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Several straight buffed gym studs are bound
and given the royal treatment with tickling and cum control in
this hot story of revenge by a slighted health club employee. |
Blue-Blooded Health Club Studs
Given Blue Balls
by Richard
|
The Gym Stud - Video & Pics from Bound Gods |
Kevin Turner was stuck in his own
car behind a huge black Mercedes 500 S sedan as he entered the
gate-guarded parking lot of his exclusive health club around noon on
a Monday. Kevin was on the final week of a two-week vacation and had
spent the past week in Hawaii, so he was enjoying his free week back
in town before he had to return to work. Kevin owned a business that
sold hidden video cameras to businesses and families who wanted to
either spy on their employees to prevent stealing or, in the case of
families, to ensure that the "nanny" was not mistreating their
children. Kevin delegated the running of the business to his partner
during his vacation.
The 30-year-old Kevin enjoyed being able to take his time and do
what he wanted to all day for a change, but obviously most of the
people in the line of cars approaching the parking lot were
professionals on a lunch break who wanted to cram a workout into
their one or two-hour lunchtimes.
Clearly the darkly handsome guy in front of Kevin in the big
Mercedes was in a hurry, complaining audibly through the open window
of his sleek, impressive car at the delay in being admitted to the
lot, and leaning on his loud horn repeatedly. When the arrogant
business-suited dude in front of him finally got up to the guard's
gate, he complained openly and at length about the "delay"(selfishly
wasting everyone's time behind him, of course), announcing that he
would "have you fired, you fuckin' wetback, fuckin' incompetent
asshole! Why have you kept me waiting? My time is important!!"
The guy in the big Mercedes then roared off and promptly parked in
the handicap-parking zone, placing a bootleg placard on the dash.
Then he strode off toward the entrance to the exclusive health club,
no doubt intent on giving the manager a piece of his mind about the
"incompetent wetback parking lot attendant". There was clearly
nothing physically wrong with the dude; he was sun-bronzed, 6' 4"
about 28 or 29, and in obviously peak physical condition under his
tailored suit, emphasized by the brightly colored, "power"-denoting
designer suspenders he wore which highlighted his trim waist and
defined chest under his designer shirt. Maybe he did qualify for a
disabled placard based on "mental" disability, however, mused Kevin.
When Kevin entered the health club himself he noticed that the dude
in the big Mercedes was striding out of the manager's office still
red-faced and self-important, the manager looking harassed but
saying in a time-worn placating fashion "yes, Mr. Alexander, I'll be
sure to have a word with Jose and if this continues, Greg, Jose will
be fired, of course," although Kevin could tell the manager was just
trying to get rid of the braying, complaining yuppie so he could get
back to work. Kevin had noticed the designer shirt and tie-clad
health club manager, a 6' 2" darkly handsome dude about 30, ran the
place like a fuckin' tyrant and hoped Jose would not lose his job,
but then Kevin was formulating a plan that should protect Jose.
Kevin was enjoying his ability to take his time and do whatever he
pleased while on vacation time, so he decided to follow the
puffed-up-with-his-own-importance dude into the locker room and more
or less "stalk" him during his workout. Kevin was also happy that he
had brought a few devices with him in his gym bag that should make
the "stalking" all the more fun. He had all afternoon to spend.
Should be fun.
Kevin followed "Greg Alexander" (Kevin later learned his full name
was "Gregory Alexander III"-wouldn't you just know) through the
health club and into the locker room, Kevin noticing several
bouncing aerobics bimbettes eagerly and lustily shouting "Hi, Greg!"
as he passed by, Greg nodding curt "hellos" at them, obviously used
to open admiration at his tall, handsome business-suited self, and
the fact that he was obviously very successful, even wealthy, a
definite "catch". Kevin even heard one bimbette say to the other
after Greg had passed "Oh, Leanne, he is like sooo dreamy! What I
wouldn't give to get into his.you know!" as the bimbettes dispersed
in a flurry of girlish giggles into the workout area.
Kevin followed Greg into the locker room, noting that Greg chose a
short bay of lockers near the quieter rear of the locker room, no
doubt for the extra privacy he thought this would afford him. There
were no other members using either of these locker bays for the time
being, although locks on lockers indicated that other members had
stowed their stuff there but were currently working out. Kevin
deliberately chose a locker in a mirror-image short bay of lockers
opposite. Kevin stowed his gym bag in one locker which faced the
opposite bay of lockers where Greg had gone and stealthily was able
to place a special video camera he had brought with him which was
shaped like a portable radio. Kevin set this up in the spare locker
next to his, secretly videotaping toward the area where Greg was
getting settled into (and which would photograph anyone else who
happened along in that area).
Kevin watched out of the corner of his eye while the hidden video
camera recorded the arrogant young hunk's imminent disrobing, Kevin
getting off on the fact that he was going to get to observe as the
brash young self-important troublemaker dropped his fancy drawers,
Kevin fantasizing that the arrogant conceited dude was having to
strip for Kevin's pleasure and at his command! Kevin noted that Greg
managed to somehow look peeved that Kevin had chosen the locker he
chose, robbing Greg of his privacy, but Greg's body language made it
clear that Greg had no choice but to start stripping; he obviously
was in a hurry to get in a full workout and had already wasted
enough time making a big scene about the delay getting into the
parking lot. Kevin made a mental note to provide plenty of still
pictures from the video or a copy of the video itself for Jose the
parking lot attendant! Kevin was sure he'd get a kick out of seeing
his tormentor baring his fancy ass and exposing his privates against
his knowledge or will!
Kevin surreptitiously watched and the video quietly recorded, as
Gregory Alexander III undid his silk, designer neck-tie and placed
it in his locker, followed by his slipping his designer suspenders
off his hunky shoulders, letting them temporarily hang down over his
tailored suit pants, whereupon he began unbuttoning his
blue-and-white striped, designer shirt, revealing a sun-bronzed
jet-black-haired muscular chest, jet-black body hair fanning out
over his broad, perfectly developed pectoral planes then narrowing
into a fine line before broadening out as the hair on his six-pack
abs disappeared into the confines of his tailored suit pants.
Greg next removed his designer shirt altogether and placed it in his
locker, reaching up to hang the shirt on a hook in the locker,
revealing the thickly jet-black-haired depths of his incredibly
hairy, manly armpits. After a pointed glance Kevin's way to make
sure the dude wasn't a fag and/or wasn't watching (Greg was wrong on
both counts; Kevin was gay and he was watching, just watching
discreetly) Greg unhitched his tailored suit pants and unzipped,
then turned around as the expensive silk-like wool of his Hugo Boss
suit dropped into an expensive puddle on top of his Ferragamo
loafers, revealing Greg's tight, cute little executive ass encased
in form-fitting white cotton Calvin Klein shorts, then stepped out
of his suit pants and kicked off his loafers. As Kevin's heart
skipped a beat, Greg then suddenly yanked down his Calvins revealing
his lightly hair-flecked asscheeks and dark furry crack between, his
assglobes pale white in total contrast to the rest of his
sun-bronzed body, and revealing his sun-bronzed muscular hairy legs.
Kevin's heart pounded even more when the arrogant, denuded executive
turned around to open his gym bag, revealing his luxuriant
jet-black-haired pubic bush and huge flaccid cock and hairy
bull-balls to Kevin's surreptitious view and the camera's
unhesitatingly intense scrutiny. Even better, Greg was fishing
intently for something in his gym bag which he apparently couldn't
find right away, and the always impatient executive therefore
suddenly bent way over as he searched in his gym bag, his
magnificent ass parting all the way and revealing his pink, winking,
hair-haloed butch virgin asshole and his hanging hairy bull-balls
for a good 30 seconds until Greg straightened up angrily yanking a
wad of assorted gym clothes and athletic shoes out of his large gym
bag.
Kevin made his own phony search of his own gym bag, anything to
stall for time before he had to completely change into his own gym
stuff, as Kevin slowly had been removing his own clothes and very
slowly putting on his own gym stuff, buying time without being too
obvious about it. Greg then proceeded to put on a white jockstrap
over his huge equipment, followed by a pair of body-hugging,
full-length, wide-striped black and green spandex body wear which
covered the full length of his muscular hairy legs and Nike gym
shorts over those, as well as a Nike tank-top type tee shirt, the
better to reveal his sun-bronzed hairy chest and manly hairy pits so
the bimbettes (and probably a lot of appreciative guys unbeknownst
to the unimaginative Greg) could get a load of his hunky upper body
while he worked out.
