Date: Sun, 28 Nov 2010 17:04:36 -0800 (PST)
From: james english <swimmingcock81@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Long Day in Ibiza: A Story of Speedos, Sex, and Mystery in Three Parts, Part I

Notes to readers:

1. This story is longer than I had anticipated, but please don't be daunted
by its length. It's broken into chapters for piecewise reading, and
throughout all these there is plenty to titillate most every imagination.

2. Please don't repost without asking.

3. It will take some work to finish the last two parts. I welcome any
comments, encouragement, and inspiration. If you've got some favorite
speedo pictures of any kind (provided, you know, they're not of minors and
whatnot) feel free to pass them along. They really help with the writing
process. Also, I'll be sure to let interested readers know when the next
installments are posted.

4. Enjoy.

--James (swimmingcock81@yahoo.com)


Part I: 8 a.m. to Noon


1.


From the very start, it was a strange day.

I was achingly hungover, facedown in the sheets of a bed I barely knew, and
wincing as my ears were assaulted by the blare of the morning news. Or so I
assumed that's what I heard; I was never very good at Spanish.

"...y todos estan muertos...que lastima...Miguel?"

"Si, Gloria. Ahora una noticia de una nueva ley de M.W. Sandoval, el
joven..."

It was a peculiar form of torture. I knew just enough Spanish to decipher
every other word or so they said, and so my tired, throbbing brain was
unwillingly and uncontrollably using what little energy it had left to
attempt to translate.

"...y es posible que esta ley puede abrogar el derecho a matrimonio
homosexual en Espana..."

That big was easy enough. "Matrimonio homosexual." Good old Spain, I
thought. The Pope can visit all he wants and shake his bejeweled finger in
your face, but you still let a fag be a fag. God bless you and your
dark-skinned beauties.

A sudden clank from the bathroom distracted my sorry attempts at
translation. I immediately realized that among the sounds pressing hard on
my weary ears was that of the shower running.

"Billy...Billy!" I called, to no reply.

Probably jerking off, I thought. And that bastard loves leaving splooge on
the shower wall...

"Billy!"

Still nothing.

I turned to the nightstand to check the time. The clock, wherever it was,
had been replaced by a pair of lime green speedos and a plain gold
ring. Neither were familiar. I picked up the ring and rolled it between my
fingertips, letting the morning sun illuminate its polished surface. An
assortment of dings and scratches suggested it wasn't new, but yet it had
clearly been well cared for. It made a satisfying tap as I set it back on
the nightstand.

"Billy!"

Damn that bastard. He could be the most oblivious airhead sometimes.

I swung my legs out of bed and, as I did so, caught a glimpse of the TV
that made me stop. They were still going on about "matrimonio homosexual"
and among a collage of clips-the usual tuxedoed gays kissing, stern priests
shouting, red-faced politicians banging their fist-I thought I saw
something distinctly familiar. Again my sputtering brain was called to work
on what should have been a day off. But before it offered any helpful data
my attention was thrown in another halting direction, this time drawn to
something in my own crotch: I was wearing my fucking underpants.

Or so I called them. They were black briefs, cut low with a thin pink trim
along the waistline. Made of cotton or some such fuzzy and loose material,
they drooped ever so seductively when loaded with my heavy package, causing
the waistline to dip invitingly and the top of my ass crack to appear. I
never wore them out of my bedroom, but if I brought a treasured enough find
back home, and the mood seemed ripe for a private lap dance, the fucking
underpants made an appearance.

My addled brain, however, had nothing to say when I tried to remember who
had deserved such special treatment the night before. Billy would have to
help with that information, and I quickly decided I wasn't about to wait
for him to finish his endless wank-session.

"Goddammit, Billy!" I yelled as I bounded for the bathroom. "If you just
wait thirty minutes you can find a real person to jerk you-"

Midway through swinging the bathroom door open, I froze. It was no wonder
Billy hadn't replied.

Standing in the bathroom, sleek and lathered beneath the showerhead, was a
vision of Spanish beauty. Lithe yet muscled, his body spread up from his
narrow waist along the ridges of his tight stomach towards his firm,
compact pecs and smooth, rounded shoulders. As he shifted his balance
beneath the hot water his already full ass swelled to bubbly perfection and
the muscles of his smooth thighs flexed beneath his rich, dark skin. For a
moment I caught a glimpse of his cock, hanging heavy and thick beneath his
trim black bush.

When I opened the door his face was in his hands, but the noise of my
intrusion caught his attention. Quickly a stern face of dark eyebrows and
full, pursed lips emerged amidst the steam. No sooner had this probing
stare set my heart pounding than a puckish grin of white teeth and
squinting, playful eyes broke across his face, welcoming me
wholeheartedly. I was stunned. Here was sultry seduction and giddy
playfulness in the same beautiful, youthful face-written across the same
deep brown eyes and button nose.

At this point my brain surrendered. Ask no more questions of me, it
begged. My cock was left in charge, and it immediately began rising to take
control of the situation.

"Chur fucky underpaints," he said with another white smile.

I smiled back, though not understanding a word he said. He seemed to
realize this.

"I like," he began, slowing down his accented English for my benefit,
"fucky underpaints."

To further clarify he pointed at the growing hard-on in my black briefs.

This should have been more than enough to decipher what he said, but I was
momentarily distracted by the way his muscled shoulder flexed when he
raised his soapy arm to point. Finally, I made the connection and smiled
again, like a fool.

"Gracias," I managed to say.

He laughed-a small, quiet, sexy laugh-and then spread both his hands up
across his face and into his dark hair. As he did so his back arched and
each of his abs seemed to pop, as did his two hard nipples, and for a
moment he was pure sculpture.

I stood there dumbstruck and wished profoundly that I could be any of the
droplets of water coursing along that hard, muscled body and its smooth,
dark skin.

"Very tired?" he asked as he saw me staring.

"What?" I blushed at being caught. "Um, yes, very tired. Too much alcohol
for me last night, I think. Uh...demasiados...bebidos para mi, anoche." I
clumsily pantomimed drinking with my hand and instantly regretted it as he
laughed quietly at me yet again.

"Oh, ees too bad, then."

"Ha ha, yeah," I said, nervously agreeing and smiling along with what he
said.

But now he wasn't smiling. "So you are too tired for, then...?" And during
an endless, pregnant pause he dropped a hand to his side and then slowly
slid it around his ass cheek, slipping his fingertips into the crack of his
ass. All the while his probing, brown eyes held my gaze with no seeming
intention of letting go.

Suddenly my mouth felt dry. I swallowed and took two steps towards him, my
toes now up against the edge of the bathtub. The warm spray of the
showerhead misted across my hard chest. My eyes were locked on his.

"Bien," he said with a small smile.

His arm dropped to my crotch, and his strong, wet hand began kneading my
balls and my half-hard cock. It was only moments before I was fully hard
and he was cupping my fat cock through the damp fabric of my briefs.

For those first few moments we stared at each other, him holding my eyes
like a stern tamer of animals and me trying desperately to remember just
what I had done with his body the night before.

Finally he leaned with his shoulders and his soft lips met mine. His touch
was surprisingly delicate, and his tongue slipped into my mouth slowly,
with care and almost, you could say, grace. Here was that experience that,
although I'd had it several times before in Spain, continued to thrill me
to my bones: the dark, smoldering Spaniard, seemingly all lust and power,
coming upon me gently, like a feather, hard and eager to take, but soft and
begging to give. I took care to caress his tongue with mine in his gentle
manner, but I was no match for his patience. Eager and horny, I voraciously
moved my lips about his.

Delicate too was the touch of his hot, wet hands as they slipped about my
sides and, drawing me to him, brought my body flush against his. The sudden
rush of warm water across my chest sent a jolt through my body. The water
rushed down the muscled cleft of my pecs and, finding our stomachs locked
together, gushed around them before trickling down our smooth thighs.

The sudden onslaught of heat and steam and flesh and tongue had me
disoriented. I trusted his hands, now wrapped about my firm ass checks, to
hold me steady as I slipped my tongue further and further into his warm
mouth. I did, however, notice exactly where my hard cock was: pressed tight
between our groins, my cocktip hard up on his hip, kept from his skin by a
thin layer of wet fabric. And I noticed his, too. Its growing hardness was
drawing its tip up along the inside of my smooth thigh before its shaft
touched my heavy sack and was pinned there as it swelled and swelled.

I leaned back, reluctantly breaking our kiss, so I could free his rising
cock. It was thick, full, and beautiful. I wrapped my hand about its
generous girth and brought it up against my stomach. Smiling, he took care
to extract my own cock and balls from my briefs and bring it up along next
to his. Our fat cocks side-by-side, under a flow of water and in between
two muscled stomachs, was a sight to see. Before I could admire it for long
he had wrapped his arms around my shoulders and his lips around my
mouth. Now nearly every muscle of his body was hot against mine. He started
grinding his hips into mine and our cocks, lathered and wet, moved along
the tight tunnel between our hard abs. I grinded in return and threw my
head back at the sensations from my cock. Instantly, his warm mouth found
my neck and covered it in wet, massaging kisses.

This couldn't last long, I thought. I was unprepared for this encounter,
and my morning wood was particularly sensitive. I tried to draw my
attention away from the feel of his warm stomach muscles against my hard
cock. I bit his lip and hoped he'd return the gesture. Laughing, he nibbled
back at my lower lip. I tried to focus on that sweet pain but still my cock
pulsed.

I began moving my hands along his strong backside. I tried to put all my
attention and sensation into my fingers, which followed the muscles of his
back down to his huge, firm ass cheeks. I grabbed those, spreading my hands
wide to grasp them in the palms of my hands, but his reaction to this was
to grind harder and make my cock even more tender. So I put more strength
into my hands and began kneading his ass cheeks, my fingertips moving
deeper and deeper into the cleft of his ass. Quickly enough I felt the
tight pucker of his asshole. Suddenly his gyrating stopped and his back
arched, opening his crack wider for my eager hands.

Yet my problem wasn't solved. I probed one fingertip directly against the
center of his hole and he let out a cooing sound that nearly made me come
right then. I couldn't trust my cock up against his flesh, so I made a
move.

In one quick motion I turned his body around and dropped to my knees. He
let out a small moan and then, as best I could tell from the side of his
face, broke into a wide grin. Now I was staring down his pretty pink hole
and my hard cock had a brief respite as it throbbed under the fall of hot
water.

I wasted no time in lodging my jaw deep between his muscular ass cheeks. I
spread his cheeks wide with my hands and stretched my tight tongue tip
right up to his entrance. After gently stroking it a few moments with my
tongue, I dug my face deeper into his ass and found a depth where I could
probe his more completely. His hole was tight and twitchy. Each time my
tongue landed on its mark his hole would spasm and a moan would ring out
over the sound of the gushing water that ran down his back and along his
ass crack.

His moans made me confident, and I began to scheme to put him as close to
coming as I was. Taking a hand off his ass, I reached up and found his
heavy balls and throbbing cock. I began working over his shaft. I tugged
tugged its ample length and delicately tapped and grasped his sensitive
cock head. The moaning grew louder. Soon I felt his hand grab mine and,
unsure at first of what was happening, smiled into his ass crack when I
felt his hot spit hit the palm of my hand. I quickly wrapped it about his
shaft and began pumping again, his rod passing smoothly inside my curled
hand.

Soon enough both his ass and cock were twitching and his moans were
building into low shouts. When I looked up I saw his head back, the water
falling on his neck and shoulders and cascading down his back. At any
moment I expected to feel a familiar pulse in my palm and see his cum hit
the shower wall.

However, in a sudden motion he stepped forward, pulling his body from the
grasp of my hand and the probing of my tongue. I looked up and met his
eyes, which no longer had either playful mischief or smoldering desire in
them. There was a sort of frenzied desperation in them. His mouth, it
seemed, was struggling to find the right words to say.

"Fuck, fuck...fuck!" he both begged and commanded, now prying apart his ass
cheeks to show me yet again his hole slathered in my spit.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Jes. Fuck fuck."

And with that he turned his head away from me again and leaned his arms
above his head against the shower wall.

I frantically scanned the bathroom for a moment before finding lube an
arm's reach away. I coated my cock in an instant and rose from my knees
behind him.

Before so much as touching him, I found myself pausing to take in the sight
before me. A full, firm ass punctuated with a pink, puckered hole bent over
before me. A backside of dark Spanish skin and smooth muscles, mine for the
taking. I looked down at my throbbing cock and begged it to wait just a few
moments longer.

Finally I brought a lubed fingertip to his hole. To my surprise, this was
met with a grunt. His hand shot back behind him and forcefully grabbed my
cock, aiming my cocktip at his hole. So no preliminaries were necessary, I
thought. Fine by me. Dipping my hips and pointing my cock, I pressed my
hard cock head into his warm hole.

I pushed slow through his tight, smooth tunnel. My eyes instinctively
closed as the sensation overwhelmed me. The grip of his body was completely
consuming my dick, somehow taking control of me. It was with a start that I
realized my bush was tickling his ass and my full length and girth was
buried inside him. I paused, our connection deep and complete, and let him
feel me while I felt him.

I began pumping slowly and fully, taking my cocktip just outside his hole
with each stroke. Each time I pumped in he moaned and, to my surprise, so
did I. Soon my pace quickened and my ass was flexing hard to propel my dick
into his ass. His moans became yelps, and I slowed my rocking hips. But
this was no good for him, or so he indicated with a hand that wrapped about
my backside and slapped my ass cheek onwards.

A satisfying slap rang out each time my crotch and thighs crashed into his
ass cheeks. I was pounding hard now, so hard that I need to hang onto his
waist lest I slip in the tub. He shouted, but his words were completely
incomprehensible-probably even to those who knew Spanish. He arched his
back and rocked his hips with my thrusts, craving all the cock I had to
fill him with. I happily obliged and pushed harder, burying my shaft deep
into his muscled frame.

To my surprise, he came first. I heard a gasp louder than the rest, felt
his body jolt, and then saw around the side of his torso a glob of pearl
cum oozing down the shower wall. His breathing became heavy and his body
shuddered. I slowed my pumping, partly to give him rest and partly so that
I could peer around his body and watch as he jerked the rest of the jizz
from his cock. However, once again he had no patience for this and slapped
my ass with another demand for speed.

I myself was not far from coming, and when he turned his head and found my
lips I found I had little time left at all. His kisses transferred to me
the delirious, sweaty daze of his own ecstasy, and I immediately was
brought under its sway. I began pumping harder than he had ever commanded,
my hips positively slamming his backside, my cock plowing his tender
passage. Once again he arched his back and offered the full depths of his
hole; I banged harder and harder into him.

Momentarily distracted by the force of my fucking, I soon felt a swell of
sensations from my cock. An instant later, I felt that happy surge from my
balls and, my body halting tense and taut, I emptied my hot load inside
him.

He cooed and rubbed his hands along my thighs as he took my jizz. I let
fall my arms and head onto his shoulders, utterly exhausted. His warm, wet
skin was a perfect pillow.

