SkinMarvin Gay Stories

Strapping Lads by Wulfstan(c)2007

You see them in the gyms. They dont work out. They loiter. They do a set. They adjust their balls. Scratch a bit and pretend not to look at the guys who look at them groping their dicks. And the guys are there wondering if the tradehole's wearing a traditional jock, are his balls encased in a well-worn web of netting, fitting just to a slight bulge to keep those jewels bouncing and sweaty and ready for the right guy to come along, grab them by the nads and lead them to the right milking pen. Where was I?

Oh, yeah. You see them in the gyms and you never suspect that that's what the lads are really craving, 'cept they havent got the balls--no pun intended--to go up to a man who looks like he knows what to do with those low hangers bursting with seed in those webbed jockstraps and admit, "yeah, buddy, I need it real bad." No balls, no glory.

Two of them came to my attention in the locker room one late, loitery night when all the rest of the jackasses had gone home on pussy service. They just acted as though I was acting like I wasn't listening to them.

"You heard about Wilson?" the more muscular one says to the other with his close shaved head.

"No, what happened to that dickhead?" the other raises his shaved melon and stops lacing up his docs, "what happened to Wilson?"

"Yeah, he is a dickhead. He volunteers to chaperone his neighbors' daughter's sweet sixteen party just to get first crack at her cherry...and after the adults leave for the night and leave the kids with their chaperone, the birthday girl corners the dickhead and tells him point blank, "You let me suck your dick to get the party games going or i'll tell my dad that you kept groping me!"

"And, and, whadhedo? Wha..."

"He hightails it outta there faster than a virgin racing up a tree with a platoon of well-hung marines on her tail," the muscule bound one blurts out in poetic disgust.

"No, shit. Shit, man. No, shit?"

"Yeah, no shit. A sixteen year old babe offers to suck his dick in the middle of a teen orgy and whatshedo? What a dickhead, man."

"Yeah," the more closeshaved lad rolls his bulging green eyes in utter disgust for Wilson's lack of chivalry.

By then I'm almost through changing into my sports gear for a slow workout, but I still hear them grumbling about how they cant hangout at the muscular one's home that night cause his old man is interviewing what he snidely refers to as "renters." Then he spits on the locker room floor to demonstrate his disgust--"they wanna live in our basement--poor trash--a whole family of fuckin' renters. And my old man doesn't want me around when he meets these geeks. He thinks I'm gonna get in the way."

By the time I follow them out to the workout floor, they're headed right to the Smith Bar. So I can see that this is gonna be a marathon of slow-weight, heavy weight reps for two juicehead wannabes. I keep my distance, by distracting myself on a couple of pulley contraptions. But when the close-shaved one is left alone while his buddy goes to take a piss, I make my move.

"You wan' a spot?" I offer nonchalantly.

"Shure, dude, I don't mind."

So I stand behind him while he braces himself, adjusts his belt and jock, before starting a new set of squats. By this point, the lads have three forty-five pounders on each side, so I know that each squat will show his melons off to the max. He just makes it to a tenth rep, when he's about to give up. So I--Yogi Berra redux--encourage him with a "niiiiiiiice duuuude", and "it's all you, son" as I grip his waist just deep enough to allow my thumbs to range freely over those two bulgings melons. Yet the lad is too distracted by the challenge of the weight he's struggling to return to a standing position before realizing I've been tracing every inch of his asshole gates.

"Good set," I admit, just letting go of those melons when I'm sure the lad's got his weight back on the rack.

"what the fucks keepin' Mark?" he asks with a smile. "I guess he needs to clean his foreskin twice after takin' a piss..." he adds in a feeble attempt at jock humor.

"My name's Wulf," I interrupt to get him off topic of his buddy's foreskin, "what's yours?"

"Derrick, my friends call me Derrick," he holds back a second smile.

"And whadya enemies call yuh?" I chuckle to set him at ease while he readjusts his belt and jock.

And when we see the more muscular one approaching us hesitantly, Derrick calls out to him to get his ass back to the bench. "Tired, eh, wuss?"

"Nah, nah. Who the fuck are you?" he grimaces in my direction.

So this time I take the muscle bound one through another round of introductions. But he keeps interrupting me with how his girlfriend just told him to fuck off.

"Shit," Derrick protests, "she never had it so good."

"Damn straight," Mark adds in approval.

We stand around staring at each other a few more minutes. Next, theyre admiring my tats.

"And those are shark teeth from a Polynesian design," I explain to increase their naive sense of awe.

That kills another five. It's now or never I figure. So as fast as a viagra champ can pop his boner up a bodybuilder's ass, I just happen to mention that I make porn.