As Greg and Kevin were lacing up their athletic shoes, a 6' 3"
designer-cut blond business colleague from Greg's firm about 25 or
26, accompanied by another firm colleague, a 6' 2" dark-haired stud
about 24, entered the locker bay, Greg heartily addressing the blond
as "Hey Thurston, old man, how's it hangin' dude?" and the
dark-haired guy as "Hey, and Huntington, too, is the whole firm here
today?" "Huge as always, Alexander, old man!" replied Thurston,
drawing a round of raucous, braying yuppie guffaws. Greg then asked
Thurston and Huntington, "Tell me, Kurt, or Brad, is our fearless
leader out for a three-martini lunch, or should I get my ass back to
the firm right after my workout, dude?" Kurt Thurston replied "Yeah,
one of the babes in word processing said the old fart was off to his
"gentleman's club" for lunch, gotta mean 2-3 hours easily, but he
told her he expects the Hamilton Report from you on his desk today
before he leaves at 4 to `beat the traffic'. Shit, the old fart
waltzes in at 11, calls his fellow multi-millionaire buds to arrange
lunch at his club, has a 3 hour lunch, farts around in his leather
wing-back chair smoking cigars with his old cronies, then splits.
Our futures soon, too, no doubt, eh, Greg?, I mean our class
deserves an easy life, it's only fitting," opined Kurt truthfully,
fully confident of his rightful place in the world as a fully-grown
(physically, that is) spoiled brat.
Greg stretched his sun-bronzed arms over the top of his locker,
revealing his hairy armpits, as he asked, "What the fuck do you
mean, Kurt? Ya mean the old fart expects the Hamilton Report today??
Shit, that only gives me an hour to work out and I'll have to skip
lunch altogether!" whined the "poor baby" obviously put out and
pouting at the thought of having to actually work hard for a change,
not to mention having to cancel his accustomed lingering lunch at a
tony yuppie watering hole. Kurt winked at Greg and said "Then you'll
have to haul ass, Alexander, won't cha?" said Kurt, Kurt
surprisingly reaching over and sticking a finger tickling into one
of Greg's exposed, hairy armpits. Greg let out a surprised
high-pitched giggle in response and blushingly hissed to Kurt to
"cut that the fuck out, asshole, you know that sets me up the
fucking wall!" to the sound of Kurt's and Brad's laughter. "Better
keep on our good side, Alexander, we know your weakness" laughed
Brad. So Greg is extremely ticklish, thought Kevin, hmmmm, the
possibilities were endless here!
Greg hurried off to complete a furious workout, obviously intending
to throw himself angrily into his workout to take out some of his
aggression at being forced to work for a change. Kevin noted with
joy that Greg did not lock his locker; he apparently had been
furiously searching for his lock and had left it at home by mistake.
Hmmm, again.
Kevin therefore contented himself fooling around wasting time in the
locker room, eagerly secretly watching and videotaping as Kurt
Thurston and Brad Huntington dropped their own executive drawers for
him, and for the hidden video camera as well, of course. Kurt
obliged, hurriedly discarding his tie and designer shirt revealing
his sun-bronzed lightly dirty-blond-haired chest which fanned out
lightly over his pectoral ridges over his perfect pointed tits only
to trail down in a thin line toward his six-pack abs before
disappearing into his suit pants. Brad Huntington doffed his own
designer shirt and tie to reveal his own sun-bronzed moderately
hairy chest his chest hair fanning out lightly over his sculpted
pectorals to cap his man-tits before thinning down into a line of
hair that grew down toward his suit-panted crotch. Kurt then dropped
his executive suit pants to surprisingly reveal a pair of red Calvin
Klein thong bikini underwear! Brad Huntington laughed and pointed at
these to Kurt's embarrassment, Kurt explaining that his girlfriend
liked to see the outline of his "cute little butt" and not see any
underwear lines when he bent his "cute little ass" over, and that
was only reason he was wearing them, hissing confidentially that
"the damn things ride up, though, and that fucking elastic in the
asscrack gooses you every time you bend over!" Brad chortling in his
best yuppie fashion and suddenly sharply slapping the exposed smooth
left asscheek of Kurt's "cute little ass" making a loud CRACK sound
and leaving an angry red handprint on Kurt's buttcheek. Kurt then
slipped the intimate apparel off altogether revealing a luxuriant
dirty-blond-haired pubic bush, a sizeable cock and big hairy balls,
his asscrack split with a fine line of dirty-blond fur. Brad
Huntington then removed his own suit pants and boxer shorts to
reveal his own lightly dark-hair-flecked ass, lush jet black pubes,
big cock and hairy bull balls, Kurt getting even by delivering a
resounding slap to Brad's bad-boy right buttcheek. Kurt and Brad
changed into jockstraps and workout gear, and then put their clothes
in their lockers, temporarily leaving their locks on top of their
gym bags. Kurt announced to Brad that he'd go get them some towels
while Brad announced his intention to "take a nice long leak".
When Kurt and Brad left the coast clear, Kevin pounced, opening
Greg's unlocked locker and retrieving his white Calvins, and
reaching into Kurt and Brad's still open lockers and helping himself
to Kurt's discarded thong and Brad's conservative executive boxer
shorts. Kevin then left the door to the locker recording the action
slightly ajar so it could continue to film, then, after taking a hit
of their combined musky scent, stowed the stolen underwear in his
gym bag in his own locker, and headed for the workout floor. When
viewing the tape later that day, Kevin watched how Kurt and Brad
simply returned to their lockers and locked them up, not yet
realizing their underwear was missing, and simply proceeded to the
workout floor themselves.
Kevin then "cruised" the threesome as they had a hearty, sweaty
workout, riding the exercise bikes for 30 minutes then working with
free weights and machines. Greg finished first, announcing to Kurt
and Brad that he wanted to shower and "take a steam" before he
returned to finish his report.
While Kurt and Brad continued working out, Kevin followed Greg back
into the locker room. Kevin eagerly secretly watched and videotaped
as the sweating Greg removed his Nike tank top tee shirt, his
full-length black and green striped spandex body wear and his sweaty
jock and gym socks, neatly storing the steaming mass in a plastic
bag provided by the health club, only to pad his sweating self off
to the showers and sauna, all caught on videotape.
Kevin promptly snatched up the plastic bag of goodies and, while
Greg showered, Kevin lucked out and no one showed up in the
particular locker bays while he proceeded to cut tiny pinholes and
some holes the size of a finger in strategic places in Greg's Hugo
Boss suit pants. Kevin also determined that Greg had not brought a
change of underwear with him in his gym bag, so he would have to go
without shorts the rest of the day!
When Greg returned, Kevin let the video record the proceedings, Greg
fuming and cursing about the loss of his sweaty gym stuff,
alternately accusing the "wetback help" and "Goddamned fuckin
faggots!" for his loss. Greg hurriedly dressed into his executive
suit, searched frantically for his missing shorts, gave up,
apparently thought about asking his buds for a spare pair but was
too embarrassed to admit the need to do so, and so departed, not
even noticing the fact that tantalizing glimpses of his ass, pubes,
and even his balls were visible at times from the strategically cut
holes in his executive pants. Kevin overheard Kurt and Brad laughing
at the gym when Greg was not there, laughing at how Greg had walked
around the office that way trying to figure out why the office women
were giggling, only to feel a draft and realize that he had even
caught a hole in the buttcheek of his pants on a nail and had ripped
a huge hole exposing his pompous ass to the world!
Kevin was amused when Kurt and Brad returned from their own sweaty
workouts, only to strip down for the hidden video, also placing
their sweaty gym stuff into plastic bags, then padding off bareass
to the showers, all caught on video. Kevin then quickly snatched up
these plastic bags as well and locked them in his locker, then
killed time till Kurt and Brad returned to discover the loss of
their own sweaty gym stuff, cursing "fucking fags" as they suited up
and left, all caught on video.
Later that evening, Kevin invited some gay friends over and they
each had a field day watching the hidden video while simultaneously
sniffing each of the arrogant Greg, Kurt and Brad's sweaty gym
shorts, tee-shirts and jocks as the stuck-up trio unknowingly bent
way over for the camera or otherwise unwittingly exposed their most
intimate areas to the camera to the gay guys' guffaws.
Kevin decided the next day to set up an appropriate retribution on
the arrogant Gregory Alexander III. Kevin got a kick out of showing
still photos of his hidden video of Greg to the health club parking
lot attendant, Jose, Jose laughing out loud and pointing at the
embarrassing photos of the arrogant shithead bareass naked,
especially the ones showing Greg bending over and revealing his
hairy asshole and hanging bull-balls for the camera, and/or those
showing his swinging cock. Jose also liked the ones that caught the
supposedly high-class dude picking his nose, scratching his big,
hairy balls, and scratching his hairy, sweaty armpits. Jose was
still furious at the tongue-lashing he had received from the
swaggering Greg, and told Kevin that he would be only too happy to
join in any revenge on the dude. Kevin outlined the elements of his
"plot" to "get" Greg, which included the use of further videotaping
to ensure the cocky Gregory Alexander III's silence and cooperation
in the future, since Jose was naturally concerned about losing his
job.
The 24-year-old, 5'10" Jose was married and had three kids to
support, and was naturally concerned about losing his job. Kevin
knew that Jose was allowed by the management to use the health club
facilities after closing, and it was clear that he was using them to
good effect; the dude was obviously very defined and buff as
revealed by his tight-fitting parking lot attendant shirt. Kevin
couldn't help but admire the dude's physique and the fact that Jose
had more body hair than most Latinos, noting the hair on his
forearms, the tufts sprouting from the top of his shirt, and the
flashes of hairy armpits Jose inadvertently gave as he held up the
still photos for closer inspection or as he expressively recalled
his unfair treatment by the stuck-up Gregory Alexander III.
