Besot Boi Begets a Bangin'

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Besot Boi Begets a Bangin' - ch02

New boi broken in at BrokenButt Spa of Butte, MT

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Every character portrayed here significantly exceeds the minimum age of 18

Thanks to the great success of its maiden establishment, The GetGoosed Spa, it had spawned a new till-top resort property nestled high in the northern U.S. Rockies, merely a stone's throw from Canada. Our "Gang of Four" gay men from chapter 01 have been hired to oversee its operation. They are now resident at the resort, and serve several functions of the spa's administration. There are many "comforting" guest options listed in the brochure under the guise of "complimentary services" to which they are all too eager to attend. Boy, do they ever love their jobs!

One fine "Big Sky" day at the resort, in walks a lanky, long-haired brunette, Stewart. He pages the front desk for a weekend check in. Maybe he's on the svelte side, but can boast of a tight, high-assed derriere, sapphire blue eyes, and a musician's long fingers. He typically has his left eye mostly obscured by a stringy waterfall of hair, much akin to a "skater boy" look. This affords him many a wandering eye amongst the gentry, of which he is too naive to notice. It makes him very popular back home in San Fran, for reasons he cannot fathom.

This spry young man, circa 31, lives an otherwise artful life, which, unbeknownst to him, is about to be severely rocked... in an unexpectedly good way. He rings the silver bell at the vacant front desk several times, with no response. Just as he's about to vocalize his frustration at being ignored, our man "Chesty" meanders through the wall-to-wall Italian tiled lobby. He spots "Mr. Tall-Drink-of-Water", (a.k.a.,Stewart) looking all around. Chesty is more than happy to assist in the absence of the resort's usual concierge. His tool-belted stone-washed jeans begin to tent at the first sighting of the handsome stranger. Stew turns to look at him, and catches the underwraps bulge of the "acting" bellhop. It maddens him with sparkles of lust to notice how the attendee's BIG outline of his shaft points straight up to his chin. To add flustered to lust-ered, Chesty's V-shaped penis head is poking out above his belt, visible enough so as to reveal the eye of the monster. (In his mind's eye Stewart calls it "Sauron's" eye.)

Chesty, "Can I help you, sir?," he says with a gleam in his eye, "I sure hope so," he adds enthusiastically while scanning our new guest's curves with his proudly protruding chest hair escaping the top button of his "Elmer Fudd" flannel shirt.

Chesty likes what he sees, very much. This does not help quiesce the exposure of his groan's horizontal expansion, quite the opposite, in fact. The startled gimp turns towards Chesty. He, too, approves of what he sees of the barrel-chested tool-swinging gruff. He gets a flash mirage of his long "tool" flopping enticingly side-to-side, a loud slapping sound with each strike against his stocky thighs.

Our out-of-towner quickly snaps his attention back to reality, "Uhhh...," Stew stammers, "I was trying to check in, but no one's at the desk."

Chesty meanders around the staff side of the counter, never breaking contact with the guest's sparkling ocean blues. 'Dang!' he thinks to himself, 'gotta get me between dem skinny azz cherries.' At this point, Chesty is smitten. He practically trips over himself behind the counter before regaining his composure. He realizes that the effect that this cutie pie has on him will seriously compromise his preferred 'take charge' demeanor.

Chesty: "Why sure. I can do that for you. Pardon the tool garb, I'm usually knee deep in hot water when I wear them."

Stewart, the "cutie pie," has again another vision of fantasy. He envisions this hunk before him naked, but for his tool belt, beckoning him with a crooked finger into the boiling, frothy pool of mystery. 'He's gotta be a total bear with all that dark, body hair all wet!' He, again, breaks his own revelrous, clouded vision.

Stew, "Yeah, sure, that'd be nice. Here's my reservation number," while handing him a colorful inkjet piece of paper. Just as Chesty is about to make small talk with the stranger, in bolts the equally lanky "Professor Long Hair ("Prof")" to interject his charge as the "real" concierge.

Prof, "I got this bro," he says to his comrade Chesty, who responds to him with a chagrin at whisking away his prize piece of ass.

"Prof" nearly knocks over Chesty with his professional enthusiasm. Chesty's tempted to knock him back across the lobby, but Instead, he just issues a lascivious smile to their new guest. Chesty bids Prof adieu, but not without a disdainful glare in his direction.

Muscle Butt (" Muscles"), with his namesake bulbous behind, appears from the shadows, and says to Steward, "I'll be glad to escort you to your room, sir. Just walk this way."

Muscles grabs the man's Lands End weekender bag and exaggerates a wiggle of his ass as he saunters down the hall. The Prof whispers into Chesty's ear, "If he could 'walk that way,' our unsuspecting guest would never make it to his room before getting jumped... and humped!," to which they both yield muted chuckles to themselves.

As Muscles led Stewart into his guest room, he slyly mentions, "Here you are, sir, the Buffalo Suite... our most luxurious accommodation at BrokeButte. You'll never be lonely at here, but if you are, you can always page me by dialing #1 on the room phone."

