Las Vegas


By Musclebuff

So, I saw them off to Paris from Manchester Airport and found myself surprisingly jealous at their departure without me.

The next days gave me no time for worries, doubts, jealousies or anything else. It was pretty easy to say Goodbye to my few chums and to apologize to my clients for deserting them while fixing them up with alternative trainers. I spent a few hours in the American Consulate where I found that the twins had already got Yuri to make all the arrangements for getting the visa into my passport.

I cleared things with the gym and with my landlord, both of whom promised to accommodate me if and when I came back for the US. As I'd always led a pretty monastic life since the Olympics I didn't have much to pack or dispose of - in any case the brothers had told me they'd buy me a new and "more suitable" wardobe in Las Vegas. The one thing they told me was to bring all my leather gear (they'd already promised to foot the bill for importing my bike) and to be sure to be wearing it when we got off the 'plane in Las Vegas.

Why? Yuri was really in to leather and it would make a good impression. They gave me a few other instructions too, so, when we disembarked and had gotten through immigration and all that, I was wearing my bike boots, the same tight leather pants, a white muscle tanktop that exposed most of my pecs and my muscle-stretched skinny black leather jacket.

Then we were confronted by Yuri and I saw why.

To begin with, he was huge. Easily as tall as the brothers, but dark and swarthy, the kind of beard that could never quite be shaved invisible. He looked like George Clooney with muscle. Maybe only a few years older, I could tell he was more massive than the twins (if possible) but that his massivity did not have the same sinuousness as theirs. He was chunky - chunky with the thickness that only mature muscle can bring a guy, heavy with hard, huge muscle.

I felt unsuitably dressed for the Las Vegas climate, but he was wearing practically the same as me (the twins chortled and nudged me when they saw this), except that his was a regular white tee that encased his enormous pecs and accented the huge overhang they provided - and his thick steely nips. The shoulders of the jacket were stretched almost unbelievably wide, like some artist's :vision of muscular perfection. The very small measurements of his waist and hips swept out to the very large measurements of his quads, even though compressed in those second-skin leathers.

Sergei shoved me forward, almost into Yuri, and introduced us. Yuri was wearing the kind of gauntlets you only see in leather-porn movies - widening high up the arm but incredibly thin on the hand. Curiously, he had taken one off, but not off the hand which now challenged my strength as it gripped mine. Vibes raced through me and my immediately swollen dick tried to force its way out of its leather captivity.

He looked down, then slapped at my outrageous package and said:

"He'll do!"

I gasped and would have cum where I stood if he hadn't throw a huge arm around my shoulders and swept me off to the Hummer which awaited us, The two chortling blonde giants followed us. I was shoved into the passenger seat in front while they, snorting away, piled into the back. Throughout the journey Yuri held me down in my seat by crushing my aching and frustrated, leather-covered genitalia in his huge hand. No, I didn't need a safety-belt.

Yuri said nothing the whole way: the twins made up for his silence by conducting a continuous and pornographic running commentary about us both from airport to condo. Yuri flung my meager baggage into "my room", slapped me hard on the ass, and said he'd "see" me later.

The twins fed me with a gallon or so of Yuri's "special" shake - a shake which ahd a kick of its own - and dragged me off to buy clothes. An hour or so later we got home with twice as much baggage as I had brought over from England.

Tees, tanks, cut-offs, casual Summer wear, even a tux. Slinky muscle tops, shoes, you name it they bought it. I had no say in the choice. If only the clerks could have understood their filthy innuendos while they were using me as a male mannequin....

We got back to find my bike had been safely delivered into their car-port and we flopped on the deck. Only now did the journey take its toll and I think all three of us slept away the rest of the day. They told me to be sure to lock my door. I didn't take them seriously.

I should have. It must have been about midnight when I became conscious of another presence in my room. Someone was sitting on my bed and fiddling with my sheet-covered dick. I grabbed at the wrist, found it hairy, so I knew it wasn't a twin.

"Had enough sleep, little leather-boy?" asked a deep and sultry voice, in Russian.


Shit - should've locked the door!

Shouldn't I?

