The following story is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to accurately depict, nor reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story by law. This is fiction. Do not forget, in real life, to think about 'sexual safety matter'; got condom?
"Muscle Jocks For Domination" 24 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
Michael Metz wasn't a bit fooled, as the door opened to the boardroom chamber.
"So, what the fuck's been going on here, little bro?"
Right away, Max saw the resemblance between Sam Metz and the tall man before them. Another thing phased Max, the gruff attitude, setting off the electric shock through his recently discharged crotch.
Nonchalantly, as if commonplace, Sam replies to his thirty year old brother, "Only some kinky fun."
"Sam," Max scolds.
Seeing the interaction, as if a hidden secret, Michael Metz walks up to the chief honcho, confronting him.
"Getting your jollies playing with my little bro?"
"I might be. What's it to you big boy?"
Max isn't underestimating the size of Sam's older brother, standing there, at 6'2" tall, two hundred and ten pounds.
"Hmm..." is all Michael alludes to, still summing up Max Verraros.
"So, what can I do for you, Mr. Metz?"
"Michael," he offers a handshake.
Then, in a turn of attitude, Max tells the other three, "Um, anybody plan on getting their ass in motion today?"
The three other workers, assembled back into their suits, hair a bit frazzled, set themselves in motion, fixing ties, as they leave the boardroom. Max, sensing this might lead to some more intense moments, bolts the door behind them.
"So, Michael," Max senses more than a friendly visit, "what's on your mind?"
Really intent on speaking with his younger brother, the deviation in plans begins to intrigue Michael.
"Have fun with Sam?"
Max detects a mutual interest.
"Fun? How would that go?"
"Let me spell it out to you, Max. Bottom? Submissive? Kinky? Bondage, Discipline? I take it you're a top? Catch my drift?"
Smiling, Max stands there in front of Michael Metz, eyeing him up and down.
"I don't suppose you can get into any of that yourself, um, 'Master Michael'?"
Feet spread wide, arms folded under his pecs, the same ones that reveal the nips dotting the gray, muscled tank top, the older brother stands.
"I might, 'Master Max'!"
"How about a workout in the gym?"
"I didn't really come here for that, but give me a coupla minutes on my cell and I'll take you up on that."
The flip phone looks like a toy in the massive hand that held up to Michael's ear. Max takes in the conversation, already in progress.
"Look, George, you tell the fuckin' bastard he can wait until Friday for the designs. What? Today? Tell him to take a hike. Yeah, you can quote me."
Ending the brutal conversation, Michael flips the phone closed.
"Damn bastards!"
"Sounds like you mean business there, Mike."
"It's Michael and yeah, when it comes to my business, I don't let anybody fuck around with me."
Max Verraros' balls still churned away, even as they left the board room.
"So, what's my little bro doing here?"
"He didn't clue you in?"
"Nope."
"I've appointed him head of security."
"Oh?"
"So, you don't think he can handle it?"
"Sam can. Nope, he wouldn't let any fuck take advantage of him, or the company he works for. Loyalty," Michael went ton to praise the reputation of his brother.Not what Max perceived within the last hour, by a long shot.
Riding the executive elevator, which reeked of Max's previous encounter, Michael inquires, "You and he have a good time?"
"Don't catch your drift, Michael."
"Don't or don't wish to, Max?"
Still playing stupid, Max tries cloaking their hour long session this morning.
Then, sensing something mutual, asks, "Into it yourself?"
"I've dabbled. Enjoy the roleplay."
"I bet you're a hot top when you want to be, Michael?"
"I suppose I've been accused of being brutal, at times."
Another wave of churning rattled Max's crotch.
"Hmm... into partying?"
"Love'em."
"Sounds like you've had experience, eh?"
"Hell yeah," Michael finally lets go of the pussy-footing around.
"Busy tonight?"
"You've got something going, Max?"
"I'd be interested in seeing what Sam can take."
"Nah. I don't do my little bro, but thanks anyway."
"I wouldn't think of pitting you against your brother, Michael."
"No? You've got another boy in mind?"
"Take notice of the hot twenty-six year old, with the dark brown hair?"
"First thing my balls noticed when I walked in the door!"
"He's all yours tonight, if you want him."
"Hell yeah! What's his limits?"
"We're still exploring." Then looking down, Max comments, "I think you better take care of that soon."
