Dean Around The World

[Glimey]

Part 1: Tokyo

Another city, another hotel room. After 15 years in the business, hosting his 4th travel TV show, Dean had seen too many hotels. And they all blurred together. Didn’t matter if you were in Madrid, Martinique, or Michigan — they were all the same, from the bland carpet to the scratchy comforters to the actually-not-bad bathroom lighting. The same room every time, with the same result: Dean sleeping alone.

Not that he never had company. A man like Dean could get some if he wanted. His chiseled TV-star face, his just-going-grey tousled hair. The arms bulging against the unbranded T-shirts that had inspired many a GIF to be shared by the gay corners of the internet. In fact, in certain cities Dean’s hotel room could have been better served with a revolving door installed.

Sometimes, he’d be interviewing a woman about the nightlife in her city or her unique business or whatever brought Dean and his camera crew to town, and he’d catch a look in her eyes. Always the same look. Unmistakable.

After the shoot, he’d only have to nudge his producer and director Kyle, who’d slip the woman Dean’s hotel room info. If that didn’t work — and he still wanted something more than a quick jerkoff — he’d usually find a prospect within minutes of walking into the hotel bar. Even in countries where no one recognized him, he had the kind of stature that turned heads of any gender, any sexuality.

The latest episode was set in Tokyo, the second time Dean had shot a show in the city. The first time was for his first series, Man About Town, most notable in Dean’s memory for its horrifically small budget. The producers hadn’t even given him his own room — the crew all bunked together in a hostel in Shibuya; four adult men sharing a dorm room with two random college boys who were backpacking their way across the country. Dean was in his late 20s then, so he didn’t mind it as much as he would now, but he still found it a bit unseemly. His first big job as the host of his very own travel show, and he couldn’t so much as jerk off without the whole crew knowing it.

So he was glad to be back in Japan, 15 years later, with a bigger show and the budget to match it. Sitting at the rooftop bar of his luxury hotel overlooking the flashing lights of the city below, Dean poured the rest of his Japanese whisky down his throat and lifted the empty glass to signal to the bartender for another. Next to him, his collaborator Kyle did the same. The two men had worked together for over a decade, and you could see their closeness in the way they carried themselves. But where Dean was dark, swarthy, and muscular — the consummate masculine TV presenter — Kyle was handsome in a different way: a little softer, a little nicer-looking. More approachable. His blonde, tousled, straight-from-Southern-California hair had miraculously escaped any bit of grey still, so despite the laugh-wrinkles around his eyes and the slight, relatively new paunch to his stomach, Kyle was often taken to be much younger than Dean.

“So far so good, huh?” Dean grunted.

“You’re killing it,” Kyle said. “But tomorrow’s the hardest day. Do I need to remind you to take it easy tonight?”

The bartender poured a finger of whisky into each empty glass. Dean tapped his finger against the rim and raised an eyebrow at the bartender, who tipped the bottle back down and doubled the pour. “I know, I know. The sumo bullshit tomorrow,” Dean muttered into his glass.

“You’ve gotta do it,” Kyle said. “All the other shows go to the tiny bars, the cat cafes, all that shit. But only one show has you, ass out for the cameras, wrestling a man twice your size. Something for the girls and the gays.”

“You know,” Dean said, rotating his body on the stool to face Kyle more directly, “Sometimes I wonder if you plan this shit for the ratings, or just for you.”

Kyle’s cheeks tinged red, and he paused to weigh possible responses, like testing the sharpness of the knives in a drawer. “If I wanted to get my rocks off to you, Dean, your dick pics aren’t hard to find.”

A single corner of Dean’s mouth raised, in either a smile or a grimace or both. “Low blow, my friend,” he said. “I come from a time before catfishing. How was I supposed to know the game has changed?”

Kyle was spared a further rehashing of the Dean Dick Pic Leak of 2017 by the entrance of a trim Japanese man in a suit and tie. Hair neatly slicked, tortoiseshell glasses. As he approached the men at the bar, Dean couldn’t help but notice his wedding ring. Dean gave Kyle a smirk. “The guy from the onsen? Really?”

“He looked good in a towel,” Kyle said, shrugging. “And his wife’s on vacation.”

“Your specialty,” Dean muttered. The man arrived at the bar, and Dean quickly slugged down the rest of his whisky. Standing up, he clapped his large hands on both men’s shoulders, growled a quick, “Oyasuminasai” — butchering the pronunciation, as he always did in every country, part of why his audience trusted him — and left the bar.



Less than 10 minutes later, Dean was on his hotel bed, phone in one hand, cock in the other. He stroked with his right hand, while his left thumb tapped between porn videos. His dick — cut, and so thick you noticed it no matter what kind of pants Dean had on — alternately swelled and slackened between its full 8 inches to a half-hard 6 as he distractedly tried to find a video he hadn’t seen before, one that could really get him going.

He hit play on a video — an old favorite, an amateur college girl getting fucked raw by her roommate’s boyfriend — and his cockhead swelled thick and round, the way it always got when he hadn’t cum in over 24 hours. He spit in his palm and slid his fist along his shaft, slowly, teasing himself, ready to enjoy it. The woman in the video moaned, and he worked his hand harder and faster, half-watching the video, half-watching himself. He loved looking down at his body, his abs flexing and unflexing as he thrust into his own hand.

The moaning in the video seemed to get louder and deeper, and Dean’s forearm flexed, the veins getting more pronounced, as he worked his cock with more intensity. He squeezed and released his ass, working his hips up and down, fucking his hand. Sweat beaded around his belly button.

“Ohhh fuck me,” he heard, through the wall, and his hand froze around his dick. He closed the video, put his phone down, and slid his ass backwards until he was sitting up against the headboard. He pressed his ear to the wall.

“Unnnhh, yes, fuck my hole, man.” Unmistakably Kyle.

Dean let out a quick, quiet laugh, but kept his ear pressed against the wall. He could make out a rhythmic creaking and, faintly, the sounds of breathing. Less than a foot away, separated by an inch-thick wall at most, his friend and longtime director was getting the hell pounded out of his ass.