He was wearing nothing but a harness and a cock-ring. I sat up, fast. He stood up. Even in the Nevada moonlight I could see every detail of his magnificence. His shoulders were so broad and his hips and waist so narrow that he almost seemed out of proportion. That is, until you looked at the legs which were like pillars of Hercules, holding the whole massive thing up. A thick ring glinted through his left nip and the cock-ring, glinting too, was a massive metal object which must have weighed a ton.

The mind could only refuse to accept how he could have got that ring over to that massive dick and orange-sized, low-hanging balls. A dick which was now semi-tumescent but gaining girth and height by the second. As I looked at it - and he gave me plenty of time to admire - I could feel my own dragging against the sheet as it thickened and rose.

He put one knee on the bed. Now he was towering over me. His pecs like the cliffs of Dover covered in fine black fur, his dick empowering itself in my face.

"Tonight, welcome. Tomorrow, all different - we work. Tonight we play, OK?"

"OK," I whispered.

"You have good arms, boy. But you want to feel mine?"

He flexed a huge bicep in my face - the sort of bicep I had always dreamed on growing and had never quite made.

"Shit!" I breathed. "Can I feel it?"

"Feel it - kiss it - lick it - whatever you want." And he turned it towards my face. I inhaled his musky, aphrodisiac presence as I gently felt the huge thickness. No hope of two hands meeting around that arm; the triceps were practically as big as my head! I traced the thick vein that was pulsing blood, d\\feeding the great two-headed muscle.

"Go on - kiss it! Lick it!" And his other hand forced my face on to the flexing marble wonder. So fucking hard! I kissed it and practically came. I must have spoasmed for his other hand quickly found its way to my balls and squeezed.

I tilited my chin uo so I could stick my nose into his pit and lick the hard tendons that tied into his bis and pecs. Now he groaned. My tongue followed down on to the gargantuan pec. Along the thick, overhanging cliff edge, until it reached his un-ringed nipple. There I fastened my teeth and gnawed and sucked, longing for some god-like ichor to jet out and transform my own muscle into his massivity, like in the best porn stories..

He shoved my head on to the other pec which I licked from top to bottom, keeping his ringed nip in suspense until my teeth finally gripped it. Once again he moaned, then my face was suddenly forced down into his lap.

"Sorry, Leatherboy - you have such an effect on m me I can't wait any longer!"

And, before I could draw breath, my mouth was full of his aromatic thick dick and there were two fingers up my backside, Now it was my turn to groan. If he was expecting me to take that huge club up my ass without damage, I might find myself back on the 'plane to the UK sooner than expected. Maybe I could satisfy his dick with a good blow-job? Shit, these Russians are so horny!

I glopped hard with my vacuuming lips on to the crown of his swollen fuck-rod, wrapped my eager tongue around the shaft and slowly started to suck the whole magnificence into my greedy throat. Slowly, very slowly he started to fuck my mouth and, slowly, very slowly, I inched him down my throat until I could feel his black bush tickling my nose.

"Shit, you're good! Even the twins can't get it down that far! How well can you take it, leatherboy?"

"Aaarghoongorow" I said, nodding my head.

So he pulled about half of that moinster out, then began to fuck my throat real slow. He began to purr in such a satisfied way that I wondered if he'd ever got it to go so deep before. The purr turned into a roar as he started to get excited, and when he started to get excited he started fucking me faster. Much faster. I had to protect myself by pulling off him and jacking him with both fists, plentifully lubed with his pre-cum and my mouthwash. I put half of it back in and kept one fist at the base of his cock - for insurance. This seemed to remove all inhibition because the pussy-cat roars now became bear-like roars and he was pumping at full speed ahead.

My lips and tongue moved up into overdrive and did a real number on that luscious piece of fuck-meat, lick, slurp, swallow, swish, smoosh, suck, suck harder, squeeze fist even harder, play with huge churning nuts. My own nuts were churning too and when he had jetted a pint or so of his delicious muscle-milk into my guts he threw his whole 330 pounds on top of me and tried to suck some of his milk back out of my mouth. Too late! All swallowed!

In a two-second flash this huge man rolled me on top of him, opened his legs in the air and said "Now you fuck me, little leather boy! Fuck hard! Show me what you got!"

