Erotica

[mmvmgo2011]

EROTICA

A story inspired by the (slightly modified) lyrics to the Madonna song from the album and SEX book versions.

Shout out to @Wrestlejock646 who inspired the idea of using song lyrics as inspiration, even if he didn’t know it at the time. You can always “hit me with your rhythm stick,” mate, “I wanna take a ride on your disco stick.”

==========

~ ONE ~

Quote

My name is Dieter
I'll be your master tonight

I’ve never done anything like this before, but it was well past time. I was already bored with my life as it was, the COVID-19 pandemic just took that boredom to the Nth degree.

I am apparently in an 'extremely high risk' category when it comes to COVID-19, or so my doctor tells me. Based on the delta strain, I had an approximately 25% chance of death unvaccinated, dropping to ‘only’ 11% for double dosed, 8% for triple dosed, and 1% for four doses (with no data yet on more than four doses). The omicron variant, and the BA.4 and BA.5 sub variants were much milder, so presumably the risk for me now is somewhere south of 1% (now that I’ve had four doses).

With those kind of odds, and the delta strain running rampant throughout 2021, and most of 2020 still full of unknowns - how deadly was it really? - I spent over two years from March 2020 confined to my house, no visitors, no shopping, pretty much total isolation. Thank fuck for the Internet - not just for day to day essentials like groceries, which I had delivered, but for social contact.

Don’t get me wrong, I am eternally grateful for the ability to video chat with friends and family, and the ability to mutually jerk off with someone on camera, but, let’s face it, it’s a poor substitute for sexy times with a real, live human being, touching, stroking, kissing, caressing, licking, sucking, penetrating… you know, all the good things, all the arousing things.

So I hadn’t had sex, real with-an-actual-person sex in nearly two and a half years. I’ve already said I was bored with my life before the pandemic, I was also bored with my sex life.

I’m attractive enough, I suppose. I’m 186cm (6’1”) tall, and weigh 78kg (172lbs). I have no idea what my body fat percentage is, but I have visible abs and like to keep in shape. I’m of Mediterranean stock, so I have dark features - deep brown eyes, dark brown hair, and an olive complexion. I hate shaving with a razor, so keep my beard trimmed to a constant state of stubble of varying lengths, depending on how long since the last trim.

But my sex life was pretty vanilla. I mean, a flip fuck or two is as kinky as it ever got - insert the Neil deGrasse Tyson ‘we’ve got a badass over here’ meme, right. I’ve never had a threesome or group sex, never used toys, never even really gotten rough. I DID say, ‘pretty vanilla’.

But recently, I’ve been craving more. NEEDING more. I wanted to be dominated, I wanted kink. Maybe not hardcore BDSM, but I wanted things to get a bit rough, a bit outside my vanilla comfort zone. I also wanted muscle, someone to take control, use his strength, his power to put me in my place. Use me and abuse me, overpower me. I’m getting hard just describing it, I could only imagine what it would be like in reality.

I found an ‘escort’ that sounded perfect. If he lived up to his description, it was going to be money well spent, arousal guaranteed. I was slightly nervous, because he had no photos. Not just not showing his face. No photo, at all. The description claimed he didn’t like putting up his photo because it created certain expectations, if it didn’t scare off the potential client, and he didn’t want any preconceptions to ruin what should be organic discovery, mutual exploration and pushing of boundaries. It sounded HOT, exactly what I was looking for. But anyone can put up a profile saying anything.

So I had no idea what he looked like but, as I sat in the hotel bar, nursing a drink nervously, he knew what I looked like, insisting on a picture showing my face and a shirtless pic showing my top half.

“Excuse me, Robert?” A deep, resonant, mellifluous voice. A powerful voice, commanding; used to getting his way.

I turned my face up towards the voice, which was behind and to my right. My mouth dried up and gaped, my heart skipped a few beats then started racing, my dick chubbed.

“Y-“ My voice cracked, because of course it did. I cleared my throat. “Yes.”

“My name is Dieter. I’ll be your master tonight.”

[DennisFLL]

Great start. Looking forward to your next chapter revealing more about the "master.'" 

[mmvmgo2011]

~ TWO ~

Quote

If I take you from behind
Push myself into your mind
When you least expect it
Will you try and reject it?

 

He smiled, and I melted. He looked like a hotter, taller, bigger, younger Dolph Lundgren. Okay, so he didn’t really look anything like Dolph, except that he clearly shared a Nordic heritage.