Kevin told Jose that he had heard (seen even, although he did not
admit this) that Greg was extremely ticklish, and suggested that
Greg's comeuppance should involve tying the dude up naked and
tickling him. Jose's dark eyes lit up with a sadistic gleam and a
knowing smile. Although Kevin knew for a fact that Jose spoke
perfect English, he deliberately put on a bit of an accent to say, "Teeecklish,
eh? Yeah, I would love to see that `son of beach' squirm his Anglo,
white-boy ass off! Yeah, watch that fucker twist and shout and beg
us to stop, like my Conchita does when she gets on my bad side and I
`teeeckle' her into submission!" Kevin agreed that it would be hot,
and revealed the rest of his "plan". Kevin also convinced Jose to
help him set up hidden video cameras throughout the locker room and
the shower/jacuzzi areas of the health club after hours.
Management at the health club knew that Jose worked out after hours
at the health club on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and expected him to
use the facilities only on those days, although this was never said
in so many words. Jose therefore set up the hidden videos with
Kevin's help late Tuesday night when the place was otherwise
deserted. Jose had, unbeknownst to management, obtained a copy of
the key to the health club from one of the Latino maintenance men.
Kevin and Jose even fortuitously placed hidden videos in the private
massage rooms.
Kevin learned from Jose that the hard-nosed health club manager was
known to use the club facilities after hours, especially on
Wednesdays and Sundays, when the club closed at 9 p.m. Kevin
suggested to Jose that Jose might "practice" on the uppity health
club manager before they "got" Greg Alexander III.
Jose had time-activated the hidden videos throughout the locker room
area the night before. On the following rainy night, Wednesday,
Jose, clad in his gym workout gear, then watched from his parking
lot cubicle outside the still brightly lit (but officially closed)
glass-fronted health club, where he could clearly see the health
club manager, Brent Powers, working out. The place appeared to be
deserted except for Powers and one Personal Trainer, whom Jose knew
was Mark Peterson. Mark was a 6' 4" conceited, totally stuck-up
narcissist, always admiring his perfect 25-year-old body in any
available mirror.
Jose watched until the sweaty manager, Brent Powers, finished his
workout and walked into the locker room and out of sight. Jose was
also happy to see that Mark Peterson was busy, distracted on one of
the computers.
Jose waited several minutes more, then silently let himself in with
the copy of the key he had obtained. Jose padded to the locker room,
passing right by where Mark was busy at a computer in one of the
staff office cubicles. Mark was not working late but rather turned
out to be paying rapt attention to a hetero porn site on the
Internet, Jose smiling to see Mark rubbing the crotch of his gym
shorts as he was glued to the screen watching busty nude babes do
their thing, no doubt at the health club's expense.
Jose entered the locker room in his gym clothes, carrying his gym
bag full of goodies. Jose noted with amusement the manager's
discarded gym clothes in a heap on the floor. Jose found Brent all
alone and obviously naked in the huge, lavish jacuzzi that seated
20. Brent's jet-black-haired chest arched out of the bubbling, hot
water as he reclined back over the edge of the jacuzzi, revealing
the deepest recesses of his hairy, wet armpits. Brent's crotch was
temporarily obscured by the bubbling water. Jose cleared his throat
causing Brent to pop open his eyes, then suddenly hop up off the
underwater jacuzzi bench and walk right through the cover of the
bubbling water until he was up against the other wall of the jacuzzi,
obviously in an attempt to try to protect his privacy. Brent yelled
out "Jose! What the fuck are you doing here? We agreed to Tuesdays
and Thursdays only! C'mon , dude, you can't use the club tonight!"
Jose replied, using the put-on accent again, since that was what the
manager expected, "Sorry, Seen-yore Powers, I forgeet eet was
Wednesday, seen-yore! Ay, Santa Maria, I go. First you neeed, how
you say, a towel, no?"
Fuming, Brent merely kept his naked body pressed against the wall of
the jacuzzi in an obvious effort to protect his modesty and maintain
his supreme managerial status at the health club. Powers was
obviously peeved that his (in his view) underling, low-class Latino
hired help had caught the manager bareass. Red-faced, Brent replied
"No, I don't fuckin' need a towel, yet, Jose, now just get the fuck
outta here and don't let this happen again!"
Playing dumb, Jose said "No, seen-yore Powers, I een-sist,
seen-yore, eet ees my dooty, seen-yore, as your humble eemployee,
seen-yore! Come, here is the towel, seen-yore!" Jose unwrapping one
of the many white gym towels provided for patrons and holding it up
for the pompous Brent Powers.
Brent, torn between protecting his mo desty from the view of the
lowly employee, and convinced that, as manager, he was entitled to
being served and fawned over, Brent found himself with no choice but
to climb up the steps out of the jacuzzi, revealing his lush,
jet-black-haired pubic bush, big cock and hairy bull-balls and
sun-bronzed, muscular hairy legs, and in the mirror behind,
revealing his white, hair-flecked bubble butt split by a line of
dark fur, all caught on hidden video, as was, undoubtedly, Brent's
earlier stripping in the locker room, as well as his showering.
Blushing, Brent quickly wrapped the towel around his waist and
accompanied Jose back into the locker room, Brent waving Jose off
and telling him to leave again. Jose pretended to comply, heading
out of the locker room. As he left the locker room, the 6' 4"
Personal Trainer, Mark Peterson, was striding in, Mark snottily
saying "Hey, what the fuck are you doin' here, asshole? It's
Wednesday, you stupid fuckin' wetback! Get the fuck outta here, Pee-dro!
I'm telling you, Brent, we never shoulda let this fucker use the
gym, getting his filthy Latino sweat all over everything and all!"
Jose told Mark "sorry, seen-yore, I am leaving, seen-yore, and my
name ees Jose, not Pedro, seen-yore!"
"All you fuckin' beaners are "Pee-dros' to me, asshole! Get the fuck
outta my gym, now!!"
Jose passed by the darkened TV room opposite one of the massage
cubicles and pretended to leave, making a loud noise for the benefit
of Mark and Brent as he made the sound of banging the locked front
door, only to re-trace his steps and hide in the darkened TV room
opposite the "private" massage cubicle. Jose could clearly hear the
voices of Brent and Mark as they spoke in the locker room.
Jose heard Brent Powers complaining to Mark about Jose's having
gotten in on the wrong night. Apparently, each one assumed that the
other had let Jose in, so there would be no discovery of Jose's
duplicate key. Brent further was complaining that he had to go to a
specially-called corporate meeting of the chain of luxurious health
clubs that night, complaining that the meeting was scheduled late at
night so as to allow managers from far-flung clubs to travel to the
corporate headquarters which was nearby for Brent. That gave Brent
another hour or so to kill. Mark razzed Brent about how Mark knew
that Brent's wife was out of town this week, "so you're a free man,
eh, Brent?" inquired Mark leeringly.
Brent complained that although he was "free" he hadn't had time to
sexually harass one of the aerobics babes for sex like he usually
did when his wife was away.
Mark noted how he himself loved lording it over the aerobics
instructors, who were technically under his management as well, and
demanding that they sexually service him regularly to keep their
jobs. Mark then diverted the subject to his previous request for a
raise. Brent told Mark that it was "no go," that the lavish health
club chain supposedly could not afford to pay him more.
Jose could sense that the lack of a raise did not go over well with
Mark. This was apparently lost on Brent, however. To Jose's initial
surprise, Jose then overheard Mark suddenly express concern that
Brent was being overworked, that he looked "real tensed up" and
inquiring whether Brent could use a full body massage. Brent knew
that Mark was a fully qualified massage therapist and earned extra
money by performing massages on tensed-up executives. The arrogant
Brent fell for Mark's own little plot, agreeing that he could use a
massage before the corporate meeting at a nearby office building.
Jose was secretly amused as he watched from the darkened TV room as
Mark led the health club manager, Brent Powers, into the massage
room opposite, placing him face down on the massage table clad only
in his white gym towel. Jose watched as Mark bent over to apply
heated, sandalwood-scented massage oil onto Brent's sun-bronzed,
muscular back amused at how Mark's tight white gym shorts clearly
revealed the outline of his jockstrap under them. Jose's view of the
proceedings was somewhat obscured by Mark's beefy torso which was
encased in the gym's green Polo-type shirt with "Personal
Instructor" emblazoned on its back in large white letters, but Jose
knew the hidden video was whirring away disguised in the clock radio
next to the massage table.