Feeling up the bulge in his pants, Michael replies, "Nah. Save this up for tonight. What's the jockstud's name?"
"Rick Rhodes."
"Is the guy hairy?"
"Like hairy guys, do you?"
"Especially hairy, muscled jocks."
"Hmm... looks like you're going to have a lot of hot fun tonight, Michael. Yeah, Rick's got a full chest of hair... thick, a hot trail down his stomach, that branches out around his navel."
"Damn! He sounds hot!"
With the elevator on course, the conversation continues, as Max deviates, "So, I take it you're into graphic designing?"
"Yeah, but looking for a new outlet."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Tired of the crap I put up with at Trapwell Industries."
"Hmm... Between you and me, Michael, I hear they're on their way out."
"Fuck no! No wonder they've been on my case. What's your source, Max?"
"I'm a keen businessman. I know things like that. Besides, have an informed communications expert."
"That hot shot downstairs?"
"Joshua Courson. Yeah, he's really on the ball."
"Top or bottom?"
"Hands off?" Max informs Michael, with a wry smile.
Laughing his ass off, Michael replies, "Okay. I get the message."
"Don't worry though. Tonight Rick will make up for all your frustrations."
"Tell me about this guy."
"Twenty-six years old, 6'1" tall, 178 pounds..."
"What about cock?"
"Nice. Maybe 9c."
"Nice set of balls to play with?"
"Depends on what you call fun."
"Got toys?"
"What turns you on, Michael?"
"CBT, TT, whipping, watersports, discipline training, maybe some other stuff."
"I think with what you named, you'll keep Rick entertained."
"He can take it, huh?"
Michael's high strung appetite for bdsm looks to aspire to new heights.
"Like I said, we play and see where it goes."
"How long have you been together."
"Sexually or?"
"You two boyfriends?"
Acting coy, Max relates, "I'm not selfish. I'm willing to share, especially with another hot top."
"Any other boys like him around here?" "Other than Sam?"
"Told you I don't do kin."
"There could be a couple of other players, but I'm not sure of the same calibur as Rick. So, tell me about Sam."
As the two reached their destination, Michael's, as well as Max's pleasure tools began to subside, when the talk turned to Sam.
"We both had it kind of rough growing up. Our pop died when he was ten. Me, fourteen. I didn't know until I was almost ready for college that for years our stepdad, the fuck, was abusing Sam."
"He didn't tell you."
"Not till I was about seventeen, did I begin to notice."
"Oh? How did that come about?"
"We slept together in the same room. I know he tried to hide it, but I saw the welts on his back and ass, the marks on his wrists."
"Took a whipping? Tied?"
"Yeah, a few times."
"And never said anything?"
"Not until I mentioned it to him."
Michael went on to tell Max the whole story.
"So, one day I made it my business to be at home, the night our mom was working. I didn't tell Sam I hung out at home, keeping my presence secret. When I heard the basement door creak, that's when I made my move. I already planted myself in an inconspicuous place in the cellar. I listened as he and Sam descended the stairwell, then heard Jack, that was what we called our stepdad, shout out, "Get those clothes off, boy!" I watched as Sam stripped down, Jack pulling his belt from his own pants. Then he tied Sam's wrists together, threw the end over a rafter and hauled him up."
"Then?"
"He began lightly whipping Sam across the ass, then upper back. He kept yelling something like it'll help Sam to be a better man. I sat huddled behind a box for about four or five lashes, til I made my presence known."
"Damn, what happened then?"
"Thing is, I outweighed him, standing inches taller. So, I confronted him, telling him he was a nasty son-of-a-bitch. He turned the belt on me, trying to whip me. I took a couple of lashes across the arms and one or two down my back, but managed to then wrap his belt around my arm. Finally, I hauled him in to my chest, his back against me, the belt around his neck."
"You didn't?"
"Hell! I ain't no murderer. No, that would be too good for this bastard. I just choked him till he almost passed out. Then I released Sam, ripped Jack's shirt open, stripped it, bound his wrists and hauled his ass up."
Michael then folded his arms in front of himself, leaning against one of the lockers, as Max inserted a card into a slot in one of the blue lockers.
"Yeah, sure was a helluva turn on whipping him with his own belt."
"Shit! You whipped your stepdad?"
"Felt real hot hearing him cry out for mercy, as I tanned his hide and shoulders."