Dean’s dick, still wrapped in his fingers, throbbed. The saliva had gone sticky, so he spit in his hand and, cautiously, as if not to alarm it, resumed stroking his cock. Kyle’s voice was strained, at a higher register than Dean had ever heard it, sounding almost, maybe, if you pretended, kind of like a woman. Dean gripped his dick tighter, and a drop of precum beaded at the tip.

Kyle’s moaning picked up on the other side of the wall, as if he knew he had an audience. “You like my hole?” he panted. “Fuck yes,” Dean heard the man grunt in reply.

Dean pressed his ear against the wall so hard it could have left a dent. He could hear the throbbing of his own heart, and, just barely, the sound of skin slapping against skin. A sound he knew well from fucking women around the globe, but now, he was aware, this was the sound of a man’s thighs pounding against the ass of another man. He stroked his cock up and down, matching the rhythm.

“Oh, fuck yeah, fuck me harder, dude, I’m getting close,” Kyle moaned, louder now, sounding as if his face were pressed against the wall, as if he were moaning right into Dean’s ear.

“Yes, yes, yes, cum in me!” Kyle shouted. Dean gripped his cock tighter, thrusting the head up and down through his palm, using the gobs of precum now pouring out as lube. His left hand, gripping the base of his shaft, started drifting lower, as if it had a mind of its own. Past his balls, until his fingertips rested against the tight knot he knew was his hole. Uncharted territory.

“Oh fuck, keep fucking me, I’m going to shoot,” Kyle moaned, in a tone Dean had never heard before. Hungry. “Fuck fuck fuck, here I fucking cum-ohhhh,” he said, devolving from words into pure moans.

“Fuuuck,” Dean grunted, thrusting harder into his fist, his balls tightening beneath his hand as a load of cum spurt from his dick onto his stomach. Cum sprayed in the air, huge loads splattering across Dean’s stomach, soaking the hair on his pecs. Some reached his mouth mid-moan. He grunted and shuddered as his orgasm continued, tasting the salt of his own cum, the fingertips of his left hand feeling his hole pulse with each shot.

As the last drops of cum flowed from his cock, dripping down over his fingers, he let out a final sigh of pleasure and sank deeper into the pillows. The room behind the wall had gone silent, and Dean soaked up the last rays of pleasure before the shame arrived, looking down at the hair on his chest and stomach matted and tangled with his sweat and cum.

Slowly, he got to his feet and made his way to the massive shower attached to his room. He stood beneath the water, lathering his body over and over again to get his body clean, to wash away the evidence of what had happened, to erase this particular orgasm from his personal history.

Dean stood in the shower, looking down along his body, watching the rivulets of water slide down his pecs, across his stomach, finally passing down the length of his cock, hanging heavy and still-swollen between his thighs, streaming off the tip of the pink head, and spiraling down the drain.

 

[George_Pantelis]

Great start

 

[Glimey]

Part 2: Tokyo

Dean had never been more aware of his own ass. Wearing only the mawashi, the thick sumo loincloth, and with two cameras pointing at him, he couldn’t help but wonder if these things could look flattering on anyone.

The actual wrestling was more for show than anything, the retired sumo wrestler casually tossing and slapping Dean around the mat, clearly enjoying embarrassing the foreigner in front of his TV crew. Dean, in the anxiety of getting ready that morning, had managed to convince himself that he’d be able to hold his own — he’d wrestled in college, after all, and could still out-squat most younger guys he saw at the gym. But that was before he came face-to-face with a 300-pound sumo wrestler. Now, the only goal was to minimize embarrassment on national television.

Kyle, of course, was loving it. The more Dean struggled (and the sweatier he got), the more he loved it. Dean’s on-screen persona was always the straight man, in every sense of the phrase: a bit stiff, rarely the one making the jokes, and usually in control of any situation. Seeing him bareass, sweaty, struggling to wrap his arms around a slippery man — this was sure to go viral. And of course Kyle was loving it for other, less innocent, reasons.

After Dean lost a third time, Kyle called the scene, and handed Dean a towel. He bowed to the sumo wrestler, who couldn’t keep a smirk off his face, and then Dean turned to head to the locker rooms. Kyle followed him in.

“We got some amazing stuff from that,” Kyle said, as the door swung shut behind them.

“I fucking hope so,” Dean growled. He wrapped the towel around his waist, holding it closed with one hand, while his other hand worked beneath the towel, trying to undo the mawashi without exposing Dean to his longtime creative partner. “Tell me again why I have to do shit like this, while all the other hosts get to drink cocktails and stare at thongs in Rio? Fuck, how did they put this thing on me again?” he said, struggling beneath his towel.

“Because those shows are all boring as fuck. There’s a reason you win the awards, and if you want them to keep coming in, we’re not going to switch to that ‘Top 10 Beach Bar’ bullshit,” Kyle replied, watching Dean squirm in his towel. “Now, do you want me to help you with that?”

Dean looked at Kyle, raising an eyebrow. A smirk formed at the corner of his lips. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?” Before Kyle could come back with a snappy remark, Dean dropped the towel to the locker room floor and gestured to the cloth wrapped around his waist and crotch. “Have at it.”

Kyle stepped closer to Dean and reached behind him, untucking the end of the cloth from where it had been tucked alongside his waist before the fight. Reaching his other arm around Dean’s waist, he passed the cloth from hand to hand, unwrapping it from Dean’s body. After so many years working together, traveling the world, spending endless hours in cramped quarters, they were closer than coworkers, closer even than best friends. But the fact remained that Kyle was gay and Dean was not, and every once in a while the tension reared its head in the room between the two of them. Like when Kyle found himself inches away from Dean’s sweat-slicked abs, unwrapping the final end of a cloth, to reveal Dean’s cock and balls swinging just next to Kyle’s hand. They had seen each other naked plenty of times, but Kyle couldn’t help but admire Dean’s cock. It hung thick and heavy, the balls pulled tight still from Dean’s wrestling workout, making the dick look even bigger. The trimmed bush glistened with sweat. Kyle caught the aroma of musk, and felt his own dick swell.

