Muscle Club

"Remember, sex onstage is illegal. This isn't fucking Amsterdam. You can jerk yourself off a little, play with the other guys' cocks, but if you cum, it's all over. Got it? No blowing your load. No oral. No penetration of any kind. Not that the other guys'd let you—they're professionals and a lot of them're straight. Got it?"

"Got it."

I can still hardly believe I'm here, backstage at my favourite club. I've been coming here for a few months to watch the guys perform onstage, solo and in groups, all of them amazing musclegods pumped up and shining onstage, flexing their muscles and showing off their cocks for a room of lust-crazed fans. And it was mainly the thought of getting closer to them, rather than thinking that I actually deserved to be one of them, that made me pay attention to the announcement that they were going to hold tryouts to recruit some new performers.

Going to the tryouts took balls, let me tell you. I work out, but I'm not a bodybuilder by any stretch of the imagination. My muscles were half the size of the other guys in line, although I've got some good definition going on. I could tell the boss wasn't going to hire me at first, but that all changed when I dropped my pants. Thinking about how the boss's eyes bulged still makes me laugh. After that, it only took a few seconds for him to decide to give me a shot.

Now, my new boss takes me to my assigned dressing room. When we step inside, a hot buzzing wave of lust immediately sweeps over me when I see I'm sharing the room with my favorite performer, Damon. Not only is he heart-poundingly gorgeous, but his muscles are fucking HUGE, the slightest motion causing them to react, twitching and tightening all over his body. In his late twenties (maybe a few years younger than me) and over six feet tall, he appears to be of Middle-Eastern descent, with golden brown skin, dark eyes with thick eyelashes, heavy stubble, and black hair buzzed short. He's wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt that stretches across the swells of his pumped-up pecs and rides above his veiny, defined biceps. He shakes my hand, and those biceps jump and roll, his forearms rippling and his nearest chest muscle beating against his shirt.

Our boss leaves, shutting the door behind him. Now it's just me and Damon. "So you're the new guy, huh," he says. His voice is deep and it seems to resonate low in my gut.

"Yeah. Uh, it's just a trial thing, though. I mean, I'm not nearly as buff as you guys...."

"But I heard you got hired for some other reasons," he laughs. I notice his canine teeth are rather pronounced, which gives him a wolfish grin.

"Uh, right." I can feel my face getting hot. I shouldn't be embarrassed, but I can't help it, and I quickly change the subject. "How long have you been working here?"

"About a year and a half," he says, sitting down in a chair in front of a table with a mirror and lights over it, the standard dressing room setup. I sit down in another chair next to the wall, which is a wider, more comfortable chair covered in black fabric.

"Got any tips?" I ask.

"Why, you nervous?"

"Yeah...."

"We'll be in a group today to get you started, so just follow our lead." He pauses, and smiles after thinking about something. "But listen, if you wanna own the stage yourself someday.... My biggest tip is, you've got to make eye contact with them individually. You've got to make them hear your voice without speaking, make them KNOW that you're going to fuck them, that you're going to leap off that stage and shove your cock deep inside them, fuck their brains out whether they like it or not—but of course they're gonna like it. They're gonna enjoy every fucking second of it and they're gonna scream for more as soon as you're done. That's what you want to tell them, that's what you want them to feel deep in their gut. That's what makes them come back for more, even if you're just onstage and they'll never get to touch you outside of this club. Think you can do that? Do you have that in you?"

I swallow deeply, my palms sweating and my cock stirring. Fuck, he's good at this. The way he's staring at me now—I don't know if it's intentional, but I can just imagine him grabbing me with those muscular arms, bending me over and forcing his hot dick up my ass.

I roughly clear my throat and manage to gasp out, "Y-you sound like you enjoy it."

That wolfish grin appears again. "You know, there's this feeling," he admits. "All those guys want to see me cum. If they could do it with just their eyes, they'd get me hard and make me blow my load right onstage every night, over and over. I gotta say, that feeling's pretty addictive. Even if I don't want them actually touching my cock with their bodies, they can touch it with their eyes all they want. And I'll definitely give that to them, night after night. Nobody works that room like I do."

I believe it. Not only have I seen it myself, but he's working this room right now. Fuck, I'm so turned on. I can practically smell my own lust, and I wonder if he can too.