"Damn, maybe you're going to last till tonight, but I sure am not!" Max informed Michael.
"Then maybe I should do something about that?"
Not being a bit shy about it, Michael stuck his hand down Max's pants. On the way down, the back of his hand checked out the tight abs.
"Nice," he reported to Max.
But, it wasn't the primary target and in no time, both had vacated their outerwear. Michael stood behind Max, his 9c wedged into Max's hairy asscrack, massaging it lengthways.
"Virgin chute?"
"Yeah and don't intend on having it broken in any time soon! Max stated."
With one hand around Max's erection, Michael ripped his tank off, over his head.
"Hot!" He shouted out, his muscled pecs forced up against Max's muscled back.
"What a waste," Max suddenly blurted out.
"I know," Michael replied, his lips nuzzling at Max's neckline.
Then, to Max's total disbelief, the cranking of his shaft stopped. Michael lay down on the gym bench, faced down.
"What tha? But I thought..."
"Only let dominant muscle jocks have the privilege of doing me. You game, Max?"
Smiling, Max went to straddle the bench. His legs spread wide, his hamstrings touching Michael's thighs, he bent down. Lockerroom sweat already lubed up both bods. Sinking lower, Max's tube touched Michael's ass.
"Hurry up and enter me before I lose interest!"
No problem for Max, as if bugles sounded, he dived in, divided and conquered.
"Ooooooooooooh fuck yeah!" Michael cried out, when his chute spread open, upon Max's blunt instrument forced in.
As if on a rocking horse, Max rode Michael's ass. With the force of the hot fuck, both could sense the movement of the bench beneath them as well. With agility, Max sensed Michael's feet going to the floor, his chest rising, as Michael pressed on the bench.
"Can't get enough, Master Michael?"
Rising up, as Max pounded into Michael, he tried to get more of the fulfilling cock in deeper. His efforts proved futile, since Max was in up to his balls. However, to Michael it seemed possible that he was fitting more of Max inside him.
Getting rough, Max grabbed Michael's hair, pulling his head back and as if claiming a boy's ass, shouted, "Gonna shove this in up to your pecs, boy!"
"Hell yeah!" Michael shouted back, with encouragement.
The manner in which Max sped up the fucking action, it seemed liked he planned to carry out his threat, however the moment of release came first.
"Yeah! Yeah! Oh fuck yeah!" Max shouted, as his load shot out.
In the nick of time, he pulled out, the white goo shooting in gobs onto Michael's back. Not forgetting about Michael's built up reserves, Max wrestled his arms around Michael, his biceps around his chest and with the strength of a hundred stallions, he pulled Michael's back to his chest. Michael's hand already found his elongated cock.
Shooing Michael's hand away, Max, treating him like one of his playtoys, says, "Oh no you don't!"
It didn't take many strokes. Lying down on his back, Max still lodged in ass, jerked Michael's stiff shaft till it erupted, sending a stream of cum into the air, backing up onto Michael's stomach.
"Oh fuck! Oh fuck yeah," Michael screamed out, over and over, squinted his eyes shut, arching his back.
The two, overwhelmed with the aftermath, lay there, Michael's back still to Max's chest, breathing heavy, sweat pouring down each of the chiseled bods. Max's hands slowly moved up and down Michael's bod, as if massaging with cocoa butter, his index finger dipping into the deep, flooded bellyhole.
"Oh man that was so awesome."
"I love plowing a 'real' man," Max softly spoke into Michael's ear.
%
Getting home early, Matt keyed the door. Taking his jacket off, he hung it up in the closet.
'Now, what should I start with first?'
Saved by the bell, as it rang.
"Registered letter, Mr. Kestner," the deep voiced, FedEx man exclaimed.
Smiling, Matt replied, "I'm not Mr. Kestner, but I can take that off your hands."
"This 'is' the residence of Steve Kestner, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Hmm..."
Matt sensed something more than an ordinary delivery.
"Why do you ask?"
"Forgive me. I'm John Kiernan. I've delivered here before. It's just that... well..."
Drawing his own conclusions, Matt asks, "I take it that Steve's invited you in?"
"Oh, not on company time... I mean," John stopped short his explanation, realizing he already incriminated himself.
"We're boyfriends."
"Oh."
A grim composure suddenly came over John.
"The letter?"