Dean coughed and Kyle looked up at him. Dean was smirking down at his friend, and scratched his pubes for a moment, causing his package to shake, showing off its weight. As close as they were, and as much as Kyle loved to fuck with Dean when planning their shoots, Dean knew all he had to do was find an excuse to get his clothes off in front of his old friend and he’d suddenly have the upper hand again. He let Kyle soak up the sight of his thick, hairy body for a few seconds, before bending over to pick up the towel and wrapping it around his waist. Kyle couldn’t be sure, but the imprint of Dean’s dick against the towel looked semi-swollen.

“So, what’s next on the schedule?” Dean asked, moving towards the shower. “Let me guess: you’ve arranged for me to fight the yakuza to the death.”

“Come on, I’m not that evil,” Kyle said, averting his eyes as Dean removed his towel and stepped into a shower stall — he didn’t want to be that gay guy, staring at his naked straight friend every chance he got. “You’re actually going to get a massage.”

Dean stuck his head out of the shower stall. “For real?”

Kyle nodded. “Yep. You’ve earned it.”

The locker room door opened and Harry, the associate producer on the shoot, stepped into the room. “Hey, Kyle, just checking on our ETD.” Harry was new to the crew this season, and still fairly new to the business. He was shorter than the rest of the guys — probably 5’7” — but Kyle had to admit he was cute. Brown hair, unbelievably blue eyes, and a round ass you couldn’t help but notice. He still hadn’t opened up to anyone on the crew yet, and seemed to be pretty shy, but Kyle had some ideas about him.

“He’s almost done, Harry. And, actually, I’m going to take this next scene off. I need a rest. You can handle running things, though, I’m sure.”

Harry looked alarmed. “Really? I mean, uh…”

Kyle smiled. “Come on, now. Dean’s going to be face-down on a table. Just make sure Fernando keeps the camera pointed at him and hits the ‘record’ button. You can handle it.” He wanted to give Harry a confidence boost, as well as some experience leading a shoot, but he had also booked himself a massage of his own. It was their last day in Tokyo, and Kyle didn’t want to miss out on a last bit of fun.

Dean poked his head out of the shower stall again, shampoo in his hair, and grinned at Harry. “The boss man’s leaving us without a leader? We’ll figure it out together, kid.”

 

[Glimey]

Part 3: Tokyo

Dean, Harry, and Fernando packed into a small massage room overlooking the busy Shibuya intersection. Dean was once again wrapped in a towel, wondering just how many excuses Kyle would come up with to get him practically naked on camera. Sometimes, Kyle’s teasing could go too far, and Dean was starting to go from playfully annoyed to actually annoyed. He’d have to talk to him later.

Fernando, the cameraman on Dean’s last two series, was still nursing a hangover, as usual. The resident partyboy of the crew, Fernando was in his late 20s and built of solidly lean muscle. It irritated Dean how much the kid could drink without putting on so much as an ounce of fat, but he also spent his workdays lugging heavy equipment around the world while Dean ate, drank, and got pampered, so he couldn’t exactly complain.

Harry was anxious without Kyle around to lead the shoot. It would be his first time directing a scene, on top of his regular duties holding the boom mic — being on such a small crew meant doing double-duty more often than not. He just hoped it would be as easy as Kyle made it seem. The three men — two clothed, one not — shifted uncomfortably in the tight quarters, waiting for the masseuse to enter.

The door slid open, and a Japanese woman entered. She looked to be somewhere in her early 20s, with long hair draped past her shoulders. She wore a revealingly small skirt and a tight top, and Dean couldn’t tell if she always looked this good or if she got especially made up for the camera. Either way, he decided not to be annoyed with Kyle anymore. Until he noticed the tray she pushed into the room, which was covered in slender needles.

“Oh, fuck. I should have known,” Dean groaned.

“This is Akiko,” Harry said, lifting up the boom mic and positioning it over the table as Fernando shouldered his camera and hit record. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

“If it does, Harry, it’s your ass,” Dean said as he laid down on the massage table, positioning his towel to make sure he was still covered. “Have at me, Akiko.”

Akiko smiled and moved into position over Dean. “It won’t hurt,” she said in English, grabbing a couple needles from the tray. “Just relax, please.”

She inserted the needles into Dean’s bicep, feeling along his arm with her free hand, searching for the next place to place a needle. As she progressed, moving up his arm, across his chest, and down to his legs, Dean was surprised to find it didn’t hurt at all. He knew he should be doing the TV host thing — narrating, describing what was happening, joking with Akiko or his crew, anything other than laying here — but he found himself relaxing into the experience. Let Kyle figure out what to do with this silent footage later, Dean thought.


Up in Shinjuku, the shoot was the last thing on Kyle’s mind, as he lay naked, face-down on a massage table, his ass hidden by a small towel. The masseur — young, enormous with muscle, wearing nothing but a white pair of shorts riding up his massive thighs — pressed his fingers into Kyle’s back, finding knots and working them loose as he slowly made his way down towards his ass.

The masseur’s fingers kept going, past Kyle’s waistline, kneading across the top of his glutes, pulling the towel down a couple inches. The masseur moved to the side of the table, and Kyle spread his legs wider as the masseur rolled and rubbed his hands across the tops of his cheeks. A finger or two slid into the crack, but slipped back out so quickly Kyle wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not. He felt his cock growing harder against the massage table, and lifted his hips for a second to let it reposition itself so it was pressed up against his stomach.

Moving down the table, the masseur worked Kyle’s thighs, rubbing up and down, working closer and closer to the bottom edge of the towel. Kyle spread his legs wider, giving the masseur a not-so-subtle hint, and was rewarded by the feeling of oily hands sliding under the towel and working Kyle’s inner thighs. Fingertips caressed the sides of Kyle’s balls, and a small moan escaped his lips.

The masseur removed the towel and climbed onto the table, using his knees to spread Kyle’s legs even wider. His hands pressed and squeezed Kyle’s ass, opening it so wide he knew his hole had to be exposed. The masseur’s hands worked their way up Kyle’s back, kneeling over Kyle’s body as he stretched up to reach his shoulders. Kyle felt something hard press against his ass for just a moment, as the masseur moved back down to work his inner thigh.

Kyle was rock hard now, his cock squeezed between him and the table, so he raised his hips up a bit, and the masseur took hold of his glutes, squeezing them while using his thumbs to tease Kyle’s hole. Kyle shivered with pleasure and moaned, “Oh yes,” as the masseur slid a single, lubed-up finger into his ass. Kyle pressed backwards into it, feeling the finger slide deeper into his hole. The masseur removed his finger and got back on the floor, moving to the head of the table.