Mark proceeded to knead Brent's tight, sun-bronzed muscles with the
massage oil, from the back of his neck, down to his sun-bronzed
spine, then kneaded in concentric circles over and over the expanse
of Brent's back, running his strong oiled hands over each other in
rhythmic, soothing, circular motions, to the sound of Brent's ooos
and ahhhhs as his back muscles totally relaxed. Mark then
"accidentally" spilled a little too much oil over the small tuft of
jet-black hair growing in the small of the health club manager's
sun-bronzed back, and onto the towel, Mark dashing the towel away
suddenly, announcing that he did not want to get oil on the towel,
Jose being rewarded with a glimpse of his boss's bare, lightly
hair-flecked ass and watching as drops of oil slid sensuously down
into the furry crack of his arrogant boss's bare butt, Brent arching
his butt in mounting lust as the glistening oil slid down his
asscrack and right over his hair-haloed virgin asshole, then
dripping down to coat his hairy bull-balls.
Mark then slid his strong, sun-bronzed hot-oiled hands over the
cheeks of the manager's humpy butt, again sliding his oiled hands
over and over each other in concentric circles all over his boss's
lightly hair-flecked buttmounds, kneading and separating them and
exposing his furry asscrack to the ventilation system's secret
caress, Brent's wide-open, pink, winking butthole getting a sensuous
downdraft from the overhead vent.
Mark then oiled and kneaded and massaged each of Brent's long,
sun-bronzed muscular legs, kneading the hairy flesh in concentric
circles as he worked his way down over the backs of his sun-bronzed
hairy thighs and calves to Brent's bare pink size 12 feet, which he
expertly massaged, cracking the tension from each of his boss's big
feet and cracking the toes with his hot-oiled hands. Mark then slid
a sensuous finger over the soles a little too fast, causing Brent to
giggle and pull his feet away. Hmmmm.
Mark then rolled Brent over on his back on the massage table, his
hands over his handsome head revealing his heaving hairy chest, and
hairy armpits, Mark noting that "Hmm, Mr. Powers, it looks like
you're popping a bit of a woody! Don't worry. Happens all the time.
I even give some of the execs here at the club a hand job for an
extra fee "our little secret" as they say."
"Oh, yeahh, Mark, yeah go ahead, do it, give me a hand job, I need
to get my rocks off, that would really ease my tensions. This feels
sooo damn goood, dude! Don't tell anyone about this, though ! Yeah,
get on with the massage too, yeah"
Mark then applied more hot oil to the slippery manager's hairy chest
and arms and even into his hairy armpits, rubbing and kneading and
massaging over his hairy chest, making the arrogant boss's man-tits
stand at attention in eraser-head erections, Brent involuntarily
ooooing and ahhhing at the sensation. Mark then worked lower, over
Brent's six-pack abdominals, Brent reacting like he had received an
electrical shock and giggling whenever Mark teased his ribs or
sides.
Mark then massaged the fronts of Brent's hairy thighs and calves and
back down to his bare feet, deliberately avoiding his cock and
balls.
Finally, Mark oiled up his boss's big cock and hairy balls and began
to jack his boss's cock. Mark suddenly firmly attached the now
out-of-it Brent's wrists and ankles to the massage table, telling
him he "didn't want him to fall off at the crucial moment!"
When Brent was tightly strapped down, however, Mark suddenly
stopped, announcing that Brent "had better think long and hard about
that raise, dude, `cause you're not getting' off till you agree to
it" only to announce that Mark had a date later that night and
intended to take a nice long hot shower, sauna and jacuzzi while
Brent waited in frustration to consider Mark's raise! Mark also went
to his locker for a camera and took some Polaroid snapshots of his
naked, bound, horny boss for "insurance".
Brent thrashed and cursed in his bondage to no avail, telling Mark
he was "fired" ordering Mark to set him free and/or to "get him off"
immediately, that he had that fuckin' corporate meeting to get to ,
this was blackmail, etc. etc." to the sound of Mark's laughter as
Mark departed into the locker room area to clean up. Mark had first
blindfolded Brent "so he could think clearly" while he was gone.
Jose waited a minute or two, then entered the massage room with his
gym bag full of tricks. Brent heard the slight noise and said "Thank
God you came to your senses, asshole! Let me off this fuckin' table
now!"
Jose said nothing but instead extracted tapering feathers which he
suddenly applied to his arrogant Anglo boss's helplessly bound bare
feet, running the feathers over the delicate, pink, helpless soles
of his boss's tied-down soles, causing his employer to erupt in
shrieks, squeaks, pleas and squeals as he wildly thrashed in his
bonds, his half-hard massage-oiled cock flopping wildly onto his
washboard abdominals and hairy thighs, making it harder and firmer
against his will.
Jose kept up his foot torture till Brent thought he would pass out
from the shock. Jose next suddenly delved one of the feathers into
each of his white boss's helplessly exposed hairy armpits, using the
massage oil to make them slide all the more smoothly against the
erogenous, excruciatingly exposed flesh of his employer's naked
armpits, while simultaneously trailing the other feather down the
sole of one foot, making Brent shout "NOOOO!!!! STOPPPPPPP!!! NOT
THERE TOOO!!!! NOT AT THE SAME TIME!!! NOOOO!!! STOPPP!! GIVE A
CHANCE TO... CATCH...MY...BREATH!!!! OH MY GAWDDDDDDDD!!!!!! STOPPPP!!!!"
Jose then trailed one feather over each of his boss's hair-haloed
man-tits, making them stand up at attention and causing Brent to
mewl with undisguised lust as unbidden passion pulsed throughout his
hunky, helplessly exposed body, all the while tickling the bound
dude's size 12 feet.
Jose then used one toothbrush to devilishly tease the glans of his
employer's pulsing cock while he used another on his boss's hanging,
hairy bull-balls, alternately delving down into his arrogant Anglo
boss's furry asscrack, until Brent's big cock was rock hard, Jose
teasing his boss's exposed hair-haloed virgin asshole with one
toothbrush, then plunging the head of it into the virgin hole,
teasing his employer beyond his limit of tolerance, until Brent
announced that "OH, NOOOOO!!! YOU'RE MAKING ME DO IT!!!! I'M FUCKIN
GONNA SHOOT MY BIG PENT-UP LOAD!!!! OH, YEAHHHHH!!!!", as bolt after
steaming hot bolt of his boss's pressurized jizz suddenly flew up
out of his hairy bull-balls and splat out of his big cock in ropes
of white crotch-rockets, his pent-up Anglo lava blasting
volcanically out all over the room, up to the low ceiling, onto his
hairy chest and into and over his face.
Jose used the towel to wipe up the mess, feeding his boss his own
cum and forcing him to swallow it by pinching his deserving nose,
then wiping any excess off of him, so that Brent appeared more or
less the way Mark had left him. Jose knew he didn't have much more
time because he could hear Mark turning off the shower for the
second time after his sauna and jacuzzi.
Jose then went back into the darkened TV room and waited, looking
forward to viewing the tapes of Mark stripping and showering. For
Jose, the whole idea of such a thing was not overtly sexual, but
more of a power trip at getting back at his tormentors, although he
had to acknowledge that that also gave him a type of sexual charge
as well!
Mark re-appeared fully dressed in a Ralph Lauren Polo shirt and
jeans, ready for his date, at the entrance to the massage room. Mark
had listened with amusement at Brent's renewed pleas to be set free
as he dressed. Brent demanded to be set free immediately, and cursed
Mark for "tickling the shit out of me and making me cum, you
asshole!" Mark, truly baffled, thought his employer had really "lost
it" and tried to explain to Brent that he didn't do any such thing,
but Brent was so furious he wasn't really listening.
Mark, realizing that not much time remained before his date, or
before Brent was due for his corporate meeting, removed Brent's
blindfold and freed his employer. As far as Mark was concerned, if
Brent had gotten off himself somehow while Mark was gone, so much
the better. Mark held up the Polaroids and asked if Brent had come
to his senses and decided to give him his raise.
As Brent furiously dressed for his corporate meeting, spraying
cologne on to mask any tell-tale scents, he fumingly told Mark that
he would be lucky to keep his job at all after the stunt he pulled,
and bluffed that he didn't give a flying fuck whether Mark showed
the Polaroids to anyone! Mark, fearing for his prestigious Personal
Trainer job (and all its sexual harassment possibilities with the
aerobics babes) and realizing he had gone too far apparently for
nothing, begged Brent not to fire him.
Brent Powers, now fully dressed in his business suit, re-assumed his
mastery of the place and asserted his authority by suddenly saying
"Mark, you've just gone too fuckin' far this time! You're going to
have to be disciplined for your insubordination! Strip!! Fuckin'
take all of your clothes off, NOW!!!"
"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding, right, Brent? You're not serious!"
said Mark, wide-eyed.
"The hell I'm not serious. Either take your punishment or get your
ass out of here never to return!" said Brent.
Left with no options, Mark whined about his date, then said "Why do
ya want me to strip, Brent? This is like so humiliating! I'm your
best Personal Trainer for God's sake!! Don't make me do this!"
"Strip!! Now!!" was Brent's reply.
Blushing deeply, bully-boy Mark Peterson, Personal Trainer
Extraordinaire was forced to begin stripping bareass naked, to
Jose's private amusement.