Their eyes start bulging almost as if in competition with their jockstraps.

"Yup, you got it. I make porn for a living," I heap a little more bullshit on their plates.

"Yeah, I got all the equipment I need in my basement. I edit the shit myself and I send it to a Brit porn site called Skinmarvin. You ever heard of Skinmarvin? I ask to keep the bullshit sizzling like pure sirloin on a hot b-b-q grill of their greedy minds. Yeah, Marvin likes to use a lotta straight models to keep queers happy, beating their meat. Dumb faggots."

"Dumb faggots," Mark echoes me in agreement.

Forget it, dude. It's a shoot and carry business. You two studs wanna help me out? Fine. If not, I just let Marvin know that I couldnt find the right dudes for the shoot."

They start looking over my biceps and my tats before they make up their minds. Next, I talk them out of showering at the gym so we can get back to my place and they got a hundred bucks each for one red-assed splooge puddle.

"You got it, bro," Mark insists.

Then we all dress quickly so we can hightail it out of the parking lot and we're on our way back to my musclepen.

Still, I cant help but congratulate myself for conning these two muscleholes. "Homomovies," I keep snickering to myself, checking my rearview mirror every now and then. Two gladasses who are ready to look down on "renters" are going for a ride. "Dick, line, and sucker." By the time they shoot and piss out all their beer, I'll be plying their assholes with dildoes and doggytails hard enough to keep them walking gingerly for a week. And they wont even notice that they are only getting fifty bucks up front; I'll stall them with something like, "you wont see the rest of the dough," until the "movie" gets "released." Yessir, I have to admit, I got a natural dick and a natural ability to tantalize a cocky lad whose his ego needs stroking.

So I lead them back to my place. The cars are parked. The jackass neighbors are all asleep. It's warm out.

They like my suggestion that they hang out in the hottub while I get everything ready downstairs. So I put a six-pack of beer on the deck for the them. They strip eagerly and get in the tub. By the time I come up, I find Derrick eating Mark's ass out while his gonads are spread just above the edge of the tub. The muscle hulk is moaning deep in his throat. And I remind Derrick not to let the dude shoot before his dick's ready for his close up.

and

"No problem. He takes forever!"

"How did you know that?" Mark growls.

"Cindy told me!" Derrick comes up for air. "Now just lay there so we can pop the biggest, ragingest hard-ons for the dude's camera. All right?"

"Oh..." Mark returns his head to the floor the sundeck edge and Derrick continues to ply his tongue deeper and deeper up the muscle stud's ass.

So this straight dude shit goes on for about a half-hour. I'm just sitting there on the sundeck or moondeck wondering if I were the one who got conned. But, hey, with two beefy lads ready to entertain me like a caliph with a harem of bodybuilders, I just sit there and nurse my beer can, thanking the stars out that night for sending me two typical straight dudes.

By the time they're ready to get out of the tub and descend to my basement studio, Mark's dong is still bonehard, extending itself across the deck and begging to be dried and massaged with lotion. Since Derrick is too tuckered out from eating Mark's voluptuous ladass, I grab a towel and began patting him dry. His gonads hang nice and low enough to assure me that whole package is gonna show up at any angle for my home movie. The nuts are bulbous and beefy -- enough to feed two matadors a wholesome lunch -- and Mark keeps purring about how he doesnt want to shoot his load before I get it all on tape.

"Dont worry, son. Balls like that usually jetsplooge for hours."

"You KNOW me, dude!" the lad admits aloud after I finish spreading lotion all over his massive thighs and chest.

Next, as I turn him around, he grips his ankles, and I start lubing his ladhole deep and generous.

"Shit, dude, you do it just like Cindy!"

"Shit, dude, you still like it," I snap back wondering exactly how many times this guy's asshole has been around the block.

Okay. By this point, I'm starting to get shakey in the knees from all the beer and cock. We head down to the basement and before I can say "poppers," the lads head right for my sling.

"What the fuck!" Derrick cant believe his eyes. "I heard about these things but I never seen one."

And before I know what's going down, he's got Mark seated on that contraption like a pro. I give him some rope to fix the lad's legs high and wide along the support chains, Derrrick dives back down for another helping of Mark's well-lubed hole, and I grab my camera for instant art.

The guy's tongue worships his friend's dudehole about another five minutes, only now Mark is purring on the sling. Then I stop the tape to hand him a speculum, show him how to insert it carefully in Mark's mancave, and the next thing I know is I got enough footage of one of the most perfectly formed lad rectum's a man's fist could ever hope to enter.

"Hey," I figure to myself, "I'll get a sequel out of them within a month!"