He pressed his hands deeply into Kyle’s shoulders and arms, seeking out knots and working them loose. Kyle lifted his head up and discovered, at eye level, the masseur’s cock bulging against the fabric of his shorts. It was thick — so thick Kyle wasn’t sure he could handle it — and he could tell through the tight, thin shorts that it was uncut. It throbbed slightly with the masseur’s heartbeat, and as he leaned forward to knead harder into Kyle’s back, the cock pressed up close to Kyle’s face. He opened his mouth and let the still-covered head rest against his widening lips.


Dean’s arms and upper chest were completely covered in acupuncture needles, and Akiko had moved to work on his thighs. She slid her free hand along his leg, feeling her way up to the edge of his towel, gently placing needles in his muscles as she went. The closer her fingers got to reaching beneath the towel, the more Dean became aware of the camera pointed at him, and the two men in the room. He felt his cock move.

Not now, he thought. Not on camera! But thinking about his dick only made it more alert, and no matter what he did, his cock continued to swell and rise. He glanced down across his body and saw a growing bulge beneath his towel. It didn’t look like Akiko had noticed.

Harry, however, had noticed. He swallowed, hard, and couldn’t take his eyes off the shape forming under Dean’s towel. He’d seen the dick pics that leaked online, of course, but as the newest crew member he had yet to find himself in one of the intimate situations that always arise when you’re on the road for a long time. And now Dean lay there, completely trapped, no more than two feet away from Harry, with an obvious erection growing by the second. Fernando had also noticed it, based on his glances over at Harry. Oh fuck, Harry remembered, I’m supposed to be in charge here. He knew Kyle liked to tease Dean — and he certainly was enjoying the show — but he knew any footage with the host’s full boner practically exposed would be useless.

“I think that’s all the needles we needed for the shot, Akiko, thank you!” Harry said, and Dean looked over at him gratefully. “Mind giving us some privacy?”

Akiko looked up from her work and her eyes grazed across the throbbing lump beneath Dean’s towel. She looked at Harry and smiled — was it knowingly? — and he blushed. “Of course,” she said. “He must stay still and relax for 15 minutes, and then I’ll remove them.” And she hurried out the door.

Fernando cut filming and lowered the camera, letting out a quick breath that may have been a suppressed laugh. Dean looked at Harry and smiled. “Thanks for that. This is, uh, a bit of a strange one,” he said. He started to laugh, and as his body shook with laughter, his towel fell open and his cock — pointing towards the ceiling, the head a swollen dark pink, standing hard out of a thick mat of pubes — was revealed to the two crew members.

 

[George_Pantelis]

Loving it mate

 

[miamirt]

Great so far!!

 

[joekramer202]

very hot story dude! keep it coming!!

 

[phillipeantony]

Great premise! Great writing! Can’t wait for more

 

[Glimey]

Part 4: Tokyo

Kyle pulled at the waistband of the masseur’s shorts and was hit in the face with his cock springing free. He eagerly wrapped his mouth around it, pulling the foreskin back and working his tongue around the glistening head. The masseur moaned and his muscled thighs quivered with pleasure. He leaned forward and rubbed his hands down the length of Kyle’s back.

As the masseur thrust his cock deep into Kyle’s throat, Kyle arched his back, lifting his round ass covered in blonde fuzz, up the air. The masseur’s fingers stretched along his crack, teasing his hole. Kyle wrapped his hands around the masseur’s shaft, stroking it as it came in and out of his mouth, slick with precum and sweat and drool. The masseur moaned and plunged an oil-slicked finger into Kyle’s ass, grabbing the back of Kyle’s head with his other hand, to thrust harder into his throat.

Kyle moaned with pleasure around the thick cock filling his mouth. He relaxed his hole around the finger and felt a second finger slip in, quickly followed by a third. He wrapped both his hands around the masseur’s cock, stroking it while his tongue worked around the head. Kyle looked up and soaked in the vision of the beefy masseur bent over him, his pecs squeezed tight, his abs flexing as he thrust into Kyle’s mouth.

The masseur slid his shorts down his legs and let them drop to the floor. Stepping out of them, fully naked, he walked around the side of the table and climbed on, kneeling between Kyle’s feet. Kyle felt two thick hands grip his ass, spreading his cheeks, and a tongue press into his eager hole. “Oh my god,” he said, uncontrollably, as the masseur’s tongue traveled down to his taint, lapping against his balls. He thrust his hips backward, wanting more, feeling the masseur’s face press deeper into his ass, the hot breath caressing his hole. The masseur’s face traveled further down, and Kyle felt a hand grip his cock and pull it backwards, sliding it into a hot wet mouth.

Sucking him from behind, the masseur took all of Kyle’s 7” curved cut cock into his throat, barely gagging, while sliding three fingers in and out of Kyle’s ass, loosening it up, making him moan with ecstasy. “Please fuck me, please fuck me,” Kyle gasped, his face in the massage table, his ass trembling with pleasure, and he felt the fingers slide out of his hole, only to be replaced by a tongue pressing inside him, and the unmistakeable sound of a condom wrapper being opened.


Across town, Dean’s cock throbbed in the air, exposed to his coworkers.

“Well, uh…” Dean said, at a rare loss for words.

Fernando, who considered himself very straight, said, “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” setting his camera on a nearby counter. He slipped out of the room, but not without taking a second look back at his boss’s dick. It was actually a pretty fucking good dick, he thought, although he was pretty sure his was still bigger.

Harry had yet to move a muscle. It had all happened so fast, and now he found himself alone in a tiny room, staring directly at the aroused dick of his boss, a man he had spent so many teenage years jerking off to. He couldn’t take his eyes from the swollen cock, the way it curved just slightly towards Dean’s treasure trail. Without thinking, he licked his lips. He finally moved his eyes up to Dean, who was looking at him, an eyebrow raised.

“You mind helping me out?” Dean asked Harry, a smirk forming in a corner of his mouth.