No one could have been more surprised nor relieved than his little leather-boy who had been expecting a trip to the hospital to be sewn together after a hard, oversize fuck.

This beautiful man was so huge that I, not small myself, felt like a kid beside, and especially underneath, him, but my dick gives away prizes to no one; it was ready, willing and steel-hard! I rammed my then inches of sex-meat hard up his ass and was rewarded by a groan of delight.

"Yeah! Give it to me! Make me feel it! Rape this muscle-butt!"

And that's what he got. A rape. I gave him no quarter and pistoned that thing in and out at mach ten speed. I went crazy, yelling and cursing, my whole body spasming as the jizz poured out of me into this huge, handsome Russian bear. I collapsed on top of him. We were both awash with sweat and the full contact felt wonderful. I pulled out of him and started to squirm my dick between his groin and his lower abs.

"Hush, hush! Leatherboy! Hush!"

His arms went around me and held me tight until my spasms and breathing had subsided. He whispered in my ear.

"Tomorrow I start to make you big. We work hard. We make those two work harder. No more fun till you're ready. Then perhaps one night I'll take you to Las Vegas Leather. Very interesting time! You'll see! Now, be a good boy and sleep. Stay still now until you're woken tomorrow."

He meant today I tried to say, but I fell asleep wound in his huge arms.

Next morning he was gone. I never understood how that huge man could get out of the bed without me noticing. Later he told me he went as soon as I fell asleep.

At what seemed like dawn (and was really nine a.m.) The twins trumpeted into my room, pulled off the sheet and fed me breakfast from the huge jugs of protein shake and several giant bottles of pills and capsules they brought with them.

"Two pints of this," said Sergei, " and about fifty of those things!"

Alexei was screwing and unscrewing the multiple bottles and counting out oceans of pills of different sizes and colors and shapes. The first few mouthfuls of shake seemed to give me instant energy, but what was in all that stuff?

"Better not to ask - just take what Yuri tells you. Worked with us, it'll work with you."

"Faster than you can imagine!"

They drank the rest of the shake jugs themselves and counted out their own fifty pills. I fell back on the pillow, thinking I'd never eat again after all that. Alexei patted me on the abs.

"That'll be gone in about ten minutes! Have a shower and we'll meet in the gym in forty-five. OK?"

Forty-five it was. And so the training began.

Yuri was incredible at assessing what the body needed to grow, both in lifting form and in nutrition. Whatever was in all that stuff, it worked. I started packing on muscle faster than in my teens. And all the time Yuri was there stretching me, pummeling me, insisting on me keeping up with my gymnastic exercises, all to make sure that muscle growth didn't conflict with the need to be eternally supple. The muscles were getting real big, but I never got muscle-bound. Neither had the twins: I watched them practicing their act and was astonished at what they could still do in spite of their three hundred pounds.

Those first weeks fled by and no one even considered me going back to the UK - least of all me. After a week a packet of cheque-books appeared on my table: money was being put into a bank for me as promised. None o it got spent and when the three months' trail was up I was astonished at how much was there. The twins and Yuri wouldn't even discuss it. Nor would they let me contribute to the household and all that food. Time enough for that when you're earning with us, they said.

All that time the relationship between the four of us became closer and closer. The bigger I seemed to get, the closer we seemed to bond. There was something about Yuri's discipline ("No sex except on Saturday nights - and no jacking off either!") that strengthened the relationship. I was kind of in love with all three of them, and they seemed to be with me.

I no longer felt like a kid with them all: I had gotten so much muscle on me that, in spite of giving a few inches to them, I looked and felt just as big. I had climbed from To 260 and felt like a million dollars. Apart from anything else, my libido had boomed: I felt so sexed up and yet not frustrated. I guess it was all that muscle work, rope-climbing, trapeze-work, gymnastics, spring-board stuff and just plain lifting.

Even in my best pre-Olympics days I had never felt my libido was contributing to my muscular effort - now it seemed to be urging it on. Yuri was a genius and I could tell he was pleased with me because our vibes got stronger and stronger every day.