So by now, Mark's hole has been eaten, sucked, licked, fingered and examined by his good buddy and fellow straight dude. Only this time, both ramrods are standing out like baby flagpoles waiting for a good wind to come by and unfurl their banners.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeze, dude!" Derrick begs Mark and he doesn't have to explain what he wants.

"Okay," the muscle hole growls back softly. "But only because we're both straight. And I know you won't tell Cindy."

"You know ME dude."

Another ten minutes of award winning ladhole banging caught on tape. Now Derrick is plunging slow and deep and Mark keeps groaning,

"Shiiiiiiiiiit, dude, dont evvvvver stopppppppppp!"

Derrick is glowing. Mark is moaning. The sound quality is perfect. The lighting could be better. Two strapping lads, are enjoying each other's manly attributes in a way that most of the assholes hanging out in the local gym wish they could. And I'm preserving it for my queer posterity.

By the time things reach a point of no return, Derrick pulls out of Mark's hole long enough to signal me to move in for a closeup. The splooge shoots and shoots and shoots. Mark is bathed in ladmilk. And Derrick nuzzles down on his buddy's belly to start licking it all up before taking a last quick suck on Mark's bulging nipples.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Mark starts moaning. But Derrick just chews at those lad mammeries until Mark cant take anymore. Then he starts tugging at Mark's foreskin with his teeth in a way that pulls the retracted membrane for the camera's adoration. Mark's hardon is sufficiently dulled to display the lush purple folds and wrinkles that crown his beer can for every guy watching this in the comfort of his room. The slurping of Derrick's tongue in and out of that prepuce only adds to the sound effects of Mark's groaning.

Then I step in to make sure that there'll be at least one splooge puddle saved for the spanking sequence.

I set the camera aside and let the lads take a breather.

Derrick starts massaging Mark's thighs while he lets him just lay there with his ass dangling from the edge of the sling.

As soon as they've taken enough of a breather, both insist they're ready for more "action."

More beer and we're ready to watch Derrick hose down his well-used buddy with a good two minutes of golden jet shower. At first, the flow trickles out for Mark to catch it in his hands and cup Derrick's beefbrew and sip it slow. But then Derrick lets out a huge belch and by then Mark's dude flames are being squealched by a giant fire hose that doesn't seem to ever run dry. The basement floor has nicely placed puddles, which I, of course, manage to pan and save on tap. Then, just when the dudes look like their paralyzed from the waist down Derrick turns to me and asks if he can see the paddles he's gonna get to use to tan Mark's ass!

"I'm ready, dude," Mark bellows like a lion whose been led out his cage for the first time in years.

So I hit the lights at the back of the basement and there, in all its glory, are the stocks I designed from a photo in one of SkinMarvin's bondage pix. The lads cant believe their eyes.

"SHIT, dude, this is AWWWWWWWWWWSOME," they both exclaim in a simultaneous burst of lad approval.

I tell them how glad I am that they appreciate the set up I've taken pains to assemble for their film debut. But I need to show them how to get Mark's scrotum and nuts, hands, and neck carefully secured in the movable slats of the stocks before we can even begin to think about the kind of pacing and force Derrick will be using on Mark's ass.

"I want to pick out the paddle the dude's gonna be tanning my ass with," Mark insists.

The other lad turns to me with a "what-the-fuck" smile and says he ought to choose his own instrument of discipline. We agree and I take him over to a wall of well-used instruments for disciplining lad holes. Different lengths and widths. And Mark has to fondle the edge of each one before he can make up his mind. Then he chooses a wide wooden model.

"Yeah, but what if it gives me splinters and I ever get back together with Cindy..." he muses.

Derrick throws me another "what-the-fuck" smile and we wait patiently for Mark to on the kind of streaker that ought to give his melons just the right kind of red glow that will show up nicely on film.

Now the just liberated dude is ready to have his nuts and members fixed in the stocks so Derrick can begin showing off another skill that he's been thinking about using on Mark's butt for a long, long time. Except he never had the balls to tell him how he wanted to do it to him.

So while Derrick tugs at Mark's massive nuts, I slip a huge padlock around the crest of his cock and the top of his scrotum. Now the padlock is firmly poised against the base of his groin. Once Derrick slips Marks well-weighted balls through the arch of the slat that will keep his testicle firmly in place before his asswhipping begins, I lower the slat and his bullballs protrude exactly at the right angle to capture hard-on, nutsack and padlock all in one glorious shot of lad discipline.

"How does it look?" Mark keeps tugging at his wrists to get a better look.