“I — what?” Harry stuttered, and a vision entered his head of him, gagging on Dean’s cock shoved deep in his throat. Dean gripping the back of Harry’s head and growling as he shot load after load of his thick cum down Harry’s throat. His dick staying rock-hard as Harry sucked and squeezed every last droplet of cum onto his tongue.

“Helloooo,” Dean said, flexing his cock and making it wave in the air at Harry. The act was so casual, so cocky, so unembarrassed, it made Harry want to climb on the table and get his brains fucked out by Dean, but also was a strong reminder that they’re just friends, that Dean was just acting the way two bros do. “I’m a little incapacitated here, and I’d rather be covered up when my future wife Akiko comes back in to get these needles out of me. You mind?”

Harry swallowed and forced out a laugh he hoped sounded casual. “No problem, man.” He stepped forward, and couldn’t believe he was getting even closer to that unbelievable cock. He reached out slowly, as if approaching a venomous snake, and grabbed the edge of the towel. His thumb grazed the side of Dean’s dick and it felt hot, hotter than Harry expected. It took every bit of concentration not to mindlessly wrap his hand around the cock, to just lean forward and pop it into his mouth. He’d be fired and sent home within seconds — sued, probably — but he’d have lived out millions of people’s dreams and sucked Dean’s dick, even for just a moment.

He lifted the towel up, exposing Dean’s hairy sack, which hung low, just above Dean’s asshole. He was so close he could smell him, his musk and sweat. He wanted to bury his nose in the space between Dean’s balls and thigh. Harry had never been harder in his life, and he was glad Dean couldn’t see his bulge from where he lay. He was relatively sure he had leaked through his jeans at this point.

Harry pulled the towel up and over the cock, which had started to soften just a little, now resting against Dean’s hairy lower belly. As he covered it up, Harry thought he saw the glimmer of a drop of precum gathering at the tip of Dean’s dick. Quickly now, he pulled up the other edge of the towel and covered the dick with a second layer. And then, without thinking about it, he gave Dean’s dick a friendly pat over the towel, as if petting the head of a good dog. Dean burst out in a laugh. “Thanks, man. Never a dull day of work with us, is there?”

Harry laughed, too, stepping back away from the table, in an attempt to return to a normal boss/employee relationship. “Can’t wait to sell this story to a tabloid,” he joked.

“Oh, so we’re going with blackmail, then, huh?” Dean replied, and both men started laughing.


Kyle spread his legs wide and relaxed as the masseur pressed his fat cockhead into Kyle’s hole. He had been loosened up by the fingers and the tongue and just by how badly he wanted to get fucked by this silent muscular god, so it wasn’t long before he was able to take the full dick deep into him.

The masseur lay across Kyle’s body, breathing into his neck, and Kyle gripped the sides of the table and felt the cock sliding up and down, in and out, starting slowly but working faster as Kyle relaxed into it. The masseur wrapped one huge arm around Kyle’s stomach and squeezed him closer as he sped up, ramming his cock against Kyle’s prostate. He couldn’t believe how good this dick felt in him, with so much muscle pinning against the table. He didn’t think the masseur had even said one word yet, and Kyle loved being used like this, like a set of holes for this worked-out god to take for his pleasure. The masseur pulled his cock out and, practically effortlessly, flipped Kyle over on his back and spun him sideways, so he could fuck him on the table while standing up.

Kyle wrapped his legs around the masseur’s waist as he pushed his dick back into Kyle’s hole with just a wordless grunt. The masseur was standing over him now, and Kyle’s eyes soaked up every inch as he got fucked, the bouncing pecs, the flexing arms, the chiseled jaw clenched as the masseur focused on using Kyle.

One stroke of his cock and Kyle knew he couldn’t touch himself or he’d shoot, so he instead pressed the palms of his hands against the masseur’s tight abs, and played with the trimmed hair across the enormous chest muscles. The masseur grinned or maybe even snarled, and lifted one arm up to flex his thick bicep. Kyle gripped it and used it to pull himself even closer to the masseur, burying the cock so deep in him he could feel the masseur’s sack slap against him with every thrust. He felt waves of pleasure throughout his body, worshipping this man’s body, watching his own cock slapping against his stomach in rhythm with the pounding.

The masseur gripped Kyle’s hips and pulled him tight, to fuck him deeper and slower. “Oh my god,” Kyle said, “Fuck,” and just like that he started to cum without touching himself, a load of seed shooting up and landing in the hollow of his neck. He grabbed his cock and stroked it, working load after load out, feeling his ass tighten around the thick cock buried deep in him. The masseur’s hungry eyes stared straight into Kyle’s as he slid his dick out from Kyle’s ass, tore off the condom, and grunted, shooting a spurt of cum onto Kyle’s body. He sprayed him, covering Kyle’s cock and stomach with massive puddles, as if the masseur hadn’t shot in a week. He breathed heavily, and Kyle got off the table and knelt on the floor to slide the cock into his mouth and catch the last drops of cum. Somehow, the cock seemed even thicker after release, and Kyle stroked it into his mouth and licked it clean, enjoying the salty taste and his last chance to worship this perfect man. Above him, the masseur's stomach flexed with his deep breaths, and Kyle watched his arms flex as he wiped sweat from his hair.

The masseur suddenly pulled his dick out of Kyle’s mouth and smiled, just a little. “Sensitive,” he said, and the somewhat sleepy smile on the face that had been nothing but aggressive until now was almost sexier to Kyle than what they had just done. He slipped his tiny shorts back up his thighs, and his half-hard cock strained against the material. The masseur took out a lavender-scented wet towel from a nearby fridge and handed it to Kyle, who shivered a little as he used it to wipe the cum from his body. The masseur left, wordlessly, and as Kyle put his clothes back on he left 10,000 yen on the table as a tip. He wondered how Dean’s massage had gone.

 

[Glimey]

Part 5: Tokyo

Back at the hotel bar, the four men clinked their glasses together. “Kanpai!” said Dean.

“Thanks for a great shoot, guys,” said Kyle. “It went perfectly, which never happens.”