But I was not allowed to rest long. Soon his massaging hands found my ass
cheeks and began directing my tender cock in a course of slow and steady
pumping. I followed along, my overworked cock quaking along every
millimeter of his tight hole, and as I did my warm cum slowly seeped out of
the tight seal between my shaft and his hole and oozed down the inside of
his smooth thighs. As I kept pumping I reached my hands up around his front
and grasped his firm pecs. He placed his hands atop mine and bowed his head
beneath the water, making space yet again for my weary head to rest on his
shoulders.

And so we stood for happy eternity beneath that hot water, his tight body
massaging my swollen rod.


2.


He looked no worse when dry.

As he bent over to slip into his lime green speedo, I beheld him again,
head to toe. The morning sun, spilling between curtains into the room, made
his fresh and clean skin appear to glow. In a body as defined as his, each
movement was a complex working of muscles, a flexing underneath his brown
skin. His thighs as he crouched, his back as he bent, his biceps as he
pulled up his tight speedo and tucked his cock inside-all were mesmerizing.

Finally he stood, his package roundly filling out the front of his low-cut
speedo, and smiled at me.

"I see you today?"

"Hmm?"

"La playa, the beach. You come today?"

"Oh. Sure, sure. I think so." I nervously retightened the towel around my
waist. Doing so I noticed my cock was half-hard again.

"Bien."

He looked about the room, his expression for the first time bashful, even
awkward. It, like the others that preceded it, was an expression that sat
well on the fine, beautiful features of his face.

"I think I go, then. Is OK?"

I was barely paying attention, hoping for another moment to stare down his
dark nipples and rigid stomach-to sear in my memory the shape of his full
bulge.

"Yes, sure. No problem. Here. Let me get the door."

As he made his way out my cock twitched with the realization that the only
clothing he had brought with him to my room was the small piece of nylon
around his ass and cock. How far was he going in an outfit like that? Of
course, such are the joys of Ibiza: boys in speedos nonchalantly walking
along sidewalks to buy cigarettes and tropical fruit.

With a start I realized he had brought one other small scrap of cover for
his body. I raced to the nightstand and back to the doorway as he crossed
the threshold.

"Wait, your ring!"

A flash of sunlight illuminated an inscription inside the band. Ha, I
thought. So that's his fucking name!

He had turned around and watched as I approached.

"Here, Wistan," I pronounced the name slowly and with a poor attempt at a
Spanish accent. "Don't forget your ring."

He paused. Then looked curiously from my eyes to the ring and back to my
eyes.

"'Chur ring?' Thees ees not mi anillo."

"What?"

"Who ees Weestan?" He shrugged his brow thinking for a moment, then
smiled. "Chu think I am Weestan?"

"What? Umm..."

He laughed. "I am Ignacio. No Weestan."

I stared blankly at him.

"Ees a nice ring, though. Weestan is lucky."

"Yeah," murmured to myself, staring at the ring. Where the hell had it come
from?

Ignacio looked ready to leave again. To save some face, I turned the tables
on him.

"OK, Senor Ignacio."

He was smiling at my playful tone.

"Jes?"

"If you are Ignacio, then who am I?" As I spoke I took a step forward and
began softly stroking his arm.

His body tightened as I approached, and he puffed up his chest to meet my
joking challenge. He leaned his face forward, his nose an inch from mine.

"Chu are el rey," he said, before leaning in to give me a slow kiss. When
he finished he put his lips by my ear and translated:

"The king."

And then he turned around and began a slow, proud saunter down the hallway
and out of my life, his ass cheeks flexing with each step.

The king? I'd been complimented on my cock before, but never like that. I
stepped back into my room with an enormous, satisfied grin stretching
across my face. I threw my towel off and my body down on the bed.

What can I say? I proudly thought to myself. I'm just good at what I
do. Many have come to partake of the treasures of my body: the smooth
tanned physique of a professional diver encased in its sundry muscles,
curvaceous biceps, round and full shoulders, hard slabs of pecs, rigid abs,
thick thighs, an enticing bubble-butt that threatened to snap every speedo
I wore. They come to admire my sandy blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, full lips
and white smile. They come to see the heavy balls and giant cock promised
by the sight of my overloaded speedos. They come to jerk, blow, suck,
fuck. And most of the time, they get just what they came for.

And so on and so forth I sang the praises of my twenty-two year old body as
I rested, legs dangling off the end of the bed. Unfortunately, at least as
far as my throbbing ego was concerned I was soon pulled from my reverie.

First I thought they were pieces of the ceiling falling down onto the bed,
so I rushed to the doorframe for cover from an imagined earthquake.
Standing there, I looked across the room and saw what was really happening.
Small rocks, pebbles really, were arcing into the room through the narrow
opening in the sliding door. Their launcher had good aim, for only once did
he throw wide and hit the glass door with a precarious clang.

I wrapped the towel back around my waist and made for the sliding door and
the balcony beyond it. Stupidly, I assumed no one would dare throw pebbles
at me.

"Dammit!" I shouted as one hit me, albeit rather painlessly, square in the
chest. I threw an arm in front of my face and stepped out onto the third
storey balcony. The glare of the more sun obscured my vision for the most
part, and I realized I had made myself an excellent target.

But no more projectiles came my way. When my eyes adjusted I began scanning
the street below. It was empty, save a Coca-Cola truck unloading its bounty
halfway up the block.

"Ignacio...Ignacio!" I said in the loudest whisper I could create.

"Over here, dude!"

"Billy?!"

"Yeah, bra, over here."

My eyes scanned frantically and then saw, rising from behind a hedge across
the street, a waving arm.

"What the fuck are you doing down there?"

"Dude, come down here."

"What?" We were both doing our best not to wake up the inhabitants of the
fifty or so hotel rooms that faced the street we were talking across.

"Come down here."

"Wait...why? You come up here."

"Nah, man, you HAVE to come down here!"

I groaned in annoyance. "Alright, alright. Two secs." I made for the
sliding door but Billy's voice stopped me.

"And, dude?"

"Yeah?"

Hesitation hung in the air before Billy's next words.

"Bring some clothes."

"Jesus," I muttered under my breath with a smile.


3.


"So they were just there next to you when you woke up?"

I was quizzing Billy as he, now fully clothed, shoveled eggs and sausage
into his mouth in the restaurant of the Hotel Molino. Out the window beside
our table a hillside of cinder-block apartments and hotels descended to
Figueretas Beach and the light blue collar the Mediterranean cast about the
island of Ibiza.

"Dude, not next to me. Fucking on top of me! And they were fucking huge."

"Wait, how many were there again?"

"Shit. I didn't count 'em all. At least six."

"On one bed?"

"Yeah. I mean, it looked like we passed out in the middle of fucking. This
one dude had dried jizz all over his face and was just sleepin' away like
it was no big shit or anything."

I laughed at the thought. A little too loud, it seemed, for the other half
dozen or so early risers in the restaurant looked our way, staring longer
than they usually did to check out our bodies.

"Dude, it was intense. Full on muscle daddies. All hairy and shit. Pecs the
size of your head."

"Old guys?"

"I dunno. Thirties, probably, so not really. Fucking hot, though,
man. Fucking hot. I did not get why people found those crazy, jacked-up
meathead types so hot, but shit, I get it now."

"Good fuckers, huh?"

"Unbelievable fuckers." His eyes grew wide with those words.

I couldn't help but picture Billy, the swimmer to my diver with his long
and lean body, caught between two hulking, hairy beasts. It was not only
the sight of those disparate bodies that had me smiling to myself, but also
the thought of Billy, the platinum blonde, overprivileged surf child of
Orange County, stuck between two grunting, no-nonsense muscle bears.

He slipped a whole hard-boiled egg in his mouth and started to move his
hands and speak frantically.

"Nis wun die, oh mar Gar, oh mar Gar."

"What?" I smiled at the spectacle.

He paused a moment, swallowed a huge lump of egg, and tried again.

"This one guy-holy shit-this one was holding me up, my arms around his
shoulders-all that shit-, and fucking me for like half an hour straight. I
thought the veins on the dude's arms were gonna explode."

"I would think your asshole might explode too."

"Haha. No shit, dude. But I gotta tell ya'."

"What?"

"Those dudes can be, like, tender and shit."

That, and the sincerity with which Billy said it, was the sort of thing
that made me laugh at and love him time and time again.

He was bashful and smiling as I laughed at him.

"Hey, fuck you, alright," he said as he threw a muffin at me. "It's the
fucking truth."

"Who knew the secret to true love was beards and anabolic steroids?"

"Dickhead."

We both smiled and set to eating again. After a minute or so Billy spoke.

"So this Ignacio dude, did I ever meet him? At the beach or something?
Where'd you pick him up."

"Well," I paused a bit. "I actually don't really remember meeting him at
all."

Usually Billy would laugh at a detail like that, but he became strangely
serious.

"At all?"

"No. I...I kinda feel like a huge slut."

Again, none of the chuckles I expected from Billy.

"Do you remember fucking him?" His eyes were trained on mine. I looked down
into my plate.

"This morning, sure. But before that, nothing."

Billy sat up in his chair and very leaned towards me with a very somber
look on his face.

"Dude," he announced, "it's Saturday."

He said it like he was telling me my father had died. My first reaction was
to laugh as I usually did at Billy's poor attempts at seriousness. But
before the laugh could rise to the top of my throat, a pulse of realization
and anxiety stunned it in my throat.

"Saturday?" I responded calmly.

Billy's eyes went wide as he saw the understanding in mine.

"Saturday."

I paused, my mind frantically racing over our familiar timeline. Into
Madrid on Friday, onto Ibiza on Monday, through to Rome for Worlds the
following Sunday. It seemed way too early for us to be on our penultimate
day in gay paradise.

"Wait," I asked, desperately trying to find some logic and reasoning to
cling to, "what day did I give that guy CPR at the beach?"

"Wednesday," Billy replied quickly, as if he had already done this
calculation himself.

"Monday we..."

"Went to the pool and then the beach."

"Tuesday..."

"Pool and beach."

"Wednesday..."

"Pool, beach, and-"

"I'm sensing a pattern here," I muttered as an aside.

"-pulled that dude out of the water," Billy continued.

"Thursday..."

This time Billy offered no swift reply. Instead he leaned even closer and
whispered, "Dude, I thought today was motherfucking Thursday."

The comment hung eerily in the air as we both pondered it, Billy sure of
something amiss and myself still in disbelief.

"How do you know?"

"What?"

"That it's Saturday."

"The paper. The internet caf‚. It's fucking Sa-ba-do."

"You're sure that's the word for Saturday?"

"You're supposed to be the smart one."

Fuck, I thought to myself. We need a "Jueves", not "Sabado". What the hell
is going on?

As if answering my question, Billy said, "Drugs, dude."

"What?"

"Drugs. We were on some drugs."

I instinctively refused to believe it. Black-out drunk? Sure. Weed?
Sometimes, but anytime so close to competition. Drugs that erase two whole
days? No way.

"Like what?" I asked, for the first time in quite a while turning to Billy
for his expertise with a serious question.

"Not sure. Something crazy, for sure."

"Did you-?"

"No way!" he said throwing his hands up in the air. "No fucking way. Musta
been slipped to us."

"Jesus Christ."

We both sat back, Billy looking satisfied that I had come to the same
conclusion as him.

It's hard now to look back and separate out all the different thoughts that
swarmed over my mind. There was, of course, shock and disbelief, followed
soon after by a lingering wonder and worry over what I might have done. I
had just woken up to fuck a complete stranger and Billy had spent the night
beneath a pile of men. While neither of these were firsts for us, times
before we usually understood how we got in bed with the adonis or how the
poor schmuck ended up with cum caked in his beard. And that was just one
night. What about all day Thursday and Friday? Wednesday night to Saturday
morning? Jesus, I thought, it was a miracle my cock was still attached to
my body and my asshole was still fully closing. As the possible scenarios
started to surface the blur of excitement hardened into anger. Who the hell
did this?

Our thoughts were interrupted by a waiter. Like most of the waiters at the
Hotel Molino, he was young and beautiful, his Spanish face brightened with
tight, bright smile.

"Excuse me, sirs. Are you the persons staying in the room tirty-tree?"

Billy was still lost in his thoughts so I replied.

"Yes, yes."

"Ah! I have messages here for you."

He reached into a pocket of his black vest and produced two envelopes which
I took while slipping a Euro into his pocket.

"Gracias, senor. Anything more for you and your friend?"

I was reading the names on the letters, one addressed to me and one to
Billy.

"Umm, yes: milk."

He didn't seem to understand.

"Do you have any, umm...what's the word, umm...leche?"

Very quickly but very sincerely, he laughed-an uncontrollable little laugh
no doubt not meant for guests of the hotel. A memory of high school Spanish
suddenly flooded my mind; "leche" had a "very base and very figurative"
meaning aside from "milk", our teacher had said with a wink.

The waiter composed himself and spoke. "Yes, sir. Mas leche para el rey!"
As he finished the short sentence and began to turn away, however, the
smile broke again across his face.

Billy, who had been in a seeming daze, finally chimed in, his brow suddenly
furrowed.

"Dude, did he just call you the king?"


4.


"How far do you think a taxi would take us for 300 Euros?"

Billy was calling from the bathroom while I sat on the bed. Two showers and
forty-five minutes of speculation after realizing we'd just fast-forwarded
past two days of our lives, we were still at a loss to recollect what had
happened. But our attention was already drifting elsewhere for the
moment. Mine was on the letter addressed to me, which I was rereading as
Billy spoke.

"How far, dude?"

Billy appeared at the bathroom door, naked, his cheeks lathered in shaving
gel. This certainly wasn't a new sight for me, but yet I always found
myself pausing to admire.

His body was a tribute to the coaching of the U.S. national swim team. His
long, lean legs; his broad, sculpted shoulders; his chiseled chest and
perfect stomach: he was built for speed, flush with power. In Rome he was
expected to lead our team, if not the whole field, in no fewer than five
events. Chief among them were the two and four hundred IM, events he had
owned for the past year; the rest of the world was just competing for
second.

Most coaches would argue that, in the pool, his massive, heavy cock did him
no favors. But staring at it as it swung between his smooth, tan thighs, I
knew to what great uses it had been put.

Between the letter in my hands and the body before my eyes, I hardly heard
a word he said.

"What?"

"I said how far do you think we can go on the 300 Euros?"

"Oh. Haha. Probably twice around the whole island, at least."

"Dude, that's crazy. Read me that thing again."

"Alright." I held out the letter again. "'Jake, Thank you again for your
heroism on the beach the other day. My family and I can never repay you for
saving my life, but we would like to try by having you come for lunch at
our home this Saturday. I've enclosed the address and money for a
taxi. Please feel free to bring your friend along. Best wishes, --Marcos
S.'"

"Any idea where the address is?"

"Naw. Couldn't get the internet working."

"I bet it's a sick house. That dude seemed completely loaded."

"Yeah, no shit," I said, waving the six 50-Euro notes that had accompanied
the letter.

"Seriously, bra, did you see what his wife was wearing at the beach? Gucci
Gucci Gucci all over that bitch."

"I didn't notice."

"Too busy sucking that dude's face," Billy said and slapped me playfully on
the face with a handful of shaving cream.

"Motherfucker."

"Haha," he said and darted back into the bathroom.

"Thanks a lot."

"Dude," he called over the rush of the tap, "don't be embarrassed, that guy
was actually pretty hot. I actually popped a little wood when you were all
over him."

"You're sick."

