Raymond & Dante

[emsgdh]

I know that there are a couple of stories out there about Raymond and Dante that involve dominating their much smaller HS classmate. But I'm sure that there are other stories as well but I can't find them.

Can anyone help ?

Thanks

[Canus]

I liked that story too. I found bits scatered over a lot of diffrent websites and made a tekstfile. I hope someone can add the rest if there is a rest. This is part 1-6.

Does anybody know who was the writer?

"Raymond and Dante Got BIG!"

I was somewhat nervous in my new school, it being at least 10 times bigger than where I'd come from in the upper-midwest; with what seemed to me a huge enrollment, several thousand, I'd heard. Also, I was small for my age, 18, sort of a shrimp, really, not too confident, especially physically. We'd moved to the suburban LA coastal city in mid-August, so I'd had no chance even to try to get to know anybody. I was pretty shy, actually, and daydreamed a lot.

Walking into the school, you could tell right away that Lakewood High was a jock school that loved, even worshipped, its varsity male athletes and their manly prowess. Lots of athletic trophies were in the school lobby. A little early for school, I checked out a big poster board with a photo of the football team for the coming season.

A little nervously, but definitely enraptured, I looked at the picture-a tremendous number of guys, at least 60, maybe more, wearing jeans and T-shirts, most of them pretty tight and muscle-revealing, that said "Lakewood Football," and all with pretty short hair, many downright shaven as if they were recruits to Marine boot camp. It seemed clear that there was an appearance code to be on the team, and that code was the old-fashioned, clean-cut, jock look-which I had always found incredibly alluring, though I'd kept all these feelings to myself. In other words, a photo full of young hunks, some, of course, better looking than others, but all jocks, with that sexy self-confidence of youth who proved their strength and mettle in the most manly of all sports, football, that all-male game played only by the biggest, strongest, most virile guys.

I noticed the back row especially, the tallest guys, had several really good-looking jocks in it. While some of the guys were grinning in the picture, most had the tough-guy "game face" look that said, even when frozen in a photo, "Whattha fuck you lookin' at?" I started to feel a little tingle in my pants as I cruised over these handsome young males, imagining that I might soon be seeing some of them in their real-life, hard bodied flesh.

The bell rang, though, signaling five minutes before my first class, social studies, began, so I began looking for Room 169 somewhere down one of the corridors in the huge school. The hall was crowded with kids of all sorts, but most looking pretty preppy, what I had imagined as California cool-good-looking, most of them, in shape. But I had no real time to look, only to find and then move into the classroom where I'd face my first academic effort at the new school, and also meet my first group of new classmates, some of whom, I hoped would become friends...and, I continued to think, some of whom might include some of the studly young athletes whose pictures I had just been admiring. I entered to find about 10 kids already there, everybody talking to each other, old friends meeting up at the start of a new year, some not having seen each other for all summer. This made me feel a little left out, and, as I often felt, a little nervous. I took a seat at the center/rear of the room to see what would come through the door.

A couple of tall, clean cut guys walked in, who looked like they had to be basketball players, especially at a jock school like this, lanky yet built up compared to many basketball players I'd seen before. Keeping my eyes on them, I could see that they really had pretty good definition without too much bulk in their upper bodies, bulk being hard to keep given all the aerobic exercise involved in their sport. The two guys were talking animatedly as they walked in, and I heard one say to the other, "Man, have you seen Aspen and Pazzini yet? They're HUGE!"

"Yeah," replied the other guy, "Raymond and Dante got BIG this summer! I think they fuckin' lived in the gym down in Florida!"

The guys moved to the back of the room, which was steadily filling up, though far from capacity. People tended to sit with their friends, so the seats right around me remained mostly empty. A middle-aged, thin man with glasses walked in up front, the teacher no doubt, who gave no appearance in his look or demeanor of being anything terribly exciting, and then the bell rang. As the teacher began shuffling papers at his desk, in anticipation of trying to start class (he gave every appearance of being a little nervous himself, something kids always picked up on in a teacher they didn't know right away), the classroom door opened, and, slowly, in walked two young males, who, based on what I'd overheard, were obviously "Raymond" and "Dante." I felt my mouth go dry as I recognized two of the studly football jock gods from the back row of the team football photo I'd looked at in the lobby. To remove any doubt, the guys sported white backwards baseball caps that, when I got that view, I could see read "Lakewood Football."

They were hunks and a half, all right. Big? They were not only tall, well over six feet each, their manly young physiques were pumped up huge, to the max. This being laid-back California, shorts, I had discovered, could be worn to school, and the big boys entering were sporting plaid mid-calf jam shorts, with tight white lycra shorts, the kind the hottest basketball players wore during games under their uniforms, provocatively showing-they had the "Boss" designer name written on them, and clung to the powerful muscle they had above the knee. Besides that they wore really tight, body-hugging, pure white, plain T-shirts, sexily tight, so tight as to show a lot of ab definition as well as the more easily demonstrated pec development. Indeed, Raymond and Dante (and I couldn't know which was which) were, especially for high school guys, even athletes, huge. These guys were built, all right, and showing it, very obviously, and very obviously quite aware of showing, even flaunting, their ripe, strong, manly young jock bods.

Even though they were late, they sauntered in at their own, in-no-hurry pace. They had that jock strut that said, hey, man, I fuckin' own this place. The wimp teacher, as if intimidated, said nothing to them, something their whole body language implied they expected, even demanded as a right due to themselves as, well, studs who ruled. Even though they'd said nothing, they reeked of macho attitude and the manly self-confidence of the strong, aggressive football boy. My tingle in my pants was feeling stronger. To my breathless excitement, and also to some extent fear, one of the studs sat down in the seat in front of me, with his man-buddy next to him in the next row over to the left. I looked in the aisle to the front of me at their massive legs, powerfully muscled from hours and hours of lifting and playing ball, side by side, taking up the whole space, as if to block anybody they felt like blocking from getting by. This, too, sent the message: we fuckin' own the place, we're the jocks, the big boys, we fuckin' rule. I felt incredibly weak, overwhelmed, and lustful...and they had only just sat down!

I was mesmerized by their good looks, with one hunk right in front of me. I smelled manly, Calvin Klein cologne emanating from them, dark, deep, and masculine, intoxicating. I noticed the guy in front of me had a thin gold chain around his massive neck, which, like his legs which I had already taken notice of in the aisle to my left front, was darkly tanned, as if he'd spent the whole summer outdoors at the beach. But sitting right behind him, the most striking thing was his awesome, powerful, impossibly broad, football player shoulders, which the poor old body hugging T-shirt could hardly contain. His male power was tremendously on display. His shoulder blades were huge and full, tremendous bumps under his tight T, and I longed to reach out and cop a feel of his magnificent manly strength. His hair was light brown, short, perfectly clean-cut, not quite a crew cut, but almost, very clean, Marine-like, masculine. His head was turned toward his teammate, and a could see his handsome profile, a little rough looking, darkly, darkly bronzed, as was his teammate's, from a summer of outdoor activity. I imagined seeing these guys in traffic by the beach in an open jeep, shirtless, muscle bound, tanned, cocky, looking great and knowing it and showing it all off.

I was sitting there enchanted by these boy jocks, these hard bodied young gods, looking so hot and putting on display what they had. Knowing that kids tended to stay in the seats they took the first day of a class, I hopefully, yet still with a streak of fear, anticipated a semester of close-up viewing these great-looking young men; giving into my lust mentally, I found myself in seventh heaven. I was daydreaming, hypnotized by the vision of male beauty in front of me, drunk at the thought of such a gorgeous display of studs....

"Suddenly I was brought back to reality, feeling a strong hand grabbing me with force on my leg-it was the jock to the left, shaking me, saying in a deep, commanding, manly, sexy voice, "Hey, bud, I need a fuckin' pencil, man."

He looked commandingly at me, yet at the same time he looked pretty bored, as if contemplating what lay ahead: the teacher droning on for an hour, an hour he could've better spent lifting, playing ball, or getting off. With him looking straight at me, I got a good view of his face-slicked-back black hair, great bronzed skin, also a plain gold chain on top of his tight white T-shirt that matched his buddy's. I was immobilized, drinking in his and his pal's good looks, imagining their summer of "getting big" that had led to their present hard bodied, model good looks.

"C'mon, pal, I ain't got all fuckin' day!" he said, a little louder, again snapping me out of my continuing mesmerized state. He continued to stare at me and, as I continued to have a hard time snapping out of my immobilized dream state, began to grin just a bit, showing great white teeth. He had a real different look when he smiled, just as hot as his "game face," and I snapped to it, fumbling for a pencil in my new notebook. I handed it to him. "Paper, too, babe," he said, now grinning widely, and I could tell that he was quick, that he had immediately caught on, as if he had had this experience before of getting looked at, as if he had in a matter of seconds read my mind with its consuming lust for his strong, super manly, gym- and sport-developed football player body, bursting out of his well- and carefully-chosen tight, jock clothes. I tore a page out of my spiral notebook and handed it to him. He took it and said, "yeah," rather than thank you, as if I owed it to him. I loved his deep, male voice.

To my astonishment, he looked back, making eye contact again, and continued our encounter. "Hey, buddy, are you new here?" he asked. Nervous, really unable to speak, filled with lust and totally intimidated at the same time, I just nodded, my throat dry, realizing that he had returned his huge hand to my thigh, which he began squeezing ever so slightly, as if to say, hey, fuck, I own you, bud, I can touch and play with any part of you I fuckin' feel like. "Hey, Dante, meet our new little friend here," he said to the hulking muscle hunk in front of me, who turned back now, giving me a great, up-close view of his masculine face and blue eyes. Yes, they were two of the most handsome team members whose pictures I had stared at in the lobby just a few minutes ago, dreaming that maybe, just maybe, I would encounter them in school-and here they both were, right next to me, and one was, I could tell, on to my secret lust right off the bat.

"What the fuck's your name, buddy?" asked the boy whose name I now knew, by the process of elimination, had to be Raymond.

"Duh...Duh...Delbert," I stuttered out with difficulty. He was keeping his commanding eye contact with me, which, scared, I with difficulty succeeded in breaking, deciding to try to catch a better look at big-shouldered Dante, who, I discovered, was now looking intently at me, too. Raymond was slyly grinning now, whereas Dante still had the impassive, "I'm a stud, what-the-fuck are you," look of the young football god that he was, and that he knew he was.

"Delbert, huh?" Raymond's handsome smile-quite apart from his awesome body, he really was quite good-looking---filled his face now, and though he didn't say it, his leer implied, "what a fuckin' dumb name." "Well, man, I'm Raymond, Raymond Aspenb, and this is Dante Pazzini. We're gonna be schoolmates, I see," stated big, smiling Raymond, now squeezing my leg steadily, his big, powerful hand slowly but surely creeping up my leg just a bit. Of course I was totally hard by now as his big hand approached, and I was sure that he knew this. "Give our little Del guy a handshake, Paz," said Raymond to his gym buddy. Dante held out a truly massive hand that dwarfed mine, which he took and shook, hard--incredibly hard.

"Feel the power, Del baby," said handsome Raymond. "Dante's the biggest mother fuckin' linebacker in the Suburban Eight Conference this year. USC and UCLA are lookin' at him. You play football, Del?"

The question was ridiculous, of course, given my stature and structure, and of course Raymond knew perfectly well that I couldn't possibly be a player. The purpose of the question, clear to both of us, was to inject a little trace of humiliation, to state who was boss, already, in our infant relationship. Still feeling flooded with lustful emotions, intimidated, and inferior, I slightly shook my head. His caressing of my leg was pretty high up now.

"Well, that's OK, my little man, you can be one of our fans-an 'athletic supporter' of the stud football team at good old Lakewood High," Raymond said, his hand now all the way up my leg, feeling my hard-on, the hardest one I'd ever had. "Yeah, I can tell you fuckin' like football players, man." Moving his head to my ear, he whispered, as my nose drunk in his manly smelling CK cologne, "Hard bodied jocks get you hard, baby...I can tell." With that, he squeezed a bit, and the incredible happened...I shot.

This seemed to surprise Raymond, whose hand could feel even through my pants the wetness, but he quickly digested this new fact and, with that sixth sense of a stud top who knows his role instinctively, like a powerful runner on the football field who can thread his way through the holes in the line, smirked at me. He was not only a hunk to look at, he was razor-sharp in understanding me and my feelings toward him and his breed. And it seemed clear that he was into being a "top" himself.

"Yeah, baby!" he said softly to me, now grinning full, flashing white teeth, full of handsome triumph, like he'd just scored a touchdown or benched a higher weight. "Got your juices flowin'. A fuckin' flood!" Edging toward me, he lowered his deep voice a little more and said, "You DO like your boys big! And my buddy and I spent all summer in South Beach, really, really gettin' dark and big." He paused, and looked at Dante, who still had a basically clueless expression on his masculine-looking face. "Dante, this guy is like that 'admirer' we met at the club the first night we went out." At this, the linebacker's face showed comprehension, and he looked at me with a mean, not a smiling, look, one communicating a total top feeling, of control mixed with a certain contempt.

"Ah, fuck, another one of them," said Dante. "Damn, they're fuckin' everywhere." He stretched a little, and his tremendous musculature rippled beneath his form-fit T.

"I think we attract 'em, Paz, big man," said Raymond with a cocky, jock smile.

The preceding seemed to me to have taken hours, and I was in shock, feeling spent and weak, especially in the presence of these strong young jocks who, in a matter of moments, had totally clued in to what I had previously known to be my secrets. Again snapping out of another state of reverie, I noticed that the teacher had at some point during this actually begun the first day of class routine, and the two jocks half-heartedly turned their attention up front, and away from me. As class proceeded, the boys ignored me, leaving me to contemplate the situation as the teacher went on and on. I felt a combination of scared elation and horrified fear.

One look at these muscle bound guys revealed that they could break my neck with one strong arm tied behind their massive, sun bronzed backs. One of them, Dante, had basically expressed a rather indifferent contempt for me, in a hard, scary way. But as I thought more, it seemed clear that he was the follower in the "couple," as I liked to imagine them (I could quickly begin dreaming up a lot of fantasies involving these two exciting super jocks), and it was true that Raymond came off as experienced with male "admirers" of his body, and his grin suggested he got at least a certain kick out of such admiration--at the very least; maybe he even liked to have....fun with his "admirers." After all, he'd touched my leg, kept at it, even to the point where he'd-how embarrassing!--actually made me come--- in class! Suddenly I remembered that I'd gotten a wet spot, and hoped it would dry enough by the end of class. How humiliating it someone noticed!

