something to eat. What are the chances? Of course they all jumped at the suggestion, and I left Richard to strip down and keep them occupied while I made my little concoctions. Fresh peach smoothies absorb a lot of alcohol before you can really taste it, and of course rohypnol, Quaaludes and testosterone have no taste at all. I didn't put a big dose of any of them in a serving, but the combination would do the trick. I didn't want our chickens stewed, just loose, horny and aggressive. The amount of testosterone I put in their drinks wouldn't show up as anything else, and by the time the main contest rolled around some 40 hours later, their levels would be back down to within normal ranges, so they wouldn't flunk a urine test. But tonight...
I came back out with a tray of glasses just as Richard turned his back to me, hitting that back double biceps pose. I laughed. "Remember when I helped you perfect that pose the first time you came over here?" I asked.
He broke up. "Yeah, I sure do. How the hell could I ever forget THAT?" he howled, shoulders shaking with mirth.
"Why, sir? What happened?" Bobby was all youthful curiosity, his big brown eyes sparkling with the fun we were having.
"Oh, it's an inside joke. Wouldn't you say, roomie?" I smirked. Richard cracked up again. "The most important thing about the whole experience is to stay loose and have FUN, right, Richard?"
"Oh absolutely you betcha," Richard replied through a gale of mirth. "We always have LOTS of fun."
Deftly deflecting further questions, I changed the topic to diet, describing the various supplements one could put in smoothies like those they were drinking. "Oh, you can put most anything in them." I lectured. Of course, I neglected to tell them what supplements were in these...
After a few minutes, I could tell from body language that the cocktail of lubricants I had laced the drinks with was taking effect. "So, guys," I stood up and stretched, "Why don't we have a full dress rehearsal? Strip down and show us what you've got. You too, Jacob. You can learn and help your buds out."
"But I don't have any posing trunks," Jacob protested, his speech slurring slightly.
"Yeah, and we left ours in the car," added Bobby.
" 'Salright, guys," I reassured them. Nobody here but us. Just strip down and we'll see the show you can put on."
They began to strip to their underwear, Bobby with a big goofy grin of compliance on his face, Peter more serious but still unquestioningly acquiescent, and Jacob, beginning to get an inkling of what I was up to, with a slow smile. Three beautiful specimens of manchildren stood before me, Jacob 16, Bobby having just turned 17, and Peter two months short of his eighteenth birthday. Amazing what effect a few months can have at that age. You could tell that Peter's body was the most mature of the three, and while Bobby's was the most thickly muscled, he still had a hint of boyishness around his frame. I licked my lips as I stripped my shirt and shorts off as well, Cram making a noticeable bulge in my briefs. "Be right back, guys," I told them as I scooted off to the kitchen for the old ever-lovin bottle of extra-virgin olive oil. Hell, sometimes I even cook with it, too. I filled a cruet with some of it, and returned to the living room. I handed the cruet to Richard. "Here, you oil Bobby up, and Jacob and I will work on Peter. You think you can handle that, Jacob? "
"Oh, you BET," Jacob breathed, his crotch beginning to tent as he became more lightheaded and randy by the minute...
I told Jacob to stand with his back to the wall, under a track light we had, and positioned Peter facing him, his back to the room. I tipped some oil to run down Peter's thickly corded neck, massaging it into his traps and wide round delts until he began moaning softly with the delicious sensations, closing his eyes and letting his head loll to one side. I poured some down the groove between his squared off and sharply defined pecs, catching it in my hand and smearing it over his firm studtits, my thumb playing over his big sensitive aureole, he gasped at the sensation, his crotch beginning to fill, and I moved to the other one, squeezing and rubbing it until they were twin cones of erection on his hot chest. Deftly sliding my hand down, his waffled abdomen, I hooked his waistband with my thumb, pulling it out slightly and simultaneously DUMPING a big load of oil down his stomach. I watched it cascade down running in a river, overflowing the goblet of his navel, and filling the pouch of his briefs with a large quantity of the slippery stuff...