Fernando and Harry met eyes across their drinks. Neither had mentioned anything about the massage shoot to Kyle after it was over. They were each waiting for the other one to take the initiative, knowing Kyle wouldn’t be pleased with the footage. A man silently getting acupuncture needles placed in him, with a sudden end to the recording, would not make for good TV. Ironically, the most exciting part of the shoot could never be aired. Harry knew it was his responsibility, but he was dreading the conversation. He knew there was a chance such a big fuck-up on his first-ever shoot could jeopardize his involvement in the rest of the show.

The guys sipped their drinks and talked about nothing in particular, simply enjoying not having another long day of work ahead of them, for the first time in days. The flight back to New York would be a long day of a different kind, but no one was thinking about that now.

Dean’s phone buzzed against the bartop. He picked it up and his expression fell. “Shit. The ex-wife. Wants to know if we can have a talk when I’m back in New York.”

Kyle rolled his eyes and finished his drink. “It’s like she has a sixth sense for when you’re coming back.”

Dean grimaced. “More likely she’s got my phone bugged. I wouldn’t put it past that ex-Israeli military boyfriend of hers.”

Harry tried to focus on the conversation — still a bit star-struck by working with Dean, he normally lapped up any bit of gossip about his personal life — but his mind kept dwelling on when he’d tell Kyle about the ruined shoot.

And Fernando, as usual, hadn’t been listening to any of it. Without even saying goodbye, he got up and moved down the bar to sit next to the Japanese woman he had been making eyes at for the past 30 minutes.

“I guess I’ll give her a call, see if I can get this talk out of the way without having to see her,” Dean grumbled, taking his phone and his drink and leaving the bar. And just like that, Harry was alone with Kyle. His stomach flipped.

“Oh, we haven’t gone over the acupuncture footage yet, have we?” Kyle asked. “Let’s do that now, huh? We can use my computer upstairs.”

Feeling like he was walking to his execution, Harry followed Kyle to the elevators.


Kyle opened his laptop on the bed in his hotel room and logged into the file-sharing service they used to store all the footage from the day. He opened the video from the day’s acupuncture session and hit play. Harry, not knowing what else to do, sat on the other bed and watched Kyle watch the footage.

The silence in the video echoed the silence in the room. Kyle looked from the laptop screen to Harry and back. “What the fuck is this?”

“I’m sorry, he —”

“He’s not talking! Not narrating, not describing it, not making jokes about how weird it is. He’s just… laying there.”

Harry sat in silence for a few seconds, feeling miserable. “I’m sorry. I froze. He was kind of in a bad mood by that point, and I just didn’t know what to say.”

Kyle didn’t look happy. “We can’t use any of this. It’s boring. Congratulations, you managed to film Dean practically naked, getting touched all over by a beautiful woman, and it’s the most boring shit I’ve ever seen.”

Harry shifted on the bed. His stomach was in knots. He knew this was it for him. He’d never be asked to go to the next location with them. Hell, he’d probably never get a job in the industry again. He looked over at Kyle and tried to figure out what to say. In spite of himself, he thought of how attractive Kyle was. His sandy blonde hair, the few extra pounds on top of what had clearly been a cut, slim body years ago. Harry had always thought he looked like an aging surfer, one who spends more time on the sand than in the waves but can still kick the young kids’ asses any time he decides to get on a board. Like a man with experience.

He realized he was staring, but Kyle didn’t seem to have noticed. His eyes were locked on the screen, and a smile was forming on his lips. Harry suddenly remembered what else was on that tape.

“What’s this?” Kyle asked, swinging the laptop around to show Harry the paused video, showing Dean laying on the table, a massive tent raised in his towel. He looked at Harry, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, we, uh… had to cut filming,” Harry said. He wasn’t sure how he’d get blamed for this one, too, but figured he’d end up taking the fall somehow. Fired because of Dean’s hard-on. That would be a difficult thing to put on a resume.

“I see that. What happened after you cut?” Kyle asked, his brown eyes staring into Harry’s blues.

Harry paused. He looked away from Kyle, feeling twice as uncomfortable as he did just moments earlier. He noticed Kyle’s hand resting in his lap, and beneath it, what appeared to be a swelling lump. He gulped, and decided to tell him what had happened. Nothing to lose now.

“Well, she left the room and, uh, it came out.”

The air felt still. “What came out?” Kyle asked, moving his hand along the growing bulge in his pants just slightly, enough to still maintain plausible deniability.

“His — his dick,” Harry said, softly.

“In front of you and Fernando?”

“No, Fernando left.”

“So, it was just you?” Kyle asked, his hand definitely stroking himself now, just a little. Harry knew he had a growing bulge, too, and shifted on the bed, not wanting to touch himself in front of his boss.

“Yeah. It popped out and I had to, you know, help him get it back under the towel,” Harry said. With a mind of its own, his hand grabbed his bulge, shifting his dick to a more comfortable position, lying along the length of his thigh. Kyle looked at it and back up at Harry.

“How did that make you feel?” Kyle asked.

“It felt good,” Harry said, “Helping him like that. It felt like he trusted me.”

“That’s good,” Kyle said, sliding to the edge of the bed, so that the two men were face-to-face across the space between the two beds. Their knees were practically touching. “But now how do I trust you after this fuck-up today?”

“I want to keep this job,” Harry said. “What do I need to do?” He squeezed his cock, which was straining against his tight jeans.

Kyle kept his eyes locked with Harry’s. “Take off your clothes.”

Maintaining eye contact, Harry unbuttoned his shirt, removed it, and let it fall to the hotel room floor. Kyle inhaled and let his eyes travel down Harry’s body. He was thin, with a runner’s body, practically hairless except for a trail of brown fuzz that lead from his stomach to somewhere below his waistline.

Harry unbuckled his belt and, lifting his ass just barely, shimmied his jeans and underwear down his legs. Leaning back, he raised his legs and whipped his pants off completely, in the process giving Kyle a quick glimpse of his pink, puckered, hairless hole between two round, meaty cheeks.

His pubes were trimmed but not shaved, framing his rather small, cut cock. Kyle estimated it at less than 6 inches. But it stood proudly straight, pointing directly at Kyle’s face. Harry kept his blue eyes locked with Kyle’s and licked his lips.

“Turn around on the bed,” Kyle ordered, and Harry obeyed, getting on all fours on the bedspread, his ass facing his boss. “Touch yourself,” Kyle said.