With the bell suddenly ringing, Raymond and Dante both got up. Big? They were huge football boys, incredibly developed muscularly speaking for high school boy/men. And their tight, stereotypically jock clothes, the shorts, the Boss lycra under shorts showing, the form-fit Ts drawing attention to their wide shoulders, pumped-up pecs, and rippled abs---it was all awesome. Dante, predictably, moved away without saying anything, but Raymond, as I'd secretly hoped despite my butterflies, moved toward me for a parting remark. This time, though, there was no smile, just the handsome, in-control square jaw in my face. In a low voice so only we could hear it, he, deliberately of course (I had figured out that this guy was sharp, he had my number, and he dug the role for his own part), fed my fantasies:

"We're off to lift, to get even bigger, Del baby...but we'll get to know you real good real soon. And we've got some teammates you'll appreciate, too. See ya, fag! We're gonna feed your fairy face, cocksucker! See ya a whole fuckin' lot this semester! This is just the start of all your faggot wet dreams comin' true! Cummin' true, that is!"

At this, he turned to join his man buddy who waited for him at the door, leaving me feeling weaker than ever. A couple of seconds later, I overheard a girl say to another, "God, those guys are such hunks! They look like Chippendales! They are so built!"

"Yeah," laughed her friend, "I really want to feel their arms around me. Maybe we'll get lucky!"

I felt conflicted, a fear of what these guys might do, and yet, full of lust, a lust which overwhelmed, I decided-in a moment, really-- to surrender, to face what I was, and said to myself, this is my lucky day. I could hardly wait for my next encounter with the big boys. And the school year was just beginning.

After my encounter with the two hunky football jocks in class, who had immediately tuned in to my lust for them and, incredibly, actually made me come in my pants, I found it pretty hard to concentrate on the next class. Rather, I mostly daydreamed about what had happened and waited for classes to change again, hoping I'd see big stud Raymond and his surly teammate Dante, the all-star linebacker with the massively big, broad shoulders bunched under the clingy tight white T-shirt, in the hall. Raymond had said that they were going to "lift" the next period, something they obviously did a lot of, but I wasn't sure what that meant. Was weightlifting a class? New to the school, I didn't know where the weight room was-though I sure wanted to learn. It seemed, based on the evidence I had so far, to be one of the centers of young male life at Lakewood.

Near the end of that next class, a super boring one about business math, a messenger came to the door and called out my name. I was summoned to the counseling office to see "Coach Perry." Finding my way through the milling crowds, I walked through the school lobto sneak a peek again at the team photo of the studly Lakewood Tigers. In the back row I found Raymond and Dante, both true to the form I'd come to know so fast-Raymond with a killer stud grin, cocky as hell, and Dante with the impassive, mean-looking "I'm a stud" face of natural jock superiority. I looked at the coaches in the front row and saw the best-looking one, a young, handsome guy with slicked-back blond hair and a strong chest testing the tight T. Sure enough, the list of names revealed him to be Doug Perry, who had summoned me to this counseling office.

I felt weak and breathless. Other fine looking specimens of virility, brimming with testosterone, looked at me through the photograph. I was in love and intensely desirous to meet these muscular athletes. Suddenly I snapped back to reality as a group of loud, rowdy boys entered the lobby; I scurried out, a little intimidated, and headed to the counseling office. Upon entering it, I handed the note to the secretary, who motioned me toward a back office. Approaching it, I heard several deep, male voices in animated conversation, and recognized at once the sounds of the two young football playing muscle gods I had just met. Deep-throated laughter could be heard, cocky laughter. Fearful yet inevitably drawn in, I timidly knocked on the door, on which was taped a smaller version of the same team photo, full of good looking, clean cut guys, in the school lobby.

The door opened, and there stood handsome Coach Doug Perry; seated in the back of the office were Raymond and Dante, looking good, now wearing tight white tank tops that showed off powerful muscle and arm development, and which were cut off below their pecs, showing muscled, tanned midriffs with a white strip of "Boss" sport lycra underwear showing on top of black shorts.

Coach Perry wore a form fit, muscle-flattering knit shirt; it said "Tiger Football" while accentuating his hard, manly build; he appeared to be quite young, mid-twenties, and full of muscle. Before he could say anything, Raymond called out, "How's it hangin', Del buddy?," and flashed a handsome, aggressive, shit-kicking grin. "Is it leakin'?" Dante, looking huge and a little angry, said nothing, but seemingly flexed his strong young arms, as it to check our his muscle himself, but also, obviously, to draw my attention to his manly young strength.

"You're Delbert, right?" asked Coach, and I nodded, feeling whimped out in the presence of all the macho males, two of whom knew for sure that I was attracted to and intimidated by them, and who for all I knew had told their football coach all about me. "Listen, buddy, somebody in the office figured out that you need another physical education course to graduate, so we're gonna take you out of your next period study hall and put you in gym class-we picked the advanced PE course for you, with the guys your age, like Raymond and Dante here. We figured that would be better for you than to be with the little kids-we're putting you with the big boys." Coach seemed to smile a little at this, while Raymond's smile was huge now, as huge as his tanned arm muscles which, in imitation of his muscle buddy Dante, he was now flexing a little, to show off, to get to me. "The guys said that met you in class and they'll take care of you."

"Damn right, buddy," said Dante, his smile suddenly vanishing as he cast a stern look right at me. We made eye contact, and I felt overwhelmed by his macho, stud top power. "We'll take him down to the locker room and get him goin'." At this, the two big boys stood up and prepared to escort me out of Coach's office. They were so big and huge and powerful and male and aware of being studs and getting off on being studs. I shook a little with fear of what they might do to me, yet also with unsurpassed lust and excitement at the contemplation of what lay ahead.

"You guys playin' ball at noon, right?" asked Coach, quickly interrupting my dreamy thoughts.

"Hell, yeah, man, see you then," said Raymond, and he slapped his big palm into his coach's strong hands in a male-bonding gesture of athleticism. Coach leaned over and gave a caress to Dante's massive shoulder blades. "Pump it good," said Coach as we walked out the door, and gave me a wink and a faint smile. And so I found myself again in the presence of the two super jocks, in their custody, and I was incredibly turned on by that fact. I was under the control of these hunks, who knew what I wanted and who, it seemed, were on the same wavelength, just the top to my subservient self. The guys flanked me as we walked out, saying nothing as we walked down the hall, leading the way, I in their strong, manly power. I actually felt somewhat safe under their powerful protection. I summoned up the courage to say, "uh, I don't really have any gym clothes with me."

"That's OK, buddy boy, we're gonna fuckin' take CARE of you," said Raymond, putting his strong arm around my waist and squeezing me just a little. "We're gonna give you what you need in the locker room, fuckin' A, you bet!"

"Fuckin' A right," said Dante in a deep voice.

"Well give you some clothes to work out in. You got nothin' to fear." Raymond looked at me, and as I looked back, I saw a look of what seemed like actual affection in his eyes, as he repeated, almost looking kind, "You're gonna fuckin' love being' with us...and our buds, too! Hey Dante, there are the twins!"

"Pokin' around a little with their girls, I see," replied Raymond's big teammate. "Damn! Anthony's practically plowin' her right in the fuckin' hall! And Michael's tongue's invadin' her mouth like his dick would invade her pussy!" At this, Dante gave my ass a little squeeze, really the first time he'd seemingly even taken notice of me. It felt exciting.

As I looked down the hall, I saw the backsides of two strong guys, obviously athletes, each of whom held a much smaller girl against the wall, leaning over them in an overpowering, sort of protective but clearly dominant way. Getting closer, I saw that the boy closer to me was deeply, aggressively kissing his attractive girlfriend, while his right hand was actively caressing her waist. The other twin-and they were dressed alike, in tight jeans, especially tight on their huge, football player asses and strong upper legs, and skintight navy blue T-shirts that strained to cover their overdeveloped back muscles while drawing attention to their narrow waists-was dry-fucking his girl, in a very public way, pumping her regularly, grinding his strong ass as he pumped into her, keeping real close contact with her face, talking to her in a dominant sort of way. Each of the boys was about six feet and had buzz cuts on their heads. Obviously they were teammates of Raymond and Dante. Their behavior toward the girls indicated that they were sexed-up young jock males who looked good, knew it, and took advantage of their good looks and hard, alluring bodies in an aggressive way to get off as much as their testosterone-brimming nuts felt the need, which was a hell of a lot. I felt a new surge of excitement in my own pants as we approached them, and I got an even better look at their clean cut, muscled bodies which they were deliberately showing off with their tight clothes.

"Hey guys, how's it hangin'-hard?" greeted Raymond to his football pals.

The hunks virtually dropped their girls on the floor as they turned to their pals. I now saw that their upper bodies were also pumped-up and strong-looking. "That's your new friend the faggot, right?" said one, flashing a dazzling smile at me as he made the humiliating statement.

His twin held out a strong young arm, took my hand, pressed the flesh hard, and said, with a grin, "Pleased to meet ya, faggot. Welcome to Lakewood Tiger Football-man-style! The biggest and the studliest!"

I was speechless, now that four stud jocks had me, knew about me, and were letting me know they knew. What could I say? Besides, I was really excited now, and becoming, in my own way, more comfortable with my lustful desires that I had, until today, kept to myself. Was it that obvious, how I felt about studs like these young football boys? Apparently so, at least to them, with their radar-like sensitivity to getting admired. And while I couldn't help but be a little scared, they, too, seemed to get off on the scene that was developing.

"Now, come on, guys, " intoned Raymond, "show the faggot a little respect. Ya haven't even been properly introduced. Delbert baby, these are the Gray brothers, Michael and Anthony respectively, tight ends for the Tigers, and they have the builds and hard asses that show it!"

They indeed looked the same, and together looked really sexy. We had walked down the halls as their girls were left behind for the apparently more intriguing of meeting their buddies' new "friend," me. Like Raymond and Dante, they reeked of male "attitude."

"Have you fucked her yet?" asked Dante of the twin who'd been doing the bump and grind with the girl as he had talked to her close-up, face to face.

"Nah, we only met the other day, ya know, but I can tell she wants to have me pump her real good. I'm playin' a little hard to get. I was just tellin' her how hard she makes me get whenever we're together, and makin' sure she could feel my hardon. I'm gonna do her at the party after Saturday night's game I think; 'course I really need to get my rocks off before."

"That's where this faggot comes in, buddy boy," said Dante without a crack of a smile on his darkly tanned model face.

"So where are we goin', anyway?" asked the other twin.

"To Coach Perry's office in the locker room. We're gonna officially welcome Delbert here as the cocksuckin' slave mascot of the Lakewood Stud Tiger Posse. Ya like that, don'tcha Del? Dont'cha?"

At that Raymond stared at me with that overpowering eye contact. He really was great looking, whether he looked tough and mean or was smiling seductively. I couldn't break that contact, but was too scared/lustful to speak.

Raymond said, "Nod your little jock-servin' head, little boy. Say yes, now."

I nodded, and Raymond gave me his killer smile as a reward, which more than made it worth it.

"Alright-it's 'consensual.' Here we are, everybody...it's score time!" announced Raymond.

We entered the locker room door and walked into that all-male sanctum with its distinctive manly smell, one I had always found as intoxicating as the presence of a jeepful of tanned, built, shirtless young men at the beach. The locker room was quiet, as we were a little late for that period, and we walked down a corridor into an office with Coach Perry's name on the door, and that same team photo.

Once inside, I noticed some sexy photos on the shelves of young, Clean cut, hard bodied and shirtless males in various settings. Coach not only bred muscle strength in his role in the athletic department, he documented it for his own collection of memorabilia from the Tiger football strength program. Here I was, in the presence of four strong, pumped-up jocks, ready to "initiate" me. With complete surrender and hope for a long future with these horny guys, and perhaps their muscular teammates I had yet to meet but wanted to, I found my voice to express my deepest desires, all of which were, I suddenly had a feeling, about to fulfilled.

"You guys are so stud!" I said, a little haltingly, a little embarrassed to get it out, still not completely sure how they might react. I felt a flush of red in my cheeks, to have said such a dumb-sounding thing in the presence of such male beauty. Would they contemptuously beat the fuckin' shit out of me? To my relief, Raymond the stud ringleader took over.

"Damn straight little guy, you have good taste." He was smiling, as were the twins; Dante out of habit kept his mostly mean face." You have an eye for real men."

"That's what all the girls say when we nut 'em," chimed in a twin, all-smiles. "That girl I banged last weekend-what was her name, Tony?..."

"...Who the fuck knows," replied his brother, to a general laugh that even Dante joined in...

"...that's what she kept sayin' after I had drilled her hard and we were layin' there-'you are soo-oo stud,' and she kept feelin' up my big bis."

"How 'bout a feel of my biceps, faggot boy?" asked Michael. "You wanna cop a feel of real male muscle, right?" He flexed his mighty young arm, and without any further invitation I put my small hand around it. It was truly huge and excitingly manly. He radiated pride in his macho arms. "Yeah, buddy, give it a feel. That's a man's bicep, fuckin' A." Smiles lit up the room at this scene, as all the guys had big strong arms that frequently drew admiring attention from girls...and others.

"Hey Del man, before you get too enraptured with out tight end's big arms, don't you think we should all get a little more comfortable?" asked Raymond. "C'mon, be a pal, help us all get our shirts off."

"Yeah, man," said Anthony with a smile. "It's great to go shirtless."

"When you're buffed and big and built," added Raymond.

"Now be careful, fag. We like our Ts nice and tight, so you'll have to work at strippin' us down with tender lovin' care. Don't rip my Calvin T."

I needed no further instructions. The twins put their massive backs to me, and I couldn't help giving their muscular shoulders a little caress, to which they responded with a little flex, before putting their skintight navy Ts out of their jeans. They put their arms up to help me get the Ts over their heads, and then turned to face me, their strong, manly chests naked and solidly built with a good tan. Peeking out of their jeans in front were grey Calvin Klein stretch underwear labels. In fact they now looked like the classic old tough-guy studs in the earlier CK ads, which I had ogled over, dreamed over.

"Now me and Dante, man," said Raymond. This time they faced me as I helped them out. Dante, predictably, did virtually nothing to help me, staring at me sneeringly, coldly. His chest turned out to be as magnificent as his back, with huge, huge pecs for someone still in high school. Obviously his lifting was very, very serious. In a group of muscle boys, he had the greatest pride in his build and the manliest body of all. Raymond smiled throughout and helpfully raised his arms to assist my revealing his great, darkly tanned chest. I had fleeting pictures of the two of them at South Beach, gettin' big this past summer.

Now I was in the presence of four shirtless football jocks, and felt overpowered with lust. Their cologne smelled great and made me want to get even closer, and of course it looked like I would-but how, exactly?

