My Coach

"Fantasy"

«11»

By Musclebuff

Several peaceful and happy days went by as we caught up. Rod had gone through a hard time financially. He had come out to his parents almost as soon as he got back. They couldnít wait to pack him off to College in distant California, little knowing that, as far as the were concerned, Pornland was the last place they should have sent him. When someone kindly sent them a copy of his first video, they cut off his allowance. Since then he had got by with a little porn work, some personal training and yes, escort work. The porn was fun to do and the guys were great to be with, but the escort work was painful. With his porn mates it was easier to think of being with me than it was with the sad guys who wanted to be "escorted".

His mother sometimes sent him a little money in secret, but most of his income, such as it was, came from the dollars doled out contractually by HotCakes to their "exclusive" models. The contract had looked so inviting at first, but reality bit when the taxes and stuff came off the pay-cheques. It was OK, but not easy.

I was a bit embarrassed when I told him how rich I was and how I had got it all. The last thing I wanted him to feel was that he was a "kept boy".

"Do you want to be a partner in my company and earn some proper dollars?"

"Hell, monster, I donít know anything about computers!"

"No, but you can learn the basics and help me out. Two decorative muscle guys in the office would be nice for the girls!"

"You really think it would work?"

"Better than escort work?" He whacked me for that. "Hey, I mean "partner" - that means dividing the spoils equally between us."

"Youíd do that? Why the hell should you?"

"Why the hell did I come to America in the first place? Could have stayed in the UK and worked for the Government."

He hugged me for that. I told him all he needed to know about my software history and about my muscle career. I didnít tell him how much money heíd find in his bank account once weíd settled the contract. And I didnít tell him that I (we) would soon be selling the business to live on my (our) ill-gotten gains for the rest of my life/our lives.

Meanwhile there was another contract to work out: the second video.

"Oh, hell! Do we really have to do that?"

"Yeah - if we hadnít done the first, we wouldnít be sitting on our own private Malibu Beach right now. Anyway, youíll enjoy it - itís a fantasy all about us and weíre the only actors."

"OK, I guess - but youíll have to drag it out of me!"

"What does that mean?"

"Come here!"

A few days later, Thor Stephens arrived for lunch to check the locale for the movie - my pool. Rod and I had been working out hard to make sure that every cut was clear and every muscle belly was full. It was like preparing for a contest, only this time his experience had to show me the way. Heís worked with Thor before and liked him, so everything was set fair by the time Mike Z arrived. While the camera crew set up round the pool and on the beach, Thor went through the script with us. The opening shots which established the fantasy were crucial: marks had to be met so that the superimposition could be done in the lab later.

Steve Scarborough knew Today was the Day for #2 when he called to say Mr HotCakes had rushed the editing and printing through; he had put ads for the leather scene out on the website as soon as he could and already they had received more than two thousand orders for "Leather". Good start.

Rod and I went into the house to get ready - which in his case meant changing into a very skimpy red thong, and, in mine, to stripping everything off. Then it began.

* * * * * * * * *

The afternoon looks good: scudding clouds in a blue sky, reflected in the big pool. There is a shimmer in the atmosphere and a huge mirror materializes at one end of the pool. It reflects the sea beyond the pool.

A violet-blue light ball appears in the mirror, growing until it fills the silver frame at which point it shatters silently, revealing the silhouette of a huge muscle-god. He steps through the frame, out into the afternoon sun. He lifts his arms to the sun and his whole magnificent torso ripples. The arms come down slowly into a double bicep pose and the muscles crest and split . The abs are hard, regular, divided in to four distinct ridges - maybe five. The gigantic lats spread as he puts his hands on his waist and turns to look at his reflection in the mirror.

No one has ever seen a back like this, rising from the tiny waist to the huge, wide shoulders that bulge as they flex.

Crossfade to a monstrous semi-tumescent cock, the huge mushroom head purple with desire and copiously dripping with precum. The camera travels lovingly up over the whole superb torso until it reaches the musclegodís face. The square jaw and dimpled chin are supported on a long, bull-thick neck, the mouth is generous and sensual. The nose straight and patrician and the eyes - as the camera reaches those deep green eyes a flash beams from them;

Crossfade to him raising his hands high above his head - a stream of red-gold oil pours out of the sky on to his mighty, swelling pecs. He begins to massage it slowly [the whole introductory sequence is filmed dreamily in slo-mo] into the striated, incredibly full pecs.

The picture begins to double-focus [action filmed twice and superimposed slightly later so that every shot seems to be an echo of itself] and another pair of arms come from the mirror to worship these bulging, flexing muscles and to massage the oil into every thick, steep muscular crevice.

The hero leans back against the mirror with his hands behind his head and the other hands begin to oil his quads, then between his thighs from behind, then round the outside of his arcing side leg muscles and on to his dick. One hand grabs the balls, the other tries unsuccessfully to encompass the great, veined shaft. One of the heroís hands descends slowly to help and the massive member rises and rises until it reaches the nipples.

