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EROTICA A story inspired by the (slightly modified) lyrics to the Madonna song from the album and SEX book versions. Shout out to @Wrestlejock646 who inspired the idea of using song lyrics as inspiration, even if he didn’t know it at the time. You can always “hit me with your rhythm stick,” mate, “I wanna take a ride on your disco stick.” ========== ~ ONE ~ I’ve never done anything like this before, but it was well past time. I was already bored with my life as it was, the COVID-19 pandemic just took that boredom to the Nth degree. I am apparently in an 'extremely high risk' category when it comes to COVID-19, or so my doctor tells me. Based on the delta strain, I had an approximately 25% chance of death unvaccinated, dropping to ‘only’ 11% for double dosed, 8% for triple dosed, and 1% for four doses (with no data yet on more than four doses). The omicron variant, and the BA.4 and BA.5 sub variants were much milder, so presumably the risk for me now is somewhere south of 1% (now that I’ve had four doses). With those kind of odds, and the delta strain running rampant throughout 2021, and most of 2020 still full of unknowns - how deadly was it really? - I spent over two years from March 2020 confined to my house, no visitors, no shopping, pretty much total isolation. Thank fuck for the Internet - not just for day to day essentials like groceries, which I had delivered, but for social contact. Don’t get me wrong, I am eternally grateful for the ability to video chat with friends and family, and the ability to mutually jerk off with someone on camera, but, let’s face it, it’s a poor substitute for sexy times with a real, live human being, touching, stroking, kissing, caressing, licking, sucking, penetrating… you know, all the good things, all the arousing things. So I hadn’t had sex, real with-an-actual-person sex in nearly two and a half years. I’ve already said I was bored with my life before the pandemic, I was also bored with my sex life. I’m attractive enough, I suppose. I’m 186cm (6’1”) tall, and weigh 78kg (172lbs). I have no idea what my body fat percentage is, but I have visible abs and like to keep in shape. I’m of Mediterranean stock, so I have dark features - deep brown eyes, dark brown hair, and an olive complexion. I hate shaving with a razor, so keep my beard trimmed to a constant state of stubble of varying lengths, depending on how long since the last trim. But my sex life was pretty vanilla. I mean, a flip fuck or two is as kinky as it ever got - insert the Neil deGrasse Tyson ‘we’ve got a badass over here’ meme, right. I’ve never had a threesome or group sex, never used toys, never even really gotten rough. I DID say, ‘pretty vanilla’. But recently, I’ve been craving more. NEEDING more. I wanted to be dominated, I wanted kink. Maybe not hardcore BDSM, but I wanted things to get a bit rough, a bit outside my vanilla comfort zone. I also wanted muscle, someone to take control, use his strength, his power to put me in my place. Use me and abuse me, overpower me. I’m getting hard just describing it, I could only imagine what it would be like in reality. I found an ‘escort’ that sounded perfect. If he lived up to his description, it was going to be money well spent, arousal guaranteed. I was slightly nervous, because he had no photos. Not just not showing his face. No photo, at all. The description claimed he didn’t like putting up his photo because it created certain expectations, if it didn’t scare off the potential client, and he didn’t want any preconceptions to ruin what should be organic discovery, mutual exploration and pushing of boundaries. It sounded HOT, exactly what I was looking for. But anyone can put up a profile saying anything. So I had no idea what he looked like but, as I sat in the hotel bar, nursing a drink nervously, he knew what I looked like, insisting on a picture showing my face and a shirtless pic showing my top half. “Excuse me, Robert?” A deep, resonant, mellifluous voice. A powerful voice, commanding; used to getting his way. I turned my face up towards the voice, which was behind and to my right. My mouth dried up and gaped, my heart skipped a few beats then started racing, my dick chubbed. “Y-“ My voice cracked, because of course it did. I cleared my throat. “Yes.” “My name is Dieter. I’ll be your master tonight.”

After years on wonderful sites like muscle-growth.org and musclepla.net and even YouTube with its plethora of astounding muscles to worship via the screen, I had decided to take matters into my own hands. I wanted to move from closeted muscle worshiper to full fledged, card carrying bisexual. Don't let that stop you from continuing...I love me some smooth female skin. I love ravaging a woman and making her scream my name. I like to be the 'man' and enjoy a big set of tits like nobody's business. However, my hunger for some of those 'opposites' has been growing in me for a score of years. I want to BE ravaged. I want to be pleasured until I have to scream a name. I want to be dominated by MORE of a man and I enjoy a set of man tits like nobody's business. In fact, I'm haunted by huge pectoral muscles. I'm drawn to them. I need someone to give them to me the way a woman offers up her goods. I need to be taken rather than be the taker. No woman can offer that. Not many men can either. It will have to be a special type.I'm nothing spectacular. But approaching forty years old at just over six feet and 200 lbs of manual labor build, I'm not going to be manhandled by just anyone. And manhandling is what I crave. What I want. What I NEED. How can I be assured that my first step from committed-muscle-induced-shower-masturbator to partaker will be successful?I had wanted men like Chizzad, Ninja Tyler Muscle God, Gymnast Anthony and the like to take me for years. I drenched myself every time I watched Bo Dixon in 'Paging Dr Finger.' I popped a boner at the mere mention of Carl Hardwick/Rusty Jeffers. (I mean, seriously, a man that can grow that kind of body/facial hair and still have thick, juicy muscles...I don't care if he's five foot nothing...) I've dialed up Sagi Kalev to relieve and Mike Francois to assuage. I ogle every big man in the airport, at the park, in a store and while getting coffee. I've become so focused on anything manly...scent, body hair, testosterone driven balding, muscle, twinkling eyes, strength...that I can't hardly concentrate on driving. I...must...have...muscle.It seemed my best option was an escort. Someone that was kind enough to share what he'd built. Someone who was friendly enough to converse a few times before we