He jumped. "What the fuck!"
"Aw, man, I'm sorry. Musta slipped! Here, let me help ya out," I offered, slipping my hand into his gooey briefs and forcing his legs apart a little as I scooped the oil from beneath his balls. As I had intended, some of it ran back up the crack of his ass, some of it down his legs, and a large portion of the rest coated my hand, which I slid back out of his briefs up the underside of his cock, stroking it firmly against his hard belly and leaving the burgeoning head peeking out the top as it jerked and lengthened with the stimulation. I smeared his torso with the excess, working on his nipple again, beginning to really milk the sensitive tissue. He was completely nonplussed, frozen in equal parts bewilderment, drug influence, and mounting desire...
"Here, Jacob, help him out," I commanded, pushing Jacob to his knees. I ran my thumb across Jacob's soft lips. "Let's get him out of these shorts and into something, erm, more comfortable."
"Yes, SIR!" Jacob responded, tugging on Peter's briefs, before he could protest we had him out of them and fully nude, the mouthwatering sight of this young stud in the altogether making Cram board hard. With the first swirl of Jacob's tongue around Peter's cock, he was fully erect as well. Without further ado, Jacob began to chow on Peter's tasty looking dick, which was simultaneously kinda funky looking since his genitals were the only things he HADN'T bother to dye. Well that, and the crack of his humpy ass, as I was about to find out...
"Hey, Jacob! You're sucking me!" gasped Peter, aghast but unable to help himself from thrusting to meet Jacob's strokes on his suddenly brickhard dong. "Sure, man!" Jacob pulled off Peter's sword briefly. "What's a buddy for?" he explained as he slurped the shaft back down past those delectable coral pink lips of his. Peter groaned as I manipulated his firm torso, stimulating his paps and luxuriating in the feel of his taut muscular bod as I shucked my own briefs...
Richard, meanwhile, had been oiling Bobby up. Bobby, as the lightest of us, was also the highest, in a world of his own and feeling no pain as Richard slicked him up until his short stocky body shone. When he heard the commotion, he turned to see what was going on, his jaw dropping in surprise. Richard, never missing a beat, slid his oily hand into Bobby's briefs and corkscrewed it over his thickening dick.
"Ahhh!" gasped Bobby. "Ooh, that feels good." He giggled boyishly as he hardened in Richard's hand
"I can make ya feel even better, kid," Richard said, with a twinkle, yanking Bobby's briefs down and bending over to slurp Bobby's fat dick into his wet mouth. Bobby groaned, transfixed by the scene before him, as Richard slid his tongue down the sensitive underside of Bobby's cock, cradling it, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked.
I watched Peter fucking Jacob's face for a minute, his shapely ass bunching and flexing and dimpling with every stroke. Unable to wait any longer, I dumped oil on Cram as fast as I could get it there, and then pulled his ass open, dumping more into his deep hot asscrack. His tight, shapely tail felt fantastic, and his cherry sphincter winked at me with every stroke. Panting with desire, I lined him up and winked at Jacob. He winked back, trying not to bite down as he chuckled in anticipation. He wrapped an arm around each of Peter's thighs, splaying them and then clasping his hands together. Grabbing Cram by his base and kissing Peter's rim with his lips, I released Peter's asscheek to snap around his head and wrapped the now free arm around Peter's rippling middle, pinning him very effectively between Jacob and me before he realized what was happening. I moved with him for a couple of strokes, just keeping contact with his cherry, and then on a thrust forward, I bit his big round delt HARD. He yelled and threw his head back as I froze in place, and pulled back toward me: distracted by the pain in his shoulder, he unwittingly impaled himself upon Cram, grunting as the flare of the head popped past his sphincter and into his tight smooth canal. Too far gone with lust to stop himself, he continued to thrust into Jacob's willing throat. I timed my movements with his: every time he thrust forward, I moved with him, and every time he moved back, I didn't yield. Thus in about five strokes he had ratcheted his own virgin vealcunt to the hilt onto Cram. I wrapped my arms around him, tweaking those juicy nipples as I began boning him violently, consumed with my asshunger for this hot young stud...