Harry licked one finger and reached between his legs to work it around his hole. He teased himself, sliding the tip of his finger in and out just barely, spreading his legs wider to give Kyle a better view. He heard Kyle’s belt unbuckle behind him, and then the tickle of stubble as Kyle’s face plunged into his ass.

Kyle’s hands palmed Harry’s cheeks and spread them wide, letting him get deep in there. He slobbered on Harry’s hole, stroking it up and down and swirling it with his tongue. His stubble rubbed against Harry’s smooth ass, giving him goosebumps. Harry moaned with pleasure and Kyle reached between his legs and grabbed hold of Harry’s hard dick. He removed his mouth from Harry’s hole.

“Is this as big as this thing gets?”

“Y-yes,” Harry moaned, enjoying the feel of Kyle’s rough hand around his throbbing cock, stroking it slightly, pulling on it tightly.

Kyle sneered. “You want to see a real man’s dick?”

“Yes,” Harry gasped. He started to turn around, but Kyle pressed his palm against his back and firmly held him in his place.

“You haven’t earned that yet. You only get to feel it,” Kyle said, and Harry felt something hard pressing against his smooth hole.

Kyle slapped his cock against Harry’s ass, thumping it against his rippling cheeks, the thick slapping sound teasing Harry with its girth.

“It sound big?” Kyle asked.

“Yes, sir. So fucking big,” Harry moaned, pressing his face into a pillow to reach between his legs and start stroking his dick.

“You think you could take it?”

“Please let me try,” Harry begged.

Kyle spit in his hand and stroked the length of his cock, pressing the tip against Harry’s eager hole. He rubbed his shaft faster and faster, bracing himself with one hand on Harry’s back, holding him face-down. He spit on Harry’s hole, and stroked his cock harder against the flexing ass.

“I bet you couldn’t fit this big cock in that tight hole. I bet you’d fail at it like you failed at everything today,” Kyle said, leaning harder on Harry’s back, pressing his precum-dripping cock against Harry’s hole, just barely opening it up with the tip. Harry moaned and leaned backward, relaxing his ass against the huge-feeling dick.

“Since you can’t see my cock, I want you to picture Dean’s cock back here. His big, straight dick teasing your little hole. You want Dean to fuck you, boy?”

“Yes, fuck me, Dean, fuck me,” Harry moaned into the pillow, stroking his cock as it dripped precum onto the hotel bed.

“Yeah, boy, let Dean fuck your hole,” Kyle moaned, his voice a low growl. He stroked his cock faster, pressing it against the puckering hole. “Feel his cum filling you up, boy,” Kyle grunted, and as he stroked his cock against Harry’s ass he shot a load directly at his hole, bullseye. Stroking and moaning he leaned forward as load after load blasted Harry’s ass, and squeezed his throbbing dick into the tight hole. Harry moaned with pain and pleasure, feeling the last drops of Kyle’s load shooting inside him, and he tightened his ass around the dick as he started to cum all over the hotel bed. His voice became a hoarse rasp as he groaned, flexing his ass around Kyle’s still-thick cock as his orgasm slowed and the last drops of cum squeezed from his dick into the bed.

Harry heard the sound of a belt buckling, and as he rolled over he saw Kyle standing there fully dressed, grinning at Harry. No sign of his cock anywhere, suddenly all business, he smiled down at the naked, cum-soaked, sweaty kid.

“You’re forgiven. But I’ve got my eye on you.”

 

[B_er]

Part 4: Tokyo

Kyle pulled at the waistband of the masseur’s shorts and was hit in the face with his cock springing free. He eagerly wrapped his mouth around it, pulling the foreskin back and working his tongue around the glistening head. The masseur moaned and his muscled thighs quivered with pleasure. He leaned forward and rubbed his hands down the length of Kyle’s back.

As the masseur thrust his cock deep into Kyle’s throat, Kyle arched his back, lifting his round ass covered in blonde fuzz, up the air. The masseur’s fingers stretched along his crack, teasing his hole. Kyle wrapped his hands around the masseur’s shaft, stroking it as it came in and out of his mouth, slick with precum and sweat and drool. The masseur moaned and plunged an oil-slicked finger into Kyle’s ass, grabbing the back of Kyle’s head with his other hand, to thrust harder into his throat.

Kyle moaned with pleasure around the thick cock filling his mouth. He relaxed his hole around the finger and felt a second finger slip in, quickly followed by a third. He wrapped both his hands around the masseur’s cock, stroking it while his tongue worked around the head. Kyle looked up and soaked in the vision of the beefy masseur bent over him, his pecs squeezed tight, his abs flexing as he thrust into Kyle’s mouth.

The masseur slid his shorts down his legs and let them drop to the floor. Stepping out of them, fully naked, he walked around the side of the table and climbed on, kneeling between Kyle’s feet. Kyle felt two thick hands grip his ass, spreading his cheeks, and a tongue press into his eager hole. “Oh my god,” he said, uncontrollably, as the masseur’s tongue traveled down to his taint, lapping against his balls. He thrust his hips backward, wanting more, feeling the masseur’s face press deeper into his ass, the hot breath caressing his hole. The masseur’s face traveled further down, and Kyle felt a hand grip his cock and pull it backwards, sliding it into a hot wet mouth.

Sucking him from behind, the masseur took all of Kyle’s 7” curved cut cock into his throat, barely gagging, while sliding three fingers in and out of Kyle’s ass, loosening it up, making him moan with ecstasy. “Please fuck me, please fuck me,” Kyle gasped, his face in the massage table, his ass trembling with pleasure, and he felt the fingers slide out of his hole, only to be replaced by a tongue pressing inside him, and the unmistakeable sound of a condom wrapper being opened.


Across town, Dean’s cock throbbed in the air, exposed to his coworkers.

“Well, uh…” Dean said, at a rare loss for words.

Fernando, who considered himself very straight, said, “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” setting his camera on a nearby counter. He slipped out of the room, but not without taking a second look back at his boss’s dick. It was actually a pretty fucking good dick, he thought, although he was pretty sure his was still bigger.