"Your turn bud...but it don't look like your physique is too well developed, is it?" said Raymond, in control. "So to make yourself more comfortable, strip down to your shorts. Let's see what you're packin' it in." Obediently, I took off my shoes and trousers to reveal my "brand X" department stores briefs, which were tented up noticeably. This provided an opening for the studs.

"Hey, look, buds, he's happy to see us."

"What the fuck, look at the time," said Michael. "Let's do him and get on with our workouts before noon b-ball." With that, he took off his shoes and jeans and stood there before me in his stretch grey Calvin jamshort-style underwear, which not only clung to his big-sized male organs but stretched tight against his strong young quads. His teammates did the same, and now I found myself with four gods in their designer briefs. Dante, of all the four, was surprisingly the most visibly sexually excited, his Boss shorts bulging, with even a drip of precum visible.

"So, fag, what would you like?" asked Raymond with mock-kindness. "The welcoming committee aims to please. Will it be in the throat.."-at this he grabbed my neck and held it with power, not so much as to make me fear, but to show his muscular strength-"...or in your fuckin' faggot face?" At that, to my completely surprise and astonishment, he spat, as hard as he could, into my face. It was amazing how much of his spit had come out on me. I was too stunned to say or do anything. His pals, though, loved it, and let me know as the comments and laughter began.

"All fuckin' right-spit on the little queer!" said Dante, showing uncharacteristic enthusiasm. He moved to my face and copied his buddy's action. A copious load, helped out by his contempt, sprayed over my now-drenched face. Saliva now covered my face. The twins took hold of my hands so as to prevent my cleaning it off, and the spit sat there, slowly beginning to dry. The boys all laughed, almost sounding good-natured about it. My dick was hard, which was noticed by King Stud Raymond, who squeezed it, but not too hard so as not to make me blast.

"Del here likes gettin' his face wet, I can tell-look how hard his tiny little dick is," said Raymond. "But I think he deserves a taste in his mouth, too, don't you think? Some slurps, then some big, big spurts!"

"Whatever you say, you pervert!" said Michael, with a friendly slap on Raymond's muscled back. "But I wanna blast now-then go lift."

"Ready to get fed for real, Del?" asked Raymond. This time I nodded, aware with shame/lust that I had been humiliated with the spitting of the studs on my worthless mascot face. What now? "Get ready to use those lips for the purpose they were made for. Ever sucked cock?" I shook my head a little, inwardly excited by the very words, words that I had dreamed of, even though I didn't really have much idea what that might be like. "I thought you were a rookie. We really are fulfilling your dreams, aren't we? Aren't we?" he repeated, as I was too overwhelmed to respond. Again I nodded, and he rewarded me for this with a handsome smile and a pat on the head, as if I were his pet...which I sort of was, and was happy to be, given how gorgeous he was.

"OK, Michael buddy, poke it in his mouth." And so I got my first taste of cock from this handsome young twin tight end. He was circumcised and very hard and thick. I got the help of a little coaching from his twin brother Anthony, who held my head with power.

"That's it, faggot, take it in...use your tongue to give him some extra pleasure."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," said Michael as I attempted to follow Anthony's coaching suggestions. My tongue felt the spongy material of his cut head, and it was enrapturing to say the least I felt totally under control and dominated, and loved it. Raymond, ever aware, had his hands gently mangling my own hard, now dripping nuts. Michael poked deep into my mouth, but not too deep. It turned out that he knew-he seemed, as did they all, quite sexually experienced--that he was a quick to come sort, and he didn't want me to miss out on the taste. With a final "yeah," he shot into my mouth, followed by moans of pleasure. This event, obvious to his buddies, set off their further "coaching."

"All right, he flooded his fag mouth," said Raymond. "Hold him tight, Anthony, help him keep it all in. Now enjoy the taste, Del, before you swallow it all down. Oh yeah, he's doin' it." Indeed, I was able, with their strong hands keeping my head straight, not to lose any, and to, after savoring the taste for a few seconds in my mouth, swallow the jock's load of stud semen. Quite naturally, I let out a deep sigh of contentment, which Dante picked up on.

"Ah, listen to the queer, he thinks he's fulfilled, he fuckin' loved it. I knew he sucked jock cock the first time I laid eyes on his fairy face."

"Ya liked that, Del?" said Raymond with a stud grin. I nodded, speechless, still enjoying the taste. "Ya did good...ya did cocksuckin', fuckin' good, for a newcomer. Now look at me"-I did-"and tell me, buddy...hungry for more?" Without hesitation I nodded, which lit up his tanned face with his great looking full smile. "Good, 'cause three of us haven't shot yet." With that, he spit again in my face, but with a big smile on his face as he did it, as if he did it, really, to make me as much as himself happy. It did.

"Damn right," chimed in Anthony.

"He gives pretty good head for a first-timer," said Michael, reaching over and affectionately rubbing my head with his strong, powerful, huge right hand. "This is gonna be fuckin' great! You're a born Hoover, man!"

"Now let's finish the job on his fag face," said Raymond. "We wet it up with out spit...now comes the real man stuff!" With that, the three unspent jocks pulled out their dicks, which hung out of their sexy designer briefs, which still contained the rest of their bulging nuts. They started poking at my soft, pale cheeks with their dicks, which got harder. My own dick stood out of my briefs now at full mast. They probed my face, their hardons pumping against my skin, all three of them, crowded on its surface, as they uttered deep sounds of animal pleasure. They patted my head and strongly felt up my neck, showing power.

Suddenly, Raymond their leader said, "Here I go, guys...open up, fag," and pulled his dick back just a bit. I eagerly opened wide, hoping for a second taste of something I already had a greater desire for than anything in the world. As Raymond shot, he "accidentally" missed for the most part my anticipating mouth, instead spurting powerful gobs of come all over my nose and cheeks. This set off his two buddies, who just as deliberately aimed for my cheek, forehead, and eyes. I was literally blinded by the blasts in my eyes, shot by the top jocks who were getting off on my humiliation. The cumfest set them off, loudly.

"All fuckin' right! Look at him!" said Raymond, laughing, joined at once by the twins, with even Dante, I could just see, cracking a smile over the mess on my wet face. At this, I shot myself, which Raymond immediately took note of. "Look, he fuckin', fuckin' loved it! He got off himself with no hands! We have found ourselves a guy who wants to serve us sexually in the worst faggot way!"

My face remained covered and dripping wet. As some of the come slithered down, the twins again kept hold of my hands, denying me the natural movement of cleanup. Now Raymond egged on his stud buddy Dante: "Wanna help him out, Dante man?"

Dante surprised me by taking over the scene. "You are a fuckin' mess, ya know that? Ya know that, fag? Fuckin' answer me!" I nodded, a little afraid as I looked at his angry, male face. But he was really good looking, even beneath the top jock anger, so I couldn't take my eyes off him. He seemed to understand this. "Well, we gotta go soon, and I fuckin' guess ya gotta at least not be fuckin' drippin' when you leave here? So I fuckin' guess I'll have to dirty my fingers to clean you the fuck up." With this, Dante began rubbing the come into my face. Where it had dripped, he managed to get pieces of it covering his fingers, almost ropes, which he then offered to me. "Here's your faggot dessert, you dumb queer," he said, feeding me. I eagerly lapped it up off his fingers. "Yeah, you fuckin' love it, you silly faggot." After a few "dishes" of this, I longingly kept his finger in my mouth, subserviently licking it as I stared at his handsome tanned face. He looked back with contempt, with Raymond offering the commentary, "Look, he fuckin' wants to suck Dante's middle finger! Don't waste your lips, Del babe...plenty more cock for you to get to know in our team posse!"

The anticipation of that flashed through my head, and my eyes moved toward a photo on Coach's shelf of a group of muscled, shirtless guys, leering for the camera, on the patio of what looked like a shore or summer house. I only recognized the twins in it, noting that they were considerably stronger now than in the photo. The other guys were strangers, strangers I hoped to meet. So far I had encountered four young football hunks, plus their best looking coach, with incredible, dreamy results. What else lay in store?

Raymond interrupted my usual dreamlike state as if he had read my mind. "We'll have to get him over to Coach's beach house on Saturday afternoon. That'll be Round Two, Del buddy. We'll introduce you to some more of our buddies and teach you a few new tricks! You've only just begun your career of servin' hunks!"

With that, deep male laughter resounded in the Coach's office, and I looked around at the grinning, shirtless muscle jocks...even Dante smiled.

I thought I was in heaven.

Raymond And Dante Get Bronzed (R&D, Part 3)
By Tony P Story submitted June 15, 1998


Having tasted mightily of the delicious, thick, creamy white cum of the four pumped-up, lusty Lakewood Tiger varsity football studs, and shot my biggest load ever myself, I felt weak, spent, drained in the moments after superhunks: Raymond, Dante, and the tanned jock brothers Anthony and Michael had had their mighty manly way with me in Coach Perry's cramped locker room office. Yet it was only a couple of seconds, actually, until Anthony spoke, in the same deep, manly voice that all the cocky, dominating, athletic hunks seemed to have, breaking my reverie and calling the hunks back to their eternal business-of getting bigger and studlier.

"Come on, guys, we gotta go lift now if we're gonna fuckin' get any pump time in before noon basketball. Gotta go get big!"

"You guys go on down to the weight room," said Raymond, his hand going up to slick back his shiny, clean, short dark hair. "I'm gonna continue the initiation of our new cock suckin' friend here awhile." With that he ever so slightly smiled, radiating self-aware handsomeness and looking dead straight at me. I felt my cock stir yet again.

"Suit yourself, man, we're gonna go fuckin' get bigger," replied big strong Dante, who got up, his massive build taking up a lot of space in the small office. He picked up his discarded muscle-hugging white T-shirt, and moved toward the door to the coach's office where the sexing had taken place. Ignoring me, he gave his buddy an athletic slap of the palms and moved on out. The tight end brothers, who followed him, proved friendlier, after their own jocktop fashion.

"You give fuckin' great head, man...you're a real Hoover! You suck it up, you're really into it," said a grinning Anthony, staring directly and powerfully into my eyes. "I really got off a great load; thanks, bud!" With that he slapped me in a jock friendly way, but powerfully enough-and he knew it, did it deliberately, to show muscular strength-that I felt my breath taken away momentarily.

"Damn right...what the fuck's his name anyway?" asked Michael, looking at football team mate Raymond, who grinned at the contempt-laden comment.

"Delbert, he fuckin' says," replied Raymond, smiling full at the dumb ass name. "Little cock-suckin' Del, I call him."

"Well, we're gonna call him Hoover, cause that's what he does-don't ya, you hungry jock sniffin' queer?" With that Michael grabbed my nuts, still naked and damp from the recent shooting of my dick, and got in my face, laughingly aggressive. I at this point really felt no fear, just the usual delicious intimidation in the presence of the young stud gods. "Yeah, babe, you're Hoover," Michael continued, tugging on my nuts and causing more blood to flow into my dick, "'cause..."-he paused for a moment, then, with effort, spit as hard he could, right onto my face as he yelled-"...'cause you fuckin' SUCK!"

Anthony picked up on this, grabbing me and pulling me to look into his good looking jock face, "But you fuckin' love it, right?" I nodded, with Michael's spit glistening on my nose and cheeks. "Hell yeah you love it...born to help guys get their rocks off with you fuckin' hungry mouth. Hoover-that's it. That's his new fuckin' name. I dig it." Deep, manly laughter from the three hunks filled the small room. "See ya, Hoover!" he added, patting my little head with his big strong hand.

With this the brothers picked up their T-shirts, high-fived Raymond, and headed to follow their more dedicated, and hence bigger, team buddy Dante down to the palace of male muscle building, the varsity football team's weight room. As he left, Michael turned around once more to make a parting remark: "We're gonna tell all out athlete buddies we got a new 'hoover' at Lakewood! More ways for out posse to get off!"

With that, they were gone too, leaving me to face Raymond Aspen, the leader of the whole scene that had in one morning transformed my life, alone. I felt totally, wonderfully subservient to this intelligent jock top, trusting him to take care of me with his strong muscular body and his stud instincts, yet, perhaps inevitably, I also still felt a little fearful of what he might do with me. Additionally, I felt a little embarrassed to be one on one with a super hunk who knew me and seemingly fully understood my lusts almost better than I had known them myself, who had made me face up to what I wanted and needed-who had actually liberated me, brought me out. It was scary and yet exhilarating at the same time.

Embarrassed, actually feeling a blush in my cheeks, I avoided eye contact with the football hunk whose come I had just drunk, whose large, tanned, muscle bound body, virtually naked and thus available, was ever so close to me, whose cologne smelled so good, so manly, until I felt his huge hand back on my thigh, like back in the classroom earlier that morning-it seemed ages ago, so much had happened-asserting manly possession.

I looked at his face and saw he was staring intently at me. Once eye contact was made, I was totally in his dominating power. He was so clean-cut and tanned, really very, very handsome, short, dark, slicked hair, and oh so aware of his alluring power over me, and many others, no doubt. A guy who got looked at a lot and had come to really get off on that-and on a lot more. He took a big hand up to my face and, using a finger, mopped up his buddy's spit, then poking it in my mouth. I licked the spit off his finger.

"You dug that scene, right?" Scared for reasons I couldn't explain-I really DID trust him-I just sort of nodded again. "Your first taste of man sperm, right?" Again all I could do was nod, I felt so weak in his muscular presence, as if what little strength I had was drained out of me my his mere manly presence. My throat was dry. I couldn't take my eyes off him-his eye contact demanded that I look at, drink up his adorably handsome presence. With his sixth sense, he seemed to understand. "Yeah, I had you figured out all the way straight out. But tell me, little Delbert, little Hoover-man, are you startin' to feel secure now in your role with me and the boys? Speak up, babe," he added, now caressing my thigh, showing his strength through his kneading hands. He sounded tough still-he really couldn't come off any other way, I was sure, even if he tried, given his huge, clean cut, muscled jock look--, yet almost kind, building up my confidence.

"Um, yeah, yeah, Raymond," I replied with effort. "You guys are...aw... awesome." There, I had gotten it out. This made the football hunk smile just a little-God, what perfect white teeth, which looked so good against his tanned face--, and with this encouragement, I continued. "I mean, I never actually did anything like that before, but, but..."