At that moment, a stagehand raps on the dressing room door and calls out, "Five minutes, guys!" causing a buzzing wave of excitement and nerves to fill me. But all thoughts vanish from my mind a few seconds later when Damon stands up, grabs his thin blue shirt and strips it off.

In front of me is the most perfect body I've ever seen. His round pecs protrude out massively, thickly corded and dimpled next to his armpits, his round dark nipples angled downwards because his pecs are so full; his ripped abs are layers of bulging muscle with deep cuts in between, his serrated obliques like rocky cliffsides sloping down from massive lats to a trim waist, where the V of his lower abs sucks his skin close and makes his pelvis stand out. He grabs his shorts and pulls them down, exposing his black boxer-briefs which cling to the heavy single bulge in front and two giant swells of ass muscle in back and stretch thinly across his wide, veiny thighs.

Then, without any hesitation, his briefs come off too, and his flaccid uncut cock dangles thick between his thighs, already at least five inches long, buoyed up by the massive balls hanging under it, one weighty orb dangling lower than the other, swaying as he steps out of his underwear, his monstrous chest squeezing together as he bends down; and then he straightens up and tosses his underwear to join the rest of his clothes on the table in front of the mirror, exposing his fucking tight round asscheeks as he does so, twin spheres of golden manmeat with a clear V where they meet his lower back. He's hairless to show off every curve, dimple, and bulge to perfection, except for short black pubic hair around his cock. His manly odour intensifies to the point that it feels like I can taste his naked skin on my tongue, and my cock is pressing against my pants, desperate to get out.

I'm nervous about showing him how hard I've gotten already, but I'd better get over it soon since we're about to be onstage together. So I quickly strip off my clothes and his astonished gaze settles on my hardened cock. "Fuck, man! Careful where you point that thing." And then he laughs, a sly expression stealing over his face. "So you're gay, huh? Well don't forget the rules. Don't get us put out of business."

Following him down the hallway to the stage, even with the sight of his tight ass flexing in front of me, my cock settles down because of my growing nerves. We reach the staging area, where we can hear music and guys applauding as the current act comes to a close.

The other performer in my set is waiting for us. I recognize him as Brett, another massively pumped-up, ripped musclegod. I take in every bulging, veiny inch of his huge arms, broad pecs that swell out from his chest, and carved midsection. From the swollen yet flaccid state of his meaty cut cock, that bulbous purple cockhead, I'm guessing he was jerking off just a few minutes ago before slapping on the metal cockring that's struggling to fit around the base of his thick rod and full sack. In his early twenties, he's a jock blessed with a heart-crushingly adorable face with laughing eyes and a constant smirk. His brown hair's shaved short, and a tattoo encircles his massive right bicep.

"Holy fuck! Are you for real?" he blurts out, taking in my swaying cock. "No wonder they took you on."

But there's no more time to get to know each other. We hear the announcer call out our names, the stagehand nods at us, and I follow them out on stage, my heart throbbing, knees shaking.

There are about forty guys in the darkened audience, sitting around the stage on three sides. A shower's been set up in the middle of the stage, with a drain beneath it. I've seen this routine before—in fact, I've seen these other two guys perform it. Like usual, they head right for the shower in the center of the stage, stepping into the spray, which brings their muscled bodies to a glossy shine that picks out every trench in their abs, pours thickly down the valley between their pecs.

Stupefied, I stand there for a few moments, admiring their toned and slick bodies; but then Brett glances at me and winks, beckons me in, and I join them under the warm spray, feel the crowd's eyes watching the water dripping off my swinging dick.

Damon turns his back to us, letting the water run over his firm, full asscheeks. Brett rubs his hands over that perfect ass, teasing his own cock with his other hand, and I think, if he can do that, so can I, so a second later I'm on my knees, massaging that fucking tight round ass as the water pours over the perky mounds, slides in between them, my hands roving over the pliable tight flesh, stretching the skin over his hot firm muscles; and he bends forward, lifts his ass, the water running over it, between it, my hands slipping all over him as he flexes, his cheeks hollowing and lifting, the pressure starting to build in my cock, stiffening rapidly even though I'm onstage in front of forty people—

And now he turns around and his thick cock is dangling in my face, buoyed up by the heavy balls tight under it, a thick swaying meaty dick, slicked with water, shining, and I take it in my hand, tug it playfully, slide back the foreskin; he laughs, rocks on his feet, his hot cock swaying against my palm, fuck I want it in my mouth, that fat cockhead on my tongue, pushing back into my throat.