The hands run up to grasp his pecs as he performs a mighty Most Muscular, designed to show how thick is each set of muscles, climaxing in the unbelievable traps that shoot over his unbelievable delts.

He turns back to the mirror - the other hands disappear - and he jerks himself to an explosion of gism - spasm after spasm after spasm. As the wadload reaches the mirror a wave explodes in the mirror engulfing the huge guy and filling the frame.

The water spirals vertically and the image transports the Hero to the golden sands of the beach. The wave recedes to lap round his feet as he looks out to sea for his lover. He stands there, magnificent, shining with oil and sweat, his great pecs forced to balloon out by the arms he has crossed under his rib-cage, just high enough to see the rope-thick eight-pack, flexing and contracting in expectation. His giant cleft biceps are forced upward by the pecs, as are his huge, striated delts. One foot stand on a rock, making the quads on that leg stretch and bunch, as do the calves beneath. As his full weight now rests on the other leg, the muscles, particularly the tear-drop and gracilis, bulge mightily with their bulky cuts.

Inside the inner quads and hams, and below the hairless abs, between the perfect orange-sized balls, hangs the huge cock, almost down to his knee, though the root has thickened in anticipation, causing the dick to curve dangerously out from the point where his obliques seem to reach down to grab his genitals with hungry arms.

There is a violet flash near the horizon and the Seagod is seen to rise slowly from the waves. He moves slowly towards the beach. After a few yards he fades away and we see a closeup of the Heroís dick pulsing with expectant desire; it is already beginning to thicken and rise. The shot gives way to the re-appearance of the Seagod, considerably nearer. Again he disappears and re-appears - each time closer - time-stopped. Each time the Heroís dick is seen to rise and rise until the moment when the Seagod finally stops about ten feet from the hero when it whangs up hard into the deep cleft between his lower pecs. He opens his hand to reach out invitingly to the Seagod. Till now we have never seen the Seagod below the hips, now, as he moves forward we can see he wears a shining red bikini thong which the water has caused to soak and mold itself round the golden fuckrod.

He is almost as big as the Hero, about two inches shorter and twenty pounds lighter, but, like the Hero, his proportions are incredibly beautiful, every muscle striated and delineated, carved into his magnificent frame. He is arguably even more handsome than the Hero, with his dark curls falling, David-like, to the back of his proud shoulders. The sun glitters in the water pouring down his pecs and cascading slowly over his abs. His lips open in a devastating smile as he moves close, very close to the Hero. As their nipples are an inch away from each other, about to make contact, tiny violet-blue flashes of lightening flash from those niples until contact is made.

When it is made, both of them are enveloped in a vortex of violet light, moving at enormous speed. Their arms go round each other and they kiss, long and deep. As every muscle responds to every muscle , the film-speed increases until a crash of lightening, wave-sound and violet light explodes. Suddenly all is silent.

Then the Seagod says (in a deep, reverb-added voice): Strip!

The Hero replies, I am stripped!

Seagod: Strip me!

He turns his back and the Hero traces the path of the seawater as it runs from Seagodís hair, down the huge cleft in his traps - he kneels slowly [back to previous slo-mo] and buries his face between the round mountains of Seagodís huge, hard, ridged glutes . He takes the thong between his teeth and drags it down below the glutes. He puts his hands on Seagodís hips and turns him. He smiles up at Seagod, licks the water still running down the cascade-path of his abs, takes as much of the red silk-covered dick in his mouth as he can and chews.

Close-up of Seagodís ecstatic face, thrown back to the sky.

Hero drags the lycra down and the giant fuckpole is released with a twang. The thong dematerializes as Hero takes the uncut cock into his mouth.

Suddenly a wave breaks over them, drenching the muscles once again with running water. The foam swirling about their feet transforms into a huge, thick, foam-white blanket.

Double-exposure allows one Seagod to fall back on to the blanket while the other is still being blown by Hero. But an exposure of Hero roses up and falls on top of Seagod onn the blanket. The two ghosts are standing, kissing as they fade away.

As they fade, the picture goes color-neg, violet and red, shivers and resolves into natural color. A midshot of the two, Hero on top, kissing. Black curls mingling with bronze-gold curls. Hero kneels up and pulls Seagodís head up so he can suck the Heroís dick. Somehow all that monstrous shaft goes right down Seagodís throat which manages to accept Heroís manic throat-fuck without problem - all the time looking up into Heroís eyes.

Hero leans back on Seagodís raised knees and allows him to suck his balls while digging a strong finger up Heroís hole. He knows exactly what to do with Heroís joy-button. Eventually Hero can take no more of this extreme pleasure and moves beside Seagod.

Lying on their sides they kiss and kiss and kiss, fondle, stroke, squeeze, knead, until Hero takes Seagodís long, thick uncut dick into his mouth and gives him a blow-job such as no mortal has ever enjoyed. How he loves the feeling of that man-god sausage in his moth and down his throat. With delight he sucks under the foreskin until the swollen crown is forced to burst out and fills his mouth with god-flesh. All the while Seagod thrashes against Heroís body, giving a superbly erotic display of flexing and writhing muscle.