He was dressed all in black, dress slacks and a button down dress shirt but, even with the camouflaging nature of the colour, and the dim lighting in the bar, you could tell he was covered in slabs of thick muscle. Slabs I couldn’t wait to explore. His shirt was stretched tight across the shoulders and the sleeves, but billowed at his waist. I don’t know how the sleeves, in particular, didn’t split as he raised and extended his hand to shake mine in greeting, a massive mound balling up between his shoulder and elbow, stretching the fabric even further.

He had lifter’s hands, strong tendons, thick fingers, callouses, thick wrists and a thumb that stood off a little, something about the physiology of muscular hands tending to push the thumb out away from the other fingers. That wasn’t the only thing being pushed out, as my dick continued swelling by his presence.

I hesitated for a moment, then clasped his hand with mine. His hand enveloped mine, at least 25% bigger than mine, and he gripped my hand, not hard enough to hurt me, but it was definitely uncomfortable. It seems his domination of me was already beginning.

“It’s a pleasure to meet me.”

Cocky son of a bitch. He knew it was too, a pleasure to meet him, I mean. Maybe he noticed my growing bulge?

His shirt stretched across his huge delts, as he pumped his arm for the handshake, the sleeve was a hypnotic display. I kept waiting for a split to form, but no such luck.

“Would you like a drink?” I asked. I had him for the night, there was no need to rush.

“Sure.” There was that smile again, his already gorgeous face radiant. Black really suited him as a colour, contrasting well against his pale skin, blond hair and azure eyes. He had shaved that morning, a sexy five o’clock – shadow wasn’t quite the right term, his hair was light, not dark – stubble in the making, highlighting his square jaw.

I was about to call over the bartender, when Dieter took it upon himself to call him over and order a drink, on my tab. The bartender didn’t even look to me for confirmation. Dieter said it was on my tab, on my tab it would go. Scotch. Neat. Top tier stuff, of course. Classic.

“Cheers.” We clinked glasses.

I was nervous, my palms sweaty. My brain was pulled in two different directions. On the one hand, here was a fucking hot muscular stud that was mine for the night to do with what I wanted (or so I thought at the time. Dieter, as I would learn, obviously had other ideas. I might be paying, but he was most definitely the one in charge). On the other hand, what the fuck was I doing? I’m vanilla sex guy! I don’t have sex with random strangers. I certainly don’t have kinky sex with random strangers. But, my dick was winning this one. No question. It ruthlessly shut the rest of my brain up, and took over.

He sensed my nervousness, the awkward silence extending for an uncomfortably long period.

“Don’t be nervous, stud,” he said. “First time?”

I nodded. The actual stud, calling me ‘stud.’ Swoon.

“You’re in charge,” he lied. “Any ground rules? Anything you won’t do?” He asked.

“I hadn’t even thought about that, to be honest. I’m not sure.”

“Definitely your first time. In that case, I’ll take the lead,” because of course he would, it was never going to be any other way anyway, “and we’ll have a safe word, or safe phrase. Something that wouldn’t ever come up otherwise. If you’re ever uncomfortable, or we’re going beyond your limits, just say the safe phrase, and everything stops.”

That sounded… reasonable. I liked the idea of someone else taking charge, especially if it was someone like Dieter. I mean, fuck, he looked like he could break me in two. And I hadn’t even checked out his package yet. I wondered idly if the carpet matched the curtains.

He was waiting for a response. I tried to think of something, my mind blanking. Shit. Fuck. He was still looking at me… “Koalas in Zimbabwe,” I blurted. What?

His eyebrows rose, “Well, I guess that’s something that isn’t going to come up in normal conversation.” He laughed, a deep, rich, luscious sound. And that smile. He was going to make me cum just sitting there.

“Shall we,” he said, downing the rest of his Scotch in one gulp. It was not a question. Speaking of gulp, I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, unsuccessfully.

He stood, pulling my barstool back, positioning his massive frame between me and the bar, completely blocking my view with his wall of a body. He grabbed my drink in one hand, my face in the other. He increased the pressure of his grip on my face, forcing my jaw open, and he poured the rest of the drink down my throat. Never having mastered the art of opening my gullet, I struggled to swallow the whole drink. I nearly coughed and spluttered it up all over him, the only thing preventing it was me afraid of what he would do to me if I did.

He smiled, but a different smile, this time. It was still a gorgeous smile, but a crooked, knowing smile. A smile that said he knew he was in charge, and there was nothing I could do about it. My cock stiffened even more.