The guys face each other, their thick, buoyant cocks rubbing against each other, their hands massaging each other's pumped-up chests, feeling the corded muscles in their arms, the water shining as it runs over their abs, down their navels, slides onto their glistening, swaying cocks. Fuck, my dick is so hard now that the sheer pressure of it being so full is giving me pleasure, making me harder still. I can feel every inch of my skin stretched over my swollen shaft, my balls tight and heavy under me, desperate.

Damon notices my massive erection, then reaches down and gently tugs on it, sending an unbelievable bolt of pleasure through my quivering body, and I rise up, rubbing my hands over his slicked, shining stomach, feeling the thin skin sliding over the iron ridges of his abs, and then I rub my thumbs over his tight nipples, he's grinning and still tugging on my cock, he guides it forward to nudge his own thick yet flaccid member. The guys in the audience are getting their first look at my fully hard cock, and I can hear gasps and whistles. Damon turns around again, the shower spray running down his back and over his ass, which he presses against my cock, laughing. It's so fucking firm and slick, my cock sliding over the taut mounds while everyone watches—

And now Brett has come up behind me, he reaches around and tugs on my cock a few times, laughing and grinning, "Damn, you're hard. Can I do this? Or is your cock gonna blow?" and I can feel his pecs pressing against me, his abs flexing against my back, his rubbery wet cock against my ass, grinding against me—I swear it's getting harder, I can feel it swelling against my skin, FUCK just shove that thick cock inside me, fuck my brains out, I need to blow my load, but no I can't I can't, I've got to keep it together I can't lose control, I can't cum, but fuck his hand feels so good and Damon's ass is so hot and firm, the pressure's throbbing in my cock, I'm groaning low in my throat and my thighs are quivering—

"You really are, huh? You're gonna blow a fat wad right in front of everyone if I keep doing this." I can hear the grin in his voice as he rests his lips right next to my ear and whispers to me. He laughs, but he takes his hand off my cock, comes around beside me, starts stimulating my nipples now and I look down and he's rubbing his slicked-up meaty organ, rubbing his balls; and then he takes my fucking hand and places it on his cock and it's so hot and thick and feels so strong in my hand, that rubbery fat cockhead, that veiny shaft, laughter on his gorgeous face, leaning back as the shower sprays us, and still Damon's grinding his muscled cheeks into my cock, I'm feeling so fucking tight it feels so good so fucking good, the tension rubbing up and down the underside of my shaft, grazing my tingling cockhead, Brett's stiffened cock in my fingers, getting harder, rising, the tip now pushing against my thigh—!

Oh fuck, I can't take it anymore, Damon is grinding his hot ass against my cock, the electricity's buzzing up and down my shaft, my cockhead swelling, my heart pounding, fuck fuck I can't take it I can't take it, my cock's so tight so tight, the intense need is building inside me, I can't take it, can't fucking take it—

Cum starts to drip out of my cumslit, a slow stream as the orgasm builds and builds, and then suddenly it bursts out of me, my cum hurtles out of my cock and splatters all over that fucking tight ass in front of me, all the way up his back, I'm groaning as my hard pulsing rod jerks against the firm muscles while Brett laughs in my ear, thrusts his erection into my fist, massages my nipples as I groan and shake while my bucking cock explodes, sending torrents of hot cream blasting up the long length of my shaft and out over Damon's tan, wet skin, dripping between his asscheeks, rolling down his thighs, the audience gasping in disbelief and the curtain suddenly falling, so the three of us are suddenly in musky wet darkness and my legs are shaking, the blood's pounding in my ears, and my cum is puddling at my feet as the audience applauds.

Damon immediately steps away from me. "What the fuck were you thinking? You trying to get us in trouble? You need to learn some control," he snaps, then immediately heads backstage.

Brett is more apologetic. "Sorry, dude. If you can't even handle that...." He leaves the rest unsaid, but my boss doesn't when I get backstage.

"Sorry, you're out. You knew the rules," he tells me with a shrug. "Look, none of the guys in the audience will talk, but we can't make a habit of it. The law is the law." I understand totally... and to be honest, it's hard to feel disappointed after the experience I've just had.

But then I see that Damon is also waiting for me. And after our boss leaves, he strides right up to me till his face is mere inches from mine, the heat of his wet naked skin clinging to me. "You. Follow me," he demands and stamps away, ignoring the stagehand that's handing out a towel for him, walking naked down the hallway, his full tanned asscheeks wobbling, covered in my spunk, the white cream dripping between them.