Mark pulled the Polo shirt over his head revealing his sun-bronzed,
incredibly defined torso, revealing his carefully and meticulously
sculpted chest over which a light covering of dirty-blond-haired
body hair fanned, spreading from the center of his chest over his
pointed man-tits, then narrowing into a fine line which danced down
his laddered abdominals before disappearing into his tight blue
jeans, also revealing the hairy depths of his dirty-blond-haired
armpits as he raised the shirt over his head. The Personal Trainer
obviously kept himself in A-1 peak condition; the dude was all
muscle and 6' 4' of it at that!
Mark again begged his boss Brent Powers not to have to continue, but
Brent was adamant, complaining that Mark was taking too damn long
and to "fuckin' STRIP, NOW!!!"
Mark therefore unhitched his belt and popped open the button of his
jeans, then unzipped, only to blushingly pull down his tight jeans
to reveal his sun-bronzed, incredibly muscular, dirty-blond-hair
covered legs leaving him clad in only his packed snow-white Calvin
Klein briefs.
Mark again asked Brent to reconsider, that Mark was a "Personal
Trainer, for God's sake, that this was just too fuckin'
humiliating," to no avail, the arrogant Mark being forced to drop
his Calvins as well, revealing his huge flaccid cock and
dirty-blond-haired bull-balls and snow-white ass which was in total
contrast to the rest of his hunky sun-bronzed body, his cute bubble
butt split by a fine line of dirty-blond-haired fur. Jose was
privately amused at the pompous, prejudiced Personal Trainer getting
his comeuppance, laughing as the narcissistic Anglo dude
inadvertently exposed his most private orifice, his tiny pink,
winking hair-haloed virgin asshole, as he bent over to remove his
shorts, both to Jose, and through the video, to the entire world.
Mark promptly modestly clasped his beefy sun-bronzed hands over his
privates, but Brent only ordered him to put his hands over his head.
Brent, prepared to head out into the rainy night, taunted the big,
beefy Personal Trainer, deliberately poking his naked body with the
pointed "business-end" of his umbrella as he stood across from Mark,
poking the umbrella tip into Mark's hairy armpits, causing him to
flinch and gasp (hmmm!), then to trail the umbrella tip over his
pointed man-tits, then over and into his hair-haloed navel, causing
Mark to gasp again and arch his sun-bronzed muscular back, only to
tease and molest the big stud's exposed privates, using the umbrella
to flop his big flaccid cock around, all the while laughing and
pointing at the big, humiliated stud and telling him what a fool he
was to try to blackmail his boss into giving him a raise.
Brent then forced the naked Mark Peterson to crawl on all fours over
to where Brent stood in his corporate-suited regalia, forcing the
snotty, conceited Personal Trainer to sniff and lick his boss's
gray-suit-panted crotch, Mark and Brent both secretly horrified when
Brent's cock lurched and throbbed in his pants due to the sheer
perversity and power Brent felt over his employee, Mark even alarmed
that Brent might actually be a "goddamned faggot" or something.
Worse, Mark could detect a distinct scent of dried cum in his boss's
crotch; the cologne had only slightly masked that musky scent of
man-cum.
Brent then ordered Mark to crawl into the massage room and forced
him to climb up onto the massage table, where Brent securely tied
his Personal Trainer employee on his back to the massage table, just
as Mark had done to Brent.
While Mark spewed out a stream of curses and demands to be let go,
Brent laughed his head off, telling Mark that he had to leave now
for the corporate meeting, but would be back "in a couple of hours,
enjoy" but that he "would be back to do everything to you that you
did to me, and then some, including whupping the Personal Trainer's
bare butt!" Brent duct-taped the dude's mouth shut to stem his
braying flow of curses.
Mark screamed his head off through his duct tape gag into the
"empty" building as Brent departed. Jose let him scream and shake
the massage table, avidly watching as the prejudiced, Latino-bashing
Personal Trainer thrashed away wildly in his bondage, working up a
lather of bull-sweat, Jose watching (and the video recording) as the
powerful dude strained every muscle of his hunky sun-bronzed body in
an effort to free himself, to no avail. Jose was amused as the big
Anglo oaf pulled hard at his wrist restraints, which only resulted
in revealing the sweaty depths of his manly, hairy armpits and
making the veins in his massive arms pulse as his muscles pumped up
to their fullest extent, but it was "no go". Jose also watched as a
trickle of sweat descended from Mark's lush pubes over his straining
bull-balls and then down into his hair-split asscrack and onto his
revealed, winking little virgin asshole.
Even better, all the straining and frustration combined with the
fact that Mark's huge flaccid cock was bouncing around on his hairy
thighs and six-pack abs, resulted in his big cock going half-hard
already. (hmmmm!)
Jose then decided to reveal himself and emerged from the darkened TV
room only to enter the massage room to the denuded Personal
Trainer's horror and outrage, Mark utterly humiliated at being
caught balls-ass naked in front of a "lowly" Latino employee! Jose
removed the duct tape gag whereupon Mark yelled out, "You!! You
goddamned fuckin' wetback beaner! I ordered you out of my goddamned
gym an hour ago, you asshole!" Suddenly recalling his current
position, however, the intellectually challenged Mark realized that
his usual approach might not be put to best advantage tonight, and
altered his initial reaction to "Well, I mean, you were supposed to
go and all, but that's OK, you see a gang of punks broke in here
looking for something to rob, and, er, tied me up here. C'mon Pee-dro,
set me free, huh, dude, you'll be a hero, c'mon do it."
Jose began with "Aw, seen-yore, you are in mooch-o trouble, no? Joo
wan' me to set you lee-bray, free, eh, boss-man? Ees thees what yoo
desire, no? do I comprende?"
"Yeah that's it, Pee-dro, just undo these bonds and set me free;
I'll even give a whole buck, dude, just hurry up and do it yeah!"
"Aw, seen-yore, I don't know eef I should. You were, how you say, a
son-of beach to me, earlier, yes?" said Jose, then changing into to
normal speech to Mark's horror, "WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I SET YOUR
SLIMEBALL PREJUDICED ASS FREE, PETERSON? NO WAY, ASSHOLE!! YOU'RE
GONNA PAY FOR ALL YOUR COMMENTS BIG TIME, YOU FUCKER!!!"
Ballistic with rage, the red-faced snarling Mark Peterson, Personal
Trainer Extraordinaire erupted, saying "You fuckin' wetback
low-class beaner!! Since when can you speak English, you asshole?
Now you listen up and listen up good, Pee-dro, READ MY FUCKIN' LIPS,
DUDE, YOU SET ME FREE THIS GODDAMNED SECOND OR I WILL PERSONALLY
DE-BALL YOUR MEXICAN HIDE!!! YOU'RE FUCKIN' FIRED!!! I"LL HAVE YOUR
FUCKIN' ASS DEPORTED!!! I'LL CALL IMMIGRATION!!!!"
Jose laughed in the prejudiced asshole's face, telling him to
"smile, dude, you're on candid camera!" that the entire proceeding
had been videotaped and would continue to be, and that if Mark
breathed a word about any of this to anyone, that tape would be
posted on the Internet, sold in video stores and distributed to all
the club members and Mark's fellow Personal Trainers! Utterly
shocked at the power the "low-class beaner" suddenly had over him,
Mark could do nothing but stare incredulously as Jose proceeded to
approach Mark's naked, bound hunky body with two feathers and a
couple of toothbrushes, Mark sneering at Jose, an asking "Whatcha
gonna do, asshole, brush my fuckin teeth? And what the fuck are the
fuckin' feathers for? You killed a fuckin' pigeon in the parking lot
for your dinner or something, you low-life Mexican scumbag?"
Mark found out what the feathers and toothbrushes were for, as Jose
descended on his bound, naked body, lightly delving the feathers
into Mark's upraised totally vulnerable hairy armpits, swirling the
sweaty funky hair there in concentric circles over the sensitive
flesh, causing the snarling Mark to jump like he'd been shocked with
electricity, gasp, then begin to curse and yell for Jose to "Hey
STOPP THAT, YOU FUCKER!! SHIT, THAT FUCKIN TICKLES YOU ASSHOLE,
C'MON STOPP!! HEY NOOOO!!! I SAID STOPPP!! THAT'S AN ORDER YOU
FUCKER!!!" to no avail. Jose then delved the feathers over the
Personal Trainer's handsome face forcing him to smell his own BO,
over his wind-burned lips, teasing his tongue as he tried to curse,
then over his perfect nose, eyelids and into his ears, maddeningly
tickling the pompous dude's handsome face, only to descend over his
throat in teasing concentric circles, then down over his hunky
collarbone, back to his pits then down to his hair-haloed man-tits,
the big, strapping bully-boy Personal Trainer unable to do anything
to avoid the teasing tickling of his hunky exposed body. Mark's tits
stood at attention and he was forced to emit ooos and ahhs of
pleasure a the sensation, his mercenary cock again beginning to
expand and fill with blood as all the stimulation of Mark's
erogenous zones began to get to him. The hetero Mark was utterly
dumbfounded that he was becoming sexually aroused by the fucker's
ministrations, but there was no denying it.