"...but you damn well wanted to service big boys, hell yeah, right?" Raymond demanded, keeping eye contact, grinning just a little more. God, was he handsome when he smiled! "You fuckin' had wet dreams about it, I'll fuckin' bet, right?" Again feeling weakened and speechless, I just nodded my head. "I always say that born cock suckers can NEVER get enough of that creamy manly stuff-they fuckin' LIVE for it! Born to suck, that's you, babe. And lemme tell ya, Del man, you got a horny bunch of stud athletes who are on to your suck action, damn straight! They're gonna fill you up all right-and you're gonna fuckin' love it! Plenty more lettermen where these studs came from. You're gonna love drinkin' it up, swallowin' it hard and direct from these stud guys!"

Handsome, dark Raymond now moved his good-looking face right in front of mine, as his fingers had reached right beside my nuts, which were now semi-hard and beginning to wet up a little, yet again. I hadn't known just how often I was capable of getting off, given the incredible stimulation.

"Open you little mouth, faggot, nice and wide," commanded Raymond in his deep voice. Trustingly, I obeyed. "Stick your little tongue out, that's it, there ya go," he continued. Then he shocked me by poking his own tongue against mine and then aggressively invading my mouth. I had never been kissed, yet alone kissed with strong, probing tongue action, let alone by a super jock.

At the same time, his hand took hold of my dick and pulled on it, as if to draw come out. I yielded totally, smelling his macho cologne, trying to kiss back, and, kind of like in the classroom, shot hard, my third orgasm of the morning, but this time into my football god's big, grasping hands. Feeling my come made Dante actually laugh, and he pulled his face away from mine.

"God, you're a fuckin' horny bastard this morning-it's like you're makin' up for lost time or something. Well, here ya go, you hungry faggot, eat up your own fuckin' load...clean up your big man's hands." He stuck his hand near my mouth but waited for me to voluntarily start lapping up my own cream from his strong, powerful hands. This I did with alacrity, with enthusiasm. When his hand was clean, he patted my head again and said, "There you go-all fed and cleaned up!" With that he smiled broadly-my God, he looked so good when he grinned! And he knew it.

"Now listen up, Hoover-man," said my idol, whom I now vowed I would follow anywhere all over the earth at this point. "I want you to go to the library or some place like that and do this fuckin' homework for me, while me and the boys play ball with coach and some of our buds. I'll get a girl I know to type it up for me-I'll give her a little lovin' as a payment," he added cockily. "Meet me and my main buddy Dante at the side door of school at one o'clock. We're gonna go over to a house to hang out, drink a few brews and soak up some sun this afternoon-you can oil us up and keep us fuckin' happy while we rest up for tomorrow's big game. Now you fuckin' got that?"

With that, he handed me a book and an assignment sheet, and without anything further walked out of the coach's office, leaving me alone. I got a great view of his V-shaped back, rippling with muscle, as he walked out. Before leaving the office myself, I checked out a few more of the framed pictures of groups of grinning, hard bodied, tanned athletes, usually bare-chested and always built, that adorned the coach's shelf. It almost made me hot again, but I pulled myself together and went up to the library, carrying stud Raymond's homework with me. With the goal of pleasing my football master, I did a number on the assignment.

At one o'clock at the side door I waited, but the guys were about ten minutes late. When they showed up they were wearing tight, muscle hugging tank tops that drew attention to their enormous upper bodies. They were in an animated conversation about their game of hoops, and virtually ignored me even as they approached me. I just tagged along behind like a good mascot, letting them lead me wherever we were to go. I had been thinking for over an hour, off and on, about what Raymond had said to me regarding what we were going to do, and it sounded potentially exciting. We stopped at a black jeep in the parking lot which Dante entered on the driver's side. It was an open jeep which on the bumper had a sticker that read "Tiger Football," plus a smaller one that read, "I lift at Gold's." Almost as if it were a natural movement, the hunks shucked their tank tops so as to ride big, buffed, and bare through the streets, wherever it was we were going. I sat in?????????.


Raymond And Dante Get Bronzed And Buff (R&D, Part 4)
By Tony P Story submitted March 8, 1999


At one o’clock at the side door I waited, but the guys were about ten minutes late. When they showed up they were wearing tight, muscle hugging tank tops that drew attention to their enormous upper bodies. They were in an animated conversation about their game of hoops, and virtually ignored me even as they approached me. I just tagged along behind like a good mascot, letting them lead me wherever we were to go.

I had been thinking for over an hour, off and on, about what Raymond had said to me regarding what we were going to do, and it sounded potentially exciting. We stopped at a black jeep in the parking lot which Dante entered on the driver’s side. It was an open jeep with on the bumper had a sticker that read "Tiger Football," plus a smaller one that read, "I lift at Gold’s."

Almost as if it were a naturally movement, the hunks shucked their tank tops so as to ride big, buffed and bare through the streets, wherever it was we were going. I sat in the back and got an up-close view of their massive, bronzed, clean cut necks with the thin gold chains around them. I was close enough to smell their clean, manly sweat, from their midday basketball game, with just a hint of CK cologne still left after their athletic activity had sweated away most of that fine smell. There was just a slight hint of redishness in their skin tone, which made me realize that they had no doubt played ball with their buddies with their shirts off.

It was becoming clearer that these were the kind of guys who took their shirts off at the drop of a hat and kept them off whenever possible. Given their devotion to getting big, this was to be expected, and no doubt their summer in South Beach had shown them a lot about what looked stud and manly and alluring to admirers of the male body, female and otherwise Beneath the necks rippled up some massive back musculature, though just a tantalizing hint before it merged into the jeep’s seats. Even as they breathed their backs rippled with football player power.

‘You guys fuckin’ fouled fifty fuckin’ times," Raymond said angrily, even while putting his hand on his pal’s upper thigh—just as he had to mind both in the classroom and the locker room cubicle where he and his pals had gotten off at my expense. "It’s like you were fuckin’ playin’ football, not basketball." His hand seemed to squeeze his buddy’s leg as the conversation continued.

"Ah, fuck off," replied Dante with a hint of a stud grin on his face. "That’s the way real men play. You wanna play that faggot ball. You gotta TAKE it to the hoop, and if anybody gets in your way, hell, fuck that. Comin’ through, baby! Look the fuck out!"

"Faggot ball fuckin’ SHIT," replied his buddy. "You know I fuckin’ love contact—LOVE it—but this ain’t football, this is b-ball, there’s a limit to that shit in basketball…"

I listened to their deep voices with pleasure, having no opinion on the debate over the degree of fouling appropriate to noon pickup outdoor basketball, but trying to imagine my hunk gods on the court with some of the other young jocks, muscles rippling, gold chains gleaming against tanned, muscular, male flesh, strips of stud underwear being shown, man-to-man banging going on, palm-slapping and male bonding on the court when a pass worked. It must’ve been a sexy sight….

Just then I was brought back to reality by the sound of a carp hone beeping. Dante picked it up and said, "Yeah?" His expression changed to a smile, which looked great on him. "Hey, man, what’s hangin’?…Just cruisin’ over to the pool with Aspen, that fuckin’ wimp who’s complainin’ that I bruised his fairy chest playin’ ball today…"

At this Raymond punched the driver in the bicep; he laughed and continued, "He got hit with a REAL man’s chest under the basket today, baby. Hey, come on over—great day to work on gettin’ dark, we got plenty of brews, we can shoot some hoop, toss the ball…and, oh yeah, we got a new ‘friend’ who was makin’ eyes at our muscles at school with us….yeah, baby, another one!…" Looking at Raymond, Dante asked, "what the hell’s his goddam name?"

Raymond looked at me and smiled his top jock smile, looking intently at me, mesmerizing me. "DEL—bert, he says," he stated, and with that he got in my face, his nose right next to mine, grinning. Then he winked at me and laughed just a little.

"Ah, yeah, that’s it, he says he’s fuckin’ named ‘Delbert,’ if you can fuckin’ believe that," reported Dante to whoever it was on the other end of the phone. "Cock hungry as hell, born to suck….yeah, sucks pretty damn well; got MY rocks off damn good."

At that Raymond’s up-close grin got huge, ear to ear, and looking right in my eyes, whispered intimately, just to me as Dante kept on speaking on the phone, "he loves a face fulla’ nut, he does what others won’t do"—with a brief, in-rhythm pause, he cockily winked again—"he keeps the residue, and when I tell him to suck me again, he says, ‘When?’—with goo gobs of nut, drippin’ down his chin…" It appeared he was quoting a sexy song. My boner got harder as my idol whispered, "All afternoon, buddy….all afternoon. Get your fuckin’ cocksuckin’ mouth wet and ready, lil’ boy! All your faggot fairy dreams are comin’ true today, over and over." He then turned back toward his buddy, who was finishing up his phone conversation.

"…OK, then, see you guys in awhile," finished Dante, hanging up the phone. "Who’s comin’? That was Tim, right?"

"Yeah…he and Gene have been liftin’ heavy this morning at Gold’s Hollywood and they just wanna hang out, get some bronze, chill out. So they’re comin’ over."

As if reading my mind, Raymond glanced backward and said to me, "A couple of guys you’ll get a kick out of, Del babe…some football gods from SC who’ve been recruitin’ Dante for the Trojans. You’ll see what I mean by gods, buddy! And oh yeah—they know the scene, too."

"That’s right," added Dante with just the trace of a grin. "They said they didn’t get any today so they’re up for some."

"A coupla big, big bods, little Del, "added Raymond. "Hope your stomach ain’t gettin’ bloated with all this manly athlete sperm!" He chuckled, and Dante joined in with his deep male laugh.

Raymond turned on the radio, and a sexy dance song was playing on the local house music station. Raymond sang along, getting some help, surprisingly, from Dante at the chorus, at which the singer warned his girlfriend that she was dancing so closely that he was getting an erection. "Fuckin’ hot song," said Raymond with enthusiasm. "I got seriously boned at last week’s post game party when we were dancin’ to that and the twins kept yellin’ out ‘you’re makin’ it hard‘ at the right moment—I poked my boner into that girl I was paired up with and I could tell she loved it."

"You scored later, right?"

"Hell, yeah," Raymond said with manly pride at his sexual conquest. "Drilled her three times when we hooked up later on."

At this point traffic was a little more congested, and the jeep slowed to a halt, nearing a traffic light. To the right was a car with a little rainbow sticker on it. In my ignorance I had no idea what that might mean, and wouldn’t have noticed it. But Raymond did. "Hey, Del, pull up next to that brown car at the intersection. I’m gonna make some guy’s day." Obediently, the stud driver did just that. The window was rolled down and a pale, round-faced guy who looked like he was at least in his twenties sat at the driver’s wheel. Raymond leaned over toward the car and began flexing his strong, tanned arm. He really had huge arm development, as he well knew. "Hey, buddy," he said to the driver, who looked over to see a young stud god enjoying showing off his muscles. "17 fuckin’ inches—all muscle." The guy took a look and, predictably, became glued to the macho display.

Raymond, of course, picked right up on this. "That’s right, pal, fresh male muscle. We’re Lakewood Tigers, football players; we got a game tomorrow night at six at Memorial Field—come check out the muscle, lotta hot shots in the program, too." The guy kept looking, and Raymond kept flexing for him. "Good lookin’ football players, man…big muscles, too, like me. You like that, don’t cha? Yeah, I knew it," he added as the guy slightly nodded his head. At that the light changed, and Dante drove off while Raymond blew a kiss toward his new admirer.

"Just gave him some wet dreams," Raymond said with a grin of satisfaction. He looked back at me and said, "Just tryin’ to help out, Del buddy, fulfill some guy like you’s dreams."

"You’re as fuckin’ queer as they are," said Dante. "Nah, man, just oversexed, horny as hell," replied his pal, still smiling. With that the radio came back on and the conversation died down. In about ten minutes more of driving, we turned into a residential street and into the driveway of a fairly large, modern looking house. Dante clicked the garage door open, drove in, parked and cut off the engine. The jocks jumped out and I obediently followed.

"Where are we?" I asked tentatively.

"This is Coach’s house; we come over a lot, the guys," explained Raymond, "hang out, work out, play ball, get dark. There’s a nice pool in the back." As we walked through the kitchen I saw the patio and a moderately large (for a private home) pool set in a well-kept backyard. "Get a six pack and some ice and put it in the cooler," ordered my hero, "…we’re gonna get wet."

With that the guys walked out toward the pool. My eyes followed them as they pulled off their shorts and stood in white Calvin’s. Quickly they dove into the pool, whooping at the wetness and the slight chill. I walked toward the fridge and followed instructions. As I took the cooler outside, I saw the hunks emerging from the pool. Each threw back his shoulders to dry off his handsome head, and used his huge hands to slick back his short, athletic hair. Wet, bronzed muscles abounded, looking great, handsome symmetry of pumped up pecs and solid sexy ab development, with clingy, wet Calvin’s showing that each stud was packing a lot in his pouch. Naturally Raymond immediately saw my lustful look.

"Yeah, babe, fuckin’ Bruce Weber," he said, surprising me by looking and sounding more mean than laughingly playful. He seemed to like to keep me guessing, thinking, correctly, that this aroused me more, kept me on the edge. "Put those brews down." I obeyed. The guys now grabbed a beer each and sat with their legs dangling into the pool’s water, side by side…quite close, actually, legs definitely touching. Beer bottle in hand, the guys clanked them together, and Raymond said, "To a fuckin’ win tomorrow, buddy boy," with Dante replying, "Damn right."

With that, each jock chugged the entire contents of their brew in one long swallow. This produced a slight grin on each boy’s face, having successfully accomplished the manly trick.

I wasn’t paying too much attention to that. Rather, my mouth was watering as I took my place behind them at their massive, over muscled young backs. The huge shoulder blades were almost unbelievable, yet not truly freaky or ugly; rather, they looked like bigtime football player shoulders, developed from a lot of ball playing as well as some concerted lifting under the watchful supervision of a stud-building coach. I couldn’t help letting out a little moan as I observed the gorgeous male beauty in front of me, a moan picked up immediately by the eagle ears of sexy muscle stud Raymond.

"Hey, Del, here’s your moment—we gotta get oiled up before we seriously lay out. No oilin’ on the basketball court, so we got a little red." This was slightly true, although the red was just a trace on top of the great looking bronze that covered their super jock muscles. "Get off your fairy ass and go inside the kitchen; look in the drawer next to the refrigerator, there’s some suntan lotion in there. You’re gonna buff up our manly backs."

I followed instructions, and it was as he said Heading back out to the patio, I was stunned and excited to see the two jock gods softly kissing each other on the lips. I had already found out that Raymond was more into male sex than I had first dared even dream, but now I had proof that even Dante was not just a straight boy who got his rocks off sometimes with a male admirer. My heart was beating faster at this, and my erection was stiffening.