He followed the drink with a tongue chaser, finally releasing my face so I could kiss him back. Well, that didn’t happen. He dominated the kiss, his tongue controlling mine, controlling me.

When he finally allowed me to come up for air, “Mmm, you’ve got nice lips.” It took me a few moments to realise he was speaking, and what he was saying. My mind abuzz with the euphoria of the kiss, the arousal of his dominance showing through even in just a kiss. And he complimented me! Fuck!

“Thanks,” I breathed. “That was…” I didn’t really have the words, “incredible.” Such a mundane word for such an amazing kiss. He laughed again, the deep rumble turning me on like you wouldn’t believe.

“You better learn to control yourself, little man.” There was a hint of menace in the statement, like he was going to make me, if I didn’t. A bead of pre worked its way up my urethra, and out the meatus, wetting a spot on my briefs. I was buzzing, tingling, a mix of nerves, anxiety, desire, arousal... it was a potent, intoxicating mix of feelings. Feelings I’d never had before, certainly not all at once.

He pulled me off the barstool, almost carrying me out the bar. I turned back to the bartender, who had a knowing smile on his face, “Room 2904.” I had to make sure I paid for the tab, after all. It was a great room, a corner suite on the penthouse level. I wasn’t going to half-arse this experience.

He lead me over to the lifts. He pressed the up button and, while we were waiting for the next lift to arrive, he dove his mammoth hands into my pockets, looking for my keycard. That and giving my cock a tweak through the fabric of my pants. I groaned. An older woman who was already waiting at the lifts looked over and sniffed in disdain. Whether she didn’t like public displays of affection, or just affection between homos, I couldn’t say. But Dieter was having none of it, he fished the keycard from my pocket and walked over to the woman. “Do you have a problem?”

She cowered, the size difference between them comical. “N- n-, No.” He didn’t threaten - well, not overtly, just his mere presence was more than threat enough - he didn’t really do anything. Just stood there, glowering, but it was fucking terrifying - for me, I can’t imagine what the poor woman felt. To her credit, she stood her ground - for about a second - and then she half-walked, half-ran off in the opposite direction.

His glower disappeared, replaced with a salacious grin as he turned back and stalked his way over to me. The lift arrived, indicating its arrival with a soft, electronic chime. Saved by the bell, or so I thought. He entered the lift, and I followed. He held the keycard to the reader and pressed the 29 button. The lift chimed. Before the door had even started closing, he pounced and was on me.

He turned me around, and ground his growing bulge into my arse, having to bend his knees to get low enough. As he did so, he grabbed me around the neck, squeezing, cutting off my air supply. He ground my face into the mirrored wall of the lift, as he continued grinding on my arse, his cock continuing to grow. I started to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen, and broke out in a sweat, both as to what was happening, but also in anticipation of how big he was, his cock still growing. He leaned into my ear and growled, "I'm going to split you open, little man." I did not doubt it, with what I was feeling pressing into my arse. The sweat increased, but so, too, did the pre leaking from my dick.

Finally, he released me, spinning me back around and lifting me, effortlessly, onto his hips, my legs wrapping around and resting on top of his globe-like arse cheeks.  He bent down to kiss me, roughly, powerfully. What was happening? It was all so sudden, my brain struggled to process as it slowly re-oxygenated. My dick, pressed into his abs, was sending rocketing fireworks of pleasure throughout my body. My arse rested on his bulge, and I could feel his dick still swelling as we continued to kiss.

Just before the doors closed, a hand appeared, stopping and reversing the doors. It was a young couple I recognised - they were on floor 21. He growled, vibrating my entire body with the bass sound. Still carrying me, he turned his head, growling, “Take the next one.” The menacing tone, the threat in his voice, rose my hackles, and had pre spurting from my cock. The look on their faces was priceless, a mix of embarrassment, arousal and abject terror. They thought better, and did not enter the lift. The doors closed, and the lift carried us up to my room, just as he was carrying me away, into a world I hardly even really knew existed.

[Broody]

Woof, bro. I am fucking here for this. Those Germans can fuck.

[Ro20316]

Ooooh i can hear the song playing in the background.

What a fantastic work so far. 

[mmvmgo2011]

~THREE~

Quote

I'll be your guiding light
In your darkest hour
I'm gonna change your life
I'm like a poison flower

As the doors closed, and the lift rose, so too did Dieter’s cock. It was still growing, increasing my nerves and anxiety. How BIG was he? His dick must be at least proportional to the rest of him, if not bigger. Fuck. My arsehole already hurt.