In retrospect, Saturday nights were remarkable. Yuri wouldn't let us polarize in any one direction or person on those nights: it still had to be a group effort. I learned the hell of a lot about group sex from those three and, at the same time, my sexual instincts were being honed and refined - some very strange events and couplings were helping to complete my sexual education.

One Saturday night, we did go to Las Vegas Leather. Saturday nights were named "Anything Goes!" and they sure went. Las Vegas Leather is a story I'll tell you another day, but I will just mention that the first night there resulted in the installation of a sling in my part of the condo. Yuri seemed very happy about that.

Then came the day when he decided I was ready to start training for the Act. Up till now it had all been fun, serious fun, but fun. Now it was to be just Serious. Sergei was basically the bearer of the duo, often the receiver. Yuri started me off by teaching me everything that Alexei did as top man; this included all the basic vocabulary of their routine. When I knew his part well enough to cover for him if he ever went sick (he never has) they started me on some of Sergei's stuff which was harder because I was those three inches shorter than Alexei.

All that under the belt, he got me to teach the Twins everything that I ever did in gymnastic contest so, by the end of another two or three weeks, we all knew each other's stuff. The Yuri revealed his master plan for the Trio

It was both frightening and breathtaking. It was also extremely hard for all three of us, especially for the twins who still had to do their four nights a week of their own act.

We booked time in a huge rehearsal space used by the Cirque de Soleil when they were preparing a new show and got down to it. Grueling. Exciting. Stimulating when things went well, disappointing when they didn't. Yuri was the perfect coach: stoking us up when we needed it, knocking us down when we got too enthusiastic. Discipline became our lives. A discipline we all needed, because all of us, even Yuri, were learning new things from each other which had to be honed and perfected.

One Saturday night Yuri broke the rule and he and I made love together. Even the twins were surprised and went out on the town to find something, someone for themselves. After Yuri and I had fucked each other crazy (yes, my new size not only excited Yuri beyond belief but had also made it possible fro me to 'accept' him - with pleasure) he told me he wanted me to spend Sunday, not relaxing, but stretching, stretching and stretching, and running over our new routine in my mind. That's all he would tell me before he sucked me off with his fist up my ass.

That Sunday was VERY quiet - all of us stretching, just going over our routine in the mind while listening to our music, eating well and an early night.

Monday morning breakfast brought the news that we were to show the routine to the management at two o'clock that afternoon. Shit. We looked at each other in silence. We all felt we wanted to bring up our breakfast. Why the fuck hadn't he told us this was going to happen?

"Because you're all children. You would eihter have got over-excited and flunked the next day, or you would have set your minds in stone too soon and fucked up at the demo. This way much better. You are on your toes already! Dress Rehearsal in ten minutes!"

We hated him for it, but he was right. When we finished the demo for the six or seven members of the management, when we had broken our "bow" position, there was complete silence for what seemed like five minutes. Then they turned to each other and started whispering. We sagged looked at each other, and counted the days, weeks, months we had spent changing our lives and getting this ready.

I was lying on the floor, completely exhausted, Alexei and Sergei were almost weeping on each others' shoulders while Yuri did something I had never seen him do - he lit a cigarette. I had begun to think of the misery involved in a return to Manchester when a quiet. French-Canadian voice spoke. The Management had approached us.

"Gentlemen, in all our ten years of experience and experiment we have never seen anything - [here it came] that has so moved and excited us. When can we put it into the show?"

I actually sobbed my guts out there on the floor, the twins roared with laughter, Yuri stamped out his cigarette and shook hands with the Management before he knelt by me and took me in his arms. While the twins were shaking six or seven pairs of management hands Yuri said to me:

"You see? I told you! You see?"

I wept even louder and grabbed him to me. The twins came over, separated us and lifted us both to our feet.

"What do you mean, you told him? We told you from Manchester that we had found something special!"

The lady member of the management came over to me, got out a handkerchief and mopped me up. "Well, you certainly did!" she said. That almost made it worse. This was something I had never done in my life, weep -- not even when I won those medals in Moscow. I took a deep breath, tried to smile and found I couldn't utter a word.

The lady said :"You guys can talk turkey, but I'm taking this young man for a much-needed drink! Come to the office when you're ready."