The feathers next danced down Mark's sun-bronzed ribs as Jose
counted "uno-dos-tres, etc." as Mark squirmed and squealed anew,
arching his back and futilely trying to escape the sweet, sensuous
caress of the damn feathers as they mercilessly goosed and tickled
his ribs and sides, only for one to delve over, then into, his manly
belly button, again causing him to arch his back and beg Jose to
stop to no avail.
Jose initially danced the feathers and toothbrushes all around but
not onto Mark's now straining cock and rising hairy bull-balls,
teasing his equipment to beat the band, Jose loving how his big,
strapped-down, Anglo boss-man's cock jumped and lurched with
unfulfilled excitement in imminent anticipation of being pleasantly
stroked, tickled or teased, only for Jose to transfer his
instruments of supreme tickle torture elsewhere, leaving the
pompous, conceited narcissist secretly begging to be touched there,
utterly frustrated and unsatisfied. Jose even blew his hot breath on
the dude's cock and musky-scented bull-balls, from a discreet-hetero
distance, of course, causing the Anglo bastard's cock to jump and
jive big time in utter sexual frustration, throbbing with
unfulfilled desire.
Jose then decided to tease the stud directly, suddenly zeroing in on
his Neanderthal privates, driving the intellectually challenged but
physically perfect specimen up the wall with insane lust, the
"anticipating a fuck date" cock of the Personal Trainer throbbing
with passion as Jose teased the arrogant dude's cock and balls with
the feathers and toothbrushes, the toothbrushes catching on the
pubic hair growing on the dude's hairy bull-balls, yanking the hairs
right out of the dude's balls to his howls of protest, only to tease
an d goose and feather-stroke the drooling stud's rock-hard,
dripping pecker, till the out-of-it dude was begging for sexual
release, only for Jose to devilishly stop, laughing with sadistic
glee, his own dark eyes glinting with diabolic revenge at leaving
the big, prejudiced Anglo boss frustrated and begging for a
blast-off to no avail.
Jose next trailed his feathers and toothbrushes down the stud's
hairy, muscular sun-bronzed legs only to reach the dude's bare,
bound size 12 tootsies, Jose running the feathers and then the
toothbrushes over the thrashing howling dude's soles, instep and
heels, teasing each of his curling toes over and over again up and
down up and down back and forth back and forth, also using his own
talented fingers, until Mark was thrashing and whining like the big
baby he was, begging him to stop, yelling "NOOOO I CAN'T TAKE
ANYMORE OF THIS FUCKIN SHIT! I'M GONNA FUCKIN PISS OR SHIT OR
SOMETHING!! C'MON STOPPP I COULD HAVE A HEART ATTACK!! NOOOO!!! NOT
MY FEET!!! NOOOO!!!" only for Jose to suddenly renew random tickle
torture all over the dude's exposed torso, his ticklish hairy
armpits, his rib, his tits, etc. while his other hand teased and
tickled the dude's big, bare feet teasing the pink, utterly
vulnerable flesh of those big feet relentlessly causing Mark to
erupt with "NOOO STOPPPP!!! PUHLEEZE STOPPP!!! NOT MY FEET!!!! NOT
MY PITS AND RIBS AND TITS AND FEEET ALL AT ONCE , NOOOOO!!! STOPPPP!!!
I'M FUCKIN JUMPIN OUT OF MY FUCKIN SKIN!!!!! NOOOOOO!!! STOPPP!!! OH
MY GODDDDDD!!!!!!! OHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! AIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
EEEEEEEEKKKKK!!!! ARGHHHHHHHHHH!!! OH SHITTTTTTTT!!!!!!!" as the
arrogant dude thrashed and squirmed and jumped all over the massage
table, balls of bull-sweat cascading down his hunky body and
splashing all over the room as the deserving Personal Trainer pulled
at his bonds, his eyes bugging wildly as he was driven to near
tickle insanity from the intense tickle torture. The big-shot
Personal Trainer so contracted his hunky musculature in a manly
effort to resist the tickle torture that he even suddenly cut a
loud, smelly fart to his undying humiliation, Jose noting how his
fucking Anglo fart stunk and threatened that if Mark shit a turd he
would make him eat it.
After several more minutes of intense tickle torture, Jose
temporarily released Mark's sexy legs, and, before the dumb dude
realized it, Jose had raised Mark's legs high in the air and
attached them to sturdy hooks behind the massage table which
ordinarily held an array of towels and massage oils, etc. This left
Mark's manly, private lightly dirty-blond-hair-split snow white
humpy bubble butt exposed and spread wide open, and no matter how
Mark attempted to try to close his sun-bronzed muscular hairy legs,
the big-shot Anglo Personal Trainer's, tiny, pink, winking
hair-haloed virgin asshole was shamefully exposed to close
inspection, and his still rock-hard cock and hairy bull-balls also
hopelessly exposed and vulnerable to tickle torture.
Jose proceeded to first pick up a handy stiff horsehair clothes
brush and began whacking his prejudiced Anglo boss's bare upturned
butt with it until it was flaming fire engine red and burning like a
brushfire and Mark was alternately yelling and cursing at the "fuckin'
beaner" and begging him to stop, Jose also whacking that deserving
butt with his own open-palmed hand leaving big red hand-prints on
the bully's bare butt until there were tears in the macho dude's
eyes and he was again begging for mercy, that he would treat Jose
(got the name right this time) with respect from now on, he
promised!
Jose then trailed the feathers right through the dude's hair-lined
asscrack then teasing in concentric circles over and around his
Anglo boss's exposed hair-haloed shitter, only to plunge the tip of
the feather into that tight, little, never-before-penetrated button,
causing Mark to involuntarily gasp and moan with unbidden pleasure,
his cock jerking and throbbing on its own in response to this
surprisingly pleasant, teasing anal stimulation.
Jose then plunged the feather into the macho dude's now receptive
asshole, his clenching tight, little hole seeming to beg for "more,
more!" as the big strapping bully actually seemed to be backing his
humpy little stinging red bubble butt back onto the invading
feather, trying to suck more of the tickling teasing instrument of
torture into his hot little butthole as unbidden waves of incredible
pleasure coursed through the arrogant Personal Trainer's body as his
never-before-utilized prostate came into play, causing the brash
dude to moan and groan in lust and drool at the mouth, while his big
cock throbbed all the more and his blue-bully-boy-balls churned
helplessly away as his wildly gyrating nut oysters churned in
frustration, desperately seeking their long-denied release.
Jose merely trailed another feather up towards the bound dude's
hairy bull-balls, devilishly teasing the sensitive area between the
dude's feather-invaded butthole and his big balls for several
seconds before simultaneously teasing and tickling the pimpled
sweaty flesh of his boss's big churning balls, teasing each nut sac
in turn in teasing concentric circles with sadistic relish, Jose's
eyes gleaming in retribution as he relentlessly teased and tickled
and goosed his boss-man's blue balls, stimulating his churning nuts
while he simultaneously plunged the other feather deeper up his
shit-chute, causing him to mewl in unsatisfied lust and hump away
onto the feather in his butt trying desperately and futilely to
trigger his long-denied orgasm. Meanwhile, the hapless dude's huge
pecker throbbed and dripped in frustration, no direct stimulation
having satisfied its desperate longing in several minutes, not that
that stopped it from its perpetual rock-hardness.
Jose then trailed the other feather teasingly up and down and up and
down and back and forth and back and forth over the dude's throbbing
boner while simultaneously teasing his butthole with the other
feather, until Mark was mewling an begging and thrashing and begging
for sexual release, only for Jose to laughingly stop again and again
just as his boss was on the very hair's breadth verge of the most
overwhelming orgasm of his worthless life.
Jose kept this torture up for several more minutes, then pulled out
all the stops and relentlessly tickle tortured the stud at random
all over his exposed body, while alternately feather-fucking and
feather tickling his throbbing boner and cum-churning blue balls,
teasing the glans relentlessly trailing tiny feather ends which had
separated from the main body of the feather teasingly over and over
and around and around the sensitive head and glans of Mark's red-hot
mushroom cockhead until Mark's big bull balls drew up high in his
hairy, musky-scented nutbags, Mark's toes curled and cracked as his
big size 12s flexed spasmodically, and, with a wild banshee scream,
Private Trainer Mark Peterson finally had the orgasm of his life,
his humongous pecker contracting wildly, whereupon a sudden whoosh
of solid white mancum sprayed up explosively out of his pent-up
cock, arcing 10 feet into the air followed by seven more huge
volleys of boiling hot lava, huge globs of the funky stuff
splattering wildly and messily all over the room, little bursts of
jizz separating off from the main volleys into little side
explosions of their own, splattering Mark's hairy chest, leaving
little white dots of jizz in his hairy, sweaty pits, spraying his
arrogant face and down his braying throat, into his hair, and
splattering the ceiling and the wall behind the massage table, only
for the Personal Trainer's own cum to drip back down on him from the
ceiling.
