Muscle Worshippers: Chapter 1 of 14

[LJackson]

Hey guys, I wrote this novel a couple of years ago and for a while it was on sale at Amazon, Smashwords etc. I've decided to remove it from sale and make it available here in instalments. That doesn't change the fact that it is Copyright Lawrence Jackson 2015. Hope you enjoy it - please give me any kind of feedback you want!

Dedicated to

the Xhamster user known as 'snuffed'

and Tom/Nico/Stephan aka 'Skinnythick'

and everyone else who gives a little of themselves online.

1

Stephan

Friday, August 1st

 

The plumber said: 'If I'd known this was going to happen, I'd have stopped by the gym this morning.'

But he had a nice body, all the better for not being toned. He was in his mid-to-late twenties: his belly and upper body were fleshy — I ran a hand over his left tit, swirling sweat across his fleshly nipple with my thumb — but it was clear enough to me he played footie every Sunday. His hairy thighs, as he braced himself for my pumping first, were muscled like an athlete's.

'You're so fit,' I told him.

He smiled and looked shyly down at himself. 'Fuck off.'

I finished unzipping his overalls. The heat coming off him was like a radiator.

'I really shouldn't be doing this,' he said, shimmying the overalls to his ankles. 'I'm proposing to my bird next Sunday.'

I promised him she wouldn't mind, and began massaging his cock.

'There are some things,' he said, widening his stance so I could go at him more vigorously, 'you just can't speak to your other half about.'

'Tell me about it,' I said, glancing at our apartment's front door. Tom wasn't due back until the evening, later even if it was 'one of those days' at the surgery, so put this one down to a gay man's intuition.

'She talks about getting into bed with another girl,' he said, 'but just to make me cum, and that. She'd pull one of her faces if she could see me now.' He put his hands flat on his hips, and watched as his dick got fully hard in my hand.

'What else does your, eh, fiancé do to make you cum?'

He looked at me. 'Getting a bit personal, aren't we?'

'That's my favourite thing to get,' I said. I nibbled his sweaty chest, kissed his hairy belly, licked his dick questioningly.

'She's alright,' he said, pushing my face down onto his dick so that my glasses jolted halfway down my nose. I let them sit there, and got on with the business of deep-throating that intensely warm cock. His whole body was hot from the overalls. I bounced my nose off his crotch, sniffing droplets of sweat from his short and curlies, the saltiness of his pork gliding smoothly to the back of my throat. 'She likes to go on top once in a while. She watches porn with me — well, she did it once when we were in a hotel in Budapest, and she seemed to really get off on it. She really might go to bed with me and another girl, if the circumstances arose. Oh yeah, mate, that is reem.'

'Mmm,' I said, swallowing a gobbet of pre-cum that spoke louder than words.

'And maybe a year down the line, or maybe when the kids are in school at least, when we're really settled,' he said, 'I could maybe buy her a strap-on. Have you seen that online? Pegging, they call it. Stupid bloody name.'

I took the cock out of my mouth and kept wanking it, looking up at his expression. 'You got time to do that today?'

'I've got to be in Muswell Hill at three thirty for an estimate on a wet room,' he said, drawing in a thoughtful air through his teeth. 'How long does it take to set up?'

'No time,' I said. 'Turn around.'

'Fucking hell,' he said, following my instruction. 'My lucky day, innit?'

He was bent over and spreading his cheeks for me, when I heard a sound outside. Ex-copper's instincts now. That was definitely Tom's car, the way the engine did that thing that I've been nagging at him about getting fixed.

I hesitated, then stuck my tongue up the plumber's sweaty plug-hole to play for time. 'Oh fuck, yes,' he said. 'Do you need me to get at a particular angle for you? You're such a tall bastard. Six four, is it?'

'Six eight,' I said, staring at his arsehole, bubbled with my spit.

Outside, I heard car doors slam.

Three floors up. Tom would walk it, he always did. It took almost exactly five minutes.

'Look,' I said. 'I've just remembered something.'

'Oh yeah,' he said, 'you need lube for a thing like this, don't ya?'

'It's more than that,' I said, getting to my feet.

He turned to look at me, worried. 'Well, rubbers, of course. It's been a while, but it's not actually my first time, sunshine.'