"What?" Billy said, defensive but laughing.

"The guy was about to die."

"Nah, you had him."

"So sure?"

"Jakey Monroe's a world class lifeguard in my book."

"Gee, thanks."

"My pleasure."

I had been nowhere near as confident as he was. The guy, Marcos, had been
completely unresponsive when I pulled him away from the outcropping of rock
he had hit his head upon. And it was more than a minute after that before
he was on shore where I could start CPR. I definitely wasn't thinking about
popping wood at the time, I was wondering what Spain's laws were like for
negligent homicide.

"So," I began as I wiped my face on a pair of Billy's jeans, "you didn't
tell me what your letter said."

"What?"

I assumed my best upper crust accent: "What news came hither in the
correspondence addressed to Mr. Billy Tandry the Third?"

"You bitch."

I laughed. Billy was a blue-blood and he hated it. The only thing that
agitated him more than hearing his full name was any talk of his family's
insurance business-a business whose reins were sure to fall into Billy's
hands once his swimming career ended.

"No seriously, what was it? Your dad again, I'm guessing."

Billy stepped out of the bathroom again, his face shaven and bright. He
wore a pair of black and white striped speedos with red fringe, his fist
sized package distending the stripes as they stretched around his cock and
balls.

"Yeah, bra. Mo' money, mo' problems."

"Oh really?"

"Nah, he says I'm spending too much again-gonna max out the platinum
card. Which is ridiculous. Everything is so fucking expensive over
here. It's not my fucking fault."

"Sure it isn't," I said sarcastically.

"What?"

"Well, I haven't seen those before." I pointed to his speedo.

"What? This?"

"Yeah."

"What the fuck? I needed a new suit."

"You're a professional swimmer and you're saying you don't own a decent
speedo?"

He laughed a bit at this. "Whatever, racing suits aren't that hot, and this
shit was too good to pass up."

"How much?"

"80 Euros."

"Jesus."

"You shouldn't be such a dick about it," he said as he dug into his
suitcase.

"Oh yeah, why not?"

He pulled out a fistful of fabric. "Cuz I got you one too."

I unfolded the wad of fabric he tossed my way and found tiny baby-blue
speedo. Its fresh lycra had a wonderfully soft feel and the new metallic
sheen that is eventually washed away in the laundry.

"It's got a cupped pouch for your giant Johnson and it's the right blue
for, you know..."

"For what?" I asked, taking my pleased stare from the speedo to Billy's now
bashful face.

"Your eyes."

"Aw, my wittle sweetie pie."

"Fuck off."

I laughed and then, with an outstretched arm and raised finger declared,
"To the pool!"


5.


It was Ibiza; it was July; it was 10 a.m. We were gay, horny, and on our
way to the hillside pool at Hotel Molino. Our direction was hardly a
choice-more a matter of gravitational pull.

The pool is something of an institution on the island. Though the pool
itself is neither large nor opulent nor particularly popular, the
many-leveled lounge decks that sprawl before and behind and above and below
the pool swarm with bronzed and muscled bodies as long as the sun
shines. People come for the commanding view of the Mediterranean, the cool
sea breezes, and the sight of a hundred oiled and buff bodies wrapped in
tiny pieces of nylon and spandex and lycra, colored as bright as a rainbow.

We crossed the street in front of our building, passed between two hedges
of bright red bougainvillea, and entered the pool area at the topmost
terrace. Scanning the crowds for empty chairs, we couldn't see two next to
each other.

"Damn, this place keeps getting more and more packed," Billy lamented.

"Yeah, we may have to split up."

"That sucks but-oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit!" Billy interrupted himself.

"What?!"

"Two levels down, yellow speedo."

"Wait, where...?" I started scanning the crowd.

"Two levels down, yellow-see the guy in the white thong walking, he's right
next-"

"Oh shit, I see it."

"Dude."

"Yeah."

It wasn't anything spectacular for the Hotel Molino pool, but it was worth
taking in. The yellow speedo belonged to a hulking, massive muscle daddy,
with a neatly trimmed chest and a close-cropped beard. The speedo in
question looked to be moments away from bursting. The muscle daddy's huge
cock was at full extension, bulging through the speedo. Its fat cocktip
reached all the way to his hip. From even twenty feet away, the dick's
girth was an arresting sight.

The muscle daddy made no attempts to hide it. In fact, as one, two, three
guys passed in front of his chair-all shooting long, appreciative stares
towards his crotch-he seemed to arch his back, flexing his abs and pushing
his hard package skyward. We knew from previous days that it was only a
matter of time.

To our surprise it ended up being a courageous Spanish twink of sorts,
sporting his own boner through tight red square-cut swim trunks, who
confidently stepped alongside the muscle daddy's chair and sat down. He sat
right by the daddy's knees and, leaning forward, began caressing the inside
of his hairy, tree trunk thighs. They both said nothing at first. The daddy
merely looked down approvingly at the boy.

"Oh shit," Billy said as we tried to hide out blatant stares behind the
trunk of a palm tree. Such discretion wasn't really necessary, since most
eyes around the pool were pair by pair turning towards the show in
progress.

Eventually the boy said a few words-nothing we had a chance of hearing. But
whatever they were, they encouraged the daddy to take his big wide hands
and begin groping his own package as the boy slid his delicate hand further
and further up his thighs, his fingertips grazing the daddy's sack through
his yellow speedo.

The boy was now throwing a barrage of puckered lips and suggestive smiles
at the daddy. He, though we couldn't make out his facial expressions,
brought a hand to his mouth, soaked two fingertips in his warm saliva, and
presented them to the boy, who leaned forward further to take them into his
mouth.

Minds around the pool deck shared one thought: forget the fucking fingers,
take out that fat cock and feed it to the boy! Unfortunately even heaven
has rules, and at the Hotel Molino pool no cock can see the light of
day. Despite the wild, raw libidos firing away all around the pool deck,
the rule was firm and observed. However, for imaginative minds, this was
hardly a problem. And, lucky for us spectators, the twink knew how to
improvise.

After taking the daddy's sweet saliva and sending back some of his own
(which the daddy appreciatively took into his own mouth) the boy put his
small hands to work on the massive package before him. As he kneaded and
massaged the thick shaft I noticed the boy had a surprisingly firm set of
shoulders, biceps, and triceps flexing and churning away as he worked. His
body was slim, tight, and tan-but there was clearly a lot of power in his
frame. He looked like the kind of bottom who could last all night and well
into the morning.

The boy's confidence didn't seem to flag as nearly every set of eyes fixed
upon the cock in his hands. In fact, he grew bolder. With a deft leap and
slide of his body he mounted the daddy full on, his cute ass now resting
directly atop that huge yellow package.

"Dude, fucking awesome," Billy whispered.

"No shit."

"I'm all bone here."

I looked and saw Billy try his best to surreptitiously show me the fat log
in his striped speedo.

"Jesus!"

"Shh! I can't help it. That shit is insane down there."

A quick look about the pool showed Billy wasn't alone. Along the rows of
bodies sprawled along the lounge chairs were speedo after speedo swelling
with growing cocks. Some simply sat still as if ignoring the rods in their
crotches would make them less conspicuous; others seemed to think that no
good hard-on should be left untended and were massaging their dicks through
their tight swim briefs.

Still, Billy seemed bashful.

"Here," I said, stepping forward and resting my arms on a railing before
us. "Come stand behind me."

"What?"

I took him by the forearm and pulled his front up against my backside.

"Oh shit, dude," he moaned as his hard, speedo-bound cock pressed up
against my firm ass cheeks.

"Just an old-fashioned game of hide-the-sausage, really," I said with a
smile.

I flexed my ass cheeks just to tease his cock a bit.

"Oh, motherfucker," he groaned quietly, his hot breath in my ear.

I laughed. "You all right?"

It seemed I had sent him into a trance. "Fucking amazing, Jake. You're
fucking amazing."

"Haha. OK, OK. Take it easy on me, though," I said and leaned my head back
alongside his, my hair brushing his cheek.

"OK, baby," he said with a sincerity that left me puzzled. Billy and I had
fooled around endless times. I couldn't remember too many moans of "baby."
But I didn't have much time to reflect on it; the show was moving on.

The muscle daddy put his hands behind his head, locking his fingers
together amidst his short dark hair, and let the boy go to work. And go to
work he did. The boy began rocking, then circling, then positively gyrating
his hips, all the while grinding his smooth thighs and perky butt against
the daddy's throbbing rod. The daddy's head tilted farther and father back
as the boy's work intensified.

Within the tight red trunks, the boy's own cock was clearly enjoying the
ride. It grew and grew, its shiny tip slipping above his waistband for one
glorious second-only to be met by a collective, awestruck gasp from the
crowd. The boy then promptly returned it to its tight confines, whereupon
the gasp became a disappointed sigh.

Billy neither gasped nor sighed along with the rest of us. His nose was
buried the back of my hair; his arms were wrapped around the front of my
chest; and his hips were slightly, almost imperceptibly, grinding his fat
shaft along my ass cheek.

"You watching this?"

"So hot, dude. So. Fucking. Hot."

I looked back and wasn't convinced he was checking out anything more than
his view of my shoulders, arms and back. Part of me wondered if the drugs
might not have worn off him just yet; but that thought was interrupted by
another smart move by the showoff twink.

Looking for ways to grind harder into the shaft below him, the boy threw
his arms down onto the daddy's massive hairy pecs for support. From there
he began dipping his ass deeper, dragging it up and down and side-to-side
along the daddy's speedo-bound crotch. However, the daddy's chest soon
proved too sweet a distraction, and the boy's grinding hips slowed as he
began teasing the daddy's nipples. He tugged and pinched, and the daddy
tilted his head back forward. He reached up his massive arms and rubbed the
boy's forearms approvingly as the boy continued to twist and pull.

Suddenly a moan rang out from the terrace directly below us. A brunette
stud in a navy speedo spotted with white stars, sitting just above the
daddy and the twink, had clearly had his fill of the free entertainment. As
dozens of eyes darted to the sound of his telltale cry, they came upon the
sight of a growing wetness across the front of the brunette's
speedo. Knowing smiles broke across the crowd as friends pointed out the
explosion to other friends. The brunette, for his part, was only so
bashful. He slipped a hand down into his speedo, jerked his shaft a few
times beneath the nylon, and withdrew his cum-covered hand for all to
see. He smeared his cum across his chest and let us all watch as it shone
pearly white under the bright sun.

"Damn, did you see that?" I asked Billy.

"Dude."

"This guy in the white, right there."

"Dude."

"What?!"

"Dude!"

"It's the guy right there. What the fuck is your-?"

Before I could turn my head around to see why Billy seemed to momentarily
have Tourette's, I felt his hips make two hard thrusts against my ass. Soon
after came the feel of a shudder through Billy's whole body and the feel of
hot jizz seeping across the fabric of our speedos and onto my ass cheek.

Billy, for his part, had little to say. He simply drooped his head down
onto my back like a tired dog.

"Jesus, Billy."

"Sorry, man," he muttered. "Too fucking hot."

"I guess so."

His arms, still wrapped around my chest, tightened. Then he dropped one
hand down to my crotch and began messaging my own half-hard cock through my
baby blue speedo.

"Buddy, what the-"

"It's OK, J. I got you."

And with that he went to town, gripping around as much of my shaft as he
could wrestle from the nylon, pinching at my cocktip, cupping and gently
squeezing my balls. In moments my dick was all hard, and Billy was licking
the back of my ear.

Billy's groping and licking diverted the attention of about a dozen people
away from the twink-and-muscle-daddy show. I blushed but Billy himself
didn't seem to notice, his brow buried in my sandy-blonde hair. I tried to
look to the ground to avoid the stares, but eventually decided to look head
on and take in the last of the show.

The twink was arching his back now, his sleek abs bulging as he rocked atop
the muscle daddy's cock. The daddy didn't have much left in him, it was
clear. He laid his hands on the boy's smooth sides but did nothing with
them; he seemed to be almost powerless and under the spell of the twink's
hips.

Aside from the grunt, we all knew when the daddy came because his crotch
pulsed and briefly sprang the boy's whole body skyward. For a moment the
boy paused, watching the agony of ecstasy on the daddy's face as he
unloaded into his yellow speedo. But soon another sly smile flickered on
his face and he resumed rocking across that powerful groin and its fat
cock. At this the daddy trembled and tightened his grip on the twink's
sides, trying to stop the gyrations atop his tender shaft. The boy allowed
no such respite for him, and smiled as he struggled to wiggle within the
daddy's powerful grip.

The crowd at this point was on the verge of cheering and laughing out loud
in appreciation of the puckish twink. More importantly, we all wondered how
he would be getting his.

We did not have to wonder long. In yet another bold move from that small
frame, the boy, still straddling the daddy, moved his way up and positioned
himself over the daddy's hairy chest. From here he briefly paused, looked
down with a smile at the exhausted stud below him, and leaned his red bulge
into the daddy's face.

Technically, no pool rules had been broken at this point. But yet gasps
arose as we watched the most flagrant show of the week. Not reproving
gasps, mind you, but rather gasps of awe, admiration, and anticipation.

As Billy's cum cooled from hot to warm against the side of my ass and his
hand continued stroking my rod, I watched the daddy munch on the twink's
hard rod though its nylon encasement. His jawbones churned beneath his dark
beard. The twink, courageous to the end, didn't hesitate to grab his daddy
by the head and press his face atop his own cock. The daddy's body language
made it clear enough that he wasn't used to such rough treatment from such
delicate creatures, but for the crowd this reordering of the gay universe
only made things more interesting. And, despite whatever reservations he
may have had, the daddy munched away.

I got the sense that the boy had the will power to enjoy an hour of
attention from the daddy's mouth, but he also seemed intent on giving us
all a good show, complete with a grand finale. He came up with quite a good
surprise. Backing his grinding hips off the daddy's face for a moment, he
grabbed his shaft through his red trunks and slipped a finger inside his
waistband. Then he let his crotch crash back into the daddy's tongue and
stubble. Unsure of what was going on, the crowd hunched up in their chairs
to peer more intently at the tight space between the daddy's face and the
boy's groin.

We didn't actually see the mechanics of his surprise, but we saw the
result. When the time came to cum, he lifted his waistband just enough to
allow his hot load to spray up out of his tight red square-cut and onto the
brow of the daddy. The first we saw of this scheme was when the boy,
smiling, leaned back again and revealed three large gobs of cum oozing down
the daddy's face.

The daddy's stern demeanor finally cracked at this elaborate trick and he
laughed. The boy, smiling in reply, leaned down and gently began kissing
and licking his cum from the daddy's face. Before the boy could swallow
much or any of it, the daddy pulled him down by the neck for kissful and
after kissful of cum.

As the daddy and the twink's show descended into everyday kisses and
cuddling on their lounge chair, the crowd's attention wandered up to me. I
didn't notice it at first. But soon it was apparent that there I was,
displayed like meat along the topmost balcony of the pool's terraces, my
fat cock throbbing inside my tiny speedo as Billy stroked it and kissed my
ear. It was only fair, I guess, that the spectator became the show.

I tried my best not to look at the prying eyes, and luckily most were
obscured my Aviators or Dolce & Gabbana lenses the size of
saucers. However, the few eyes I did see seemed to be smiling with a very
knowing grin, which left me unsettled and my adrenalin thumping. After a
few moments I decided it was best to close my eyes and get to the finale.