I almost didn't want to leave them, but she guided me firmly away to the office in the next building. When we both discovered we were both from the North of England, things began to look up and I eventually found my voice. She turned out to be their Press Person, so of course I had to answer a zillion questions. When we got to the Olympics she became extremely excited and helped herself to another gin and tonic. Or whatever. I of course wasn't drinking anything but water.

Eventually I heard jokey men's voices in the next room and it wasn't long before they all invaded her room.

"I was just telling Steve that we need to fix up some photo sessions a.s.a.p. Have you all decided on a date?"

They had decided on a few unannounced dry runs to get us settled in, then she could do her stuff with the Press. And when would that be? As soon as we've got the costume questions settled and the band has had time to rehearse their music. Probably a week from now.

Every day now brought something new - and far more exhausting than rehearsing the act. Photo sessions, rehearsals in the actual venue, band calls, lighting design, costume fittings. That was a laugh: the costume people were more concerned about the capes we would wear for the Parades than about what we'd be wearing underneath - which was practically nothing. "Practically nothing" meant a thong in a shiny black material you would swear was leather, even when fondling each other's packets. As we often did.

This may have been hectic but it brought us all even closer together. That demo was the experience of a lifetime and it filled us with an adrenalin rush that lasted for days. We rehearsed and rehearsed - did NOT have our "Saturday Nights" for a couple of weeks. Then it was "show it to the rest of the cast", then Dress Rehearsal Day, finally First Night. Strangely enough the three of us were as cool as cucumbers; it was poor old Yuri who was throwing up. At least it made us laugh.

Yuri never came anywhere near the dressing-room before a show. He insisted it was "our time". We "oiled" each other up, giving us a lot of sensual excitement, we "adjusted" each other's thongs, we kissed, hugged, mashed our muscles together in a group hug. I could never put out of my mind - and neither should you, dear reader - how much muscle we had between us and how much I had "grown" since being with them. That alone was enough to keep my adrenalin flowing. In the wings we constantly felt each other up, as they had in Manchester, to get keep that rush going.

Then it was time. The Twins went into the wings and I was "elevated" on to one of the bridges that spanned the stage about fifty feet in the air.

Fanfares brought the Twins on to the stage. They were so popular (and so beautiful) that audiences always loved them before they had done a thing. Tonight marked their return after a fairly long absence and the crowd went wild, almost drowning the music.

The capes came off with a flourish, causing the usual number of orgasmic gasps as they revealed their superlative physiques, glowing in the stage lights.

The Act began with a shortened version of their old, amazing routine that never failed to draw unbelieving roars from the audience: muscle-defying lifts and planches, ultra-slow turns, inverting somersaults, all with incredibly slow motion.

They had just reached the point where Alexei was doing a handstand on Sergei's outstretched feet when they were interrupted by a side-drum roll. A huge orchestral crescendo brought me slowly down from the scenery tower, doing ultra-slow turning somersaults on the Roman Rings, twisting and untwisting the ropes as I dropped down, eventually letting go of one rope to grab Alexei's foot, then death-defyingly letting go of the other to seize the other foot.

Sergei was supporting himself vertically on his shoulders, buttressed by his elbows on the floor and his hands on his hips. Slowly, Alexei bent his knees and I planched through the gap created by his hands and Sergei's legs until Sergei was able to reach my ankles. At that point Alexei let go of me, swung his legs under himself until he was able to take hold of my hands.

Then, eternally slowly, Sergei unwound himself and somehow got to his feet at the same time as Alexei and I were both using our abs and hip extensors to straighten up, resulting in a triple handstand, Sergei holding me, and me holding Alexei in one vertical tower. The band let the audience know this part of the trick was completed and they went wild.

There were explosions of sparkling white fireworks accompanying the descent of a trapeze. The twins literally threw me up on to it. They had never done any trapeze work before but I sure had, though not with two three-hundred pound hunks attached to me. Nor had they ever worked in mid-air, but I sure had.

They each hung with one hand from the end of the bar while I went through a dazzling routine of trapeze work. The I went through it all over again, this time with them seemingly doing their usual kind of routine, supported by me. Somehow Yurin had amalgamates our repertory of movement so each depende on the other.