He slammed my back against the mirrored wall of the lift, and I heard a cracking sound. He groaned, his smile growing, as the cracking sound continued and, in the mirror on the opposite wall, I could see large fractures in the glass radiating out from my body as he continued to press me forcefully into the wall. Well, okay, for those of you paying attention, I obviously couldn’t see any part of my body except the legs wrapped around Dieter and resting on his fine arse, Dieter’s massive frame was between me and the opposite mirror, so there was no chance of me seeing myself, but you get what I meant, I’m sure.

He lifted his knee, pressing and grinding it into my balls, my erect cock thankfully spared, for now. As he ground harder, increasing the pressure, my pain skyrocketed. He groaned as he could see the pain in my face, continuing in his low growl, “I enjoy inflicting pain, little man. And you’re going to enjoy taking it.” I’m ashamed to say, I nearly came at that point, it was only his knee grinding my balls to dust, preventing them from raising up and dumping out their load, that stopped it.

He continued grinding, harder still, hard enough that I began seeing stars, and feeling nausea. Somehow, the pain and nausea only served to increase my arousal, my cock harder than it had been in a very, very long time, maybe ever.

He brought one hand up under my shirt, following up along my treasure trail, tracing around my belly button, between the low blocks of my abs, and up to my pecs. They weren’t massive bodybuilder pillows, but I held my own. He pinched and twisted on my left nipple. HARD. Fuck. I didn’t know what to focus on, the pleasure, or the pain. Whatever he was doing to me, was causing both reactions at the same time, and my brain didn’t know what to do except make my dick ever harder and send more pre pumping out. My briefs would be soaking wet by the time we got to the room.

My eyes teared up from the pain. He used his other hand to wipe under my right eye, wiping away a growing teardrop with his thumb. He sucked his thumb, smiling, “Your tears are my aphrodisiac, your fear and anxiety my arousal. Little man, you and I are going to get along just fine.” He groaned, and flexed his cock, it bounced up between my crack and nearly lifted me up and off him. Fuck.

The lift chimed quietly, indicating we’d reached the 29th floor, and the doors opened. I thought I’d have some respite. And I did, for the few seconds it took him to lower his knee, and spin me around, his bulge in my face. My face was being smacked by his cock, which swayed from side to side as he walked, exiting the elevator and towards my room.

His left arm wrapped around the small of my back, effortlessly holding me in place, his right hand free to inflict new pain. He pressed his right thumb into my perineum, initially sending waves of pleasure crashing through my body, my prostate enjoying the stimulation. His middle finger sought out my hole, ripping through my pants and briefs like they were tissue paper, the fabric providing no resistance to his invasion of my hole. His finger forced open my sphincter and sought out the other side of my prostate. I was writhing in pleasure so much, I was worried he might drop me; a stupid thought in hindsight.

When his finger found what he was looking for, he squeezed - his thumb on one side via my perineum on the outside, his middle finger from the other side from inside via my tunnel. FUUUUUUCK. I thought he was going to pop my prostate like a grape. The pleasure, the pain, pushed me over the edge, and I came in my briefs. He tsked, obviously unhappy I was unable to hold back for longer. He continued squeezing, my prostate screaming, my body desperate for escape, wanting more. I groaned in pain, in pleasure. I didn’t know what. I wanted it to stop. I wanted it to never end.

We arrived at the door to my room, he stopped squeezing, removed the keycard from his pocket and opened the door. “You REALLY need to learn some self control, little man. You don’t want me angry with you.” Fuck, no, I did not. He was intimidating me as it is, and I was paying him and could apparently stop everything at any time. I could not imagine being on his bad side.

As he carried me across the threshold, he put up the Do Not Disturb hanger on the door. He continued carrying me through to the master bedroom. I could see a large, unfamiliar suitcase; I tried to swivel my head to get a better look.

“Don’t worry, little man, that’s mine. I took the liberty of having some of my supplies brought to the room.”

What? Supplies? Delivered? When? How did he know what room I was in?

He must have sensed my tense uneasiness. “Relax, little man, you think I don’t scope out my clients beforehand? I’ve been watching you for a few days now.”

DAYS?! What the fuck? This was getting out of hand, I should get out of this whole situation now, while I still can. I never should have reached out to him in the first place.

“I had the concierge arrange for my bag to be brought up to your room. We could always continue without any tools, but it’s much more fun when you have the right tool for the right job.”

I really had no clue what he was talking about. Tools? What tools? A vibrator? A fleshlight? Vanilla, remember.