Harry had yet to move a muscle. It had all happened so fast, and now he found himself alone in a tiny room, staring directly at the aroused dick of his boss, a man he had spent so many teenage years jerking off to. He couldn’t take his eyes from the swollen cock, the way it curved just slightly towards Dean’s treasure trail. Without thinking, he licked his lips. He finally moved his eyes up to Dean, who was looking at him, an eyebrow raised.

“You mind helping me out?” Dean asked Harry, a smirk forming in a corner of his mouth.

“I — what?” Harry stuttered, and a vision entered his head of him, gagging on Dean’s cock shoved deep in his throat. Dean gripping the back of Harry’s head and growling as he shot load after load of his thick cum down Harry’s throat. His dick staying rock-hard as Harry sucked and squeezed every last droplet of cum onto his tongue.

“Helloooo,” Dean said, flexing his cock and making it wave in the air at Harry. The act was so casual, so cocky, so unembarrassed, it made Harry want to climb on the table and get his brains fucked out by Dean, but also was a strong reminder that they’re just friends, that Dean was just acting the way two bros do. “I’m a little incapacitated here, and I’d rather be covered up when my future wife Akiko comes back in to get these needles out of me. You mind?”

Harry swallowed and forced out a laugh he hoped sounded casual. “No problem, man.” He stepped forward, and couldn’t believe he was getting even closer to that unbelievable cock. He reached out slowly, as if approaching a venomous snake, and grabbed the edge of the towel. His thumb grazed the side of Dean’s dick and it felt hot, hotter than Harry expected. It took every bit of concentration not to mindlessly wrap his hand around the cock, to just lean forward and pop it into his mouth. He’d be fired and sent home within seconds — sued, probably — but he’d have lived out millions of people’s dreams and sucked Dean’s dick, even for just a moment.

He lifted the towel up, exposing Dean’s hairy sack, which hung low, just above Dean’s asshole. He was so close he could smell him, his musk and sweat. He wanted to bury his nose in the space between Dean’s balls and thigh. Harry had never been harder in his life, and he was glad Dean couldn’t see his bulge from where he lay. He was relatively sure he had leaked through his jeans at this point.

Harry pulled the towel up and over the cock, which had started to soften just a little, now resting against Dean’s hairy lower belly. As he covered it up, Harry thought he saw the glimmer of a drop of precum gathering at the tip of Dean’s dick. Quickly now, he pulled up the other edge of the towel and covered the dick with a second layer. And then, without thinking about it, he gave Dean’s dick a friendly pat over the towel, as if petting the head of a good dog. Dean burst out in a laugh. “Thanks, man. Never a dull day of work with us, is there?”

Harry laughed, too, stepping back away from the table, in an attempt to return to a normal boss/employee relationship. “Can’t wait to sell this story to a tabloid,” he joked.

“Oh, so we’re going with blackmail, then, huh?” Dean replied, and both men started laughing.


Kyle spread his legs wide and relaxed as the masseur pressed his fat cockhead into Kyle’s hole. He had been loosened up by the fingers and the tongue and just by how badly he wanted to get fucked by this silent muscular god, so it wasn’t long before he was able to take the full dick deep into him.

The masseur lay across Kyle’s body, breathing into his neck, and Kyle gripped the sides of the table and felt the cock sliding up and down, in and out, starting slowly but working faster as Kyle relaxed into it. The masseur wrapped one huge arm around Kyle’s stomach and squeezed him closer as he sped up, ramming his cock against Kyle’s prostate. He couldn’t believe how good this dick felt in him, with so much muscle pinning against the table. He didn’t think the masseur had even said one word yet, and Kyle loved being used like this, like a set of holes for this worked-out god to take for his pleasure. The masseur pulled his cock out and, practically effortlessly, flipped Kyle over on his back and spun him sideways, so he could fuck him on the table while standing up.

Kyle wrapped his legs around the masseur’s waist as he pushed his dick back into Kyle’s hole with just a wordless grunt. The masseur was standing over him now, and Kyle’s eyes soaked up every inch as he got fucked, the bouncing pecs, the flexing arms, the chiseled jaw clenched as the masseur focused on using Kyle.

One stroke of his cock and Kyle knew he couldn’t touch himself or he’d shoot, so he instead pressed the palms of his hands against the masseur’s tight abs, and played with the trimmed hair across the enormous chest muscles. The masseur grinned or maybe even snarled, and lifted one arm up to flex his thick bicep. Kyle gripped it and used it to pull himself even closer to the masseur, burying the cock so deep in him he could feel the masseur’s sack slap against him with every thrust. He felt waves of pleasure throughout his body, worshipping this man’s body, watching his own cock slapping against his stomach in rhythm with the pounding.

The masseur gripped Kyle’s hips and pulled him tight, to fuck him deeper and slower. “Oh my god,” Kyle said, “Fuck,” and just like that he started to cum without touching himself, a load of seed shooting up and landing in the hollow of his neck. He grabbed his cock and stroked it, working load after load out, feeling his ass tighten around the thick cock buried deep in him. The masseur’s hungry eyes stared straight into Kyle’s as he slid his dick out from Kyle’s ass, tore off the condom, and grunted, shooting a spurt of cum onto Kyle’s body. He sprayed him, covering Kyle’s cock and stomach with massive puddles, as if the masseur hadn’t shot in a week. He breathed heavily, and Kyle got off the table and knelt on the floor to slide the cock into his mouth and catch the last drops of cum. Somehow, the cock seemed even thicker after release, and Kyle stroked it into his mouth and licked it clean, enjoying the salty taste and his last chance to worship this perfect man. Above him, the masseur's stomach flexed with his deep breaths, and Kyle watched his arms flex as he wiped sweat from his hair.

The masseur suddenly pulled his dick out of Kyle’s mouth and smiled, just a little. “Sensitive,” he said, and the somewhat sleepy smile on the face that had been nothing but aggressive until now was almost sexier to Kyle than what they had just done. He slipped his tiny shorts back up his thighs, and his half-hard cock strained against the material. The masseur took out a lavender-scented wet towel from a nearby fridge and handed it to Kyle, who shivered a little as he used it to wipe the cum from his body. The masseur left, wordlessly, and as Kyle put his clothes back on he left 10,000 yen on the table as a tip. He wondered how Dean’s massage had gone.

I like the parte here Fernndo compared him self to Dean.