"Hey, bud, get those fuckin’ clothes off, get comfortable," said Raymond. I stopped, hesitated a moment, and then proceeded as he added, "Come on, strip down, join the party." I took off my shoes, unbuttoned my shirt, and hesitated again. "Aw, leave your fuckin’ undershirt on, you ain’t that built….but hey," Raymond added, getting a mischievous idea, "let your bone stick through your underwear slits…it’s lookin’ a little crowded in there."

With that he smiled and zeroed his vision in on my crotch. "In fact, you’re gettin’ wet in there again—DAMN, your juices flow a lot—is that all the time, or just when you’re with us big boys, bud?" He went on, suggesting it was not a real question, that he was not really interested, not that I really had anything to say. I just obeyed my stud master. "Yep, ol’ Dante, take a look…little Delbert is fuckin’ BONED to see us, so FUCKIN’ happy to buff up our backs." Dante turned and looked by had regained his blank, "I’m-a-stud" expression. I felt my face redden with shame, but this was easily overpowered by lust.

"Now get the hell over here and oil up out muscles—we’re workin’ on out backs’ tan today. Rub us at the same time, Del buddy…feel the muscle as you work it in. Rub it in deep, now, make us feel good. That’s it, buddy…"

I was dreamy again as I felt the incredible results of all these stud guys’ lifting sessions—their barn-door wide backs, the ripples on their ripples, the sexy taper down to their flat, narrow waistlines. "Feels good, man," complimented Raymond, twisting his head a little to look back at me with an approving smile. In doing so he made his massive musculature flex a little, demonstrating that beautiful, male animal power that made me bone up even harder. I could feel a drizzle of precum forming on the head of my dick as I drank up the exciting scene.

My lustful excitement immediately doubled; however, as I saw the two studs look at each other and get back to their kissing. This was serious, deep, male-love kissing. I knew from my own recent experience that Raymond know how to tongue-kiss, and he took the lead in the serious kissing of his tanned, muscular teammate. I kept rubbing their massive backs with tanning oil, and involuntarily began twisting my ass and my exposed dick in a sort of bump and grind motion. My precum was strong now, and without much effort I felt I was getting close. A little grunt of pleasure from stud Dante got me over, and I shot my load—right onto the base of Dante’s strong young back, down near his athletically trim waist.

"What the fuck--?" asked the stud, who quickly got an assist from his more dominant teammate. "I think our little buddy’s done shot his load again, big man," said Raymond, who craned his neck to take a look, flexing his huge muscles, which I was still caressing with oil, and quickly seeing the proof in the puddle on his linebacker pal’s back. "Hell, yeah!"

"Dumb fuck!" said Dante, sounding genuinely angry, and putting a flash of fear into me.

"Now little Del, ya silly cocksucker, you gotta clean up your damn mess again." With that he shoved my head forcefully right into the spot where I had come onto Dante, in the small of his strong young back. He almost used my head as if it were a rag, pushing it around roughly to swab up the come. After a few moments of this, he pulled my head back to examine it.

"All right, little boy, your face is a little wet…but," thinking wickedly, "let it stay there. You deserve it for makin’ that big fuckin’ mess on my stud teammate." I, of course, obeyed my idol.

At that point we heard the screech of a car pulling into the driveway.

"That’ll be Tim and Gene, the Trojan boys," said Raymond. "You get the door, Del bud; we’re gonna fuckin’ lay out and get this sun bakin’ our backsides."

"B-but…" I, flustered a little and reddening, began…

"Now don’t you worry your sweet little cum-filled face, Del," said Raymond with mock-kindness and his shit-kicking, ear-to-ear grin covering his bronzed face. "These boys will be happy to see you."

"Yeah, faggot," said Dante. "’Member? I told ‘em we had a ‘hoover’ with us. And they didn’t get laid yet today, so they’re horny, little boy." With that I was treated to one of Dante’s relatively rare grins—a great treat.

"Don’t just fuckin’ sit there, ya dummy, get your ass in there and welcome these studs to our bronze and buff party," instructed Raymond, as he got up and moved toward the towel on the patio lounge chair, preparing to stretch out. "Tell ‘em I sent you."

With some fear yet full of lust, I moved inside. I heard some deep voices in the garage through the door, and in a moment the door opened. There stood two virile specimens, even bigger than Raymond and Dante, in form-fit T-shirts that were filled up with jock muscle, which read, "TROJAN STUD TEAM," with a small drawing of the condom logo.

"What the fuck is that on your face, faggot?" was the welcoming comment. My mouth went dry, as these guys were not smiling, and seemed to pump up their chests in a sort of showoff flex, which showed prominently in their white muscle hugging tees.

[to be continued]



Raymond and Dante, Part 5: Very Male Musclebuddies
By Tony P Story submitted October 19, 1999


The virile male specimens who stood before me had to be Tim and Gene, the boys Dante had spoken to on the phone while he and his buddy were cruising shirtless with me in the back in his jeep. He had told them about me and my desires, and had even complimented me to them: that I was a good little cocksucker. I knew that they were varsity football players at USC, that they had been recruiting Dante for the Trojans, and that they were coming over just to hang out and lay out in the sun after their earlier workout at Gold's Gym, Hollywood. So in that sense I had a little feeling of security, since Raymond, whom I trusted now even as I idolized him, as he knew, had made it clear that he would take care of me and help me fulfill my formerly repressed desires. Dante, Raymond's big, stud sidekick, had also told me that the two jocks who were coming over had not yet received sexual satisfaction that day and were therefore up for some sex — this line being delivered with a sexy smile. This took my breath away, made me feel fearful — but I was in too deep now.

But I wasn't prepared for the aggressive, insulting comment from one of the huge males: "What the fuck is that on your face, faggot?" These were very, very alpha males, the type the very sight of which was intimidating, and, I had to admit, deliciously sexy. What was on my face was what was left of the cum that had been smeared there by the strong, forceful Raymond, shoving my nose and cheeks into the small of Dante's massively muscled bronzed back, into where I had shot from the excitement of polishing up his and his pal's broad shoulders with tanning oil while they, somewhat shockingly to me, had begun exploring the insides of each other's mouths with their forceful tongues. The comment from one of the new boys sent a shiver down my spine because the guy sounded really, really contemptuous, and given his huge size, I knew he could easily pulverize me, with one huge, muscled, tanned arm behind his musclebound back. At the same time I felt the shiver of fear, though, I also felt the blood getting back into my rising male member, which was exposed to the two boys, poking out of my white briefs as demanded by Raymond before. Immediately I had a huge, huge erection (by the standards of my rather small, at least compared to these huge stud guys, member) that was open to the view of the football gods before me. Naturally they picked up on this pretty quick, as it provided them another opportunity for some male fun.

"Boys" didn't quite seem right given these guys' huge size. To play varsity football at a Division One powerhouse like USC, of course, these days required hugeness. And as Raymond and Dante themselves showed, the football feeder high schools to the big stud college programs had serious weight-lifting facilities and programs already—not to mention the increased appearance everywhere you looked, on tv, in magazines, on the beaches, at malls and clubs, and on the street of pumped-up, muscular, and often bare-chested male bodies. But these two guys were BIG, at least 6'4" each, maybe more, and tremendously well-built, almost, but not quite, freaky. Their sexily tight t-shirts, which definitely had some clingy lycra built into the cotton, hid nothing and showed off a lot of ripped muscle, from their pecs down to their abdominals, plus the sexy condom message, with its allusion to USC's nickname, "Trojan Stud Team." The other thing about white, tight t-shirts was how well they looked with a good, dark tan.

Tim and Gene had tans that could only be described as awesome. How could white boys be so dark? Looking at Gene (I quickly picked up on which was which based on their man-talk between each other), I guessed that he might be part Latin in background, though only , perhaps, a little. Tim stood out between the two not only because of his having spoken, but due to his military-type bearing and look. He had the classic Marine "high and tight" haircut that had become, in modified form, popular among many high school jocks and muscle boys in recent years—very short, shaved really, well above the ears, with just a little thickness of hair above. Tim, in fact, immediately reminded me of the stereotypical drill sergeant, and I began to half wonder if he was imitating that persona. Gene sort of reminded me of Dante, being quite handsome in a dark-haired sort of way. Both had magnificent musculatures that their muscle-hugging t-shirts were drawing attention to. This was hardly an accident.

"You heard me, ya dumb fuckin' fairy, what the hell is on your faggot face?" repeated the strong, virile Tim, who didn't look friendly or like he was kidding at all. Rather, he looked quite angry. Blood continued to pump in my male organ.

Suddenly I just decided to tell him the truth, and so I replied, "It's my semen, that I shot onto the backs of your friends, who then rubbed my face in it."

"What the fuck?!?" said a bemused Gene, with what seemed like a genuinely puzzled look.

At this point we were joined by Raymond and Dante, who were naked save for their wet briefs. All four megamales' faces lit up as they saw each other and how good each other looked.

"Fuckin' A, man, what's up?" Raymond said with a smile as he reached out to smartly high-five Tim. With perfect coordination and grace the jocks greeted each other in the palm-slapping gesture that looked so dumb when wannabes did it in the stands but which looked very hot and male-bond stud when real hunks pulled it off. "Good workout?"

"Yeah, we pumped it up for a couple hours," Tim replied, now distracted from me by his good-looking muscle-buddies. Meanwhile, Dante and Gene, a little more subdued than their more aggressive partners, shook hands, but kept them together a little longer than really necessary. Raymond, however, was up for more than that. He put his hand on Tim's shoulder and kept it there caressing the exposed bronzed muscle.

"You're fuckin' addin' size up here, man," he said as he lightly petted the muscleman before him. "Looks hot. Fuckin' hot." Raymond kept feeling up his pal, shaping and squeezing the manly physique.

"Coach wants me to add some more muscle for the pro scouts. He says they're really into size these days."

"Hell, who isn't?" replied Raymond, still rubbing his pal's huge shoulders, now from right beside him. "You can never be too big or too ripped….ain't that right, Del buddy?" he added, suddenly remembering I was there. "You guys only just met, right? Del, this is Gene and this is Tim, from SC. Guys, this is the gay little sucker I told you about on the phone."

"Yeah…look at his bone," added Dante, as the guys all turned their eyes toward my erection, which throbbed a little and stood out stiffly in the presence of the four studs. "This guy's a fuckin' sex fiend. He's spent all day shootin' off and suckin' big dicks. He is really, really gay all right. A fuckin' fruit who's in love with the jocks."

"Hell, that's fuckin' good," replied Tim with a wicked grin exposing perfectly straight teeth. His smile didn't communicate friendliness, but rather, "I'm lookin' forward to fuckin' humiliatin' you, usin' you, pushin' you around, havin' you service me in whatever fuck way I fuckin' feel like." "We hooked up with a coupla girls after Gold's but only got a little kissin' and huggin' from ‘em. I need to get off this afternoon. Could use a good suck. Is he any fuckin' good?"

Raymond came up behind me and put his arms around me, squeezing me semi-tightly to his strong, bare-chested bod. "Let me tell you, my buds, this guy was born to suck—born to give head—born to fuckin' SERVE." With that, he put his strong hands underneath my shirt and rubbed my chest lightly, quickly moving to force my shirt over my head, which left me naked, and erect, in front of the four stud football gods, two wearing just their briefs, the other two in their muscle-hugging t-shirts and shorts, who looked at me with expressions varying from stud-jock expressionlessness to half-grins to the gleaming, studtop smile of Tim the Marine Office.

"Hey, buddy, where's your fuckin' tan?" asked Tim, grinning ear to ear. He was about as dark a white guy as I had ever seen, and was enthusiastically, cockily proud of it. "It's fuckin' summer, buddy. I ain't worn a shirt hardly at all this year. You really oughta get dark—girls dig a sun-bronzed guy. They dream of makin' it with a sungod." He put his massive, and darkly tanned, arm next to mine, and the contrast was tremendous—his veiny, muscled, huge arm against my thin, pale one. Raymond, having removed my shirt, was still petting my chest just a little, and I felt a sort of contentment with his very muscular and tanned chest touching my pale, pinkish back. "Don't you get out much in the summer, bud?"

"I'll bet he fuckin' cruises the beach all the fuckin' time," said Dante in his semi-angry tone. Gene, still quiet, just sort of sat there with a blank expression on his good-looking face. "When Ray-man and I were in South Beach we saw his type a fuckin' lot. Dumbass." With that Dante grabbed my swollen member, which had been leaking and dripping for some time now. The stimulation felt great, and also got his hand wet. He then pushed his hand into my face, saying, "Like my big strong hands clean, gayboy. Yeah, that's fuckin' right." I instantly obeyed, marveling at the size of his hand. "Damn, he throws a wet one."

"Man, he's really into this," said Gene, sounding geniunely surprised. "This is fuckin' weird, man."

:"You ain't seen nothin' yet, big guy," said Raymond, moving his mouth to my ear, into which he then whispered, "Don't worry, babe, you'll love these guys. I won't let ‘em really beat you ass, buddyboy. They're hotter than hot, real alpha males, they don't mean no real harm, you'll love givin' ‘em pleasure." All the time he kept hugging me, and I felt safe in his megastrong arms even as Dante had, as usual, humiliated me a little. They were quite a pair, quite different, but alike in one tremendous respect: they were awesome looking young studs. And knew it.

"Let's go in by the pool," said Tim, and with that the hulks of muscle headed in, myself following, getting a great view of their unbelievably muscular backs. What huge shoulders and narrow waists they had, so nicely shaped that it had to be from serious, directed effort, not just from playing sports. The newcomers filled up their muscle-hugging t-shirts to a strained t, while Raymond and Dante were gorgeously shirtless, looking shiny and buffed from the oil I had rubbed into their massive shoulders. At the pool, suddenly, with a glance at each other, Raymond and Dante jumped their pals and pushed them into the water.

"What the fuck!" each stud yelled, but in they went, to tremendous laughter on the part of the younger muscle duo. As the hunks came out, I had a view of their wet t-shirts clinging to their strong young chests, especially in the abdominal area. Guys like this often enjoyed going to so-called wet t-shirt contests featuring big-breasted girls, but they themselves, as they no doubt knew, looked very sexy in wet, body-hugging t-shirts themselves. Now that they were wet, their shirts would be coming off, I realized. This made my boner throb a little more. Their bronze was somehow accentuated by being wet, and they looked very, very handsome.

:"Hey, fag, get over here and get this fuckin' shirt off me. Damn, it's tight," barked Tim as he climbed out of the pool.