By the time we reached the final part of the act the audience were going crazy.

While I doing an upside down handstand on the trapeze bar, the twins were hanging from the underside. We opened our feet simultaneously making a six pointed star. More applause. More music. More fireworks. As we hung there the ropes with the Roman Rings descended again until they were almost level with my knees.

I put my legs through the rings and let go of the trapeze. As I was lifted a few feet higher, the twins did a slow upward planche until they were both handstanding on the bar. I spread my legs as far as I could without being split in half, curled upwards until I could grasp the ropes. Then I pulled my legs out of the rings and slid my hands down to grab them in the usual way. I did a tricep press to bring the rings tight to my hips.

The trapeze was then raised behind me until the boys were able to dismount on to my shoulders, each with one inside feet on my shoulder and an outside hand on the rope, leaving me holding the whole group together with the strength of my triceps and pecs.

One of those menacing drumrolls, all lights fading except on us, and slowly, slowly I opened my arms until I was in the Iron Cross position, difficult enough to hold on one's own, but with the weight of two huge musclehunks on my shoulders, practically impossible. Just as it looked, and felt, as if I must be ripped apart I did a slow leg raise into a handstand position. The boys grabbed a foot each and planted it on one of their shoulders . A cymbal crash as I let go of the rings and stood high on their shoulders while they took the brunt of our weight and balance. They maintained this by bending at the waist and twisting their legs together - at which point the ropes descended rapidly to ground level.

While we had been aloft the crew had set up various pieces of equipment, a dias, springboard and a few other things. As we landed on the ground to tumultuous applause we fast-forwarded into the last part of the act - the fast part - a dazzling gymnastic display requiring precision and immense strength. I was thrown through the air form one to the other, each throw resulting in some impossible athletic feat from all three of us. It culminated in one of their most famous poses, Alexei on top of Sergei, at which point I did a running jump, bounced high on the springboard and landed in a handstand on Alexei's triumphant, outstretched hands.

We hustled ourselves to our dressing-room, brushing aside all congratulations on the way, and there we found Yuri in tears. He had watched the whole thing on close-circuit and was completely overcome with emotion and nerve-strain. Now it was his turn to weep, and the Twins joined in. I looked at them all in astonishment - these Russians! Then I remembered I was one myself and inserted myself into the streaming group. A group that was very soon clutching at each other in every possible way, desperately in need of some good tough love-making.

Before I joined them I double-locked the door and tore off my leather-jock. My dick, hard and streaming, was the first part of me to appear through the barrier of clutching arms and legs. There was a moment's silence, then with a roar they threw themselves on me, three pairs of hands grabbing at my dick (if they weren't tearing off their own thongs), kissing . Clutching, slapping, throwing me up in the air again from one to the other. Finally, as it was all my fault, gang rape. Knocks and shouts at the door went ignored as steamy fuckpoles shoved in and out of mouths and asses. By now Yuri was magnificently naked too: he was fucking Alexei and Sergei was fucking me. All the time Alexei was deliriously receiving that infamous club, Yuri was pointing at me and yelling "Your's next! You're next!"

"Have him now!" yelled Sergei, once he had cum, and threw me over to Yuri where I was impaled on his studpole in two seconds flat. Alexei and Sergei cuddled and watched, screaming obscene instructions, most of which Yuri carried out.

Eventually we got dressed and presented ourselves, more or less presentable, at the Management Party where we all got extremely drunk. There was no show next day - except at our house where naked lust and very special shakes ruled the day. The poolboy must have been very surprised at some of the things he found in the pool on Monday - not to mention the milky condition of the water.

And so it went on. The show and us. I never did go back to England. We made a fortune all the years we were together so eventual retirement held no worries for us. As we traveled the world beyond Las Vegas, in about fifteen different versions of the show, our family drew closer and closer together. Yuri and I became as close a partnership as the twins were to each other and no one, nothing got in the way of our wonderful menage a quatre. As for ourselves, we never get tired of each other's love and lust and beautiful muscle - the muscle that drew us together still holds us together. It just gets better and bigger, bigger and better.

Hail Eros. •

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