"Oh yeah. Here you go. Sign here."
After signing, John handed Matt the letter.
"You're getting a real treasure, that is if you two plan on sticking it out, Matt."
Lost for words, Matt replied a simple, "Thanks."
"Well yeah. I guess I should be going."
Watching John walk down the short hallway, to his truck, Matt sensed 'let down'. He's been there, done that, knowing the feeling. With letter in hand, he runs down the walkway.
"Hey John?"
"Yeah, Matt?" He replies, dropping out of the seat he's climbed into.
"Do you still have Steve's number?"
"Yeah, I've got it."
"Why don't you give him a call. Maybe the three of us can get together?"
"Are you into that?"
Matt realizes what John has proposed. He's not sure of it, never having done it before, but doesn't discount the idea.
Truthfully he replies, "I'm not sure."
"Me neither," John confesses, "never did a three-way myself. Forget I mentioned it."
"No, wait. Why don't you bring a friend with you?"
"Nah. I don't know any guys."
"Well, let's hookup anyway, okay?"
"Sure. When should I call?"
"Later tonight. I'll chat with Steve."
"Cool! Thanks," John replies, more upbeat than the first time he hopped up into his truck.
Stepping inside the door, Matt realizes he's been rubbing his crotch.
'Oh shoot!' he says to himself, peering outside the door, to make sure nobody was about to spot him, doing the dastard deed. Walking into the kitchen, he makes comment to himself, 'he sure was a cutie!' Tossing the special delivery on the table, Matt grabs a glass of fat-free milk and the bag of reduced fat Oreos. 'Hmm... I wonder what this is about?' he quizzes, holding the envelope up to the light. After five cookies and a downed glass of milk, he washes up the glass and breakfast dishes. Upstairs he kicks off his shoes, strips his tee shirt and drops his jeans, changing into a pair of shorts. His mind wanders back to John. With his wandering mind, his hand digs under the beltline of his shorts. Soon, his hand makes his pants tent. Stripping the shorts, he lies down on the bed. Tweaking his right nip with his left hand, his right hand begins stroking. Eyes closed, he pictures inviting John in, stripping him, legs on his shoulders, cock embedded between John's legs. 'Oh yeah!' his words express his excitement. Not too long into his fantasy, he shoots his load onto himself. Lying there, he sighs, saying, 'John, you're such a hot fuck!' Then, after realizing his lunacy, Matt tells himself, 'I'm such a sick dude!' Reaching for a tissue, one turns into a three-tissue cleanup. The doorbell sounds again. 'John?' Matt says to himself, a sign of hope lighting up his psyche. 'Oh man, I should've waited!' grabbing his shorts, Matt jumps into them.
"Boone?"
"Hey, Matt. How's it going?"
"What on earth are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Seattle."
With a bit of mischief in his brother's voice, the eighteen year old replies, "I think you missed some."
Matt looks down upon his barechest front. With his finger, Boone scoops up the tiny bit of cum and licks it.
"Now cut that out," Matt scolds him.
"Hee hee... you always did have the finest tasting cream!"
Matt stands there, hand still on the doorknob.
"Aren't you going to invite your little bro in?"
"Come in."
"Got any Oreos?"
Matt closes the door, following the suitcase laden lad.
"How did you know I was here?"
"I had you followed."
"You what?"
"Psyche!" Boone says to him, joking around.
"What are you doing here?"
"My boyfriend kicked me out. Hmm, nice clean place you have here."
"I thought you stayed at the dorm, Boone."
Turning, from looking the place over, Matt's eighteen year old brother stares him.
"Truth?"
"I think that would be best, Boone."
"I missed you."
The two brothers look each other, dead straight in the eyes. Setting the suitcase down, they drift towards each other.
"You missed me, didn't you Matty?"
"You know it."
"I saw you crying at the airport, when I boarded the plane."
Get misty, sniffling, Matt closes the gap between the two. Taking his brother's cheeks in his hands, Matt moves his head forward, slowly closing his eyes. Boone, reciprocating, follows Matt's lead, puckering up. Their lips meet. Both embrace, kissing passionately.
Breaking the loving reunion, Boone asks, "Can I suck you, Matty? For old time's sake?"
"Yeah, what the heck. C'mon. Upstairs," Matt grabs for the suitcase handle.
%
24 Continued....
Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.