Jose then spent the next hour or so idly tickling the bound stud,
blowing his how breath on his exposed body, Mark surprised that his
body was even more ticklish after his big cum. Jose then got a wash
cloth and teasingly washed his thrashing boss from head to toe,
being sure to tease and re-bonerize his hated boss's big cock as he
did so, finally leaving the big dude as he found him, re-duct-taping
his cursing mouth. Jose then retrieved the videos of the evening's
festivities, inserting new tapes to record anything that might occur
in the meantime since the recorders were also activated when they
detected motion. About half an hour after Jose departed, Brent
Powers returned from his corporate meeting and proceeded to tickle
torture and re-spank Mark's deserving ass (the redness from Jose's
spanking of him had all but disappeared by then), Brent keeping
Mark's mouth duct-taped, so Mark could not tell him about Jose's
abuse. Jose had threatened exposure of the video tape besides, so
Mark didn't dare say anything and had to endure yet more torture
from his own boss that night.
The next day the rain had let up. Jose and Kevin then plotted their
revenge on the pompous Greg Alexander III. Jose filled Kevin in on
the evening's exploits and both were amused to see that the pompous
Personal Trainer Mark Peterson was "out sick" that day, apparently
temporarily replaced by the equally conceited Vince Camaretti, a 6'
3" Italian Stallion with his jet-black hair in a ponytail and a gold
stud in one sun-bronzed ear. Vince was surrounded by a gaggle of
admiring, giggling babes, swinging his head a much as possible to
thrill them with his manly mane as it swung over his dark green Polo
shirt emblazoned with the words "Personal Trainer" on it. Kevin idly
noted that they'd have to "set-up" Vince one of these days too. Jose
and Kevin had also reviewed the videos of the night before and were
therefore also privately amused upon seeing the equally arrogant
manager, Brent Powers, strutting around the club importantly in
designer shirt and tie, blissfully unaware that anyone had witnessed
his own disrobal, showering, jacuzziing, and subsequent tickle
torture and orgasm.
Jose had strategically parked his old panel van next to the
"handicapped" parking spot that Greg Alexander III always arrogantly
used. Kevin and Jose watched as Greg appeared for his usual
lunchtime workout, changing into nearly identical gym clothes to the
ones Kevin had earlier kept as "souvenirs". Greg hauled on a
jockstrap over his naked body, followed by a pair of body-hugging,
thigh-length, wide-striped red and black spandex bicycle-type shorts
which revealed his muscular hairy legs and Nike gym shorts over
those, as well as a Nike tank-top type tee shirt, the better to
reveal his sun-bronzed hairy chest and manly hairy pits.
Before following Greg out to the workout floor, Kevin was heartened
to notice Personal Trainer Vince Camaretti entering the locker room,
apparently through for his shift. Even better, Vince had done an
hour on the exercise bikes showing a new bimbette how to work her
"cardiovascular system," Vince nimbly running his fingers over her
bouncing chest as much as possible as he instructed her. The net
result was that the pony-tailed Italian Stallion was covered in
sweat; his tight white shorts clinging to his humpy butt and
sweat-soaked in the crack and crotch.
Kevin pretended to blow his nose in a nearby mirror as one of the
hidden videos recorded Vince pulling off his sweat-soaked dark green
Personal Trainer shirt, revealing a sun-bronzed jet-black-haired
muscular chest, jet-black body hair fanning out over his broad,
perfectly developed pectoral planes then narrowing into a fine line
before broadening out as the hair on his six-pack abs disappeared
into the confines of his white gym shorts.
Vince next pulled off his white gym shorts, revealing Vince's tight,
cute ass and revealing his lightly hair-flecked asscheeks and dark
furry crack between, his assglobes pale white in total contrast to
the rest of his sun-bronzed body, and revealing his sun-bronzed and
very muscular, hairy legs.
Vince next pulled off his sweaty jock strap revealing his luxuriant,
jet-black-haired pubic bush and huge flaccid cock and hairy
bull-balls to Kevin's secret view and that of the video camera, then
plopped all in front of his locker and ran off naked to the showers,
his sweaty ponytail released and his long jet-black hair flowing
over his shoulders and down his muscular back, his huge cock
flopping over his sun-bronzed hairy thighs and his lightly
hair-flecked pale asscheeks firmly bouncing and kissing each other
as he hurried to shower.
Kevin scooped up the sweaty treasures with their secret cache of
stray pubic hairs and musky scents, then locked them in his own gym
bag in his locker. More "souvenirs", yeah!!
Kevin then watched Greg work out on the workout floor, watching as
Greg did the free weights, machines and exercise bike until he was
totally sweat-soaked. Greg returned to his locker to change when his
cell phone rang. It was Greg's office telling him that the "old man"
wanted a certain report Greg was apparently working on at home. Greg
told the office he would have to take the rest of the day off and
would work on the report at home instead. Greg looked concerned and
obviously decided he would now shower at home instead of at the gym.
Cool! Now Kevin would have a sweat-soaked Greg at his disposal.
Hmmmm!
Kevin called Jose from his own cell phone, reaching Jose at his
cubicle at the parking lot alerting him that Greg was leaving the
building. Jose also alerted John, a friend of Kevin's who had agreed
to drive Greg's Mercedes off the lot, and whom John's partner, Tom,
had dropped off at the gym along with Kevin. Jose had gotten
permission to take the afternoon off to "take his pregnant wife to
the doctor" and had arranged for a friend to take over at the
parking lot, a friend who was "in" on the plot and sworn to secrecy
on the basis that he, too, would see what happened to the arrogant,
despised Greg Alexander III.
Jose watched as Greg left the building, headed for his giant
Mercedes, Jose seeing Kevin in "hot pursuit" (literally) close
behind. Jose pretended to see Greg coming for the first time and
hauled himself out into the tight space between the side of his own
old van and Greg's fancy car, Jose declaring "Ay, seen-yore, I so
sorry, seen-yore, I move my van for you, yes?" , Greg replying
"Yeah, get this shit-heap beaner-mobile away from my Benz, dude, and
make it snappy! I've got an important business matter to attend to,
you fuckin' wetback!" Greg never saw nor heard Kevin's approach from
behind in the hidden space between the van and the big car, Kevin
expertly placing the chloroform over Greg's arrogant braying mouth
in mid-expletive, Jose watching as the pompous dude's eyes first
bugged out in horror, then rolled up under his eyelids as the big
guy's knees went weak and Kevin caught the dude under each of his
sweaty, musky armpits, and dragged "Sleeping Beauty". Kevin threw
John the keys to the Mercedes and Jose opened the back of the van,
Kevin hoisting the big guy over his own shoulders like a sack of
potatoes, patting his sweaty ass and asscrack before unceremoniously
dumping Greg into the back of the van and climbing in, whereupon
Jose shut the back of the van. Luckily no one noticed any of this;
it happened too quickly and in an area not easily visible to
passersby.
Jose eagerly gunned the van into action, while Kevin blindfolded
Greg, "just in case". Kevin didn't want Greg knowing how to find
Kevin's house or his "playroom". Meanwhile, John drove the Mercedes
to Greg's house at the address listed on the registration, and had
Tom meet him over there, John dropping the keys into Greg's mailbox
with his leather-gloved hands.
Kevin had a field day in the back of the van with the mostly
unconscious Greg on the ride to the "playroom". Kevin placed the
front of his own gym-clad body over the front of the sweating
Greg's, relishing his manly scent, sniffing and licking his hairy
armpits as he cuffed the dude's wrists, nuzzling his erect,
hair-haloed man-tits with his tongue in concentric circles, while he
"dry-humped" his perfect body, grinding his own already hard cock
onto the Nike gym shorts, spandex bicycle-type shorts and jock strap
of his reclining jock-napped hunk. Kevin even yanked down the sweaty
Nike shorts and clinging spandex shorts to reveal Greg's sweaty,
musky jockstrap, Kevin nuzzling the musky, sweaty jock-encased balls
of his jock-napped stud, licking all over the cup of the jock,
smiling as the big hetero stud's cock bounced and jerked and
strained against its rubberized confinement, Kevin rolling Greg over
onto his six-pack abs so that Kevin could tongue-bathe his humpy,
lightly hair-flecked ass, savoring its musky scent, massaging the
firm, muscular, pale white assglobes with both hands, separating his
fur-lined crack and scrutinizing Greg's hair-haloed, pink winking
virgin asshole as a beam of sunlight made a direct hit on his
sweaty, private orifice, then running his fingers through the musky
crack, teasing that hole, blowing his hot breath on it, as he
massaged the jocknapped dude's big cock and hairy balls through the
tight jockstrap. Satisfied that he had sampled his long-sought-after
stud's most intimate areas up close and personal, Kevin set about
binding his hairy ankles, as Jose pulled into Kevin's private back
yard. Luckily, Kevin's back yard had a high wall around it and
one-story houses on either side, so no nosy neighbors could see what
was going on.
Jose and Kevin then placed the not quite conscious Greg over Kevin's
shoulders like a sack of potatoes again, Kevin again patting his
sweaty ass, as Jose and Kevin took their jock-napped treasure down
into Kevin's sound-proofed basement "playroom".
