Mr Milky Way -- part 3

stopping abruptly. The crowd hooted and whistled and clapped and stomped. Butch waived at the fans with a patting motion, trying to quiet the tumult. Gripping the podium with both hands, he nodded agreement with the crowd. The dildo shimmied in his ass. He wondered whether his sphincter would pop for the plug end that crammed between his ass-cheeks. "Folks," he schmoozed. "OK, folks," he ventured again. But the crowd was making it own party. The hoopla was becoming frenzied. Butch signaled to the muscle-head at the control panel. The house lights dimmed and the stage lights went out. Only the pin-spot in Butch Taylor remained on,

As the commotion muffled, Butch started his spiel about the importance of Mr Milky Way. He praised the three finalists, citing their many prizes and business ventures. He acknowledged the judges, Wheater Industries, and all the various sponsors, organizers, volunteers, and jock-sniffs. Butch signaled for the stage lights again. The music rose too; Prince's "Sexy MF" blared from the amplifiers. "The right ride for the moment," Butch conceded. Over the whistles and catcalls from the audience, Butch ­shouted, "Hey, everyone of these guys is as sexy as pootie-tang." Well, he knew he had a hard-on. But the irony of his remark escaped him. "OK, let's go!" The music ratcheted up a notch. "Our first finalist. Representing the masters' category, 6' 1', 215 lbs., our hunky senior citizen, at age 52, Mike Miller."

Mike sauntered on stage. A coy smile illuminated his face. The dig about his age was not lost on him. Applause mingled with "Go! Mike!" and "Show us what you got, old man!" Halfway across the stage, Mike shifted into a side double biceps pose. Strictly against the rules, but a sure crowd-pleaser. He winked and waved while the crowd hooted and cheered. A few feet over, He stopped on his mark.

Kip padded on stage next. He was nearly in place before the crown quieted enough for Butch to introduce him above the din. "In the short man's category, 5'2'. 133 lbs., the little man who shows he can, Kip Dekker." Kip raised his arms high, flashed toothy grin. Then he took a deep bow, touching palms to toes.

Butch glanced sideways at Kip's bent torso. The melon-butt, high and form, looked tongue teasingly tasty. Butch gripped the lectern more firmly to steady himself, but he damn well wanted to grip his cock. He moved forward, pressing his thighs and crotch against the wooden panel. A picture flashed through his head of his rod reaming Kip?s butthole. Butch rose on the balls of his feet, rocking gently even more forward He eased up and down as though doing calf-raises. His pecker got a good rubbing against the lectern. Butch pushed so far into the podium that he thought he could feel his nuts pressing against the podium. Several long minutes passed while Butch was in his daydream and until the restless crowd snapped him back to reality.

The crowd was in overdrive. Two buff puppies in the third row were standing on their seats; shirts stripped off; pants down around their ankles. They were getting on with their own pose-down. Their friends cheered them on. The lighting engineer cruised a spotlight over the pair. The crowd rocked. Arms waived, trying to slap the guys on the ass.

"Great show, guys! You look really hot in those Calvin's, but the wet shorts contest is at the bar down the street." The pups slid into their seats and high-fived each other and anybody they could reach.

"Moving on, we have a final finalist for Mr Milky Way. In the tall man category, 6'2", 235Ibs, 32 years old, Vince Tandy." Wild cheers and applause greeted Vince as he strode on stage. He walked heavy and wide, twisting his waist, emphasizing his massive upper-body, towering rhythmically over his mighty legs. Vince was ripped and proud

What startled everyone, what really got the crowd going was the surprising appearance of Vince Tandy under the lights. His skimpy black thong melded into his crotch, masking him with what seemed merely a shadow. As Vince turned, Mike Miller and the others on stage saw that Vince's bikini was nothing more than a gauze pouch, its threadlike string of a waistband held in place by oil and sweat if anything. Vince had made a quick backstage change, and now he had a leg up