He threw me onto the bed, my head whipping violently as my body spun around. I was about to open my mouth to thank him, to end it, when he grabbed the front of his shirt, just below his jutting pecs, and ripped it open, buttons popping off and pinging across the room, spreading his arms as if the shirt didn’t exist.

My eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. I knew he was jacked, you could tell that from the fit of the shirt and his size, but what was revealed underneath was… magnificent doesn’t even begin to describe how good it was. I was ready to cum again, it’s only the fact that I was still recovering from my first orgasm that saved some of my dignity and allowed me to hold back.

His body was… breathtaking. Literally. When competing, bodybuilders all slather up with fake tan, the dark colour supposedly better showing off their muscles, the separations, the striations. Whoever came up with that theory had never seen Dieter’s milky white, almost luminescent, skin shrink wrapped over his incredible musculature. Every inch of his massive body was packed with muscle, every muscle defined, striated, vascular. Apart from the fake tan, which in his case would detract from his look, he was ready to step on a bodybuilding stage and blow away the competitors. Not tomorrow, not after a few weeks of cutting. Now. It was mind blowing.

I tried to speak, to compliment him, marvel at the beauty of perfection before me, but my mouth was dry, and I only managed to croak out a sound he took as arousal. I mean, he wasn’t wrong, my dick was doing its best to rip through my pants like he’d ripped open his shirt, pre making a mess of my briefs, but I wanted to express how good he looked.

Of course, Dieter knew exactly the effect he was having on me. The knowing smile on his face told me that. He finished removing the remaining tatters of the shirt, his muscles rippling and flexing hypnotically as his arms moved to remove the shirt. When his torso twisted so he could throw the shirt on the nearest chair, my cock flexed and bounced, globs of pre pumping out. My pupils dilated, my heart rate increased. His core was… unreal. It looked carved from marble, solid, thick, powerful, yet it was also writhing and flexing as he moved, veins rising to sit up almost on top of the skin, serratus and obliques merging down into the washboard of his recus abdominis.

The knowing smile turned crooked, sinister, as his hands roamed over his body, “Like what you see? Would you like a feel, little man?”

I still couldn’t speak, I just nodded, entranced, my arousal knowing no bounds. He moved closer, and I reached my hand up towards the shelf formed by his pecs. At first, I thought he kept himself hairless, but he had a fine dusting of light-coloured fur that was difficult to spot in the dim lighting of the room.

As my hand was about to cup his pec, caressing the muscle, he grabbed my wrist, his grip powerful, painful. I winced. The muscles in his arm flexed, powerful cords of vascular muscle running along his forearms, powering his grip.

“I did not say you could touch me,” he growled.

He then twisted my arm back as he bent over to growl into my ear. I cried out in pain, I swear I could hear tendons in my arm and shoulder stretching and creaking, on the verge of snapping.

“I am in charge here, little man. You don’t touch, you don’t move, you don’t even BREATH unless I say so. Am I clear?” His voice a low, menacing, whisper in my ear, tears welling up in my eyes from the painful grip and twist on my arm. I nodded. “Y-, y- e, yes, Sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Good,” he smiled, releasing my arm. He licked away tears on my face, as I rubbed my arm where his hand had gripped it. I was still rock hard, despite also being afraid and in more than a little pain. His effortless control and domination of me peaking my arousal even further.

“Now. Where shall we begin?” It was a rhetorical question, of course, like I had any say in what was to happen.

“I think you’re a little over stimulated, little man. A bit of darkness will do you good.” He removed a leather… I wasn’t quite sure exactly what it was, actually, some sort of mask or hood.

“Kneel.”

I obeyed, of course, how could I do anything but? I knelt in front of him, my head at bulge height. His bulge continued to tent outward, the massive beast inside fighting for escape, for a chance at its prey. At me.

He placed the hood over my head, a zippered opening for my mouth was the only opening in the thick leather. I started to panic as my eyes were covered and I could no longer see him or what he was doing. He could feel my rising anxiety.

“Sssshhhhhhh. Relax, little man. You don’t need to see. I’ll be your guiding light.”

Despite his reassurance, my anxiety continued to build. I couldn’t see, and my hearing was impaired by the thick leather. All I had was the reassurance of a strange, powerful man who enjoyed inflicting pain. Even as my brain thought this was my darkest hour, my dick was spurred on, harder and more aroused than ever.

[Ro20316]

Mmmm yassssssss.

The fun has already started...

[JackAms]

What a great story! Thanks!

[Twinkity]

this is how I imagine him