Once I closed my eyes the crowd seemed to have dispersed and I was left
with the feel Billy's body wrapped about mine. To my surprise I found the
feel of his wandering tongue, his hot breath, his slow-churning hand, and
the heat of his chest on my back all exhilarating. There was a tenderness
coming from his every movement that I wasn't familiar with, and I wasn't
sure right away if it was because it was new or because I had never noticed
it before. Before that question could be answered my surrender to Billy's
warm body was complete and a blotch of cum was spreading across the front
of my baby blue speedo. As I came Billy tightened the grip of his one arm
around my chest, positively smashing our muscled frames together. Yet
despite the pressure, it was an incredibly soft and tender embrace, and my
cock seemed to unload an extra-large load in response.

There was a collective sigh across the terraces as the impromptu shows came
to an end. On other unseen levels other spectators of the twink and daddy
had unloaded their own shafts to the delight of their neighbors. It was
about two dozen out of a hundred people having a group wank with their
speedos on: quite a sight, and something of a fantasy come true for
professional wearers of speedos such as myself and Billy.

The crowd was gorgeous and the cocks were huge, so I can't say my show was
better than any other. But I did notice that my coming was the only
explosion that was accompanied by outright cheers from a smattering of the
crowd. I wouldn't have noticed the cheers, actually, had one of my admirers
from below not shouted something curious:

"Viva el rey!"

Long live the king.


6.


"Well, I'd say the speedos have been properly christened."

Billy and I were huddled under a showerhead. After the jerking bonanza a
crush of exhausted men with cum-spattered bodies and sweaty swimming briefs
had descended on the two outdoor showers by the pool. Billy and I had
jumped together into the shower stall separated from the rest of the pool
deck by a trellis overgrown with flowering vines. A tapestry of sunlight
and shadows speckled our wet bodies.

"Yeah, dude. These fuckers will never be so soft again," Billy lamented as
he turned his black and white striped speedo inside out and held the
cum-soaked fabric under the falling water.

Our still swollen, weary cocks hung low and heavy under the hot water. As
we jostled about his cocktip occasionally tapped my own or the front of my
smooth thigh.

"Worth it, though."

"Definitely," Billy said, looking up from his speedo into my eyes.

"We've done a lot of shit, but I don't think we've ever done that before."

"Nah, I think you're right. It was fucking hot. Have to do it again
sometime."

I wrapped my arm around his wet waist and pulled him close to me for a
quick kiss.

"Anytime."

Suddenly we heard the padding of wet feet and, in a blur, a figure appeared
next to us in the shower.

"Fuck!" Billy jumped.

"Just a sec, man. We're almost done," I said as I looked the figure in the
eye.

But something in those eyes told me I was missing the point. The figure was
another dark Spaniard. Most immediately I noticed his smooth, hard chest
and the bulge hanging from his dark purple speedo. The expression on his
face, however, eventually held all my attention. A frantic, exasperated
look spread wildly across his dark eyebrows, hazel eyes, and high and
delicate cheekbones.

"Yous are so stupid! Stupid boys!" he began, quickly and severely.

Billy and I stared at each other in disbelief.

"Dude, we'll be out in a second."

"Yeah, just hold on," I said as I put a hand to his hard pecs and began
gently pushing him away.

His eyes grew wide, his expression livid.

"What!? What ees wrong wit chu boys?"

"What?"

"Where have yous been?"

"What do you mean?"

"Uh! Stupido stupido stupido!" He seemed to be nearly at his wits' end, and
as he approached it his accented lisp and queeny dramatics accelerated.

"Calm down, dude," Billy said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"No!" He swatted the hand away. "No! No! El Senor Vasquez cannot find yous
almost one whole day. So now he come to me, say I am to fix, or
trouble. Trouble!"

"What?"

"Why you keep asking 'What?' when yous know!?"

Again Billy and I traded incredulous stares. There was only one word we
could think to say, and we said it together:

"What?"

"Dios mio. Que stupido!"

He looked at us both intently and then, finally believing our disbelief,
slowed down his agitated words.

"Me: Rodrigo. Si?" He enunciated slowly, as if talking to a child. We
weren't sure whether to be offended or not.

"Umm, si. Hi, Rodrigo."

"Yous: Beely and Jahk. Si?"

"Sort of," I replied. "Billy and Jake," I pronounced correctly, to his
irritation.

"We make deal with Senor Vasquez. Together. Si?"

"Umm, who is Senor Vasquez?"

"Que?! Quien es-Dios mio!" He was absolutely frantic again.

"Oy. Andale andale!" the voice of the next in line to use the shower yelled
out.

"Ay!" The voice now sent our intruder into an outright panic. "Tengo que
ir, tengo que ir-yous go to la playa?"

"The beach?" I asked. "Yeah, this afternoon."

He seemed relieved. "OK, OK. Fine, fine. We talk then. Come soon."

"OK," we agreed, happy to finally be able to say something that would calm
him down.

He seemed to pause to think. He looked over us and noticed we were naked
for the first time.

"Ay, my preety leetle boys. Be careful till then, OK?"

"OK."

"And remember: Planet boys will be watching at you. Be good to them. They
want fuck, you do it. OK?"

Again Billy and I stared at each other. Asking questions at this point
seemed a waste, but I couldn't let that go by without comment.

"Why?"

Rodrigo fell gravely quiet.

"Yous know, Senor Vasquez big plan. And you," he said, sticking a finger
into my pec, "only good for him if you play along."

"What?"

"Is big business that-"

"Andale!" the man in line called again.

"I tell you later."

And with a quick patter of wet feet slapping against the pool deck, Rodrigo
disappeared. Billy and I stood stupefied. The shower stall, despite the
rush of the water, suddenly seemed silent now that the wild eyes and
alarming words of the intruding Rodrigo were gone.

"Dude, what the fuck was that?!" Billy asked, running a hand through his
hair in full confusion and amazement.

"No idea."

"I mean, what the fuck?"

"Yeah."

"Who was that dude?"

"Billy, what the hell did we do the past two days?"


7.


Eventually we found two deck chairs side-by-side on one of the lower
terraces. Well, we didn't find it so much as a cute British stud offered us
his chair next to another empty one, saying "Anything for you."

We set down out towels, lubed one another's tight bodies in sunscreen (a
sight that attracted nearly as much attention as Billy's jerking me),
slipped on our sunglasses, and stretched out under the hot Mediterranean
sun. The breeze was coming in cool from the sea, and we tried to relax as
best we could, but soon enough our minds were racing.

"So Senor Vasquez..." I began, not really knowing what to say.

"Yeah, dude. What...the...fuck?"

"Do you think he thinks we're somebody else?"

"Maybe."

"I mean, I have no idea what he means."

"Yeah."

"Or, hell, maybe it was all nonsense and he was just trying to sneak a peak
at our dicks in there."

"I dunno. I think he really knew us, though. I mean, I think we're almost
the only two blondes around here."

He had a point there. Aside from a few muscle-bound Germans our complexions
made us stand out amongst the dark Spanish hoards. Tan though we were from
hours of training in and around pools, it was a different sort of darkness.

"Shit." It was all I could think to say.

"Yeah, dude. I think we did some batshit crazy stuff those two days."

"So what now, then?"

"I dunno. I guess we go to the beach this afternoon and see if that crazy
bastard is there. Maybe he'll tell us more."

"Maybe," I said hesitantly, though I understood that Billy was basically
right. There wasn't much else we could do. The helplessness of the
situation began to rise in my consciousness, and it brought a sort of
discomfort and nausea over me. Two days of unaccounted, random fucking was
enough to make my stomach sink in and of itself. But now Senor Vasquez? And
"you're only good if you play along"? And the wild eyes as he said it all?
Dread was rising within me. But while the uncertainty was what terrified
me, it was also what comforted me. For delusions and distractions were easy
to come by. It was easy to think: no, nothing bad had happened, just too
much drinking and a random hookup or two. Nothing worse than a weekend out
at home, and look around at the men I there are to hook up with. Is this
place anything but paradise?

"Dude, it's flyer time," Billy said as he sat up in his chair and tapped my
shoulder.

"What? Where?" I said, propping myself up on my elbows and turning my head.

Billy didn't need to answer me, part of the job of the flyer boys is to be
as conspicuous as possible. I saw them the moment I turned my head.

Ibiza, most would agree, is kept alive by the artificial respirator of
tourism. For the most part that tourism operates there as its does
throughout the rest of the world's beaches: shimmering towers of luxury
hotel complexes, the cracking facades of drab and dreary budget hotels,
overpriced and inauthentic restaurants, bodegas lined with towers of
sunscreen and racks of beach towels, jet ski rentals, 20-Euro T-shirts, and
so on. But Ibiza does have one rather unique claim to fame: its
clubs. Megaclubs, really. Foam parties, laser shows, glitter-encrusted
dancers hanging from ceilings, DJs that you've actually heard of
before-thousands upon thousands of Euros of entertainment staged nightly
for the enjoyment of drunk and high revelers willing to part with a 60-Euro
cover charge. It is, after all, a business-and a thriving one at that.

 And like all businesses, the clubs invest in smart marketing
strategies. Sure, billboards and posters are part of that, but the real
genius of their advertising is the flyer boys sent out from the gay clubs.

The day of a huge party one can always expect to see them, tan and buffed
with immaculately smooth skin, prancing in a pack around Ibiza's popular
pools and beaches. In their wake one finds gawking stares and hands full of
small glossy cards advertising the evening's entertainment. Now, granted,
the sight of a pack of muscled boys giddily tromping about the beach in
Ibiza is no unusual sight, but these boys are the buffest of the buff, with
meticulously gelled hair and bulging abs-they always manage to look as if
they've come directly from the gym. And, in case one still can't point them
out, there's always the dead giveaway of their matching speedos, usually
bearing the name of their respective clubs stamped across their asses.

"I can't see. Which one are they from?" Billy asked as he craned his neck
to look to the terrace above where they were parading in.

"Sacrilege, I think," I said after catching the sight of an ornate gothic
"S" on the side of a pink speedo filled with a massive bubble butt.

"Nice."

Needless to say, the train of five muscled boys in pink speedos and
pink-rimmed sunglasses immediately captured the attention of everyone
around the pool. But just to make sure, the last boy in the line-fittingly
the one with the biggest and best ass-carried a set of speakers over his
shoulder that blared trance music across the pool deck.

Smiles broke across the crowd as the parade of abs and pecs, of biceps and
bulges, danced and snaked its way through the crowd. They boys took care to
do the job right, like true showmen. They didn't merely drop their
flyers-no, no, that would be far too impersonal. They backed their gyrating
asses up into crotches or wrapped their hands about chests while jiggling
their bulges against bystanders' backsides. Then, after they'd raised their
victim's heart rate substantially, they'd hand over the flyer with a smile
and a sexy glance directly into a pair of awestruck eyes.

Today one of the boys was particularly eager. With close-cropped hair and a
diamond stud in one ear, he confidently leaped atop lounge
chairs-straddling people with his muscled torso-and then presented the
flyer in his mouth, which more than a few startled loungers happily
received with their own mouths. Every chair he dismounted appeared to have
a fresh rising cock upon it.

The mood was festive, and the crowd was soon dancing along to the
music. When the boys reached a more or less central area amongst the many
terraces, the back boy put his speakers down and the crew began a
performance of sorts.

Every muscle on their taut bodies flexed to full definition as they dipped
and gyrated in a mass of hard flesh. There was no real routine they were
following; they just danced like the go-go boys they were, often grinding
their tight bodies together-ass into crotch, stomach along side, ass
against ass.

A circle of spectators wanting the closest look possible was crowding
around them when a whoop went up from the uppermost level of the terrace.

"Ay ay!"

"Uh oh!"

"Ven! Ven ven ven!"

When the shouts died down my ears were disoriented by a blare of music. The
Sacrilege boys were playing some awful music, I thought at first. But then
I realized what was happening.

Descending now from the top terrace was a second parade of flesh. They
supplied their own music as well, thus creating the utter cacophony of
techno beats.

"Sweet," Billy murmured as he spotted them.

I look briefly his direction and saw his hand rubbing his cock through his
black and white striped speedo. Not a bad idea, I thought. But I had a
better one. To best see the carnival of flesh beginning on the terraces
above me, I flipped over on my chair, pushing my growing dick up against
the tight stretch of the lounge chair. As I began slightly pumping my
package into the chair, Billy caught on.

"Good idea, bra."

Soon we were both humping away at our chairs, watching the festival of
muscle unfold.

The second group of boys was no less beautiful and sculpted that the
first. And what's more, there were seven of them, all sporting full bulges
in low-cut white speedos. They seemed to immediately sight their
pink-speedo'd competition on the terrace below them. As they did a rush of
playful tension rose up in the crowd.

"Where are these dudes from?" Billy asked, now unabashedly humping his
chair.

I scanned the white speedos until one turned around.

"Planet 10."

After a brief pause we both said at once:

"Hey!"

"Wait," Billy went on. "Is that was that he meant in the shower?"

"Planet boys."

"Yeah."

"I don't know."

We both seemed to think about it for a moment.

"What else, right?" Billy surmised.

"Yeah," I said and added with a laugh, "Too bad. I guess we'll have to fuck
them."

"We've got a hard life, J."

"Real hard life."

By now the Planet 10 boys had walked straight up to the Sacrilege boys and
set off a chorus of "Oooh's" and "Uh oh's". Both sides playfully wore stern
expressions on their face, like players huffing in each other's faces
before a big game. They stood for a few moments, the two disparate sets of
speakers clashing the air, before a Planet boy stepped forward.

With a confident stride he approached the Sacrilege speakers and turned
them off. He snapped up chin up in the air haughtily and he returned to his
spot among the Planet boys.

Another still, tense moment-those two rows of muscled torsos facing off-and
then the leader of the Sacrilege boys removed his sunglasses, dramatically
cast them aside, and stepped up to the nearest Planet boy. The leader of
the Sacrilege crowd, a muscled god with an intricate tattoo sleeve
descending his right arm from shoulder to elbow, then slowly and
deliberately wrapped his hand around the package of the Planet boy.

The Planet boy jumped almost imperceptibly, and smiled even more subtly,
before tightening his steady posture and grave glare. He looked ahead,
refusing to meet eyes with his groper. In that small, passing smile I
realized the fun and tease behind this game, and the great showmanship both
sides were capable off. After all, this was their job-they were good at it.

I envied the tattooed hunk as his big hand methodically churned over the
Planet's boy's big white nylon bulge. After working it over for a minute or
so, the Sacrilege stud looked up from the bulge to the boy's face and then
out at the crowd, which was waiting on tenterhooks for what would happen
next. With a dramatic flourish, the tattooed stud shook his head in
disapproval. Planet boys, he seemed to indicate, didn't pass his package
test. The crowd roared with laughter; some, however, began administering
their own package tests to themselves as they watched the hot proceedings
before them.