met. Someone whose pictures were impressive but whose reviews were filled with, "this guy is HUGE," or "and his strength is unbelievable," or "he is the stud of all studs," or "he looks so much bigger and better in person," or perhaps all of the above!I looked. I searched. I contacted. I planned. I plotted. I traveled. I scheduled. Now I wait.I've asked him to show up at my very nice hotel, (I didn't want to seem cheap. This isn't a 'hook up,' this is my first time with a MAN), wearing business attire. A man in a well-tailored suit shows everything you need to know about his build. This particular man was billed to be 6' 5". Tall is where it is AT for me. Remember, my desire is to be had! I expect him to stride through the lobby in confidence, dressed like the man that runs such a successful company he has time to focus on his hobby of being the biggest bad ass in a suit. I asked for his favorite cologne as I love the smell of a man out to impress. However, it shouldn't be something that hits you when he nears you, it should be something you have to lean in close to his perfect neck to get a nice dose.I'll be able to admire his big feet, because dress shoes really show a big man's foot off well. I'll be able to see the size of his unflexed arms. I'll know just how serious the v-taper is down his backside. And have you ever really lifted a suit jacket to see how beautifully an ass appears in slacks!? Oh, my God...it's a vision. I'm going to watch him clandestinely from a corner of the lobby and follow him to the elevator. I'm going to watch others stare at him. As we climb higher in the building, we'll end up the only two on the elevator and I'll make a VERY brash comment about how huge he is. Ask if he played football in college or something. I'll flat out ask if I can feel his arm. While I have hold of it, I'll say, "I think you're here to meet me, Brett. I'm Mitchell."I'll ask him if we can hold hands while we walk down the hall to my room. I'll have a hard time controlling my sweat glands when his huge hand engulfs mine. I'll tell him I'm really looking forward to our evening and then latch on to him like a love sick teenage girl. Because, let's admit it, in this case that's exactly what I am.As we enter my room, he'll likely start to remove his suit jacket and I'll stop him cold. "Please, don't. Not yet." We'll pop some beers and I'll invite him to sit down."It's important for you to understand I want to take our time. I often feel people are WAY too eager to get naked and grab a cock. There are SO many ways to enjoy one another before we get to the sensory overload that is fucking. I want to experience you one human sense at a time. I want to look at you in that suit. I want you to tease me a little by telling me and even demonstrating for me how you might impress me in the line at Starbucks if we met there. A little flex. A little pop of pecs so huge that even a suit coat moves. Perhaps a scratch of the back of the head so I can see how the fabric of the jacket strains to contain your bis and tris. I want to lean in close - but not touch you yet - and smell you. Smell your neck. Sniff across your chest...maybe move the jacket back a bit and see if I can sense a manliness from your underarms. I want to walk behind you and dream about what you'll look like naked.""The reason I want this is because that's usually all I get to do with a hot man. I don't want my heart broken, so I don't know that I'll ever dare approach a man like you without a payment. Otherwise, little old me might be refused. I can't take a man I drool over refusing me. I want to remember each step of your undressing and foreplay because I might never get it again.""Now that I've looked and smelled. Please talk to me about what you love about your body. Just tell me about the size of your chest, the cuts on your abs, the fullness of your biceps. Tell me why you like to work out legs and how you do endless, weighted pull ups to keep your back wide. Tell me about how you'd like to demonstrate your strength to me. How you'd like to dominate me and make sure I have a clear understanding that you are superior to me in every way. Not nasty. Just factual. And tantalizing. And sexy. I need you to like talking about what you have."By now, of course, I'll already have a boner I can't handle. I'll ask him to approach and slowly kiss me...once again, without any other touch. I think kissing that starts as nothing but lips and tongue is supreme. It evolves and melds into body contact and he all but destroys my clothes pulling them off. He then shoves me down on the bed and steps back. He begins to show me what I've only dreamed of. He removes the jacket and tosses it on me. I put it on while he undoes his tie and I find it drowns me. The thought of how much man goes into that fabric makes me bite it between my teeth and growl. He uses his tie to toss around my head and coax me back to my feet and kisses me very deeply again. That's IT! I'm taking charge. I wanted this to be slow, but I can't take it anymore. I want to make love NOW.But instead, he grabs my hands that touched his delicious pecs for a nano-second and puts them behind my back. With the other hand he reaches for and lightly holds my neck. It isn't a threat and it feels great. I know the size of that hand and the power of that arm from touching him in the hall on the way in. It makes me melt. I actually whimper a little and offer him my neck. He nibles, bites, chews his way down and then pushes me to the bed again. He quickly undoes each button, but painfully pauses between each button. He wants me to beg. I ask. I plead. I BEG for him to hurry. To show me his Adonis torso. To wrap me up in the meat he's built over years!After I actually get on the floor, on my knees, and ask again, he slowly opens the shirt. Oh, shit. I'm nearly cumming without touch. He is all at once, huge, ripped, tanned, manly, perfectly hairy, and flexed! He crunches down into a most muscular as I had told him that was my favorite pose. He invites me to join him. I stand up...ask just how much he weighs. 265 is the response. I start to swim in facts, in the scent, the sight, the sound of his voice and then he reaches down and solidly grabs my turgid penis. His other hand takes its place on my neck again and he pulls me close, flexes for all he's worth and bounces his pecs in my face and breathes in my ear as he tightly pumps my dick. I immediately, without reservation and yet completely against my will, arch back in to the orgasm of my life. My first with a man. My first.Oh, God. Let it be true...there he is walking through the lobby door...so far so good!