Stew retorts, "I sure hope I don't get lonely with all the eye candy I see here," as he casually eyes Muscles up and down. "I've been dying to take a dip in the hot springs. Can you tell me in which direction it would be."

Muscles didn't miss the innuendo, and replies, "It's actually easy to miss. Why don't I walk you there. You won't need to change beforehand, or anything. The springs tell no secrets."

Stew: "Yeah, that'd be great. Lead on."

Chesty is fully aware of the ruse the guest is playing, obviously to get more glimpses at his ripped ass. They both walk, then enter an empty spa room, and look at each other wantonly past the glass door. Stewart "turns out" (bad joke, right?) to be far from shy about expressing his desires.

"It's nice, but it is lonely with no one else to share it with," hints Stew.

"Funny, as it turns out that I have my lunch break coming. I'd be delighted to join you... if you like," he says, testing the waters, so to speak.

"Mmm, yes. I'd really like that. I'll just unburden myself of these vestitures. Will you help me do that?"

Muscles spares nigh a second to take hold of the lascivious guest's shirt, and lifts it over his head. He continues to let the muscle-bound, slightly older, stout man disrobe him, and he is relieved of the rope belt holding his pants up. Once sprung free from his binding outer garments, his erection is clearly visible through his cute tidy whities. Muscles pays no mind to Stew's very modest package, which only adds fodder to his alpha disposition.

Muscles takes in his slimness with relish. He can't wait to reveal his own self, then be serviced. But first, he gets on his knees to take Stewart's Bomba socks and Berk sandals off. He then slowly slides his underpants down his legs. The young Stewart eventually stands in all his smooth skinned birthday suit. Muscles softly takes hold of his diminutive "cockette," and engulfs it whole, little balls, and all. Stewart places his hands on the top of Muscle's head for balance, meanwhile keeping his eyes closed and enjoying the oral servicing.

Muscles pops Stewart's balls out, and concentrates on his cock head. He dutifully swirls his tongue around it, alternately inhaling his shaft by sucking it into his mouth. Muscles is loving this novel sensation of being able to manipulate an entire cock at once. As he gets into the swing of sucking, he places his hands on Stewart's taut butt cheeks, and squeezes them firmly. It almost seems that Muscles is devouring the entire nubie's body.

Muscles accelerates his bobbing up and down on Stewart's cock. In response, Stewart moans louder with each round trip. Before he has a chance to cum, Muscles turns Stewart so his beauty of a butt is at eye... and mouth level. Muscles digs his fingers into Stewart's crack, and spreads it as wide as the nile. He's met with the priceless witnessing of Stewart's tiny, hairless, pristine asshole. It looks incredibly delicious. Muscles places a hand on Stewart's back to gently bend him forward, further exposing his vulnerable twinkling star. Muscles mercilessly dived in, pointed tongue leading the charge. He finds Stewart's ass tasted as good as it looks, maybe even better. He swirled his extended tongue to explore every nook and cranny of Stewart's anus that can be reached. Muscles then became to horny to continue. He quickly took to a stand, and promptly shed his own clothes.

Our young guest turned his head around to steal a peek at Muscles's thick and turgid love poll. He was mightily impressed. He then had an uncontrollable urge to have that manly prick buried deep in his nethers. How good it would feel to be lodged on that massive poll. Stewart hadn't ever been with a partner so well endowed, and he backed up his ass directly against its mushroom head. Muscles readily obliged him, depositing a heavy amount of spit onto the tip of his cock, and unceremoniously drove home in a single thrust. They both cooed at their exquisite coupling. Muscles guided both of them down to the floor. Stewart was placed on all fours, more than ready to re-receive his new lover's gift. That came next. After a drought that extended over the entire month, Muscles was so excited to be rutting a twink again he raised his haunches on top of Stewart's ass, violently jabbing against his p-spot repeatedly from above.

If they could only see themselves from the back in the mirrored wall behind them. It would be a vision of a stocky, meaty hairy butt on top of a much slimmer set of legs. They would have seen an anonymous long and thick cock rapidly oscillating in and out of a faceless, narrow, shaved asshole below it. The gimp would be struggling to remain upright, both from the forceful pounding, and the ecstasy of pumping his own cock in a downward direction. How heavenly it would have appeared to anyone watching them!

As it turned out, there were two witnesses to the ass-fucking-fest just outside the glass door. Guess who? That's right, Chesty and the Bro-fessor, each jerking the other off, while salivating at the scene.

Professor Long Hair: "That's it! Fuck that tiny asshole good. Damn! I can't stand to just watch anymore. I'm going in!"

The Prof's long strides brought him to the back of Muscle Butt's ass. He immediately assumed a kneeling position behind him. Muscles paused his gyrations to fully enjoy his ass crack and hole being slobbered by a tongue and pair of lips. Prof caressed Muscles's ballsack, which goosebumped into a tight uniball held under his brillo-haired crack and asshole. Muscles was now getting closer to climaxing than ever. While Chesty was clandestinely skulking into the spa room, Stewart became frustrated at the cessation of his skewering, and started to slam his ass backward into Muscles's crotch. Slam, slap... slam slap, over and over again. He was approaching his climax, as well.