"You shouldn't buy ‘em so snug and clingy, musclehead," laughed Raymond, absently tugging on his white, wet briefs. "Tryin' to make the girls wet in their crotches when they see you or somethin'?" Was it my imagination, or was he showing some wood? I moved toward strong-shouldered Tim, who towered above me. I helped push the white cotton shirt with the suggestive condom ad over his buzzcut head, and saw that his whole chest was as darkly tanned as his strong, veiny arms. Hangin' shirtless was a big part of his summer creed. It figured, given his muscled build. My hands got to feel his trim midriff and the way his huge, manly shoulders broadened out to impossibly male width. I even got to feel up his neck a little as I helped him get it over his head.

‘Yeah, buddy, feel him up," said Raymond. Again reading my mind and catching right on, with a stud grin and a short laugh. "You need some lovin', dontcha Tim buddy? You said on the phone you didn't get any yet today, right-o my big fella?"

"Yeah, you guys just lifted all morning, right?" asked Dante.

"Yeah, but we did a little trainin' too with a coupla those fags who'd been cruisin' me. Then we were over on campus handin' out some condom samples for the company for a while, too. Over by the jock frat houses."

"Those guys buy ‘em by the truckload!" said the normally quiet Gene with a big, enthusiastic grin. "Damn, they fuckin' live to score!" That got a grin out of Dante.

"Who the fuck doesn't? Healthy young studs need to nut a lot. Are you guys fuckin' workin' for Trojan or somethin'?"

"Yeah, babe," replied Tim, now naked except for his very clingy and wet Polo briefs, which went down to just above his knee and accentuated his incredibly huge quads. His male member was as big as the rest of him was, and his nuts were displayed, too. "They're tryin' out a marketing scheme of gettin' really well-known big men on selected campuses to distribute their brand for ‘em, usually football players. They want all the other guys to say to themselves, ‘hey, the biggest studs on campus use these, so I should too.' SC was natural for ‘em since the name is the same as that of our teams. We set up a table at the center of campus and hawk ‘em with slogans like ‘Score With a Trojan' or ‘Stock Up for the Weekend, Buy Trojans in Eight-Packs.' That's a reference to ab muscles, too'"

"I like, "Trojans for the Big Boys' myself," added the grinning Gene. "We're thinkin' about sellin' a poster of ourselves and a few other boys that says somethin' like ‘Trojan Stud Team.' Maybe you guys could join in, huh?"

"Sounds fuckin' hot," said Raymond. "Anybody object to your doin' all this?"

"No way—in fact, some fine-lookin' young ladies came on to us the other day. They asked us how big our biceps were and felt us flex, then how big our chests were."

"Did you wind up fuckin' ‘em?"

"Nah, not yet, we like playin' with their minds a little. Deep-kissed ‘em and let ‘em feel our hardons with a little public grind action, though," said Tim. "Whispered shit in their ears like, ‘wanna sex you up baby'" or "you're makin' it hard for me, girl."

By this point the jocks had apparently more or less forgotten I was present, and so I got to enjoy their macho talk. My naked boner throbbed and dripped more or less unnoticed for the moment, but I noticed that the guys, who were all naked except for their briefs, seemed to be getting stiff; a poke was showing in front of each stud's cotton underwear.

The boys took their seats on the pool furniture, with Raymond pulling up behind Tim and putting his hands over Tim's shoulders and onto his strong pectoral muscles, which he gently caressed, ever so lightly. "Hey, Del buddy, go get us all a round of brews," said my idol. Happy to make the guys happy, I went inside the house.

When I returned, I found the conversation had gone over to tomorrow's Lakewood football game. "So you guys gonna kick ass tomorrow?" asked Tim. I noticed that Raymond had put his head on Tim's shoulder and that his "massaging" was all over the dark-tanned god's pecs.

"Fuckin' A, man," replied Dante, getting into the conversation. "They got a coupla studs, but of course we're much stronger and will physically wear ‘em down, probably by the half."

"They got one sexy motherfucker, though, I met him a coupla times, a halfback—what's his name? Big blonde guy?"

"You mean Paul—yeah, he's built all right. Played pickup with him at the beach courts a few times this summer. Aggressive ball player and huge—but he ain't got enough support."

"What that team needs is a weight program like Coach Perry developed for us," said Dante, who flexed his big bicep and looked down at it, admiring his own manly muscle. Raymond, meanwhile, had moved his hands down to Tim's sexy, ripped abdominal area and was lightly petting it. He also slightly snuggled his face into Tim's strong bronzed neck, and ever so faintly murmured "hmmmmm" with pleasure as he got close with the big shirtless football player. "We are the best fuckin' built team in southern California." At this point, Gene, following Raymond's lead, look his place behind Dante, reached over, and began rubbing his strong young upper body. My boner, sticking out of my briefs as Raymond had ordered, throbbed a little more, and some clear liquid formed on its purplish head.

"We're havin' a party tomorrow night after the game here," Raymond stated, pulling away from Tim. "It's gonna be wild—a lot of luscious babes, stud, horny athletes—Dante and I got a little competition goin' about how many rounds we can get in before we fall asleep. I scored three times last week… …but all with the same girl," Dante interrupted, his competitive blood rising. "I only banged twice, true, but they were different babes."

"Hey, Del, babe, you come too—hell, half the guys would rather get good head than fuck chicks," Raymond said, moving toward me and getting his face in mine, looking serious and studly. "Me, I dig it all. But lemme warn ya, bud, I tend to get a little testy after games. Ya know what testy comes from, right?" I sat there, mesmerized, able weakly only to shake my head. "It's short for testosterone, that very male essence that separates the boys from the girls, the studs from the wimps. Me and my posse are fuckin' oozin' testosterone, ‘specially after we've been hittin' on the manly field of football for a coupla hours. We gotta get relief! We'll be fuckin' lookin' for a hole to drill or for an eager mouth—like yours, gayboy." Raymond gave my erect boner a very slight tug, careful not to get me over the edge. I involuntarily gave a slight moan of lust, for which the muscleboy in front of me rewarded me with a smirk. He moved to my ear and whispered, "You are gonna fuckin' see shit like you've only fuckin' dreamed of tomorrow—at the game and after."

Raymond then pulled away and spoke openly. "Del's gotta come to our game tomorrow. Hey, Tim, why don't you and Gene pick him up and take him to the game?" To my surprise, this was greeted with big strong smiles and nods of handsome heads. "Hey, Del—bert, ya got a date to the game with two college football musclegods! You're hangin' with the stud boys now!"

Raymond spoke again, revealing anew how much he was right on my radar: "You'll enjoy the game, Del—lots and lots of male bonding on the sidelines and during the game. Coach encourages us to be physical not only with our opponents but with our teammates. He says we're a big band of strong brothers who fuckin' love each other and share intimate things with each other. We can't keep our hands off each other on the sidelines. I love to play with Dante's muscular ass the whole fuckin' game. And lots of the guys have cut-off tops so you can see their abdominal region—lots of six packs and even a few eight packs, like stud Tim here. I'm usually fuckin' boned on the sidelines myself—specially when Dante's feelin' up my abs." I looked over at Dante and saw that Gene was now planting kisses on Dante's neck while his hands massaged the pumped-up, sun-bronzed pecs of the stud linebacker.

"Yeah, we'll take care of him tomorrow, all right," said Tim with a very slight smile. "But how about now? I haven't gotten off since I fucked some girl at last night's party…"

"You know what happened?" interrupted Gene, moving away from Dante and toward his football buddy. "As soon as he had done her, I pushed him off and mounted her myself. She got it from two studs inside of five minutes!"

"Yeah, man, I love swappin' like that, ‘specially with a real buddy. Share and share alike. You go in for him, give him a little rest, then he's up for another round, with either the same chick, a new girl, or some fag admirer who's handy."

"Hey, guys," said Gene, suddenly changing the subject. "Since we got this sucker here, let's get some good action goin'—but wait—does anybody know where Coach has his videocamera?"

"It's in the den," said Dante, looking a little puzzled. Raymond, however, smiled his broadest smile of the last hour, which further devastated me and made my bone throb and leak all the more.

"Let's make a new video of ourselves and our little friend here." With that, Dante, looking mean, punched me — in a playful, jock sort of way, but hard enough to really sting; then his face lit up.

"Yeah, man, those last two videos were fuckin' hot—and fun to make."

Raymond whispered to me as he put his mammoth arms around me from the back, "You ain't seen nothin' yet!" Then he shouted, "Go fuckin' get it!"

[to be continued]

[diegodominica]

So far as I know, only six chapters were completed. I don't know who the author is but I would love to see someone pick this story up and finish it. I think there is one more chapter following the ones posted above.

[Canus]

hm. yes, sorry I forgot to post the last one. I would like it as well if anyone could pick-up the story.

"Raymond and Dante's Stud Video" (R&D #6)







The pool party featuring 4 unbelievably hunky football studs, 2



college, 2 high school, plus me was about to take a new turn as big



buffed Gene went inside to get Coach Perry's videocamera. I felt a



little weakness due to the uncertainty, and as if sensing it, Raymond



came up to me and got in front of me. His handsome, tanned face got



right up against mine, and I looked into his eyes. He looked tough, in



control, a total top. "Ready to get it on with the big boys, liittle



girly boy?" I nodded, and he slightly smiled. "We're gonna make a few



scenes and have a little fun, buddy boy, but you're into it, right?"



Again I nodded, smelling a trace even yet of his Calvin cologne,



focusing on the thin gold chain around his strong, bronzed neck and



which gleamed in the sunlight. The cut between his twin pecs was very



deep. He spoke again, and I looked into his eyes again: "We're workin'



on a little business here, makin' vids for guys like you, we made a



couple so far and we're developin' a fan base, and it might get a little



kinky, right? We're gonna get a little wet, bud. But it's all in



fun..."-he now had his huge hands on my shoulders and massaged a bit,



which felt great but further weakened me, making my heart beat a little



faster-"and remember, hoover, whatever turn the fantasy takes, we're



gonna take care of ya, that's for fuckin' sure." He now got



nose-to-nose with me and said, "Right, girl? Say yeah, babe." With



effort I got out the affirmative, and he rewarded me with his dazzling



smile, which made my dick throb all by itself, which he noticed,



punching his knee into my erection and winking at me as he felt its



size-and then he moved slowly, as if to kiss me-would he actually do



that, kiss me, in front of his buddies? Our lips met, and I downright



sighed, the feeling was so awesome to be kissed by such an incredibly



stud hunk. "Mmmmm," he sighed softly, deep in his throat, as if he



really cared about me, which turned me on further.







Gene came out from the house with the camera and. noticing Raymond



kissing me, and playing with my head with his strong hands, hollered



out, "Stick it in, Ray buddy! Turn him on!" Dante and Tim laughed a



little, but Raymond kept probing the inside of my mouth and strongly



held me in his powerful athletic hands. As the kiss continued he moved



his hands down the sides of my body and reached my briefs, which were



amazingly tented up. Raymond noted this, grinned just a little and



slightly laughed, and squeezed a few extra drops of precum out of my



erection. "Atta girl," he said, pulling back from my face; looking at



his buddies, he stated, "He's ready to go right fuckin' now! Look at



that boner he's throwin'!"







"Wet one, too," added Tim with a knowing, self-satisfied smile. These



guys knew the effect their bods had on people, and they were into it.







"Here's the camera, man," Gene said, handing it to Raymond, always the



man in charge. Raymond took it and handed it to me. "You film us



first, baby girl. Just let it flow naturally and follow me. Begin with



me and you'll see." I obediently took the videocam and pointed it at my



idol, who went inside, followed by his pals, leaving me alone.



In a couple of minutes the jocks returned, hair neatly slicked and



gelled, wearing very form-flattering tight t-shirts (Raymond in a



tanktop that read COLT), that drew attention to their muscular torsos,



real muscle-huggers with some nice sexy lycra built in, snug-fitting



shorts, dark sunglasses that had the effect of making them look tougher



and sexier, and baseball caps-the two on the heads of Dante and Gene



said A&F, Tim's bright red cap read USMC, while Raymond's read,



appropriately, STUD. Dante and Tim hauled a cooler full of beer, while



Gene had what looked like a plastic bottle in his hand. "OK, guys,



leave it to me," began Raymond. "I'm pickin' this up where the last



tape left off. Just leave it to me and go where I lead you." With this



he went to each jock and said, "Deal, bud?," then did the bump-your-fist



move with them. The jocks were now a male-bonded team under their macho



leader.



Raymond hustled his buddies together into a setup with Gene and Tim



standing behind a seated Dante. The guys primped their hair a little,



each throwing a muscular arm back, which revealed gorgeous ripples of



mid-section muscle as well as huge, strong biceps. "OK, Del babe, get



ready to go. Put the camera up close on me...on the count of five, turn



it on."



I did as I was told and started recording. Raymond spoke to the camera:



"Hey, athletic fans, what's up, this is your musclebuddy Raymond sayin'



me and the boys are keepin' it hard and strong from sunny southern



California, west coast capital of hunky muscleguys. Got my gym buddy



Dante with me again, plus a couple of new big boys from the gym that I



know you're gonna fuckin' love for you to meet, plus later, a special



guest. She's doin' the camera right now. Hey, come up here, Dante, my



man." Dante moved up to beside Raymond, putting his arm around him,



buddy style, his hand beginning to rub his pal's muscular upper arm.



"Look at this big virile guy, bustin' out of that muscleshirt. Nice 'n



tight, right man?"



"Hell, yeah," replied Dante, but without smiling. His tough guy look



was mighty fine as he stood there bursting out of his navy blue



bodyshirt.



"Feelin' virile today? Like a fuckin' stud man?"



"Fuckin' A." Dante snuggled a little closer and his hand roamed a little



more possessively and affectionately over Raymond's outrageously huge



upper body that strained studly against the Colt tanktop. Raymond's



arms were hugely muscular and manly and on display for all to see and



enjoy.



"We been keepin' up our liftin' since the last video, as our fans can



see-give 'em a little flex show, man, but try not to rip your shirt off,



okay?" Raymond added with a little laugh. Dante needed no further



guidance. He did a double bicep pose and held it; the lycra/cotton



shirt strained as his mighty upper chest pumped out and his ripped



midsection made indentations in the clingy material. "Yeah, man, check



him out-a real muscleboy, damn right," continued Raymond, who then put



his hand on Dante's right bicep. "Lookat the size of the



motherfucker-zoom that camera in, girl." I obeyed and filmed the sight



of Dante's huge, vasular bicep with Raymond's hands virtually caressing



it. "Here, lemme pull this sleeve back to show it all off." Raymond



accomplished this and talked sexy talk as he almost primped and primed



the manly muscle. "That is a fuckin' MAN's bicep-how big now, buddy?"



"A genuine 18 inches,," said Dante with macho pride, enjoying the feel



that Raymond was copping. "And growing," he added with satisfaction.



"I think you're drinkin' fuckin' testosterone shakes."