I follow him to our—now just HIS—dressing room. He's standing there, still totally naked and fucking gorgeous, his damp muscles shining, his thick cock dangling halfway down his thick thighs. "Close the door," he orders. "Now."

I do so, and he says, "You got cum all over my ass, so how are gonna deal with it, huh?" I can't tell if he's seriously angry or just pretending. And then suddenly he turns his back to me and commands, "Clean up this mess."

"W-what?"

"Didn't I make myself clear? On your knees."

I instantly obey him and he bends over the table, presents his globes of taut, tanned muscular meat to me, and I lay my tongue to his sizzling hot skin, lick up my salty cum, feel his ass flexing against my cheeks as he repositions himself—"Yeah lap it up fuckboy, you know you want it, this is what you get for blowing your load before I say you can"—his skin so tight and his muscles so hard, my mouth filling with cum and then suddenly—

He turns around and shoves me into the chair, shoves his cock in my face, and holy fuck it's hard, a massive quivering eight-inch erection, his wide mushroom cockhead already dribbling precum.

"A-aren't you straight?" I gasp out.

"You're seriously going to ask me that now?! Just 'cause guys don't usually get me hard onstage doesn't mean their mouths and asses don't feel good on my cock," he says. "And yeah, I can tell you like my fucking cock in your face, don't you? You want to feel it? You want to taste it?"

"Please!" I beg. "Please, let me taste your cock!"

Now he's leaning over me, bracing himself against the wall, and he's slapping his cock against the side of my face, its meaty length beating against my cheek, precum drooling from its slit, a strand lengthening from it to my skin—"You want to taste it? Want to taste this cock?"—and the tip of his cock grazes my lips, wets them—"Yeah you can't wait to suck my fucking cock, huh?"—so hot and full against my lips, teasing me. My tongue desperately darts out and licks his moist cumslit and fresh precum dribbles out, salty on my tongue, and he grunts, "Who said you could do that, huh? Don't do that unless you're willing to take the whole fucking thing."

And he presses that fat cockhead against my lips again, pushes it into my greedy mouth, a thick round cockhead on my tongue, drooling precum, meaty and hot, and he pushes himself further into me, my mouth tight with his fucking hard long rod, swallowing it down, feeling its muscular length on my tongue, groaning as he pushes to the back of my throat, and I can take it all. "Yeah, you know how to suck a cock, don't you?"

I'm tasting every inch of his meaty shaft, so hard in my throat, and now he starts to fuck me, groaning, his intense desire forcing his thick meat into my mouth, "Yeah take that cock, suck that cock," it tastes so fucking good, feels so powerful thrusting down my throat, precum smearing all over my mouth, his ass flexing as he thrusts into me, my eyes closed with pleasure; he pulls back, letting his cockhead rest on my tongue, so round and full and hard and slippery, my tongue sliding all over it.

I lift my mouth off his cock and run my lips down his shaft to his balls, suck them into my mouth, firm and round while I wrap one hand around his dripping cockhead and rub it, feeling it quivering and so hot, and he's groaning deep in his throat, his balls are tightening. I let his sack slip out of my mouth and now his cock comes plowing back in through my lips, unbelievably hard and hot, the skin so tight on his shaft, a fat bead of clear precum sliding down his tip, smearing right in the center of my tongue.

I hungrily push him deeper into my mouth until my lips press up against the base of his cock, his scratchy pubes; the hard muscles at the base of his cock flex and his rod jumps once in my mouth as he groans, his tight balls against my chin; and now I'm drawing back and sliding forward, he starts fucking my mouth, his powerful ass driving his thick meat back and forth over my tongue, I'm tasting his sweat and his precum, smelling his lust, feeling his need to blast his sticky hot seed in my mouth, "Yes take that fucking cock take that cock—"

And I'm jerking off my own massive erection, so hard I can barely bend it, his toned stomach clenching and sweating right in front of me, I rub my free hand over his abs, feel his sweaty tensing muscles as he fucks my face, faster and harder, his cock rock-hard and dripping, his hips thrusting, his breath ragged and groaning, Fuck yes fuck yes suck my cock oh fuck I'm gonna cum I'm gonna cum, his cock swelling, his balls tightening, his ass clenching, oh fuck oh fuck yes—