The following story is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to accurately depict, nor reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story by law. This is fiction. Do not forget, in real life, to think about 'sexual safety matter'; got condom?
"Muscle Jocks For Domination" 01 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Hey Rick, do you ever wonder what the reason is why us guys like to be fit?"
"I don't get what you mean, Steve?" Rick replied, questioning his thoughts, as he spotted for him.
"Like, here I am, a successful twenty-five year old, making a good salary, have great hours, friends, security, workout six days a week? I mean, what else is there?"
"Have you ever thought about canoeing, Steve?"
"You still don't get what I mean, do you Rick?"
"Hey, I'm trying to catch on, Steve, believe me."
With Rick's help, Steve replaces the barbell. He sits up, smoothing out his muscle tee, all sweated up from his intense workout.
"You through working out for the day, Rick?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Let's go catch a shower."
Before Steve leaves the gym, he has his gray muscle tee stripped. Rick watches as the perfectly chiseled body leads him into the locker room.
Carding the slot on the gym locker, Steve opens the door. Shedding his sneakers, he places them on the floor of the tall locker. Rick, two lockers down, does the same. Peeling his top, he rolls it up and puts it in his gym bag. Shortly, he peels his socks and shorts, stuffing them in, too.
"Looking good, Rick!" Steve says, with a thumb's up gesture.
For the last two months, since Steve has joined the gym, he's had an idea that Rick might be gay, but not positive. It sure would make it easier, if it came up in their conversation, however Steve hadn't wanted to be the one to bring it out.
"Thanks Steve. I kind of owe it to you."
"Eh, you don't owe me anything, Rick."
"Yeah, well if you hadn't convinced me to go from three to six days, working out, I probably wouldn't have these tight abs!"
Steve could feel his balls churning, as Rick stood there, his thumbs in the elastic of his jock strap, all ready to peel it downwards. Bad enough that Rick's hairy features, a biggy with Steve, painted his body; dark brown hair mid-chest, swirling around his luscious looking nips, the dark, defined trail separating his muscled abs, then as if the trail entered his deep navel, exiting the bottom side, proceeded to his moderately hairy pubes. He had noticed one time, the hairy balls that made his taste buds water. Taking in the sight of Rick's big cock, as the jock's got flicked into his gym bag, became a challenge to Steve, to refrain from getting a raging hardon. At least it took his mind off of Rick's balls. Then, to make matters worse, Steve had to watch Rick walk to the shower, the hairy ass crevice that made him want to dive in and tongue fuck the jock-hole.
"I wonder where Pete is?"
"Yeah, he usually gets here the same time we do, like clockwork."
"Although, Steve, I heard he's under the gun to get the Willoughby project completed by Friday."
"Yeah and like if it's not on Fitzsimmons' desk by two o'clock, Friday, a guy might as well hand in his resignation!"
"That's not the way I hear it."
"Oh? And what do you know that I don't know, Rick?"
"About Trevor Fitzsimmons? Are you kidding, Steve?"
"No, I'm not. Why? Do you think I get all the first hand information around here?"
"No, but being that you've been with the company longer than I have, I figured you should get information before me."
"You tell me what you know, Rick and I'll tell you if I already knew it."
"Well, I actually came by this information from Jack Dunkirk."
"Isn't he the one with the Nomad Account?"
"Yep and I got information from the source, Jack himself, what happened to one of his team members that worked on the merger with Atlas."
"Really?"
Being the only two in the company gym, they could stand there, letting the showers zoom down their bodies, as they chatted away.
"Anthony Bonomolo."
"Wait. I think I know Anthony. Around our age, 5'10, about 170, short cropped beard, big cock?"
"Hee heee.. Yeah, that's him."
"What happened to him?"
"Do you remember a few months back, right after the Nomad merger with Atlas went through?"
"Yes, so?"
"The way I hear it went, from Anthony, is that he was the reason the project got to Fitzsimmons late."
"Hey, wait, Anthony's not on Dunkirk's team anymore."
"You're right. So, do you know what Anthony does now?"
"Wait. How can Anthony have done what he did? He works directly with Fitzsimmons."
"No, that's where you're wrong, Steve."
"Huh? How does that go, Rick?"
"Anthony Bonomolo works `for' Fitzsimmons."
"Now I'm the one mixed up here, Rick."
"I heard it from Anthony that after Dunkirk reported him, that Fitzsimmons gave Anthony an ultimatum."
"I suppose getting fired was one of them?"
"Or.... Servitude to Fitzsimmons."
"Servitude? What's that entail?"
"As I hear it, Anthony gets paid his regular salary, but even though he gets paid an hourly wage, it's more like working on a salaried basis."
"Salaried basis? For hourly pay? That's against the law!"
"Not according to Anthony. As far as he's concerned, it's a good deal. The way he puts it, if he lost his job, plus the benefits and profit sharing he's accumulated, he'd be up to his eyeballs in debt. No, Anthony says things are working out good for him, the way they are."
"So, what did he mean by `salaried' hours?"
"He didn't fill me in on that part."
"Hmm... I see."
"So, what did you want to try to explain to me, Steve?"
"Oh, nothing. Just some wishful thinking and yeah, it might be good if I took up something like canoeing, Rick."
"Let me know if you do, Steve. I might have an interest in it myself."
That night, Steve's balls churned away, as he thought about Rick. He had strange thoughts that he himself could not figure out from where they appeared. He pictured himself in the locker room, Rick dropping his briefs and then shocking, in command, `Get over here and suck me, Steve.' In his dream, he crawled on all fours, till his head was even with Rick's crotch. It was so real, almost as if he felt a hand go to his head and pull it onto the hard shaft, burying his nose in the dark brown hairy bush, the thick cock forced down his throat. Such was the sweat covering his bod, that he woke up. Dragging himself out of bed, he took a cool shower. However, before he cooled down, Steve had to dream on further, as his hand massaged his hard shaft, till he shot his load on the shower wall.
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Continued.....
Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.