"Yeah, but mostly just pumpin' big and livin' large every fuckin' day."

Dante kept moving his arm and showing off its muscle as I used the



camera to capture this smug young stud. I felt very wet in my briefs.



"All right, now, that is fuckin' great. But let's meet out two other



boybabes, new to our viewing audience...come on up here, you studs." Gene



and Tim muscled up in front of the camera, Dante getting behind them,



inbetween them, and putting one strong arm around each, so that his big



hand touched their upper pecs. They were wearing similar tight shirts



but were, though it seemed incredible, slightly bigger and more defined



than Dante, who was, after all, "only" a high school studboy, though of



the most awesome sort. Gene had a



nice looking light yellow bodyshirt on that accented his tan as well as



his huge pecs, while Tim's was a dazzling pure white that, set against



his deep, rich, incredibly bronzed skin, almost made him glow. Dante's



was a light blue, very, very tight and muscle-revealing. The two guys



smirked as Raymond did his rap, lightly petting their muscular pectorals



as he talked his sexy talk.







"Jock fans, these are two southern California college football



players-they sure as hell look it, don't they, boys?--but we won't



mention the name, don't wanna get these guys in any NCAA trouble or



nothin'. Me and Dante met 'em in South Beach last year when we summered



down there at a Hardbody party and we hit it off right away, know what



we mean? This is 100% All American virility here. They're in the



process of gettin' discovered but they wanna finish their football



careers, ya know, kick some ass on the field and enjoy the whole team



male bonding thing a little while longer, and who knows, maybe they'll



go pro. If not, well, hell, they got some fans to take care of 'em, who



appreciate their manly assets, right guys?" Throughout this talk



Raymond had been feeling up their chests, a process in which his own



enormous arms were flexing sexily.







"Yeah, we do all right," said Tim with a faint grin.







"Say, guys, turn to the rear and let your new videofriends see what



ass-ets I got in mind." The jocks obliged as I held the camera steady,



though I felt awfully weak in the presence of such showoff studs. Their



shorts showed off their classic football player rear ends, huge, round,



muscular. Raymond took advantage of the opportunity.







"One look at these tight ends and a lot of girls are wettin' their



panties and more than a few guys are leakin' into their fruity briefs.



Yep, the rear view ain't half bad, right, guys? Hey, Miss Camera Lady,



close in on these stud asses"-I gladly obliged-"ummmm, yeah, it's great



to feel those babies"-he knelt down and rubbed their asses, which the



boys began moving around in response to his rubbing-"these guys are



STUDS with a capital 'S' all right. Now, Camera Girl, move that lens up



to record these guys backs. This is what they fuckin' mean by



'V-shape. Flex it, my men." The studs obliged with various rippling



maneuvers, and their mountainous shoulder blades made the stretchy



material work overtime to keep their male gorgeousness contained. I got



some good shots of their cleancut necks with the thin gold chains around



them. I was at full mast with these scenes I was recording.







"Now, all good things gotta come to an end, guys, so get over here,



Dante buddy, get between these studs, yeah, that's right." Dante now



moved inbetween Gene and Tim and put his arms around his gym buddies to



form a closely-knit threesome, Raymond sort of withdrawing to the side.



By now the guys were all smiling, occasionally laughing, revealing their



pure white teeth which looked fine against their dark stud tans. "We



gotta have somebody man this camera before we fuckin' move to the next



part of the program, and it's gonna be you, Dante. We saw a lot of you



in the last video anyway. So listen, Gene and Tim, say bye-bye to our



big guy here. Give him a real studybuddy goodbye."







The guys looked at each other, grinned, and faced toward Dante. Each



took a big hand and began caressing Dante's pec. "You are gettin' too



fuckin' big for your shirt, bud," said Tim, laughing.







"Yeah, babe, you're too sexy for your shirt," threw in Gene, laughing



and making Dante laugh at the dumb-sounding but provocative statement.



"What the hell are you doin' coverin' up, anyway? You're fuckin' built



and your know it, man, put on a show, get 'em wet! You're makin' it



hard for 'em ya know."



"Yeah, man, work on your tan, I mean, you're dark, but not as dark as



us, take it off, here, we'll give ya an assist," chimed in Tim, totally



laughing now. He and Gene got no resistance from Dante, also all



handsome smiles, as they pulled his shirt out from under the shorts.



Dante to my surprise took the lead as they rolled the material up to



just beneath his pecs. This revealed his nicely formed six pack. "Hey,



look here, the guy is fuckin' ripped! Ripped to the bone! Lean mean



muscle machine! Check out that stud six pack." Gene grinned from ear



to ear as Dante took one finger and lightly traced some of the



indentations of muscularity that Gene, like so many young studs these



days, had spent a lot of time working to create and loved to show off.



"That is sexy, man. Lotsa guys get some biceps and pecs, but only the



real studs of the stud carry it all the way to the ab area. You're a



real live freakin' stud. How'd you get so ripped in the midsection,



buddy?"







"Me and Tim got serious about our abs after we hung out in South Beach



and saw what the competition was doin' with their bods. Unreal ab boys



down there-studder than hell. Gotta keep up, 'specially with our



modeling careers in mind."







"Hey, camera girl, zoom in on these abs, whattaya say," ordered



Raymond, and I obliged. Gene's strip of Versace brief looked good



against the tanned ripples of his abdominals, which I captured close



up. Meanwhile Tim and Dante finished the job of getting Gene to a



shirtless state. Gene put his A&F baseball cap on backwards in the



now-classic youthful jock look. They guys looked like they stepped



right out of the famous catalog with its celebration of ripped,



handsome, tanned young jocks in a variety of sexy poses, especially



together with their teammates.







"Are you naturally clean, man, or do you shave your chest?" asked Tim



with a laugh. Gene grinned and coyly shrugged. "Whatever, bud, you



have got one sexy lookin' male body."







"Give our audience a little flexin', Gene," ordered Raymond. Dante and



Tim backed off to join Raymond in the background while Gene did a double



bicep that showed his strong peaks as well as his huge upper body,



smiling a killer smile of macho pride as he showed off his stud bod, yet



a friendly one overall. "Now say so long to our friend before he takes



over the camera,, guys, one at a time."







Dante went over to Gene and patted him on the head, getting his face



close to the football stud's. "Stay hard, buddy, keep getting bigger,"



he said, rubbing Gene's pecs a little. "Damn, you're solid." He moved



back and Tim, Gene's longtime best buddy, came up.







"You look fuckin' good enough to eat, stud," Tim said, taking hold of



Gene and, as if in a romantic movie, slowly moving his face down for the



kill of kissing contact. "Open up." Tim then began kissing



Gene-Raymond nudged me and pointed, so I moved in for a closeup of



cleancut, handsome faces making love to each other. My camera followed



the strong hands of the two jocks as they caressed each other's massive



shoulders as the kiss continued. "Mmmmm," murmered Tim as he



reluctantly pulled away. "That tastes great. You smell fuckin' good,



kid. We are definitely hookin' up later on."







Raymond moved up and lighly shoved Tim aside, asserting his leadership



of the film "project." "So long, Gene buddy, thanks for your good



contribution. We'll be back with scene two in just a minute." Raymond



looked toward the camera and winked. Waiting a few seconds, he then



said, "OK, cut the thing off and we'll start the second round-you're



gonna star in it, Delbert, you horny little queer. That was hot, guys,"



he said in praise, giving each a jock lovepat followed by a little



caress. "Off to a stud start. Now we gotta set up this next



scene-Delbert,girl, put three chairs side by side here by the table and



then the cooler over there. Where the fuck's that suntan lotion?" Gene



picked it up. "Put it on the table there so we'll be ready." With



faith in whatever vision Raymond had in his handsome topman head, the



other jocks obeyed their captain's orders. Raymond, Tim, and Dante sat



in the three chairs with Tim, the biggest and darkest, looking awesome



in his muscle-hugging white t-shirt, in the center. Three gods,



together, ready to do-what? Raymond suddenly barked out, "OK, Gene, get



the camera; Del, you stand over by the cooler off-camera and just



fuckin' do what you're told like always, right buddy?" I nodded.



"That's my girl!" Raymond replied, rewarding me with his killer smile.



"You're gonna fuckin' get what you need as a reward, guaranteed.



Feedin' time's comin', ya hungry faggot. Now let's start the second



half in which we're gonna fuckin' SCORE! We are about to GET OFF! Del,



you worthless faggot, you are gonna get FED! By REAL MEN!" Raymond put



his arms around his two pals, the three chairs being bunched together as



close as they could so as to allow this. Since they were in shorts, the



afforded a fine view of their very strong, athletic legs. All the



football practice and lifting had made these very, very muscular legs



indeed. I noticed as I really hadn't before that their legs were all as



shaved as the rest of their muscular bodies and were also as tanned as



the rest, too. These guys worked very hard at attaining that superstud



look. They were totally in to looking the part of the stud jocks they



were.







"Alright, Gene, start the filming of part two of this fuckin' epic,"

ordered Raymond.







"OK,, here it goes," said Gene, turning on the camera and pointing it



toward Raymond.







"Damn, what a fine fuckin' day," began Raymond. "It's great to relax



before the big game tomorrow. Thanks for comin' by, Tim my man." With



this Raymond's arm moved down just a little to feel up Tim's massive



pec. "Gonna give your sore muscles a little massage, yeah."







"Sure, man," Tim replied, uncertain of where this was supposed to



lead.







Raymond picked up the ball at once. "You won't believe what happened



at school to me and Dante today, Tim man-this freakin' faggot got all



excited just fuckin' lookin' at us in a class."







"Hell, the guy shot his load in has pants just 'cause Ray here felt his



leg up a little after he saw him checkin' him out," said Dante, shaking



his head and looking contemptuous. "What a freak."







"Of course the fact that you guys were about to pop out of your



muscleshirts and burst out of your ass-huggin' jeans didn't have



anything the fuck to do with it, now, did it?" asked Tim with a grin and



a look at his two friends, who smiled back.







"We're always fuckin' showin' off our bods, man, I mean, why the hell



not? Ya get laid quicker!"







"You got that fuckin' right!" replied Dante. "You can never get too



much action."







"I remember my older brother sayin' to me when I had just put on some



real muscle, just before the summer when I was 16, "This summer, don't



wear a shirt, EVER-just wear shorts. Girls love it! You get laid



quicker!"







"Yeah, my cousin told me that guys who never went without their shirts



on were fags! Happiness is takin' your shirt off!" Dante couldn't



suppress a smile at this.







"We met up with the twins later and took the fag to Coach Perry's



office to introduce him to cocksuckin' 101, at which I gotta admit he



fuckin' excelled. A real start student of how to please studs! Michael



and Anthony were fuckin' impressed, and they promised to tell all the



guys on the team about our new little sucker mascot. Anyway, I told the



little queer to get the hell over here and serve us this afternoon, so



we'll have some fun with him, bash him around a little bit, get his



rocks off for him..."







"...and our own, too," interrupted Tim, putting his hand on Raymond's



muscular thigh and petting it a little, in response to Raymond's petting



of his pumped-up pec. "Hey, is this the guy you mentioned comin' in



now?"







"Sure the fuck is. Come on in, girly, meet another one of my football



buddies." In response, I walked over toward the three studs, cockily



sitting there and looking absolutely fantastically macho. I was shaking



with fear/lust in the presence of these handsome, barechested, bronzed,



muscular gods, wondering what they had in store. I felt, as was now



common enough, so utterly weak in their muscular, masculine presence. I



was half hard as I often was when with these macho alpha males. "C'mon,



Del girl, we ain't gonna beat the shit out of ya..."







"...unless we fuckin' feel like it," added Dante, with a tough guy look



that he held for a few seconds, until it turned into a smirk.







"Del, meet Tim, local college football stud, one helluva fuckin' cool



jock."







Tim put his hand out to shake-what an enormously powerful arm he



had!--and took hold of mine. His grip was sexily powerful and he hung



on, causing my dick to fill up more. "So you're a fan of the big boys,



huh?" Breathless with excitement, I could only nod. "You're lookin'



pretty gay today, kid."







Raymond grinned at the line and picked it up. "Yeah, that's fuckin'



right, when I got in the classroom and saw his little eyes light up when



he caught a glimpse of me, I said to myself, 'that is the fuckinest gay



boy I have fuckin' seen since gettin' cruised all the fuckin' time in



South Beach last summer.'"







Dante liked this, and so added his contribution. "And you still look



fuckin' gay. Where the fuck are you muscles, little girl?" My dick



throbbed with excitement as these top hunks had their fun.







"Now you be nice to our gay young blade, stud man," said Raymond.



"Del, go get us some fuckin' brews." I moved to the cooler in obedience



and brought them to them.







"Don't just fuckin' stand there you silly faggot, open 'em up!" said



Dante with an angry, impatient tone. I popped the cans and handed them



to them, Dante grabbing his with disdain.







"Here's to gettin' big," said Raymond, and the guys all chugged down



their beers in one slake, holding up their powerful arms as they did



so. Gene moved the camera in a little to capture the ripples of



muscularity as they chugged down their beers. "Mmmm, gonna get loose



here, have some fun-right, Del? Ready for a little fun, you fuckin'



jerk? Hey, go get yourself a beer along with another round for us



studs." I obeyed of course, handing each of the jocks a second can



while holding on to my own. "Don't fuckin' drink yours yet, just



wait." The guys again swallowed their beers in one gulp. Raymond then



popped open the can. "Ya thirsty, Del girl? Are you much of a beer



drinker? Answer me, sweetie." I shook my head, it being the best I



could do. "I fuckin' thought not. We got a virgin here in the beer



department, too."







"What a fuckin' queer," Dante said, staring at me. I felt a wave of



intimidation, though I still totally trusted my god Raymond.







"I'm gonna give you a taste of what real guys drink, fuckin' beer,



little Del," Raymond said with a smile. He motioned to me to come sit



at his feet. "No, you dumb fuck faggot, fuckin' kneel," Raymond



ordered, and I obeyed. This subsurvient position produced smiles from



Tim and even Dante. "Here's your fuckin' beer, girl," Raymond said. He



then sloshed about a third of the can all over my face. I was shocked



at the feel of the beer on my cheeks and slightly blinded. Tim and



Dante, surprised, loved it and howled with deep-sounding laughter.







"Fuck yeah! Give the fag a beer shower! Fuckin' drown him! Flood



him!" Dante yelled, excitedly. Raymond with a big grin took my head in



his hands and snapped my neck back, so I was looking straight up at



him. "Open up that cocksuckin' mouth." He then proceeded to pour the



beer into my mouth. I was able to get some of it but quickly gagged,



and anyway, Raymond soon directed the poor deliberately onto my face and



hair. I was soaked with the liquid that jocks downed by the keg when



they were warming themselves up at a party and enjoying each other's



muscular company. I shook a little not only from the cold of the beer



and from a feeling of fear. What were these guys going to do to me?