'No, something bigger than that.'

I saw his eyes widen in excitement. 'One of those big rubber dildo things?'

I ran an anxious hand through my curly blonde hair. 'It's my boyfriend.'

'Whatever you say, fellah,' he said, grinning and wanking his cock. 'Extra very well endowed, is he?'

'Funny you should say that,' I said, 'but the important thing is that he doesn't know you're — we're — he's not actually due back till later, but -'

'Oh, shit, say no more,' said the plumber. 'I've been here before, enough times.' He pointed at the floor. 'Hence the zip-up overalls.'

I willed myself to remember the order of the Kings and Queens of Britain. My hard-on resisted till I reached the 1920s when I really had to concentrate. By the time I could bear to look back at him, he was fully dressed and writing his number on the back of a card.

'Escort me to your maintenance task,' he said, handing it over. 'You do have one, don't you?'

Of course. Fucked if I could remember what it was, though.

The key went in the lock. I went cold, looked for my jumper, and the thought leaped out at me. 'The radiator,' I said, as the door opened.

'Excellent,' said the young man, with only a glance toward the new arrival. He had his biro out again already. 'Well, here's my charge for call-out, stripping down, tackling the airlock. Of course, if the problem persists, call me out again at a convenient time and I'll see what else we can do.'

My heart was racing. 'Of course,' I said. 'Can you take a card, or -'

'That'll be fine.'

I handed over £50, licking my lips with the taste of his fuck-chute till on the tip of my tongue. He smiled that broad smile and I nearly got a tent in my jogging bottoms all over again.

'See you.'

'See ya, mate!'

Tom stood in the doorway, watching the plumber leave. 'Well done. I thought neither of us would ever organise that.'

'Time on my hands,' I said, thinking about where my fingers had just been, and wiping unobtrusively them on my jumper.

'Well, yes,' Tom said, frowning. 'I wasn't expecting you to be home...' He tailed off and looked back into the stairwell. 'Look,' he said, to somebody out there, 'this is silly. You'd better come in.'

The door creaked open and a young man in jeans and hooded top came in, swinging a camera case. With his bottle glasses, bristling moustache and tightly knotted tie he looked faintly intellectual, but with that dumb look that comes with the heady uncertainty of imminent sex. I smiled at him, to put him at his ease, and he smiled back, perhaps to put me at mine. It was a moment of wild incomprehension and at the same time, perhaps, total understanding.

'You were going to...' I looked back at Tom, who was squatting on the arm of the sofa. In his smart office trousers, his big bazonger was perfectly delineated, and faintly tumescent as well.

'Yes,' he said. 'Dean and I were making conversation at work.'

'Right,' I said.

'We were talking about you,' Tom said.

'I see,' I said. 'And naturally that led to inviting him back for...'

'It did, in fact,' Tom said. 'I was telling him about what you've been getting up to this past year.'

Ouch.

'No,' Tom said, seeing my face. 'Don't feel bad. That's what I realised, in my conversation with Dean. That it's good. We should both be doing whatever we want. It'll make us happy.'

'Right,' I said, pulling on my jumper.

Tom forced a smile. 'Right,' he said. He looked at Dean. 'Do you want a coffee?'

'Sure,' said Dean. 'Everything okay?'

'I'll get the coffee,' I said, patting him on the shoulder. 'Milk? Sugar?'

'You sure?' Tom looked concerned.

'You two get started,' I said, not quite sure what I was saying, and walking towards the door, turning my head, I saw my boyfriend turning to the stranger and shrugging off his coat. The stranger put down his bag and took off his jacket. I noticed a little staff card in a lanyard round his neck. So the pair of them were both GP's at the same surgery. Trust Tom to meet someone so entirely innocently, after all my debaucheries of the past year. The stuff that's got me thrown out of the police force. The stuff that's wrecked my life.

I stood in the doorway, staring at the coffee pot. I could hear them kissing and gasping with the novelty of it. I could hear them undoing a belt. I closed the door, filled the kettle, put it on to boil. I opened the door a crack, spied on the pair of them. I wanted to see the junior doctor's reaction to my boyfriend's huge member.