Now the tattooed stud was apparently a fair person, and so before passing
judgment on all the Planet boys as a whole, he moved through their ranks
one-by-one, cupping every fat bulge. The Planet boys all followed along,
staring ahead stone-faced with their hands behind their backs as the stud's
thick hand massaged their meat. Their bodies they kept steady, but two of
the Planet boys couldn't restrain their dicks, and while inspecting them
the tattooed hunk was left with fat rods in his palm. Still, the heartless
hunk shook his head disapprovingly at their enormous shafts. Business is
business, I guess.

The two Planet boys that popped wood were perhaps the most enticing of
their group. One, with very close-cropped hair and a tiger tattooed across
his left pec, had-despite his tough and rigid body-a tender look about his
face. Though he was slender and lithe, he was no twink as his frame was
cased in tight muscles. He looked to be scrappy, a fighter. He could barely
suppress his cute, wide smiles as the Sacrilege stud went to work on him
and his friends.

The other, with short spiked hair and thick bulging muscles, carried his
high cheekbones in an expression of severe beauty that could be so
disconcerting to passersby in a club. He looked like his life revolved
around the club and gym, and through his stern expression one could see
that his brain might not consist of more than a few seldom used cranks and
gears. A gay ditz, I wondered? He, too, couldn't control his smiles or his
cock, so from my lounge chair I pardoned the perceived stupidity in his
face on account of his seeming good nature.

"Dude, my dick is going to be fucking raw."

I looked over to see Billy still humping away, not a care in the world
other than his stiff cock. I couldn't blame him.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a spasm of movement and turned just
in time to see the guy on the chair next to me-a hard young stud with twin
nipple rings-bust his load into the front of his black swim briefs. He
seemed to be alone, for he had nowhere to turn with his embarrassed face
once the spasms of his ejaculation subsided. Almost instinctively, I
reached out a hand and rubbed along his smooth thigh. His eyes darted to
mine and I smiled. A little less bashful now, he smiled back.

The Sacrilege versus Planet 10 match had by then moved to its next stage:
the lap-dance contest. Or so I labeled it.

I looked up to see a pink speedo-with "Sacrilege" scrawled in ornate
calligraphy across its backside-circling and swirling above the crotch of a
wide-eyed pool-goer. Bit by bit the dips and gyrations of the full, flexing
ass come closer and closer to landing atop the lucky man's metallic grey
bulge. Finally, the descent was complete. The Sacrilege boy arched his back
and drove his ass deep onto the man's bulge. The man nearly lost his
balance and fell out of his chair, at which point the boy took the man's
hands and guided them up onto his muscled torso, which the man happily
grabbed onto for support. The man's face eventually buried itself in the
smooth, dark skin of the boy's firm back. The boy looked back and smiled,
and then began vigorously thumping his huge tight ass cheeks into the man's
crotch. Just when the man seemed to be on the verge of losing all control,
the boy leapt up to stand, turn, and present a flyer to the grateful man.

However, no sooner had the man reached for the flyer than a Planet boy
swooped in and, taking the man's head in his hands, guided the man's mouth
directly onto the white bulge of his speedo. The crowd cheered at this
clever move and the Planet boy smiled in gratitude. His hands pressed the
man's head firm into his crotch as he flexed his firm ass cheeks and pushed
his massive bulge into the man's face. As the man's mouth finally adjusted
to the chaos and wrapped itself about the boy's half-hard rod the Planet
stud threw his head back in delight. His abs tightened and his hands
pressed harder on the man's head. After a minute he pulled the man's head
back. His shaft was now full-grown and nearly popping from his white
speedo. He took control of the man's head again and this time directed the
eager mouth to the bottom of his package, where the man happily began
massaging the hunk's balls with his strong lips and wet tongue. The crowd
let out shout after shout of encouragement as all took in the fine view of
the stud's huge, speedo-bound rod pulsing above the man's churning lips. To
finish his sales pitch the boy pulled the man's head off his package and
leaned in for a long, wet kiss-during which he deftly slipped his flyer
into the man's hand.

The Planet 10 and Sacrilege boys had all gathered to watch this contest
and, seeing the outcome, immediately dispersed to perform similar sales
pitches across the terraces. As the crowd realized this dozens of anxious,
speedo-clad boys jumped back into their lounge chairs and waited for the
free lap-dances to arrive.

Billy and I were far from the epicenter of the action so we held out little
hope for a lap-dance in the near future. We stayed face-down on our
loungers, still rocking our swollen shafts back and forth.

"That would be a crazy job," I mused.

"No shit," Billy readily agreed.

"And here's the place to do it."

"What?"

"Ibiza. Definitely the place to have their job."

"Why?"

"Can you think of one person around this pool that you wouldn't mind giving
a lap-dance?"

"Haha. Yeah, I gotcha."

I wasn't far from the truth. Sure, every crowd has its
less-than-desirables. But there I was at twenty-two, in the best shape of
my life and perhaps as picky as I ever was about men, and I couldn't find
two bodies side-by-side that I wouldn't gladly fuck.

"Seriously, I think I'd even pay to give some of these dudes lap-dances,
let alone get one from them."

"Yeah. Yeah, dude."

"Honestly."

"But don't sell yourself short, J. I'd probably pay more for your lap-dance
than one from those dudes."

"Oh really?" It wasn't that I didn't believe the truth of it. It was just
too sappy for Billy to say.

"The truth, I swear."

"You're being awfully nice today, Billy."

"Whatever, man," he seemed a bit irritated by the question.

"Must be the drugs."

He laughed a bit awkwardly. "Yeah, must be."

"In fact," I continued, eager to keep teasing Billy, "I think-"

A pair of warm hands on my hips froze my lips. I looked over towards
Billy's chair, expecting to find it empty and him climbing on top of me,
but instead saw another pair of hands spreading along the smooth, tan skin
of Billy's back. He appeared just as shocked as me.

"Ay, que guapos estos chicos," the voice belonging to the hands above me
said coyly-though not to me. The voice seemed to be chatting with its
compatriot atop Billy. That voice murmured in apparent agreement.

The hands were big and strong but moved tenderly, stroking my sides all the
way up to my armpits before stroking down the length of my firm back.

I turned my head a noticed a familiar spike of hair and tell-tale white
speedo straddling Billy's ass. It was the big-muscled Planet boy who had
popped wood during his public groping. I twisted my head even more to see
whose speedo-covered ass was crouching atop the backs of my own smooth
thighs. Like a prayer answered, I peered up to catch a glimpse of a
familiar head of close-cropped hair and a tiger tattoo stalking across a
firm pec.

"Shh, shh!" The Planet stud atop me calmly commanded as he turned my head
back down to the lounger.

"Ingles?" he asked as his hands began massaging my shoulders.

"Umm, si. Si, ingles. Or, no, umm...Americano."

"Ah," he cooed seductively. "Nice sexy American boy. Big muscles. Good for
me, yes?" He was laughing a bit to himself.

"Umm...si?"

He laughed again. "Si. You are super sexy, yes? I think I stay here for all
day. Let my friends do rest of my work."

I politely laughed. All my attention had flowed to my shoulders, which he
was kneading in his tight grip. I let my body go limp beneath his strong
touch. He seemed to notice as I yielded my body to him.

"Yes, yes. Is good. I take care."

He slid his body up. Now his bulge was resting atop my ass crack, his tight
ass on the backs of my thighs. His own smooth thighs and legs rested warm
and firm outside my own.

"OK, OK. Nice boy."

He worked every muscle of my back, shoulders, and arms. He stopped his
wandering, probing hands only to lay the occasional kiss on my smooth
skin. His hands moved slow but sure, confident in their power over me.

I felt his hot breath against my neck, followed by his wet lips and
tongue. He sucked and lightly nibbled at my skin, before whispering in my
ear.

"Where you go tonight, American boy? You come with me?"

I couldn't seem to locate my voice. I murmured something like an assent.

"We go someplace nice I know, have a fun time."

I began rocking my hips again, my boner throbbing in my baby blue
speedo. My flexing ass cheeks slowly squeezed against the half-hard rod in
his tiny white speedo.

"Yes. Nice ass, boy. Nice ass."

He leaned forward, lodging his shaft along the length of my ass crack. He
put his powerful arms out, straddling my shoulders, and I felt the heat of
his muscled chest as it lowered itself closer to my back. Between the force
of my clenching ass cheeks, his cock was fully hard in moments.

"Ay, ay!" he said in hushed exclamation. It sounded quite a bit more
sincere than his previous seductions. "Culo perfecto. Nice ass!"

He began rocking atop my ass slowly, but lust clearly overtook him and soon
he was forcefully grinding his thick meat into my backside. What I would
have given to have our speedos magically disintegrate, then and there.

I looked over to see Billy receiving a similar treatment from the ditzy
muscle man. His tongue was slurping along Billy's smooth and tan lower back
while his strong hand massaged the inside of Billy's thigh. Billy, for his
part, was as overcome as I was, his eyes closed and mouth open in ecstasy.

My tiger-tattooed hunk brought my attention back to my own body as he began
slamming his crotch into my ass, as if trying to burst through the speedos
that restrained us and bury his shaft deep in my hole.

"Maybe I cum on this American ass right now?" he suggested aggressively.

I moaned in reply and flexed my cheeks around his latest thrust.

"Cum all over. Eh, boy?"

Finally I put together a strong of coherent words.

"Will there be lots of coming at your party tonight?"

I instantly regretted my words, for his thrusting hips quickly slackened
their pace. I realized he had been totally lost in his humping, and had
thought our current relations were for pleasure rather than
business. Stupidly, I reminded him otherwise.

"Ah. Yes, yes, boy," he said, making a few more slow, deep thrusts along my
crack. "Here, you take this."

He stood up on his knees to extract a flyer from the backside of his tiny
speedo. As he did so I turned around to face him-my hard, speedo-bound cock
now throbbing just below his. However, when he turned his attention back my
direction that wasn't the first thing he noticed.

He looked over my face and his eyes grew wide.

"Ay, ay!" he said with alarm as he reached over to slap his friend atop
Billy.

The muscled ditz reluctantly took his tongue from the back of Billy's thigh
to look at his friend.

"Los Americanos!" he said in hushed excitement.

The muscle hunk looked puzzled as he studied my face and then leaned down
to look at Billy's, which was still a vision of stupefied ecstasy.

"Si?" he asked, unsure.

"Si, si!" the stud atop me replied. He now became aware of the fact that I
was watching him closely, and tried to convey the rest of his frenzied
thoughts in a series of jerking nods, winks, and gestures. The muscled ditz
looked stupidly on, understanding perhaps nothing of what was being
communicated.

Finally the tiger-tattooed stud atop me turned his eyes back to me, and in
measured words said, "This is your friend, yes?"

"Yes." I said, trying to hide my suspicion.

"Good, yes?"

"Umm...yes."

"Maybe we," he paused, gestured to Billy and his friend, and seemed to
choose his next words carefully. "Maybe we go together for time-time
alone." His voice was not as seductive as it was anxious, worrying over my
reply.

"Umm, yeah. Well," I said, trying not to look at the fat cock in the tiny
speedo before my eyes. I tried to discern just what the stud atop me was
hiding.

Before I could reply, Billy did.

"OK," he said matter-of-factly, shaking off his lustful stupor and asking
straightforwardly as he sat up: "Where to?"


8.


"Dammit, Billy!" I said in a hush as I grabbed his arm.

We were walking close behind the tantalizing asses of our recent
acquaintances. My tiger-tattooed boy had a narrow frame from which his
bubble butt sprang like a thick orb, straining his tiny white speedo. The
hunky ditz was allover big and muscled, and yet his ass still swelled so
large and full that it commanded our attention over the sight of his
bulging shoulders and enormous biceps.

"What, dude?" Billy whispered back.

I pointed in frustration to the "Planet 10" logos bending along the curves
of the asses before us.

"So, I thought we were supposed to fuck those guys?" Billy reasoned.

"So now we're following rules set by crazy motherfuckers who jump in the
shower with us?"

"I dunno."

"Well, I want to know what the fuck is going on here. These dudes did not
want to fuck us until they saw our faces."

"What?" Billy didn't quite get it.

"Our faces." I traced my face with a fingertip to be clear and to remind
Billy that, as far as I was concerned, he was a moron.

"Yeah. A lot of these dudes like the American look, I think."

"No, you idiot."

I was at my wits' end. The tiger-tattooed stud looked back with a cautious
smile towards the noises coming from us. All around the pool deck jealous
eyes shot daggers at us as we followed behind the sculpted bodies of the
two Planet boys.

"They want to fuck us because they know who we are," I insisted.

"Dude, no shit."

"What?" Billy's sudden confidence made no sense.

"There are pictures of us diving and swimming in speedos all over the
internet. For some of these dudes it's like seeing a celebrity."

That logic stunned me for a bit. It had a lot of truth to it, but I was
certain he was wrong.

I didn't have time to argue another point. The Planet boys weren't taking
us far at all. I watched as the two tiny speedos disappeared into the
shadows of a hotel room that opened right onto the pool deck.

Before going in Billy hesitated a brief second and turned to me.

"This is gonna be sweet."

Two steps into the room, before my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I heard
the sliding door slam and the curtains swish shut. A moment later, I felt a
warm body flush against my front-hard nipples against my chest, a tight
stomach tensing against mine, a thick bulge grazing my baby blue speedo.

The tiger-tattooed stud's lips followed soon after, quickly wrapping about
my bottom lip and biting hard.

"Hot fuck American boy," he muttered between releasing my lip and biting it
again. His hands flew around my body and slapped against my hard back,
immediately beginning to massage my tight muscles.

Here was wild passion, instantly entangling my body in its grips. My worry
suddenly disappeared, as if he had drawn it out of me with his probing
tongue. This didn't appear to be sex with an ulterior motive, this felt
like a raw, hard fucking was about to happen. A wave of fresh energy and
inhibition washed over me. I had two inches on the stud heightwise and
could match him muscle for muscle elsewhere. It was time for me to stir
some lust of my own.

I gripped his firm sides in my big hands and pushed his body back across
the dark room until his back slammed against a wall. The impact broke up
our kiss and he tilted his head back against the wall at the thrill. I
threw my warm lips upon his neck and began slurping, sucking, and nibbling
along his tender, smooth skin. I turned a few nibbles into hard bites, not
releasing him until he moaned as loud as I wanted. His hands, once firmly
around my back, were now barely managing to hold onto my flexing body. I
pressed my whole frame hard up against him, squeezing the breath out of him
with each thrust of my torso.

"Ay, ay!" was all he could manage to say before my mouth descended on his
again. I bit his lip and buried my tongue deep in his warm, wet mouth. He
gasped for air during the brief moments when I pulled my mouth from
his. Warm saliva ran down both our chins as our tongues flicked all about
each other's mouth.

Keen to bite, to take control, I put my hands to his shoulders and pinned
him even more firmly against the wall. His shoulders were well rounded and
full of muscle, but proved no great resistance to the force of my wide
palms. Once I was satisfied that he couldn't wiggle his torso even a bit, I
dropped my lips down to his hard nipples.

Before I even began nibbling, he moaned. Sensitive, huh? I thought to
myself. I'll start slow, but I won't end that way. I took his left nipple,
the one below his tiger tattoo, and covered it gently with my warm, wet
mouth. He cooed as I swirled my tongue around its point, circling my target
like the prey it was. I tried to defer the pain as long as I could, first
pinching the nipple with only the force of my firmed lips. But even this
had him whimpering. Well, I thought as I smiled, might as well get it over
with. I delicately put my front teeth around his nipple tip and bit softly.