Dante leaned over me now. "What a fuckin' faggot. Look at this



shitface. What a freakin' mess."



Tim suddenly appeared, holding a water bottle. "This dirty little girl



needs to be cleaned up."







"Yeah, she's a filthy little gal, wash her up," said Raymond with a



smile. Tim then pointed the water bottle at my face and sueezed bursts



onto my face to wash the beer off. In the process, though, my head got



thoroughly soaked, and the pressure from the water. I gagged a little



which the studs seemed to enjoy. "Don't fight it, girl, ya gotta be



cleaned up for Tim's interrogation of you." I didn't know what that



meant, of course. Finally the uninvited shower stopped. Raymond took



his hand and rubbed all over my face. This gradually helped make the



water get disposed of, as did the heat of the California sun. "Sit in



this chair, Del," Raymond ordered. I found myself facing Tim, the wet



dream of wet dreams, with his USMC baseball cap, skin tight white



t-shirt with muscles bursting through, macho arms, and deep, dark tan.



"Now, you're gonna get questioned here by our drill officer. Go at 'er,



Tim. Ask the fag anything you wish."







Tim looked me in the eye, and I saw that he was staring at me, trying



to think of what to say. It didn't take long. "So, Delbert, Ray here



says you were makin' eyes at him in class. You were cruisin' his bod.



Is that right? Fuckin' answer me!"







"Yes," was all I could get out. This got a slight smile from Tim.







"You mean instead of payin' attention to your fuckin' teacher, you were



checkin' out Dante's shoulder blades and Ray-man's 18-inch biceps?" I



meekly nodded, which made Tim grin a little.







"And what did you like about Ray here? What made your faggot eyes



visually caress his bod? His muscles, or maybe his tan?" I nodded.



"We fuckin' thought so. And you liked his gym buddy Dante too?" Again



I nodded and was rewarded by a little hint of a smile. These guys were



all so devastating when they smiled. On top of their tans, muscles, and



penchant for tight clothes that showed off their hard-earned builds,



they knew how to light up their faces with sexy, self-confident smiles



that said, hey, I'm a stud, I fuckin' know it, I fuckin' love it.



Whenever they moved, they were so pumped up, and their clothes were so



tight and muscle-hugging, they just rippled. They were unbelievalbe



packages of male sexual beauty, and they were a tight-knit pack. They



enjoyed drilling girls and being sex objects and having their way with



guys like me, but they also, I had learned, got into each other's



muscular bodies and handsome looks. Seriously. This made them all the



more exciting.







"Now tell me, did you later get it on with these dudes? Ya know, did



you, like, have sex with 'em?" I nodded. "Say it!"







"I...I had sex with them."







"Who? We gotta get these facts straight, ya know."







"Dante, Raymond, and two other guys, Anthony and Michael."







"You mean those twin muscleguys on Dante and Raymond's football team?"







"Yeah."







"Now tell me, what exactly did you do? What I think you did?" I was



silent, not knowing what to say, reddening a little at the implicit



humiliation of this "interrogation."







"Tell Tim what the fuck you did, you stupid queer!" said Dante, looking



handsomely tough. He punched me in the arm, not really hard, but hard



enough to sting, a sort of ritualistic hit that said, I can fuckin' hit



you whenever I fuckin' please 'cause I fuckin' own you.







"No, I'LL tell you, Timothy my man," broke in Raymond, who came up



behind me and put his hands around my neck. He began rubbing my neck



and upper chest a little. "He gave us all head. That's fuckin'



right-this gay young blade got down on his faggot knees and gave us all



fuckin' blowjobs. Ain't that right, girl?" I nodded weakly; I was



feeling a leak in my pants from my throbbing dick. "And tell Tim-did



you swallow?"







"Yes," I managed to get out. This got a reward of a caress from



Raymond and even a little kiss on my neck, to my surprise. "That's my



girl!" he whispered in my ear as he gave it a little kiss, too.







"And what did you think of the taste?" asked Tim, now not able to



contain himself, laughing at the whole thing. His face glowed as he



smiled.







"He fuckin' fuckin' LOVED it, that's what!" said Raymond loudly.



"Ain't that fuckin' right?"







"Yeah."







"Say it proud, little girl!"







"I-I loved it."







"What the fuck do you love doin'?"







"I like g-g-giving head."







"To who?"







"To jocks like you."







"Good girl!" said Raymond. He now pulled my head to his and kissed me



strongly on the lips, his tongue getting inside my mouth. He was



training me to behave in a certain way, and if I did what I was to do, I



would get a reward. I just about liked his kissing better than anything



else at this point. I still couldn't quite believe he would do it in



front of his macho friends. But then I remembered that they, too,



kissed each other. Apparantly their name-calling of me and insulting



language didn't quite mean exactly what it might have appeared on the



surface. It was, rather, a part of the game of sorts they played, the



game of "I'm a Stud, Here's What Studs Do." I had heard them brag about



scoring with girls, and it seemed clear this was important to them, but



it also seemed clear they enjoyed each other's muscular company the



most. They bragged to each other about girls they had scored with as if



they were sports trophies they had won. I wondered what else they



did.with each other besides massaging their buddies' muscles and kissing



their pals' handsome, tanned faces.







Raymond brought me back from my thoughts with an order, "Now, face the



camera-get a closeup, Gene buddy-and tell our viewers what you like to



do with athletic guys."







"I like to give head."







"What fuckin' else? Elaborate, faggot."







"I like to suck cock."







"There ya go!" Raymond said with a huge grin, rewarding me with a



powerful squeeze of affection.







"And what do you think of your new acquaintance Tim here?"







"I think he's-he's incredible."







"Kinda makes you wanna be in a barracks full of marines, right?"







"Uh, that would be great."







"Well, hell, girl, why wait. Wanna get it on with him? Like fuckin'



now?"







Tim now moved in and looked me face to face. He had a slight smile



which reassured me. "Ya want somethin' from me, bud? Tell your man



what you want."







"Come on, girl," said Raymond, still caressing me, right behind me,



letting me feel all over my upper body his powerful young musculature.



He was luring me deeper and deeper into a particular role in the lives



of him and his athletic pals.







"I-I want to give you head," I managed to get out.







"Wanna suck my DICK? My cock? Wanna feel my muscles all over?"







"Yes."







"HELL, yeah, he fuckin' wants to," chimed in Dante. "That is what he



was fuckin' born to do. A first-class cocksucker. A faggot and a



half. A jocksniffer."







"Ya think Tim looks hot in his t-shirt?" asked Raymond with a grin.



"Like the way it hugs his muscle? Ya know, they're makin' shirts now



that have a little stretchy fabric in 'em so as to really show off a



well-built man. We got a lotta connections in South Beach and West



Hollywood and get all the tight clothes we want. The new thing is gonna



be video catalogs, and we're gonna model in 'em. Tim's shirt is a



classic but with a little lycra it really draws attention. Think he



looks stud in it?"







"Y-yeah," I forced out. I looked down at Tim's poweful, veiny, bulging



arms. Raymond noticed the path of my eyes.







"Kiss his bicep, girl," he ordered with a smile. He didn't need to



pressure me. Tim, picking up the cue, flexed his huge, manly bicep. I



gladly moved toward it and worshipped this icon of macho maleness with a



kiss on this rock-hard mountain of macho with an exciting vein at the



peak of it. No bodyfat problem for this hunk and a half. Tim couldn't



help grinning from ear to ear at the attention; even Dante was relaxedly



smiling now.







"Look at his fuckin' hardon," observed Dante matter-of-factly. "What a



queer."







"Now, what's wrong with this picture?" asked Raymond rhetorically.



"Here it is a beautiful sunny day and ya got three athletic guys who



still have their freakin' shirts on!"







"Yeah, you're right, we gotta get dark," said Tim. "We gotta look good



for the victory party tomorrow night after the game."







"Get dark! What the fuck you talkin' about? You are so fuckin' tanned



it is unreal," said Raymond to the USC football god in front of him, who



handsomely smiled in reply.







"You can never be too dark or too big," the stud replied.







"Now THAT is the creed of our posse."







"Plus you can never get laid too much," chimed in Dante.







"That's fuckin' right too," conceded Raymond. "Dante, bud, we gotta



catch up with this guy. Whattaya say we get down to our tannin'



clothes?" With this, the three jocks stood up-I was sort of shoved to



the back-and Gene recorded their striptease act. They stretched and



stretched as if awakening from sleep, and the tightness of their shirts



provided some great looks. Raymond moved in front of the camera and



flexed his strong arms, visible through his tanktop, for benefit of the



viewers. "Check it out, man," he said to the camera, flexing and



grinning. Each hunk slowly pulled up his shirt to reveal the



musculature of his midsection.







"Hey, wait a sec, line up, let the viewers at home decide who has the



fuckin' best abs." The boys, with shirts pulled up but still on, stood



as if in a bodybuilding contest, in a row, abs side by side. They were



unreal. Tim's was definitely an 8-pack and was probably the best, given



he had a little head start plus the benefits of a college weight



program. After this display of rippling abdominal muscle flexing, the



shirts rather slowly came off, then the shorts. The three guys each



wore white briefs, Tim wearing Versace, Dante and Raymond Calvins. The



whiteness looked fine next to the bronzed skin. Each stud's endowment



filled up the pouch of the briefs sexily.







"Now bring us that tannin' lotion, girl," Raymond said to me. I



brought it over. He looked at me a second, getting an idea. "Ya know,



you are the palest guy here, Del babe. Where's your tan? No muslces,



no tan. What the fuck is your problem? You need this worse than we



do. Get the fuck over here." I moved closer to my idol. "Here's



somethin' for you faggot face." He took the bottle and squeezed some



gobs of lotion onto my face-way too much, letting it cover my face. "Ya



know, you look fuckin' good with your face full of wet stuff. We're



gonna do that again before long. Now be nice to our headgiver, guys,



rub his lotion in for him." Dante and Tim each took a big finger and



rubbed in the oil on either side of my face. My cheeks and forehead



felt shiny under the sun.







"Now, we're gonna form a line and you get over here and polish us up.



Buff up our muscles with the lotion, Del girl," Raymond ordered.



"Yeah, that's it," he said as I polished his muscular chest with suntan



oil. "Feel the abs, baby, buff 'em up. Here, I'll help you out."

Raymond then began polishing Tim's pecs. "What a man, Tim buddy...you have



gotten fuckin' huge up here."







"No pecs, no sex."







"Plenty of sex for us today."







"And tonight, and tomorrow, and tomorrow..." chimed in Tim.







"Gettin' ready, Delbert?" asked Dante, grabbing my crotch and pulling



my fully erect dick out so that it poked obscenely in the air. "Hell,



yeah, gayboy's hot to get off. Look at this shit."







"Lay him down and set him up for a facial," said Raymond with a stud



grin. "He fuckin' deserves it. He's been a good little girl." Dante



shoved me toward a plastic table on which I lay, looking up at the three



bronzed, shirtless muscleboys who grinned above me. "Gene, get the



camera over here for this shot. It's gonna be the climax of our little



movie here."







The three hunks pulled their male organs out and pointed them toward my



face. By now I knew what was coming. Raymond, though, insisted that I



articulate it.







"Whatcha think, kid? Hungry? Wanna get fed? Answer me, girl!"







I didn't quite know what to say, but my silence was not accepted.



Dante slapped me hard in the face. "Come on, faggot, 'fess up-tell the



viewing audience what you want from us. Say it!"







"Come on, girl," added Raymond, tugging my dick just a little. He had



a delicate touch for a guy with such huge manly hands-he kept me on the



edge without going over. "Spit it out. We know what you want, and



we're willin' to give it to ya, but fuckin' say it."







I was now aroused to the scene and ready to play my part. "I want..."







Raymond interrupted me. "First, buddy, just answer me one thing, for



the benefit of the viewers, just to make it as fuckin' clear as day.



Ever since you first started makin' eyes at me, those little faggot doe



eyes, checkin' out my biceps, starin' at my build, I've been wantin' to



ask you somethin'. And here it is: Are you GAY or somethin'? Buddy,



are you fuckin' GAY? Now get that camera in close, Gene. So I repeat,



my little sweet candyass fruit, are you freakin' fuckin' GAY? Say it!"







"I-I'm gay," I managed to get out as I stared up at the three tanned,



muscular, barechested football studs above me, their gold chains hanging



over their huge upper chests, Dante looking tough, Tim smiling broadly,



and Raymond with a smirky, shit-kicking grin of total top cockiness.







"Good girl! We fuckin' thought as much. You look so fuckin' gay. Now



we're gonna give you your reward for your right answer in truth or



dare. Just keep sayin' it till you get what you want."







They hovered over me with their hands pulling on their dicks, pointing



the huge monsters at my pale face. Raymond had another idea and grabbed



Tim's dick, who picked up on the concept and moved likewise; quickly



each hunk was tugging one of his pal's dicks for him, helping his buddy



out.







"I'm-I'm gay...I'm gay..." I said weakly.







"Little fuckin' variety, fag-ya know, make it interesting, alternate,



like fag, queer, pansy, fruit, cocksucker..." Raymond said, sounding a



little excited himself.







"I'm a fag, I'm a dicksucker..." I began mumbling the synonyms as I



could tell the jocks were almost ready for relief.







"Look out below, faggot!" shouted Dante as Tim strongly jerked his dick



to climax. This outburst put the other hunks over the edge as well.



The power of their blasts knocked my head back. The combined force of



three created an enormous load on my nose, cheeks, forehead, with some



getting into my mouth from my lips. Jet after jet splattered. A



strong, thick rope of cum connected one of their dicks to my nose.



"Look at the faggot! Fuckin' look at him!" That comment got me over



the edge, too, and I shot what seemed like my hundreth load of the most



incredible day of my life.







A humongous, deep-throated laugh of three stud football players, each



well over 200 muscular pounds, pervaded the scene. Blinking, I managed



to clear my vision enough to see Tim giving Dante a deep-throated



congratulatory kiss on the lips. Raymond was looking into the camera.







"So there ya go, jock fans, that's a little look at our Friday



afternoon at the pool. We're just gonna hang now and work on our tans.



But remember, guys, next time you start lookin' down a stud athlete,



realize he may look back and give you all you can handle-right Del



girl?" He looked at me. "Fuckin' A Right."

[emsgdh]

Dear Canus:

Thank you very, very, very much.

[Canus]

no problem.