Dean was unzipping his camera bag, while Tom had his hands up inside his starched office suit and was pinching his nipples. Dean took out a huge black camera and turned it on Tom, ordering him to strip. His words vanished behind the hissing of the coffee coming to the boil. I just saw Tom slowly undoing his shirt, dropping his trousers to his ankles. His raging bulge twitched like a black mamba in a sandwich bag. Dean knelt at his feet and carried on snapping.

I got my dick out of my trousers and started wanking. The coffee began to hiss and issue steam.

Tom took the camera and snapped Dean as he tugged Tom's juicy pink sausage out of his grey, custom-issue y-fronts. Dean played up to it in a practised way, marvelling at the big purple head, the way he could get one hand gripped around it on top of the other. He wanked and sucked on it, spit flying all over the kitchen floor in his enthusiasm.

The coffee pot gurgled, and so did I. I pumped my fist faster.

Tom and Dean snogged one another, one small dick pressed against a giant, kneaded and ground together. I couldn't help noticing Tom had one eye on the kitchen door. I turned away and served up the coffee, hand trembling. Tom looked excited, slightly drunk — sexy as fuck, of course — but did he look happy? Or just pretending? Whose benefit was this for, exactly?

Was I really thinking those things, though, or was I thinking: Fuck, Fuck, Gotta Fuck, Two hot guys getting off in the living room, gotta fuck, gotta Fuck, gotta FUCK FUCK FUCK. (I've come to realise this is the theme song to my days.)

I took the coffee in, and the two men broke away.

'Uh, maybe it's not the time for a drink after all, mate,' Dean said, wiping the steam from his glasses lenses.

'Leave it on the table,' Tom said, 'but don't forget to use the coasters.'

The doorbell rang. 'I'll get that,' I said, my voice almost lost in my mouth.

It was the plumber, of course.

'You alright, big fellah?' he said, looking up at me. 'I got talking to the bloke in specs while he was waiting in the hall. Says he's heard your fella's got a huge dick and loves fucking arse.'

I nodded shyly, and welcomed him in. 'Do you want a coffee?' I said.

He considered. 'Nah,' he said, rubbing his chin and looking at the couple writhing on the sofa. 'Got that Muswell Hill job, ain't I? Alright, you two lovebirds, who wants to take a straight boy up the arse, and who wants to photograph it?'

He was very clear that they shouldn't get a shot of his face, but in the end, of course, the pair of them did: a huge splash. Even the plumber managed to spunk himself on the cheek. I had a wank while they were all three locked together, but for some reason I myself couldn't cum until I was looking at the pictures later on Dean's Tumblr.

And I thought about this.

Afterwards, over lunch, Tom surprised me: 'I think we ought to have a trial separation.'

I laughed. 'That's just what I was going to say,' I said.

'You're driving me round the bend. Making me want new things.'

'Today, all I wanted was you. But I also wanted to fuck everything. I'm not sure I can square it.'

He pushed his chair away from the table. 'Maybe it'll be easier if we're both single. We can see more of each other.' He was rubbing his tits through his cum-stained work shirt.

'No. We need to be apart. I'm bad for you. I make you do things you don't want to do.'

'I'll do whatever you want,' he said.

He stood up and stood next to me, nuzzling my shoulder with his crotch, where a hard-on was swelling.

'Exactly,' I said. 'I'm not right in the head. I'm addicted. I need to get myself cleaned up, and in the meantime, you need to become you again.'

He unzipped and took it out. The dick that had first captivated me when I saw it online. Mr11AndAHalf, Wimbledon. 'I don't want us to get cleaned up,' he said. 'I want us to get completely covered in sweat and cum and piss.' It was still only soft.

The temptation was just as massive as his meat-stick. I stood up, stooped, and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'Shush,' I said. 'We both need some time away from sex. I'll go and pack a bag.'

'But where can you go to get away from sex? Who will you be staying with?' he asked me. 'Slutpig93, Musclelad2000 or FatCockStr8Slut?' All of them old friends.

Actually, Mum and Dad weren't that surprised to see me.

'You'd gone quiet,' Mum told me, over a cup of tea in the kitchen. 'I knew something was up.'

'I don't exactly get in touch as often as I should anyway!' I confessed.