"Ay, papi!" he whimpered.

Ay, papi, I thought to myself. Always nice to hear that one.

I bit a moment longer and then returned to lathering his nipple with my
tongue, as if trying to soothe it a bit. But I offered only so much
consolation before I bit again, this time sending shudders through his
muscled chest. I moved to his right nipple and began again.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Billy was moving along quickly with
the muscle-bound ditz. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and the hunk
was kneeling before him with his face lost in Billy's speedo-covered
crotch. With a look of pure joy on his face Billy was messing up the hunk's
perfectly gelled and spiked hair as the wet mouth moved harder and harder
onto his throbbing package.

Billy looked over to see me teasing my stud and threw up his chin and
winked in approval. We were both going rough on the pieces of Spanish
muscle before us.

Suddenly Billy pulled back the hunk's head by his hair. When his face
emerged from Billy's crotch, it was slack with a look of complete
stupor. He was being manhandled, and apparently loving it. Billy smiled
contentedly at the look of the hunk's face before leaning in to kiss him,
leading with his tongue and licking all over the hunk's dazed face.

With a free hand Billy grabbed his bulge and, with a little maneuvering and
bending of his hips, freed his cocktip from his black and white striped
speedo. Releasing the muscled hunk from his wet kiss, he directed his face
back down onto his own crotch. I only caught a glimpse of Billy's cock
before it was obscured by the hunk's dark hair, but that quick glimpse made
me even harder. Billy's cock was a beautiful thing, a tool perfectly
proportioned to his long, lean, and full athlete's body. And its head was
so mesmerizingly pink and shiny that horny mouths couldn't help but
gravitate towards it. The hunk clearly couldn't resist. I could tell when
his soft lips had closed about Billy's tip, for he threw his head back-his
platinum blonde, shaggy mane lighting his head like a halo.

After making my own stud squirm repeatedly as I bit away at his nipple, I
rose and threw my lips over his again. He leaned hard into the kiss,
probing his tongue deep within my warm mouth. It was as if he saying that,
despite the groans of pain, he loved what I was doing with his
nipples. However, rather than carry on with them, I moved southward.

"You like it?" I said between sucking and biting on his lip.

"Si, si," he replied between hot gasping breaths.

"You want to suck on my cock now, boy?" I stared, tough and steady, into
his increasingly soft and docile eyes.

"Si. Dame tu pinga."

"Get down there."

And with that I pushed his firm shoulders down until he was crouching, his
back still up against the wall, his nose now grazing my speedo-bound shaft.

"You want that?" I grunted, rocking my hips and smashing my package into
his face.

"Si."

He opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the middle of my fat
shaft. Slowly his lips began to massage my sensitive dick and his saliva
bleed through my baby blue speedo.

"Good boy," I said, looking down with an approving smile.

As he looked up to smile back I began grinding harder and deeper into his
face, muffling his moans and teasing his lips which had a lock around my
cock one moment, and then were struggling to find it the next. I laughed to
myself as he earnestly tried to keep his mouth around my thick rod, his
mouth wandering blind and stupid like a baby animal searching for the next
bite of food from its mother. Just when he seemed most desperate, I plowed
my crotch back onto his face, smothering him with dick.

Eventually he wrapped his hands around my ass and tried to control my
thrusts. He had no real leverage to do so, but I slowed down anyway to help
him out. With the extra space and time he managed to move his mouth
sideways along my entire shaft, leaving my speedo lathered in his
saliva. He was a good cocksucker, I judged, from the way he worked my shaft
over. He didn't neglect any inch of my cock, and even took care to nuzzle
my balls with his nose and cup them in his tight lips.

Eating dick through a speedo, however, is truly a form of torture. Soon
enough I felt his fingertips slip inside the waistband of my
speedo. Moments later my ass was bare to the world and my cock was being
pulled down by the descending nylon. He pulled slowly and kept his eyes on
my cock, waiting for it to make its satisfying spring from the confines of
my speedo. He was not to be disappointed. When my cock flapped free it
slapped, hard and stiff, against his chin. He paused a moment to behold my
massive girth and length, and the grabbed the base of my shaft.

I lifted my head up so as not to see what came next. I, of course, knew
what was coming, but years before I had adopted the tradition of not
watching as a new cocksucking acqaintance first wrapped his lips around my
cocktip. It was a kind of experience I wanted to remember solely by
touch. I already had enough mental images of his body and his wet, soft
lips-I wanted the memory of his mouth on my cock to be a feeling, not a
picture.

And so, with eyes closed, I found myself pleasantly surprised by the first
gentle kiss the tiger tattooed hunk bestowed on my hard cocktip. Even more
delicate was the smooth closing of his lips about the top third of my
shaft. It was unexpected; it was thrilling. Minutes before this tough,
tattooed hunk was unapologetically slamming his speedo-bound dick along my
ass crack and talking dirty down my back. Now, tables turned, he'd quivered
at the nibble of my teeth and accepted my throbbing dick with soft,
submissive lips.

I wanted badly to look down and watch his full lips as they slid along my
shaft, but I held out. As his lips closed further and further down my
shaft, his tongue snaked more fully along the sensitive underside of my
cock. He finished each stroke with his lips by slowing down and lavishing
his attention and tight lips upon my cocktip. I felt a drop of precum ooze
from my dick slit at the end of one of his strokes, and the next sensation
I felt was that of the tip of his tongue delicately landing on my cocktip
and taking the precious drop with it.

On the edge of the bed Billy's cock was visible every other moment. The
hunk's huge hulking back was rising and dropping in quick succession as his
lips bobbed swiftly along Billy's wide rod. Billy was leaning back on the
bed with his elbows, his head dropped back in delight.

Suddenly, though, Billy's body snapped upright on the bed and he began
tugging the hunk upwards by the armpits. In a moment the hunk was standing
and Billy was sitting on the bed before him, pulling down his tiny white
speedo.

The hunk's cock was fat and full as expected, though I didn't see much of
it before Billy's mouth utterly consumed it. Billy's nose was buried in the
hunk's bush on his very first gulp of that cock, and the hunk's body
shuddered and he tilted his ass back as if he might bust right then and
there-deep in the back of Billy's deep throat. Billy smiled when he came
off the dick, and then took another big mouthful-this time only half of the
shaft. But he still sucked swiftly and furiously, and I wondered if the
hunk would make it through one of Billy's wild blowjobs.

Down in my own crotch my tough-turned-tender stud was slowing running his
tongue from the underside of my balls, across my smooth sack, and up along
the underside of my rod before taking my full tool in his mouth. As his
lips were tickled by my trim bush he would invariably gag, pull back his
drooling mouth, and begin again under my sack. This I had to see, I finally
looked down as he moved along the entire length of my manhood. I put a hand
behind his head, up against his close-cropped hair, to muffle the bumps of
the hard wall against his bobbing head.

Or at least that's why I put my hand there to begin with. Soon, acutely
noticing the leverage between my hand behind his head, his mouth on my
dick, and my powerful hips, I began rocking my cock into his mouth. I
pushed at unexpected moments and to very deep depths, leaving him
disoriented and gagging. After giving his face a few slow, deep pumps I
pulled my hips back to let him catch his breath. However, he seemed to need
no break and before leaning forward to put his lips back around my cocktip
he moaned.

"Si, mas."

The studs gets what the stud wants, I thought, and resumed my slow deep
pumps. I felt the tight embrace of his warm throat as my cocktip jammed
deep inside him. The sensation was overwhelming and soon, without thinking
about, I was slamming fast and hard into his mouth. Muffled gagging noises
and saliva escaped his mouth with each backstroke of my dick.

"Shit, J, pound that bitch's mouth!"

I turned to see Billy watching with wide eyes. After giving an appreciative
nod I saw his face disappear again behind the bulging ass cheeks of the
hunk.

Soon my eyes were back on my hard and fast pumping. At the end of each
thrust my heavy balls slapped his chin. My hunk's face was nearly
expressionless, overwhelmed and controlled by the force of my thrusting
cock.

Soon I felt the surging sensation in my shaft and felt that a firing of
jizz was imminent. However, despite the satisfaction there would be in
burying my seed deep in that tough tattooed hunk's throat, I knew greater
things lay ahead. Mustering as much self-control as was available to me, I
extracted my cock from his mouth a final time.

His head was motionless for a moment, and he cooed to himself as the same
saliva that dripped off my cock ran out the corners of his lips. Gently, I
pulled him to his feet and began tenderly kissing his weary lips and
sucking the saliva from his chin. Gradually his eyes and expression
brightened and his weary body came to life again. He began returning my
kiss with more force and probing his tongue deep in my mouth. For several
minutes we simply sucked face, his arms wrapped around my shoulders and my
hands resting atop the tiny white speedo covering his firm ass cheeks.

Apparently we were wasting time. I heard a loud, piercing cry and both the
tattooed stud and I turned to see the muscled ditz squatting his massive
frame onto Billy's dick. Billy was sprawled on his back across the bed,
ready to carefully receive on his cock the muscled package above him like
it was a load descending from a crane. He pointed his cock-shining with a
lather of saliva and lube-and aimed for the hunk's tight hole. The cry we
heard indicated he'd hit his mark.

The stud, for all his bulging muscles and pretensions of raw power, was
surprisingly dainty as he ever so slowly lowered his bulging ass cheeks
towards Billy's crotch. But, to his credit, he took the full length of
Billy's tool on his first squat, settling down atop Billy's groin as if he
was going to sit there and comfortably read a book for an hour or so.

But I doubt that hunk ever read much, and soon enough his quads with
flexing full and wide and his hulking frame was rising. First I saw light
between Billy's crotch and the curve of his ass, then I saw Billy's trim
bush, then half his shaft, then his tip. But before his tip could so much
as feel a small breeze, the hunk's heavy musculature dropped again and
Billy's cock disappeared amidst those tight ass cheeks.

After acclimating his hole to Billy's girth, the hunk settled and his cries
became moans. He put his hands out behind his torso, on either side of
Billy's thighs, and he planted his feet on either side of Billy's chest. So
arranged, he deftly dipped his tight hole quickly along Billy's shaft. It
looked as if he was exercising, the way his triceps and ass cheeks flexed
with each rise of his frame. As he bobbed his body his own fat hard cock
flapped about in his crotch, slapping up against his tight abs.

Turning back to my own stud, I decided without his consultation what was to
come next. He was promptly turned around by his shoulders, his face to the
wall, and I dropped to my knees, my lips kissing his full ass cheeks across
the letter "N" in the "Planet 50" stitched across the back of his tiny
white speedo.

I had no patience for munching on his muscled ass through a speedo, no
matter how tiny or flattering or seductive it was. The barrier between me
and my goal had to go. And with a swift tug on the sides of his waistline
it did-straight down around his ankles.

His firm cheeks hid his hole, and at first I contented myself with licking
along the curves of his cheeks and nibbling wherever I could find skin to
pull on those tight slabs of muscle. This was too teasing, for me and him,
and his arched back and spreading ass made it clear he wanted more. I moved
slowly, first dragging the tip of my nose bottom-to-top along the length of
the smooth dark skin of his widening crack. Then I gently put my face
against his warm ass, not yet pressing, just feeling his skin against
mine. I extended my tongue and slowly snaked it about, not yet hitting the
bottom of his crack.

My tiger tattooed stud was growing desperate. I could sense his pink
asshole twitching near in the depths of his crack. He arched his back even
more and my face slipped an inch deeper between his firm ass cheeks. His
entrance was now within the reach of my tongue, and I decided it would be
cruel to make him wait a moment more.

When the tip of my tongue touched the eye of his hole, his whole ass
quivered against my face. I slowly let the fullness of my warm tongue
descend around his tight pink hole, and as he acclimated to the wet embrace
and warmth of my tongue his body eased and his tense ass cheeks relaxed.

At first I lapped my tongue across his hole, rhythmically bathing his hole
in saliva like a drinking cat. He cooed and I wrapped my palms around his
smooth thighs for leverage. His ass crack was smooth and warm, and his hole
tasted like sex on my tongue. I licked but didn't probe, teasing him still.

"Oh fuck!"

I reluctantly abandoned my stud's warm ass crack to turn and see Billy's
hunk laying facedown on the bed, his face buried in a pillow, his ass
arched skyward. Billy's feet were on either side of that big muscle ass and
he was squatting low to bury his shining cock deep inside the hunk's
tunnel.

"Shit, that is-oh fuck!" Billy exclaimed as he slid in.

Then, leaving his cock deep inside the muscle ditz, he threw his legs back
between the hunk's own tree trunk thighs and put his arms wide on either
side of the hunk's back. Now laying atop that muscular frame, he began
pumping his hips down into the bulging ass below him.

A string of moans from the hunk were muffled by the pillow in his mouth,
but Billy seemed to take no notice of them. The hunk's cries grew louder,
but Billy began absolutely dropping the full weight of his body on to the
stud-both their bodies shaking at the impact of crotch and ass.

Sweet as the taste of my own stud's hole was, I wanted dispense with the
tongue treatment and start slamming him right then. However, turning back
to that sweet bubble butt bulging before me, I thought it only fair to warm
him up.

I tensed my soft tongue into a hard projectile as I wedged my face back
between the warm, hard ass cheeks. Quickly I located my mark, and his hole
twitched wildly at the feel of my stronger, tighter tongue. I wiggled my
face and jawbones into the best, most snug position I could find against
those bulges of muscle, and then began prodding, hard and quick, right
against his pink hole.

"Ay...si...en mi culo...en mi culo!" His moans were rising and falling in
pitch, his voice as out of control as his twitching body. It was hard going
as I attempted to slip my tongue past his tight entrance, but as I pushed
and pushed and his back arched and arched the tip of my warm tongue
breached his defenses. His moans became satisfied coos as my tongue slipped
softly along the first inch of his tunnel.

It was hard work slipping my tongue inside his tightness, and soon I was
pulling my face back again to rest. However, I gave his hole no rest as I
lathered my middle finger in my saliva and put it against the center of his
hole. I paused before applying any pressure, letting his asshole understand
what was coming. Then, slowly and gently, I slipped my finger's full length
into his soft, tight passage.

His ass arched out even more, and I used a free hand to pry apart his ass
cheeks as best I could. I began cautiously pumping my finger along his
tunnel, watching with delight as the lips of his asshole clung to the sides
of my finger each time I pulled it out. It looked as if his asshole hand a
will of its own that was demanding that I not leave it empty. To satisfy
his hungry hole, I put two fingers together and slowly slipped them in.

The tattooed hunk let ring a wild, indecipherable cry. A spasm jolted
across his body. A very sensitive hole, I thought, better be careful
now. But soon I noticed his body regaining its composure, his sturdy legs
flexing as if to brace himself. His ass once again bent out to me,
presenting itself. I paused, watching all this, with my two fingers
knuckle-deep inside him. Once I saw how ready he was, I began pumping away
into his warm, wet hole.

I pumped for many minutes, though it was torture for my cock which was
throbbing unattended between my crouching legs. I looked down to see precum
oozing down the underside of my cocktip. I spit into the hand that wasn't
finger-fucking my hunk and wrapped my warm, lubed palm around my shaft.