But as soon as I fix his vein popping neck above the final arc and slide the slat above to keep his neck fixed in place, he gazes down at his massively endowed balls and dick with the same look he must have worn under his first Christmas tree.

"THIS is awwwwwwwwwwwesome, dude!" he exclaims his approval slowly and appreciatively.

The butt reddening begins. Derrick, I can tell without even looking at the tape, is the happier than a lad huddling beneath a scrimmage pile. Mark cant speak over all the groaning and butt thwacking he keeps voicing-over for my greedy camera. The lads play at disciplining Mark's butt until we can all feel the heat radiating from those well-smacked melons. But his hard on is bulging to the point of no return and so I have to keep returning to the front of the stocks to make sure that one his splooge shoot starts, the camera will be there to capture every last drop.

Derrick goes for another ten, twenty, maybe thirty hard smackers on his buddies willing mancheeks. But all we can hear Mark say in between his steady growns is "harder," "harder," "don't fucking stoppppppppppppp."

And that's when I know the Roman candle between his legs is about to transcend the weight of the padlock that secured his nuts in the stocks and one major pool of lad milk is about to fill.

"It's now or never," I remind them.

"Okkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk, shitttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt!"

I get every last drop of Mark's luminous seed shower. Then I capture one final shot of his applered cheeks. Cut back to the smile of Buddhalike radiance that's glowing from his eyes, and Derrick just collapses in awe of his friend's might member, while his hands stoke Mark's dick, and his own.

Twenty minutes later, they're both dressed and eager to be paid. I stall before I chance to reveal that there's only fifty tonight the wont get the rest till the film's been packaged. As I pretend to look for the combination to the huge padlock that's still appended to Mark's well-creamed balls, he jokingly tries to get his shorts over the protruding metal.

"Think anybody'll notice this at the diner? Shit, I'm starved," he growls. "Where'dya leave that combination, dude?"

Another ten minutes, stalling, some more lies, and the veins in both their necks start bulging more than the ones they just sported on their dicks.

"Any shit, dude, and we dont get mad, we get even," Mark threatens and turns to Derrick for a nod of approval.

"I hear you, dude, but you gotta understand..."

And by now I realize that I may have taken a bit too much for granted in pitting myself against two strapping lads whose energies seem limitless. They're not drunk. They're not tired. They're just pissed. And they're pissed with a guy who they think tried to con them into performing for his pleasure and not their profit.

I look around the basement and begin to wonder where they're gonna stash my body when they're done with me.

But just as I try to stall for a little more time putting away the paddles Derrick used on Mark's ass and the slats that kept him fixed in the stocks, the doorbell rings.

"Who the fuck can that be at this time of the morning?" Derrick wonders aloud.

"I dont know, but my neighbor is a cop who works nightshift and likes to shoot the breeze when he cant get to sleep," I blurt out amazed at my own level of creative bullshitting when I find myself beneath a mountain of muscle stress.

"I'll go see," I blurt out without even turning back for their reaction.

I head for the door, turn on a couple of lights. And who the fuck is standing there?

"Marvin! What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask thanking every star in heaven for sending me backup from nowhere near than the Yorkshire moors.

"You twisted geeza!" Marvin says before laughing. "First you tell me to come and fuckin' visit you when I and me lad gets to the States. Now here where are camped on your front stoop, he's still trying to put the rent-a-car in your drive behind the rotary club mmeting!"

I waste no time in explaining exactly what the fuck I've been up to. Marvin's blue eyes twinkle with a what-the-fuck-look. Only this time it's heaven sent. And when his lad and he settle their luggage in the foyer, we head downstairs to greet the angry lads.

"Derrick, Mark," I brazenly annnounce, "this is Marvin. The big-dicked Brit who markets the films...

The strapping lads are bowled over at this. They switch to an attitude of compliance and agreeability. They wanna be in any fucking film I can produce for Marvin whenever I say.

"Yeah," Mark turns to Derrick, "I told we could trust him and wait for the rest of the cash."

I try to hold back my laughter. Marvin and his lad are pretty impressed with Mark's nuts as I release them from the padlock.

"You got all of this in this dimshit, badlit basement..." he begins to ask.

But I assure him that the lads' performance will be premiered upstairs on my videoscreen as soon as we send the stars on their way.

We see them to the door. And I begin gobbing my gratitude all over again when Marvin shuts me up to remind me how all's well the end's well.

"Besides, laddo, if the tape is as good as you say it is, who sez i cant package it for a porn video?"

This time even I'm in awe of my ability to bullshit strapping lads. So we all head upstairs to beat our meat long and hard before turning in after a well-hung night.

End.

Ecomments: wulfstan1000@aol.com