'This was different,' she said. 'Do you want a biscuit? I've got your favourites.'

My favourites are Ginger Crunch Creams, of course. I'd forgotten all about them and suddenly wham, there they are, just when I need them most. I'm eating one now, sitting on my old bed, looking out of my old window.

DulwichVillage. Dead centre of normality and peace. Where the net curtains twitch all day, where there are still red telephone boxes and milkmen. The place I waited eighteen years to escape. Well, another eighteen years on and I'm grateful for it. I can take all the peace it can throw at me.

Only I had a weird experience at the library, and it rattled me.

Mum had some books to take back. Margery Allinghams and Delia Smiths. I needed the walk, as the summer light died on the air and the green leaves rustled overhead. What, I thought, could be more normal, more calming, than the library.

Dulwich Village Library has the atmosphere of a chapel. It has the serenity of an attic room. At six o'clock in the evening, when the heat of the day was at its highest, I witnessed an insane couple go to the Self Help section and begin heavy petting.

I mean, I've seen some stuff. I've done some stuff. Going public was always a big thrill for me. How can I forget, for instance, walking along the South Bank at one in the morning and getting my knob sucked overlooking the river, a string of coloured lights overhead, and us in the shadow of a tree. Cruise ships slowly passing up the river, playing Ricky fucking Martin, and I'm living La Vida Loca myself with my dick deep down the guy's throat, his headphones round his collar. That's where the queers go, isn't it, that's where we do it: anywhere we like. But I don't think of straight couples doing it, and not in broad daylight for god's sake, and not in a place like DulwichVillage, where Radio 4 is considered slightly common.

But there he was, arse like two bowling balls, arms exploding from his t-shirt. Reminiscent, in fact, of a cage fighter who's swallowed a rugby player, and his blonde girlfriend with her legs open for his finger. It was like they'd been specially cast to perform for us.

It would have been rude not to look. In any case, I instinctively fell into the role of security guard. When the senior librarian running the library came over on some errand or other, I coughed as low and as loud as I could, in that universal language for 'Put your cock away'.

The public pornstar glanced around at me, with an evil sort of smile. Then he knelt down, lifted the girl's skirt, and put his face right in there.

The senior librarian actually spluttered when he saw it, and I'm not sure I didn't too. He looked at me, or up at me, of course. I smiled, sweetly. 'They're not with me,' I said, in that special voice we use in libraries.

I wanted to hear the noises they were making together. I wanted to see how much further they would take this. I wanted to get my dick out and wank it. Jesus, it was hard. Like I'd starved myself for a week and then someone had just walked in with a big plate of steak. I checked nobody was watching, and slowly began to fuck the books at groin level, nudging my sweaty, precummy, nylon-tracksuit-wrapped cockhead in between the spines of hardback encyclopaedias.

Just then I heard a sharp intake of breath, and my head whipped around. It was the junior librarian, a bloke in his twenties. He must have been sent over to sort out the couple in the book stacks, more's the pity. I would have liked the little fellah to have sorted me out first. He was much more my type than the steroid fiend with snake eyes and tight trousers.

Textbook clean-cut straight boy: clean fair hair in a trendy yet somehow too-soft quiff. Not unlike Daniel Radcliffe in looks and demeanour. Nicely ironed polo shirt (pretty sure Mum did that for him). Slender and well groomed, a couple of colourful wristbands with charities and festival names printed on them. He'd just taken in for the first time the scene I'd been enjoying , and his eyes were starting out of his head. He'd never seen the like. God, but he licked his lips at the sight, without realising he was doing it, I think. He was so brimful of milky innocence, my heart leapt in my chest. He even gave a little embarrassed smile and looked away, busying himself with a carousel of cheap romances.

What is the impulse in us to take that innocence and ruin it irrevocably?

I turned my attention back to the boy and girl in their own little world, but my mind was on that librarian. I knew he was watching the scene. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he envying them? Nervous? Had he done something like that? Had he actually been with a girl?

It was like when I used to watch straight porn, and I realised I was fantasising about the men who watched it, as much or more so than the guys who were in it.

Had he watched porn? Did he like a wank? How did he look when he came?