Watching my fingers stretch his hole and overwhelm his body was hot enough,
but I wanted my body more fully against his. I began kissing, sucking, and
nibbling on his muscular ass cheeks, letting my hot breath fall moist on
his warm skin. I slurped and licked, following the graceful curve of his
ass from the top of his thigh to his flat and firm lower back. His skin was
smooth and delicious, and there was just enough tenderness amongst the
muscle for me to be able to bite and massage his ass cheeks as I pleased.

But this still wasn't enough contact for me. There was, of course, one
thing I wanted. And, just as I was about to take it for myself, the
tough-turned-submissive stud offered it up to me. He turned his head around
and his eyes, overwhelmed by the ecstasy, searched for mine hidden behind
his own ass. When his dark, hazel eyes found my eager blue eyes he said
clearly and sincerely:

"Fuck."

Nothing else was necessary.

In a blur he scampered to a nightstand and returned with an asshole
shimmering in lube and a hand slathered in it as well. He quickly wrapped
his hand about my fat tool and pumped it several times, my shaft sailing
through his curled palm with ease. Then, in another swift twirl, he was up
against the wall, his bubble butt perked up and out for the taking.

I was stunned by his eagerness, by his speed. Despite the deep desires of
my cock I found myself stepping close up against him, my lubed cock pressed
along his ass crack, so I could kiss and lick his ear. He turned his head
and his lips met mine. It was a tender, delicate kiss-as if he was asking
me to be gentle and I was promising I would. I reached my hands up and
pressed them flat between his pecs and the wall. Rocking my hips, I slipped
my cock teasingly along the length of his muscle-bound ass crack. I let my
abs flex and fill the space between my hard stomach and his tight back. My
pecs swelled against his shoulder blades; my smooth thighs pressed their
warmth into his.

I was tempted to hold that full embrace. With just a little rocking of my
hips the heat and lust of all that muscled contact could have made me blow
my load up into the tight space between my front and his back. And then we
could have lingered together still-my hot jizz spreading as our bodies
pressed tighter together.

But my cock wouldn't allow this, and soon I was pulling my chest off his
back so I could look down to aim my cocktip at his hole. I dipped my hips
and found my target. My hands, still atop the hunk's firm pecs, felt him
gasp before my ears heard anything. I gently rubbed along his chest, making
one last assurance of gentleness before I slowly pushed my throbbing cock
into his ass.

I was in his tight ass half-hilt when he cried out and threw his hand back
onto my hip. I stopped pushing my cock but didn't pull out-and he didn't
seem to want me to. Instead I kept my full girth inside his hole as he
slightly swirled his ass about, arched his back slightly, and tried to
relax his many-muscled backside. I put my lips gently upon his shoulders to
soothe his worries, and he dropped his head back alongside mine. My tongue
and lips found his ear, then his cheek, then his mouth. He hardly had any
control over his lips-all his attention and concern was down circling his
delicate hole. I tried to massage life back into his slack lips. Eventually
he began to return my kiss and meet my probing tongue with growing purpose.

"You want more?" I asked, my hot breath in his face.

"Si. Toma mi culo. Toma."

I wrapped my arms tight about his chest, flexed my ass, and sent my fat
cock inching into his depths. He moaned, on the verge of crying out again,
but my hands massaging his chest and my lips kissing along his neck kept
him relaxed. Soon I felt my bush tickle his ass cheeks and my balls graze
the tops of his smooth hamstrings.

"Perfecto," he cooed, his head dropping further back.

A quick shudder came over him as I retracted my dick in full, but it
quickly dissipated as the ministrations of my massaging hands and lips
calmed his body. I felt the final tight squeeze of his hole against my
tender cocktip and then, after pausing for a brief moment, sent my full
manhood back inside him.

Soon my full, gentle thrusts assumed a slow rhythm. Each time my cock
reached his deepest depths I let my body firmly press into his, my pecs
into his shoulders, my hard abs into his firm back. The heat coming from
our bodies was intense, and soon beads of sweat on my chest became droplets
on his back that ran down into his smooth ass crack.

"Fuck that shit," Billy commanded.

I looked behind me to acknowledge the encouragement but discovered instead
that he hadn't been talking to me at all.

All I could see of Billy were his arms and legs as they supported him, bent
over on the bed, while a massive muscled back and ass came at him from
behind. The muscled hunk was kneeling behind him and rocking his hips
forward into Billy's ass. His thrusts were a sight to see from behind-his
enormous muscled ass throbbed with each push from his crotch. Knowing
Billy, I knew any hopes we may have had for a mostly quiet fucking session
were now lost.

"Oh shit, you big bitch!" Billy cried as the hunk's ass cheeks were at full
flex, his huge rod buried deep inside Billy.

"Ow, ow, ow. You motherFUCKER!" he cried. It was standard Billy, but the
muscle ditz was a little confused.

"Ees OK?"

"What?" Billy asked in a somewhat normal voice, somewhat annoyed to be
pulled from his ecstasy.

"OK? Fine?"

I saw Billy's face as he turned back to look at the big stud. He was
definitely agitated, he face seemed to say: why the fuck are you stopping?

"Yeah, yeah, dude," he said, mustering what little patience he had.

"Oh, OK."

"C'mon. Fuck me, you dumb bitch." Billy was a true charmer
sometimes. Thankfully, the muscled stud was oblivious to the specifics of
what Billy said, though the tone was hard to miss.

"Ay-ay-ay." The big hunk, resuming his thrusts, was now crushing his huge
frame into Billy's backside. His hips and thighs smacked slaps against
Billy's tight ass as his formidable power was brought to bear on Billy's
asshole.

"Oh, shit! So nice, so nice."

My own cock was throbbing at the sight of this. I began quickening the pace
of my thrusting into my own stud. He didn't seem to mind, so I accelerated
more, my body slapping against his, the sweat spraying with each
impact. The tiger tattooed hunk arched his back and gave me his full ass to
fuck. Soon I was slamming his ass and he was reaching down to his crotch to
stroke along with his own cock.

For minutes upon minutes, the room was filled with the same sounds: the
crying profanities of Billy, the moans of my hunk, and the slapping of
sweaty skin on sweaty skin, of muscle on muscle, of body on body.

"Fuck-my-hole!"

"Ay, ay. Si."

My wet balls, drenched in sweat, slapping my hunk's smooth hamstrings.

"Shit, shit! Oh fuck. Fuck! Fuck!"

"Ooooh, si, si."

The muscled ditz's huge thighs slapping against Billy's.

There were no adjustments to be made, no better position to find. It was
hot, hard fucking, and we kept at it happily.

Eventually, my hunk dropped his head back again and said, his expression
dazed with overwhelming lust, "I want fuck."

I couldn't argue with that. I pulled my tender cock from his overworked ass
and spun him around by the shoulders. Looking adoringly on his beautiful
face, his full lips, his hazel eyes, I leaned in and put my lips over his.

I turned to put my own body up against the wall, but he stopped me.

"No, go to the bed."

"OK."

"I be there. Un momento. OK?"

He was turning towards the bathroom door. I figured he was grabbing lube so
I made for the bed.

"God! Damn! It!"

Billy was still receiving the pounding of his life. Now I could walk around
and watch it head on-the muscled torso, huge pecs and all, crashing against
Billy's backside. Billy didn't see me, his head was hanging down between
his arms, his platinum blonde hair obscuring his face entirely. He seemed
to be looking back to watch his hard, flopping cock slap against his tight
abs each time the muscled stud's frame collided with his ass. I moved over
for a side view. The muscle ditz had an enormous tool, and was quite adept
at plunging it deep within Billy's body. He was carefully angling his hips
this way or that, ever so slightly, to make sure his full length was buried
between the ass cheeks. And he was making big, luxurious strokes-his
cocktip slipping past the clench of Billy's pink hole with each pull and
with each push driving his pubes against Billy's ass crack. The stud was
focused on his work-clearly his mind could not do many things at once. But
he did eventually notice me.

"You fuck me?" he suggested matter-of-factly.

At this Billy's face appear from amidst the disheveled hair.

"Yes, dude," he said with conviction. "Fuck this bitch right now."

I had no choice, it seemed. My tiger tattooed hunk hadn't yet returned from
the bathroom so I freely mounted the bed and knelt behind the huge stud.

My stomach and pecs now up against his massive backside, I realized what a
muscled behemoth he was. To look at him from a distance, even a short one,
his muscled frame looked big but proportioned. Up close his body was
overwhelming, and unbelievably alluring.

I put my hands around his torso and found that my big, wide hands couldn't
come close to covering his swollen pecs. I tried to get a better grip on
him and brought my front flush up against his huge back. I immediately
noticed how his huge, firm ass cheeks completely filled my crotch. My cock
was quickly lodged tightly in his crack. I leaned against him and rode with
the force of his body as he continued to grind his frame against Billy's
body.

After a minute he stilled his thrusting so he could rock his ass up and
down along my cock. It was a tight fit but an amazing sensation. My still
lubed cock smoothly slipped along his tight, dark skin.

Billy quickly wondered why he wasn't getting pounded anymore. He turned to
see the muscled hunk's head turned and his lips locked with my own. Billy
watched as we probed each other's mouths with our tongue, but he quickly
grew impatient.

"Dude, get on that shit," he called to me.

I reluctantly broke our kiss and pushed the muscled stud forward at his
shoulders, bending his ass out for me to enter.

It was a snug but quick fit. Both his ass and my cock were already lubed
and his ass had been well prepared by Billy. My full length swiftly filled
his tunnel. A moment later I was firming my grip on his giant pecs and
beginning to furiously pump my meat into his ass.

He was overwhelmed. He stopped thrusting into Billy, so now my hard pumps
had to push hard enough to plow two holes. I was up for the challenge.

"Slam that bitch, dude. Ah...Jesus!"

Perhaps it wasn't fair to assume this, but I figured a strong body such as
that could take a thrusting twice as tough and hard as that I had given my
tattooed hunk. I was probably wrong, for the muscled ditz began moaning
like I hadn't heard before. But he still seemed happy with the filling he
was receiving, so I slammed away. Owning his ass so completely, I rounded
out the performance by pinching hard on his nipples-I wanted to control his
huge body in every way I could. Soon I was biting the smooth, firm skin of
his shoulders-all the while drilling my cock within him as hard as I could.

I tried to focus on how completely I was dominating that massive stud, but
soon enough all I could feel was the throbbing in my cock. Not yet, I
begged, and reluctantly slowed down my fucking.

But the hunk was still eager. He began doing the thrusting-slamming his ass
into my crotch, then propelling his hips forward into Billy's ass. Billy
and I held our bodies firm as he threw his body back and forth between us.

It was always a terrific feeling, sitting back and letting a bottom do all
the work. But to know every time he left my rod he was drilling with his
own-well, that was thrilling.

Soon my admiration for the muscled ditz was interrupted by the hands of the
tiger tattooed hunk on my shoulders. Without a word, I arched my back and
presented my ass to him.

The next thing I felt was his finger, lubed and eager, slowly breaching my
hole and sliding deep into my ass. Normally I would have tensed or winced,
by the treatment the stud before me was giving to my cock left me relaxed
and distracted. The tattooed hunk noticed this and wasted no time pumping
his finger, then adding a second. A minute later a lubed, full cocktip was
slipping inside me.

On his first full thrust into my depths, my body shuddered. The tattooed
hunk threw his warm arms around me and, steadying his torso against my
back, began rocking his hips and plunging his fullness inside me. He was
thick, and his first thrusts were more pleasure than pain, but his tender
touch and the kisses he laid on my neck soothed me. Soon my head was thrown
back and my body was aflame with the feel of another inside me-a fat cock
satisfying stretching my soft tunnel.

It was an amazing sensation. My body was held still while two sets of hips
grinded against me-front and back. No work needed to be done on my part,
other than marvel at the muscle sandwich inside of which I currently found
myself.

Say what you will about gay sex, but it's the only place where you can fuck
and be fucked in such a natural, satisfying way. My body hardly felt like
it belonged to me-I had offered my cock to the mass of muscle before me and
yielded my ass to the owner of the wet, warm lips that were roaming my
neck. It was no pure meeting of souls, to be sure, but it was a union of
bodies-hard, muscled, tanned bodies-that could not be denied.

As usual, when I started to wax philosophical, Billy brought me back to
earth.

"Oh-shit-oh-shit."

Suddenly the stud before me stopped thrusting and I saw Billy rise before
him-his blonde hair damp with sweat and his cock glistening with lube. No
sooner had he put his hand to his shaft and pointed it at the stud's face
than a jet of cum leaped forth. It hit the stud, as far as I could tell
from behind, square in the face. Before another spurt could issue forth,
the stud took his shaft in his mouth and hungrily closed his lips.

"Oh, dude...dude!" Billy exclaimed, beginning to pull his sensitive cock
from the stud's tight lips before thinking better of it and leaving his raw
rod in the stud's mouth. I watched as Billy's body shook and gob after gob
of cum emptied into the stud's mouth. Billy threw his hands around the
stud's head and pushed it down onto his twitching meat.

"God. Damn!" The stud began pumping his lips along Billy's swollen shaft. I
looked up at Billy's hard pecs and rigid abs glistening with sweat. He
looked exhausted but triumphant.

Since the stud before me was no longer backing his ass onto my cock, I
decided to be proactive. I began thrusting my hips into his bulging ass
cheeks. Soon the tattooed hunk behind me stopped his own pumping and I
became the ball bouncing back and forth between those two walls of
muscle. I pushed my ass back hard, arching my back and spreading my ass
cheeks, impaling myself on the hunk's fat tool. And I crashed forward hard
too, slamming my dick up to the hilt in the massive stud's hole. It was a
thrill to be servicing two gorgeous bodies at the same time, but I did not
have long to think about it.

"Ay, ay!" the tiger tattooed hunk cried, and he began thrusting again. His
forward pumps met my backward thrusts in heavy crashes. Neither of us
yielded to the other, we both slammed harder and harder, knowing full well
what was coming.

He cried out once more and then his body froze, mid-thrust, and I felt his
hot jizz spurting along my tight tunnel. His body shook and his dick
pulsed, deep inside me. I began to push my ass back onto his rod, but he
held my body still-his cock too sensitive to take the close, clenching
strokes of my warm insides. I waited as his moans softened and his
breathing slowed, and then I pushed back my ass yet again. This time he
received it, thrusting forward ever so slowly. After a few pumps I felt his
warm cum along the length of my tunnel, and a few more pumps after that I
felt a slow trail of cum oozing from my ass crack and onto my smooth thigh.

Cum to my front, cum in my back, but things were hardly over.

The massive stud before me was next. He was jerking his own cock as I
plowed his ass and Billy fed him his cum-covered cock, so it was no
surprise that he was ready to bust. We all guessed what was coming as his
moans grew louder and more erratic. However, while the tattooed hunk and I
were content to let the muscled stud tend to his own business, Billy had
other plans.

"You gonna cum?" he asked urgently.

"Si...si," the huge stud stuttered out between heavy breaths.

"Not yet."

Billy quickly dropped on all fours before the stud and offered him his
familiar asshole.

"Cum in my ass."

"En tu culo?" the stud seemed confused.