Bobby was both amazed and turned on by the display. "Jeeze!" he barked. "Aw, Jeeze!" Suddenly he froze in place, grimacing as he began shooting a huge load of cum down Richard's throat. Richard slurped it all down greedily, humming with satisfaction on the spurting boypole...
Peter was near climax, his knees buckling as I held him up, fucking his warm satiny rectum, growling with my delight in compelling such a stunning youthful CHUNK OF ASS to ride my marauding dong. He moaned, throwing his head from side to side and trying to pull away, but simultaneously fucking Jacob's sweet mouthhole without being able to stop himself. I jackhammered his deflowered colon, my pelvis grinding against his with each brutal thrust as he screamed with his orgasm.
"NNNGH! YEEOW!" he yelled, his asshole spasming with each jet of sperm he shot down Jacob's throat. I LOVE that feeling: the feel of guy cumming with his ass full of Cram. Nothing turns me on more, physically OR psychologically, and before he had finished shooting, my own nut cracked, ROARING with satisfaction as I painted his walls with dick graffiti. Cram was here.
Peter collapsed, his wide back slumping against me as we caught our breaths, drained but not sated. He finally straightened up and I pulled out, collapsing into a chair as we sat around at big glassy-eyed, resting a minute. Bobby and Peter were absorbing what had just happened to them: Peter in particular was bewildered by his feeling about his sudden, abrupt and very thorough initiation into mansex. The both of them were all questions, their eyes widening in amazement as we told them of our live and how Richard, Jacob and I had all met and what we had done together.
"You mean a guy as big and ripped as you GETS fucked all the time?" Peter asked Richard incredulously.
"All the time," Richard winked back. "It feels great. My ass loves dick. Didn't it feel good to you?"
"Wellll..." Peter was still somewhat dubious. "It MIGHT have been okay, if he hadn't been do damn ROUGH."
I guffawed. "Sorry about that, man," I apologized, "but you're such a sweet piece of tail, I couldn't help myself." Peter snorted, and then smiled sheepishly. "Jacob's got a sweet back porch on him, too. You can't tell me you never noticed."
"Oh, yeah!" Bobby chimed in. "You should see him in a wrestling singlet. I got so boned I had to leave practice, the first day. He thought I was sick and came to find me: I was jackin' off in the cubicle, just thinkin' about his ass in that spandex. He found me, and well, we helped each other out." Bobby blushed at his admission as I laughed, reminding him that he'd just had a blowjob in front of all of us. He blushed even deeper, and then grinned.
"So how'd you like to fuck that ripe butt of Jacob's, Bobby?" I encouraged. "He likes to take it too."
"Hell, YEAH!" Bobby shouted, lighting up like a Christmas tree. He jumped on Jacob and they began to wrestle playfully, cocks stiffening as they felt each other up. "Hey! What about me!" Richard whined. "All this fucking and I'm not gettin' any!"
My eyes narrowed as another of my horny evil ideas blossomed. "Be careful what you wish for, Butt Stuff," I said, glowering at him menacingly as I pumped my dick hard, "'Cause you might get it." Richard gulped at the look in my eye as I walked toward him. "Hey guys, Butt Stuff here wants sex. Wanna help me give it to him?"
"Sure! Yeah!" they all chimed in unison. "What do we have to do sir?" Bobby asked, ever the eager-beaver ready to please type. What a good kid..
"Well, it's like this," I told them "Jacob, you get over there, on your hands and knees."
"O-okay," Jacob complied, unsure what was going to happen. Satisfied with my work, I grabbed Bobby, yanking him off his feet as he giggled hysterically and put him on his feet facing Jacob's beautiful ass. "Guess what YOU'RE supposed to do, kiddo," I winked at him.