A long close-up of Heroís butt in Seagodís face, Seagodís steely tongue fucking Heroís hole while Hero jerks on Seagodís dick.

Suddenly Seagod pushes Hero on to his back and lowers himself onto Heroís giant and pulsing dick. He throws his head back in ecstacy as the huge fuckrod finds its way to the depths of his being. How he rides that stallion! Flexing his great quads he squats up and down, ramming his butt down at the end of every stroke. He cries out to the Gods as Hero starts twisting the Seagod nips, causing him to increase the speed of his self-fuck to that of a road-rammer.

Hero holdís Seagodís butt apart as Seagod bends down to mash his kiss against Heroís ecstatically open mouth. Their eyes never close on each other as they kiss and chew each otherís lips, finally sinking tongues together in the sweet dark depths on their souls.

Hero sits up, Seagod astride his quads - their pecs once again let off flashes of purple fire as they connect. The feel of huge oiled muscle against huge oiled muscle is beyond sensuality and, finally, Hero pushes Seagod back, still holding his legs over his mighty delts and, wham! In goes the Heroís pulsing dick in one strong stroke to the root of its balls and pubes. Seagod is forced to let out a cry of fully satisfied amazement as he receives the full impact of his loverís demanding, giant fuckpole .

Hero is too far gone to be gentle - so far he has only fucked his lover passively, now he takes command as his dick punishes and masters the Seagodís fuck-chute. In the shooting, the fuck went on for ever - at least fifteen minutes - with both muscle gods becoming more and more manic in their intense desire for each other. In the final cut there are many beautiful dissolves from close-ups of the extreme fuck to shots of both menís ecstatic reactions, to precum dribbling out of Seagodís hole around Heroís ramming dick, to two god-mouths kissing, oblivious to the seafoam crashing around them (like From Here to Eternity) and the supremely final moment when Hero roars as he cums inside Seagodís butt, after which he sucks as much as he can out off the foaming hole and transfers it into Seagodís own mouth.

They swirl it around each otherís tongues, then Seagod swallows hard. This seems to empower him - he stands, his muscles visibly swelling, flexing, vasculating as he stands over his spent lover, lying there with cum still dripping out of his still-tumescent dick. (This is the very first time that the morphing effect of Coachís DragonJuice has been seen on screen. It is amazing.)

Seagod gathers this up as he squeezes Heroís dick unmercifully, then lubes his own

unsatisfied dick. In close-up, his balls look huge as they churn with unspent muscle-juice and Hero grins as he watches Seagodís dick spontaneously whanging itself up against his abs .

Seagod throws himself upon Hero, and the two engage in a violent, oily wrestle, both of them seizing every chance of grabbing each otherís equipment. Muscle pounds against muscle, the lighter wrestler succeeding in nearly every hold with the lithe sensuality of his movements. Finally he sits on Heroís waist and both men enjoy grasping each otherís pumped-up pecs. The match has got them both panting, their muscles heaving with the forced activity.

Seagod takes Hero unawares, rolls onto his back, pulling Hero up as he does so then, with an amazing flip of his torso, he holds Hero in an arching Boston crab above him, rolls over again so that Heroís chest is against the floor and Seagod squats above him. Seagod reaches down and pulls Heroís long dick backwards between his legs and starts to jerk it hard. Hero cries out for release but now he is at Seagodís mercy. He is flipped again - now Seagod is on his back and again Hero arches above him, supported by his own hands on each side of Seagodís delts. Seagod reaches a hand around him and seizes the big guyís dick again; the other hand is rammed - all five digits - up Heroís fuck-hole.

After a few vicious fist strokes, Seagod climbs out from under, pulls Heroís legs over his shoulders, throws his hands down in a push-up position on each side of Heroís head, and mashes his dick into Heroís depths which he ram-rods unmercifully. All the muscles in both guyís bodies are fully stretched, flexed and tense in the exercise of fucking and being fucked. Master is now the slave, and Seagod really enjoys exploiting his sexual superiority as he fucks his lover into heaven.

He pulls out, whangs his potent, cum-laden dick several times over Heroís face, covering it with precum while Hero is jerking himself off with massive force. Seagod leans back, shoves his whole fist right up Heroís ass which signals both guys to a simultaneous ejaculation - a massive fountain of cum splashing down on Heroís abs and chest. [Zenís four camera treatment of this moment is unsurpassed - the fountain of muscle-cum-juice, seen from four angles, seems to be impossibly massive and non-ending.]

Seagod laps up all the cum he can manage in one mouthful and spews it into Heroís mouth and face. A lot goes onto the face where Seagodís further collection with his tongue develops into the soul-kiss of all time as both gods seize each other and roll around in a massively passionate embrace.

As the camera pulls out from its high shot, both guys are locked in their embrace with the surf pounding around them once again. Eventually they are seen to be framed in the mirror we started with. A big wave crashes against the glass and the heros fade from view. As the water subsides the END title comes up and we are all washed in our own cum as a result. •


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