Billy took hold of his cock and guided its tip to his ass. From what I
could tell from behind the stud's wide, muscled back the instant his
cocktip disappeared inside Billy it began gushing a warm load.

Billy murmured approvingly as his tunnel was plastered with jizz. Once he
received the main spurts from the stud's thick cock, he began slamming his
ass back onto the stud, whose body first shuddered, then broke into spasms
as Billy's tight asshole overwhelmed his raw cock.

The spasms were what set my own cock stirring, but they weren't what pushed
me over the edge. The tattooed hunk behind me had pulled his cock from my
weary hole and now, with his delicate tongue, was lapping up the cum that
was dribbling down my thighs. His tongue moved softly, and it followed each
trail of cum from its lowest drip to its source, lathering my asshole in a
mix of his warm saliva and hot jizz. That was what set me off.

My ass cheeks clenched, my hips thrust out one last time, a primitive cry
rang out from my throat, and I dumped my load into the massive hunk before
me. He, for his part, hardly noticed. Billy, after taking his load, had
leapt to his feet and now the muscled ditz was performing on Billy the same
act my hunk was performing on me-diligently licking all the cum from
Billy's ass crack. His strong jaws buried amid Billy's firm ass cheeks, I
couldn't tell if any expression whatsoever broke over his face when I
pumped him full of jizz.

Somewhat put off by this, I enacted a small revenge by slamming my
cum-covered cock along his tunnel with such force that I shook his face
from Billy's ass crack. Not deterred, he promptly stuck his head right back
in, lapping up every last drop of spunk he could find.

Still, it was okay, for I had my own hunk to tend to me. I pulled my sticky
shaft from the stud and was immediately spun around by the hunk behind
me. He pushed me down on the bed and, throwing his torso atop my thighs,
took my tired tool into his mouth and began slowly sucking my rod clear of
cum. I watched at first as his sweet soft lips delicately moved along my
tender cock, but soon I let my head fall back into the soft, warm bed
sheets. My pulse slackened, my breathing slowed, and the sweat all over my
body began to cool.

Soon Billy threw his head down next to mine. He rested on his front, not
his back, so his own stud could continue mining his ass crack for
cum. Billy and I looked at each other and, seeing the utter exhaustion and
satisfaction in one another's faces, smiled wide. Billy reached out a hand
and ran it softly through my sandy blonde hair.

"Fucking hot, dude. Fucking hot."

"Yeah," I muttered in assent, putting a hand on the warm, firm bicep of
Billy's outstretched arm.

And so we rested-a mouth on my cock and a tongue in Billy's ass crack-in
utter bliss.

We could have lay like that forever, but things can only ever be close to
perfect, never the genuine article.

It was the sudden thud of a hand against the room's sliding glass door that
reminded me that there was a world outside our little den of sex. Indeed, I
had to be reminded that there was a world beyond that of our four naked
bodies, our four hard cocks, the thrust of the tattooed hunk's fat cock,
and the tightness of the massive muscle stud's asshole.

All four of us snapped our heads towards the noise in the same instant, and
good thing we did. For otherwise we would have missed the sight of a buff,
muscled bear spraying his load against the glass door. He had thrown his
hand upon the glass in a throe of ecstasy, and it was all that was
supporting the flexing muscles of his shuddering frame. We all watched
intently as he tugged his sensitive shaft, delicately pulling further
spurts and then dribbles of cum onto the glass. Finally regaining control
over his body and, looking through the glass to see our intent stares, he
blushed briefly before confidently using his swollen tool to smear his cum
across the glass.

He was not alone. We came to realize that in the three different gaps in
our room's curtains, onlookers from the pool deck had clustered together
for a peep at our foursome. Hard cocks appeared in every gap. Some stroked
themselves, some stroked fellow onlookers. I noticed another spot on the
glass where a spattering of cum spoke to the hotness of our fuck show.

All four of us took this in, bashfully trying to both see and avoid the
stares directed our way. Then, one by one, we turned our direction back
inside the room and to one another. Shaking our heads in disbelief, we
laughed.

"Was a very good fuck, yes?" the tiger tattooed stud asked, now resting the
side of his tired face on my thigh.

"Of course," I agreed, crouching forward to plant a tender kiss on his
lips.

"Hot as shit, dude," Billy said, clapping a hand on his muscled stud's
massive shoulders.

My tattooed hunk stood and searched for his speedo. He found it, picked it
up, and stopped midway through bending over to put it back on.

"You want, ah, como se dice...ah, you want present for, ah home?" he asked.

"A souvenir?" I suggested.

"Si, si," he eyes lit up. "Souvenir. You want?"

"Sure."

"OK, you take my," he said, giddily putting his tiny white speedo in my
hands, "and I take yours."

I laughed.

"Sounds about right. What do you say, Billy?"

"Huh?"

"Swap speedos with these guys?"

The massive stud offered his own small white speedo to Billy.

Taking it in his hands, Billy spread it open and put his nose in its
crotch, taking a deep sniff. His eyes closed as the scent overwhelmed him.

"Totally, dude," he said, and then smiled at the huge stud and laid a kiss
on him in appreciation.

"I don't think they're worth 80 Euros a pop, you know," I added.

But Billy was basking in the glow of our sex and could not be bothered to
reason.

"Whatever, dude."

"Can't argue with that, I guess."

We all slipped into our new speedos, each admiring each other's packages as
we stuffed our half-hard cocks into the tight nylon, lycra, and
spandex. The tiny white speedos were tiny indeed, and nearly transparent,
it seemed. It was a good trade on our part.

"Well," the tattooed stud announced, "I think we go now to see our
aficionados, yes?"

I smiled. "Yes, our adoring fans."

And with a surprising spring in his step and wide smile on his face my hunk
swung open the curtains and sliding door. The gathered crowd, suddenly
nervous, parted to make a path from the doorway out onto the terraces of
the pool deck. Smiling at the bashful faces before him, the hunk took two
giant leaps and then cannonballed into the pool. Smiling at each other,
Billy and I followed right behind, jackknifing into the water with a big,
obnoxious splash. The muscled ditz followed close behind and, topping us
all, nearly emptied the pool of water with his crashing flop.

We laughed, giggled, and wrestled about in the water. Our newfound intimacy
made the playful teasing between us easy to come by. Soon I was up, sitting
atop the massive stud's shoulders, doing battle with the tiger tattooed
hunk's muscular arms as he crouched atop Billy's tall shoulders. We played
on and on, our bodies momentarily forgetting how weary they were from our
sustained fucking. But eventually our energy sagged and the Planet boys had
to head onto their next advertising location. Billy and I made for the
lounge chairs to rest. Before I pulled myself from the pool and parted ways
with my tattooed hunk, he cornered me at one end of the pool and wrapped me
tenderly in his arms.

"You are beautiful boy."

"Thank you." I blushed, deeply.

"Is true."

"You are too."

"No."

He was bashful. I looked now again at his tough fa‡ade and marveled at
the submissiveness, the tenderness I had coaxed from him.

"Yes."

And with that I gave him one last kiss and turned away.

"Beautiful boy," he called.

"Yeah?"

He face suddenly lost its tenderness.

"Ten cuidado."

"What?"

He stared intently at me, his eyes full of concern.

"Be careful."


9.


We had become celebrities of the pool terraces, and as such we were not
allowed to return our tired bodies to the comfortable lounge chairs without
some invasions of privacy.

"Can we take picture?" a voice behind me said as I sat on my chair.

I turned around to see two lithe and smooth Spanish twinks standing before
me, tight packages filling their speedos, one dark green and one red with
white polka dots.

"Umm, sure, why not?" I mused aloud.

They giddily tittered between themselves in reply.

Without the least warning one of them was suddenly sprawled in my lap, his
arms around my neck and his smooth legs raised up in a playful kicking
pose.

"Wow," I muttered to myself.

The boy in my lap, whose tight little ass was flush atop my half-hard cock,
began yipping orders to his friend using the camera. After a few digital
beeps and forced smiles, the twink leapt from my lap to inspect the photos.

I caught some of their quick Spanish conversation.

"...mas major que anoche."

They turned to me.

"Is very cute."

"Oh, good," I said, trying to sound interested, but likely failing.

"Picture before not very good."

"Hmm?" I asked, not quite understanding his broken English.

"Here," he said, sitting down beside my on my chair and showing me the LCD
screen on the back of his camera.

He began beeping through a series of images. The ones just taken. His
friend smoking outside a club. Him downing a shot. His friend grinding
against someone in the darkness of a club. The two of them before the
mirror in the hotel bathroom, dolled up for the club. Sunset on the
beach. A series of candid photos of hot guys at the beach. (Which he
blushingly tried to explain away in a few rapid sentences, all in
indecipherable Spanish.) Another night at the
club. Drinking. Dancing. And...me. Then me again. And again. And again.

I wasn't posing with the boy or his friend in these others photos. I was
onstage at a club-it looked to be Planet 10 from the illuminated orbs
hanging from the ceiling in the background of the photos. I was wearing a
tiny, glitter-encrusted speedo. Then I was pulling it down, showing off my
ass, the raised hands of a crowd in the foreground of the photo. Then I was
naked, onstage, pulling on my half-hard cock. Then it was hard, and the
crowd's hands reached higher, fingers spread wide. Then Billy was onstage
next to me. Then he was on his knees, my cock in his mouth, the crowd now
appearing deliriously wild. Then...then we were fucking, onstage, my cock
lodged in Billy's ass. Then we were joined by a third who sucked off Billy
as I fucked him. The boy was passing through the photos quickly, as if they
were old news. But I scanned the frames quickly and noticed the face and
hazel eyes of our fellow performer: Rodrigo, the shower intruder.

My mind was reeling. When the boy finally found the photo he wanted, one of
he and I arms around each other's shoulders, I could barely bring my eyes
to focus. When I did I barely noticed the sour expression on the boy's face
which apparently made the photo a bad one, but I did look deeply into the
part of the image bearing my wide, frenzied eyes. I looked hard at my
likeness and despite acknowledging that it was indeed me and no one else, I
also felt there was something off about the overdone smile on my face and
happiness in my eyes. I knew instantly that the me in the photo was in the
grip of some heady intoxicant.

Billy, who had been chatting up some of his own fans, sat down in the chair
next to me and smiled at my two admirers.

"Well, what going on over here?" he asked with an amused look on his face.

My body tense, my adrenalin pumping-I grabbed his arm and said firmly
through clenched teeth, "We're leaving."


10.


"Just to be clear, dude: you're sure it was you?"

Billy was sitting on the bed back in our room, watching skeptically as I
dug my hands wildly into the depths of our suitcases, searching.

"What?" I looked up, annoyed.

"You're sure?"

I stopped digging and turned to face Billy head on, projecting the full
strength of my muscled torso in his direction.

"Yes, it was me. And it was you."

"Are you-"

"It was you, dipshit. Sucking my cock, getting fucked by me in front of
hundreds of people."

A daydream and a smile momentarily broke over Billy's face.

"Hot."

"Fucking idiot," I said as I launched a wad of dirty laundry at him and
then resumed my search.

"Hey!" he seemed more amused than anything.

"Shut up!"

I was growing more and more frustrated.

"Where is that fucking camera?!"

"Take it easy, J."

"No, dammit," I yelled. "I want to know what the fuck is going on!"

My body tired from the sex, my mind weary from its panicked wondering, I
was nearly in tears. Billy leapt up from the bed and put his arms on my
shoulders.

"Don't worry. It'll be fine," he said soothingly.

I wasn't buying it and he could tell. He threw his arms close around me,
bringing his warm chest against mine. His powerful, tight grip held still
me jittering body. Then he spoke softly in my ear.

"Whatever happens, we'll figure it out together."

I was crying now.

"Right?" he asked as he squeezed my body deeply before releasing me and
looking deep into my eyes.

"Sure."

A smile, affectionate smile spread across his face.

"Cool, dude. Now what can I do?"

I wiped my eyes and regained some composure.

"Could you call that Marcus guy-the number's on that note there-and tell
him we can't come to lunch today."

"Sure."

As Billy turned to find the note and grab the phone, I turned back to our
bags. Our passports were still there, as were our wallets and watches and
iPods and everything else of value. I took confidence in that. And the ring
was still there. Wait, I thought to myself, where the fuck had that ring
come from again? My ephemeral blast of confidence was gone.

I picked up the ring and held it up, turning to Billy.

"Do you know where-?"

Billy's eyes saw the ring and immediately they darted away from it as he
put the phone to his ear and a hushing finger in front of his lips.

As Billy began talking I ducked into the bathroom to start loading up a
backpack for the beach. Suncreen, iPods, a book, towels, water bottles. We
were still wearing our newly won white speedos-mine under a pair of khaki
shorts and Billy's under a baggy pair of mesh gym shorts. I decided to
throw into the bag an assortment of Billy's many speedos for us to choose
from when we got there. However today's trip to the beach wasn't about
tanning and parading our muscles about as on the days before, it was about
finding Rodrigo in his purple speedo and demanding answers.

"Um, alright. I guess that's OK."

I heard the hesitation in Billy's voice and walked out of the bathroom to
listen.

"Um, sure. I guess," he said calmly as he looked at me with bewildered
eyes. "I guess we'll be right down. OK, bye."

I furrowed my brow and Billy saw my confusion, which he seemed to share.

"So, dude, that was the guy-Marcus or whatever."

"Yeah."

"He said he was worried we might not be able to find our way, so he sent
his driver just in case."

"His driver?"

"Yeah, J." He sounded just as dumbstruck as I was. "The guy's apparently
downstairs waiting for us.

"Jesus."

"Yeah."

We both paused a moment, unsure what to make of this information or what to
do next.

"I guess we go then, huh?" Billy suggested cautiously.

I paused a moment longer to think. Maybe it wasn't so strange after all, I
thought. The guy was simply rich and eager to show his gratitude to me for
saving his life. It would be a diversion, but whatever, only a minor one.

"Yeah, let's go," I said decisively, picking up my packed bag and turning
to the door.


11.


Billy had slipped on a pair of more formal shorts and as we descended the
staircase to the lobby we both awkwardly fumbled our way into a pair of
nice polo shirts-mine bearing the Olympic rings and the Team U.S.A. logo
embroidered on its breast.

"Dude, this day is fucked up," Billy said as he stuffed his shirttail into
his shorts, pulling his polo taut against his firm pecs and nipples.

"No kidding."

"Total chaos. My mind is fucked."

I laughed at Billy's lightheartedness about it all. I remembered yet again
how good he was to have around in tough times.

"Well, I'm not totally lost," I said with a smile.

"What?"

"Some things make sense."

"Really, dude. What?"

"You those pictures, how I said I was wearing the glitter speedo?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, that wasn't all I had on."

Billy's eyes were wide.

"What else, dude?!"

I paused before a doorway. Billy's eyes were looking for the clue that
would solve it all, that would explain away all our worries. I didn't have
that, not by a long shot. But I did have one answer that was surprisingly
satisfying. In every picture that the twink had taken of me in the club,
whether I was in or out of my speedo-dancing, sucking, or fucking-, I wore
the same thing atop my head.

"A crown."

And with another sly smile I pushed the door open and walked past him into
the lobby. Behind me, I heard Billy's awed voice as he put two and two
together.

"Long live the motherfucking king."


End of Part I


--James (swimmingcock81@yahoo.com)