Kevin and Jose placed the sagging, nearly unconscious stud into new
wrist restraints on motorized pulleys which were winched up to
stretch the dude's sun-bronzed muscular hairy arms to their greatest
extent, revealing the depths of the pockets of his musky, sweating
jet-black-haired armpits, then readied his wide-spread, hairy ankles
to be bound into similar positions in ankle restraints in "X" like
fashion.
Kevin went behind the sweating, stretched-out dude and yanked on
each strap of his Nike tank top till with a funky RRRRRRIPPPPPPP!!!
sound the cloth fell away from his hunky, sweaty, body, revealing
his heaving hairy chest and sun-bronzed back. Jose then merrily
yanked down the bound dude's gym shorts and spandex bicycle shorts
and off his ankles as "souvenirs" for Kevin, before securing the
ankle restraints. Greg's athletic shoes and socks were removed and
his bare size 12 feet rested about 2 inches from the ground.
Greg was now clad in only his sweaty jock-strap, which Kevin
scissored off, putting the sweaty, stray-pubic-haired pouch to his
nose and face and inhaling the musky scent, then placing it with his
other "souvenirs".
Kevin then blindfolded the arrogant Greg only to douse him with a
bucket of ice water, causing him to splutter and, once he fully came
to, to begin to curse and demand to know "Where am I? Why the fuck
am I fuckin' bareass naked, goddamnit!? What the flying fuck do you
want from me? Who put you up to this?," etc. all to deaf ears, Greg
struggling wildly in his bonds emphasizing his recently pumped-up
musculature, but accomplishing nothing else. Naturally, Kevin was
videotaping all this. Better, all the struggling only caused his big
cock to flop around, Greg giving himself a half hard-on for his
futile efforts, Greg realizing this and blushing in even greater
humiliation.
Jose couldn't resist secretly reaching out a feather to tease the
glans of that bonerizing member, causing the blindfolded Greg to
jump and thrash as the feather hit its mark, Greg cursing the
"goddamned faggot, stop that, you asshole, what do you want, why are
you doing this to me?" to utter silence, Greg furious that the
ever-so-light-it-was-maddening touch of the feather on the
ultrasensitive underside of his mighty cockhead was causing his
traitorous prick to fill with blood against his will, his
passionate, bullying blood boiling, yet somehow all that anger
focused itself into running to the tip of his twat-taming penis,
pulsing, throbbing and becoming heavy with his arrogant
"blue-blood", Greg forced to let a moan of indescribable pleasure
escape his braying lips as embarrassing, unbidden sexual arousal
suddenly over came him. Kevin noted with amusement that the dude's
hair-haloed man-tits suddenly bonerized all on their own in
response, and that Alexander's big bull-balls were rising up in
their noble nut sacs as the patrician bully's body began to be
sexually aroused against his will for the amusement of he
knew-not-who!
Kevin then joined in, suddenly tickling from behind Greg with five
twitching fingers of each hand into the musky, sweaty depths of
Greg's hairy armpits while Jose teased the glans of the prejudiced
Anglo's throbbing cock with one feather while he suddenly teased the
tip of another into Greg's ribs and sides, then his hair-haloed
navel, prompting Kevin to reach down and tweak and pull on the hair
around Greg's pointed man-tits, causing Greg to howl and then squirm
and screech bloody murder as his patrician body was over-stimulated,
the various, unpredictable teasing touches all over his blindfolded
body causing his bad-boy skin to crawl, as fire-flames of lust
engulfed the erogenous nerve endings of his goose-pimpled skin, Greg
yelling "NOOOOO!!!!! STOPPPPP!!! WHAT DO YOU FUCKIN WANT FROM ME YOU
GODDAMNED FUCKING FAGGOTS??? STOPPP!!! AIEEEE!!!NOT TWO AT ONCE,
NOOOOO!!!! STOPPPPP!!! I'VE GOT MONEY!!!! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM
ME???? ARGHHHHHH!!! OH SHITTTTT!!!!! OH FUCK!!!!" as Jose had to
jump out of the way when Greg's wild muscular contractions combined
with the fact that he had downed about a quart of designer Evian
water while he worked out, resulted in the proud, patrician Greg
Alexander III's losing control of his manly bladder, his cock
suddenly erupting in a stream of yellow piss that splattered the
floor and wall of the basement playroom, as the humiliated hot-shot
was forced to relieve himself against his will to his utter undying
humiliation and to the sound of Jose and Kevin's laughter and ap
plause, Jose and Kevin waiting till the flow subsided. Jose washed
down the basement floor with a handy hose for that purpose, and Jose
and Kevin then simply renewed their tickle torture with greater
fury, since Greg had managed not to piss on his own body to any
appreciable degree.
Greg shrieked anew as Jose renewed his glans, rib, navel and side
tickle torture while Kevin assaulted from the rear, Kevin hitting
the pits, tits and sun-bronzed muscular back, Kevin later spanking
Greg's deserving ass with a mean leather paddle and his open palmed
hands until his bad-boy buttcheeks were flaming fire engine red,
then delving a feather of his own down Greg's furred asscrack and
over and around and then into his virgin, hair haloed hole, while
Jose concentrated on the dude's cockhead and swinging, hairy
bull-balls, until Greg was again pleading for mercy from his unknown
captors, "PUHLEEZE STOPPP!!! I'LL DO ANYTHING!!!! AIEEEEEE!!!! OH MY
GODDDD!!! OH NOOOOOO!!!! STOPPPPPP! EEEEEEK!!!! OH NO NOT THERE!!!!
STOP I CAN'T SEE!!!!! NO NOT THERE AGAIN ,NOOOOOOOO!!!!!" to no
avail.
Jose and Kevin then doubly concentrated on Greg's gargantuan,
swollen, pulsating cockhead and hairy balls, tickling down the space
behind his balls to his asshole as well, until Greg was drooling
from the mouth and the cock, and babbling and shrieking
incoherently. Greg got even worse when Jose began to tickle his
bare, executive feet while Kevin assaulted the patrician dude's
arrogant cock, balls and asshole, Jose hitting the dude's pink
soles, toes and instep and heels, running his fingers over these
areas as well, tickling the shit out of the deserving prejudiced
dude till he was literally going out of his mind.
Kevin tweaked the dude's tits and tickled his pits, ribs, and sides
while simultaneously tickling and teasing and mastering the dude's
helpless pulsating pecker, as Greg shrieked, squirmed, pleaded,
cursed the "faggots", pulled wildly at his bonds, and sweated like
the fuckin' pig he was, to Jose's and Kevin's amusement and
humiliating guffaws.
Kevin tickled the arrogant dude's handsome face, causing him to
flinch and curse as his sensuous lips were teased and tickled, Kevin
teasing the sensitive flesh and making the dude's lips tingle and
itch maddeningly. Kevin tickled his arrogant nose and made him
sneeze, teased into his ears, blew his hot breath into them, teased
his cute chin and Adam's apple with the feather, over his
collarbone, and onto his pointed, ultrasensitive hair-haloed
man-tits. Jose simultaneously teased the dude's feet and teased and
tickled the glans and cockhead of the bully-boy's aching prick, his
cum-churning bull-balls, and down to his asshole, until Greg was
approaching the ultimate orgasm of his life, again and again
bringing the arrogant asshole to the very brink of orgasm, only for
them to back off and laugh uproariously as he begged them futilely
to let him cum.
After several more minutes of intense tickle torture, Kevin and Jose
pulled out the stops and wildly, relentlessly tickled the bound,
blindfolded Greg Alexander III until with a screech and a wild wail,
Greg screamed bloody murder as his huge prick exploded like the
Fourth of July, huge volcanic volleys of white-hot jizz blasting out
of his spasming prick, huge globs separating into splattering,
pressurized bombs, arcing high towards the basement ceiling,
splattering Greg's hairy chest, pits and face and cascading over
Jose who vainly tried to avoid the drenching cum-bath, Greg
screaming as volley after volley of pent-up patrician cum splattered
all over the basement.
Kevin and Jose then re-initiated the tickle torture for several more
hours before re-chloroforming him and depositing him naked on the
front lawn of his own home in the middle of the night.
His nosy next-door neighbor, a Gladys Kravitz-type, complete with
hair curlers, discovered him when she went to retrieve her morning
paper, loudly shouting to her husband, "Ab-ner, Ab-ner, I told you
our neighbor was a wack-o! Look he's on his lawn passed out drunk,
stark nekkid!!!, awakening the entire neighborhood who assembled on
their lawns to survey the scene, to Greg's abject humiliation.
Kevin got Jose to arrange to have some of Jose's "homeboy" friends
break into the apartment shared by the other firm members from the
gym, Kurt Thurston and Brad Huntington, tie them to chairs,
rip-strip them, and then tickle torture them on video till each shot
huge loads, then made each eat the other's cum, all on video.
So many more men, so little time! thought Kevin.
THE END
Richard
carefreerichard@hotmail.com
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