The man and woman were aware of him watching now. They threw him little glances. I looked to see how he was taking it. My dick had dislodged the books permanently now so that they gave me no purchase. I was well hidden by a Romance carousel and some magazine shelving. Keeping everybody very carefully in view, and hoping the police weren't actually on their way (ex-colleagues! fuck!), I reached into my trackie bottoms and put my hand around my dick. I gave it a slow caress. My knobhead was a sticky mess of precum and sweat.

I withdrew the hand and, not knowing what else to do with it, reached inside my vest and wiped it across my chest. I felt the print of my hand on my tit like a warm, glowing smear of UV paint.

My dick was crying out for some more, but I decided to play it casual. I wanted to see what the librarian did. I actually saw him, thinking himself unobserved, reach into his chinos and rearrange his dick.

Hard-on. Bingo.

I watched him walk back, hard dick tucked away so that nobody knew it was there but me. All I wanted to do then was put a hand on his chest and say, 'Excuse me, lad, I've got reason to think you're sporting a hard-on in public. Come on, then, let the dog see the rabbit.'

I didn't want sex at that point. I wanted to awake something in him.

He walked into the scene, as if it wasn't happening. He'd obviously decided on a softly-softly approach. He began slowly putting away the books. He was so near me, I could smell the styling mousse in his hair.

My dick asked me to take it in hand again, and this time I obliged. I wanked as slowly as I could force myself, looking back and forth from him to the couple, my hand sliding all the way up to my balls, drawing my foreskin right back from my throbbing, slobbery cockhead, then slowly sheathing it again hiding it in my first, squeezing it with my index finger, as the couple played up further and further to their new spectator, and he pretended more and more that they weren't there.

The girl was licking the guy's cock through his jeans, when the boy obviously decided he'd had enough, but before he could confront them, he seemed to look to me for strength. I saw in him then, all the desire he was resisting, all the lust he was forcing down to the pit of his soul. I saw how far he wanted to go with a girl like her, and I thought how much further I could take him.

I tried not to register any change in expression as I spunked hard into my fist.

As the cum dribbled through my fingers, I watched the most bizarre scene. I can't quite bring myself to put it down on paper now.

I wonder — why were they there; how come it was when this lad was on duty, this perfect mirror for their dirty goings-on.

When it was all over, I did my bit and defended him to his manager. I mean, a kid like that, against a beast like that, he did what any of us would do. And after it was over, I went to the counter, my heart crashing in my chest, borrowing books that I've already forgotten the names of. 'Are you okay?' I asked him.

He looked wounded. He shot me something like a glare. 'I'll be okay.'

'That prick deserves to be picked up,' I told him, 'and I'll tell you from my own extensive experience, it's only a matter of time before it happens.'

'I'd like to be there when it does,' he said. 'You'll need to fill out a form if you want to borrow books today.'

My hand shook as I followed his instructions. I could smell the clean, soapy aroma of his body, and dried sweat in his clothes and hair too. 'You're stronger than him in all but the obvious way,' I told him, drinking in his slender, boyish physique.

'Thanks,' he said, and smiled. 'I've always thought that was enough.'

'For most people, it's more than enough,' I said.

He let out a long sigh, looked at the form, looked up at me. 'Thanks very much, Stephan,' he said, and extended a hand for me to shake. It fitted into my palm and felt almost weightless. I decided he might be offended by a vigorous pump, so I just squeezed it and smiled, leaving the library without any of the books I had been due to borrow.

My heart went out to him like a ray of light. But when it came to it, I let the whole scene play out like I was watching on a screen. Why didn't I step in? I've spent the last fifteen years breaking up fights and calming down tensions. Why didn't I intervene? I think I knew, deep down, that I couldn't involve myself in that, whatever it was.

It was too hot, too perfect, for all concerned. It was important for all of us.

I've cum three times again tonight thinking about it. And I keep trying to see things from the point of view of Beauty and the Beast and am just left with mystery. What's their game? What were they trying to unlock in that beautiful young man?

And did they succeed?

[Ro20316]

Fantastic first chapter but for all he wants to get away from sex. Sex seems to find him

[LJackson]

6 hours ago, Ro20316 said:

Fantastic first chapter but for all eh ans o get away from sex. Sex seems to find him

I kind of get what you’re saying, but could you rephrase it?