"All RIGHT!" he yelled with glee, pumping his fat tool to hardness and licking his lips at the sight of his best friend's shapely bottom.
"Peter, you get hard and ready," I commanded, as if this wasn't already happening. "And you and Bobby both lube yerselves with some of that oil. C'mere, Butt Stuff," I said, grabbing Richard and pulling him down with me, facing away from me as I plunked down on the floor near Jacob but facing away him. I lifted Richard's ass up. "Time to get Crammed, boy."
Richard eagerly reached behind him, guiding the pole to his waiting opening. We both groaned as the bolt sank home, the feeling neither of us ever tired of. I lay down on my back, pulling Richard flat on top of me as he began to fuck himself on my shaft.
"Jacob, you two bottoms feed each other." I ordered. Jacob obediently scooted up to 69 position with Richard, and soon all you heard from them was slurping and groaning, except for the gasp from Jacob when Bobby's thick dick plowed into him. Peter looked at me, quizzically, stroking his shapely oiled cock, fairly long, but kinda thin. "Where do I fit into all of this?" he wanted to know.
I snickered evilly. " 'Fit' is the operative word, my friend." I spread my legs, and grabbing the underside of Richard's thighs, pulled them WAY up until he was doubled over, exposing as much of his ass as possible. "Here. Come get ya some Butt Stuff."
Richard sputtered, spitting Jacob's cock out. "Shit! You're KIDDING."
"Serious as a heart attack, babe," I retorted as Peter moved into position, his dick throbbing. "You SAID you wanted dick, so you're gonna get all you can handle."
"Too much, maybe," wailed Richard, his buffed body stiffening as he felt the head of Peter's ram hit the opening to his already stuffed asshole... Peter slowly pushed his dick forward as Richard wailed and cried, his lats flaring as he arched his back trying to accommodate a second dick in his jocktwat, his massive rockhard arms flailing as he felt the head of Peter's peter slide past his sphincter and into his cruelly stretched canal.
I held still, offering advice and encouragement to Peter as he slowly slid deeper, His cock held tightly against mine, sliding along its length, was incredibly erotic and stimulating. Finally he was in, Richard still keening and whining. Feed him something to shut him up, Jacob," I snapped. Jacob shoved his cock back into Richards's mouth, grunting with the feel of Bobby's cock up his own ass. Bobby, in his own right, was pumping delightedly, saying "Oh, yeah. Oh hell yeah," over and over again. It was hotter than hell, and I paused for a second, huffing, already close to blowing my wad as I felt Peter's bone throb against mine and Richard's hot shapely body writhing on top of me...
"This is how we do it, Peter," I gasped. "I move in, you move out. You move in, I move out. Don't take real long strokes, or you'll POP out. Got it?"
"Yeaaah," breathed Peter, delightedly. I pulled and he alertly pushed. We got a two-stroke pumping piston double-dicking buttfuck going in short order, matching rhythm for rhythm. Peter was a good athlete, with innate timing, and took to the task like a duck to water. In just a few seconds, Richard was writhing with lust instead of discomfort, and the sensuousness of this incredibly hot scene had us all firing explosive orgasms in short order. I screamed as my vision was filled with white-hot animal satisfaction, the friction against Cram from Richard's hole and Peter's dick making me dizzy with repletion. Richard howled as his own cum boiled out, born of Jacob's sweet mouth on his cock and two dicks riding roughshod over his prostate. And Peter was so amazed and delighted he almost wasn't conscious of the fact that he was cumming until it actually happened.
The two who really got the most out of that night, though, were Bobby and Jacob. Jacob was almost as much of a bottom as Richard, and Bobby had been lusting after him without even fully realizing it since they had hit puberty some four years before. They became inseparable, and as far as I know, that chunky boy with his chunky cock is fucking that succulent round butt of Jacob's to this day. 'Cause tell ya, the kid had an ass on him.