From out of nowhere came a litany of expletives from Chesty: "That's it, Prof! Lick his asshole really good! Make him cum like that! And little boy... keep fucking your ass on his big cock. He's sure to blow, then... Shit, here it comes!"

Muscle Butt: "Fuck! Gonna cum!"

And with that, Muscle's asshole squeezed closed, entrapping the Professor's long, probing tongue within. Prof lightly squeezed Muscles's balls to encourage him to squirt. And squirt he did, as volley after volley of sticky white goo invaded the gimp's asshole, followed by a mighty roar.

Muscles, "Take my sperm, twinky. Milk it! Fuck it!"

When Muscle's crest finally began to wane, spurts of his cum were ejected from Stewart's hole. So copious it was. Enough to completely bathe Muscles's cock in his own spluge. The generous excess fell into a pool on the floor, between Stewart's bent legs. The sensation of being filled from a big cock with lots of hot sperm dripping out became too much for Stewart to take any longer. He could not hold back any further.

Luckily, Gravely Voice, the last of the resident gangers, crashed through the door in a nick of time. He dropped to his knees, and opened his mouth wide. Through tightly lidded eyes, Stewart barely saw his cum deposit right into the obscenely gaped orifice offered at his fore. He jacked his own micro-dick to completion. It required merely two fingers doing the job. Stewart arched his back, and gave Muscles the opportunity to tweak both of his nipples. Stewart fired whatever small stream of his cum he had into Gravel's mouth. It barely registered with him, but he licked it all around his lips, trying to capture what little was produced. It had the faint taste of sweet cream.

Meanwhile, the Prof was dangerously horny. He grabbed hold of Muscles's bulging glutes, and, without fanfare, rammed his long, thin pencil rod into Muscles's butt hole. He commenced a desperate cycle of ins and outs, reaching his peak at warp speed. But, before he had the chance to fulfill that, Chesty, who was still behind him, did the same to his asshole. They formed a train of cocks, assholes, butts and balls. All were in motion at high frequency. Stewart and Gravely stood close by enjoying the spectacle.

Gravels: "Look at that, my friend," he says to Stewart, "It's a total fuck train. Watch them pistons go!"

Stew took his cue, and clamped his mouth upon Gravelly Voice's impressive schlong. He began to bob on it in earnest. Grav's became entranced by the view, and at being sucked off so good. He assisted in his jacking by pushing and pulling Stewart's head, back and forth. Stewart was then relieved of having to slide himself along Grav's staff, so he redirected his efforts into squeezing the cock head with his tongue. That apparently did the trick. When the grunts and groans were synchronized amongst the rutting triplets, Gravely let loose. Stewart was more than filled to the brim with cum. The excess came squirting out of the edges of his self-satisfied smile. He wasted no time in performing the same to the train's engine, i.e., the Professor, who was then on hands and knees, facing him. Stewart slid on his back under the Prof's balls, and grabbed his long, gyrating cock. As he sucked with all his might, he surrounded the Professor's ball sac with his warm, sweaty hands. That provoked a desperate whine.

Professor: "Suck me cock, twinkles! And, fuck me big ass, Chester."

Chest, "You got that right! Dig my cock, you fuckin' smart ass! I'll show you who's the alpha 'round here! Fuck! That Bro butt is so fucking tight! Squeeze my cock with it, bitch!"

Muscles took exception to Chesty's assertion, "Like fuckin' hell, you are! Look who's porking YOU up YOUR ass-pussy? Just for that, here comes your discipline," and, as he slams into him with incredible force, "How you like that, B'OTCH? Feel good to be put in your place? Huh?! Now, shut the fuck up, and come with me!"

Right on cue, both gentlemen slammed into their respective pin cushion's asshole, and came together. A second or two later the Professor succumbs to the dual sensations of being thrashed in his ass and simultaneously blown form below. He arches his ass up so Muscles can deliver more precise blows against his p-spot. This also closes the distance between his maximally engorged member and the unseen mouth sucking him from below. Our "gimples" then really showed off his deep throating skills. The Prof's long staff is completely overwhelmed by the mystery mouth, and as his two compatriots to his rear release themselves, so he too follows. It's a geyser, despite not having a lot of time between ejac's.

Like falling dominos, the five fuckers collapse on top of one another. The spa room is filled with the scent of man-sweat, ass, bromine and spilt spermatophores. The ambient sounds are dominated by heavy breathing and sighs of sating. After recovering their wind, they all slither into the soothing wet heat of the bubbling water. They relax and partake in small talk.

Sunset falls too quickly. The four caretakers have escorted the drained young guest in his altogether back to his room. They lay him down to sleep, then in turn issue an affectionate peck on his cheek. Nighty-night they bid him, tomorrow they will take him on a short hike up to the BrokeButte's namesake crest. Lastly, they confer their lascivious exploits awaiting the next day...

🦩 will ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------