Steroid Steve

Gold’s Gym in Venice, CA was the epicenter of the bodybuilding explosion that started in the early 1970s. In this tale, Peter writes about a real person, completely straight, and never interested in him. In fiction, you can turn the tables, as you will see.

I paid 15 dollars for a month’s membership at Gold’s Gym. I was obsessed with a handsome lifter there, Steroid Steve. I have a fetish for men with small penises, and Steve was truly small. His thick, muscular legs, enhanced by anabolic steroids, caused the tiny member to almost disappear. I got rock hard every time I thought about him.

I have quite the opposite problem. My cock is extremely long and impossibly thick. It makes my back hurt just carrying it around in front of me. Men, particularly those who have an insecurity about their own size, never hesitate to humiliate me. They call me “gate crasher” or “baloney pony”. My least favorite insult is when they brush their feet on the floor and whinny like a horse.

I knew I had no chance of getting together with Steve. He was too small to successfully fuck me, and I was too big to fuck him. He wore a wedding ring and dropped hints about his wife while he was lifting on the main floor.

A few Saturdays ago, I came to the packed gym. I wanted to use the Universal Fitness machine, but every station was three deep with a waiting list. As I approached, a pig-eyed dolt with ugly curly hair made a stomp and whinny. Out of nowhere, Steroid Steve appeared and confronted the ugly freak.

“Hey, Jack, leave the guy alone. He’s here to work out like the rest of us.”

Jack snarled and walked away. He was big, but Steve was way bigger.

I exhaled. “Thanks, Steve.”

He eyed me suspiciously. “I don’t know your name. You are…” he extended a hand.

“Peter. Peter Schutes. Your reputation precedes you, that’s why I knew your name.” As I took his hand and shook, I sounded like a confused schoolgirl.

Steve laughed. “Which reputation is that?”

“I mean, everyone calls you Steroid Steve.” I hoped that wasn’t insulting.

Steve’s eyes drifted below my waistline. “I think I understand why Jack was acting so rude.”

I braced for an insult. None came.

Steve said, “I get teased over the same body part, but for the opposite reason.” I didn’t dare tell him that I knew all about it. I just nodded like I was receiving new information.

“What do they say when they tease you?”

Steve sighed. “Cashew, peanut, gnat, you know, the usual. And they are fond of holding up a pinky and putting their thumb on the first segment. That one gets me the most.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry.” I didn’t dare tell him that I found it incredibly sexy. He was straight. Instead, I changed the subject.

“Married?” I pointed to the ring.

He nodded. “Not happily.”

My inner seducer couldn’t keep quiet. “What makes you happy?”

He patted the front of my pants. “If I could have about a quarter of that, I’d be happy.”

Steve’s hand on my cock was completely unexpected. I was too giddy to check my words before they came out. “I could probably get halfway.”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

Shit. I’d lost focus. “I mean, I’d be happy with half of this. Heck, maybe even a quarter.” I grabbed the base of my monster and pinched it, causing it to show through my sweat pants all the way down to my knee.

Steve coughed. “Holy fuck! What do the ladies say?”

“What ladies?” I let that hang in the air for a while. Steve didn’t inquire further.

“Hey buddy, we’re gonna be here all day if we wait for the machine. I’ll spot you, you wanna spot me?” He gestured to the huge gym floor with free weights scattered everywhere. Bodybuilders are messy men in general. They ignore the sign admonishing them to put the weights back where they belong.

When Steve bent over to gather the weights we would need, his ass ate his shorts. It was the roundest, most perfectly shaped ass I had ever seen. I stared glassy-eyed at the heavenly butt. I came around when Steve caught me looking.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer. And it’d probably fetch a good price on mail order.” I was relieved he didn’t call me a fag.

We worked out for a good hour. Steve lifted three times the weight I did. I could barely spot him, the bar was so heavy. He spotted me with one finger. It was a testament to all the Lord gives and all he takes away. At the end of the workout, we hit the showers.

Saturdays meant that stalls came on a first-come first-served basis. They were all taken. Steve and I both knew better than to go to the open showers where all the regular guys washed themselves. We were freaks in their eyes. They would harass me from envy, and Steve from a sense of superiority. There was no need for either of us to say this out loud. It was a lifelong condition for both of us.

Finally, two stalls opened up at the end of the row, opposite each other. I took the left and Steve took the right. My shower curtains had been torn by some clumsy oaf. Steve’s was no better. Because we were at the very end of the row, we didn’t have to worry about prying eyes. I lathered up, spending a long time on my cock. Steve spent most of his time on his big, beautiful ass. I wondered if he was sending signals. Then he whistled.

“Damn, motherfucker! Is that soft?”

I nodded. “But if you keep washing your ass like that, it’s gonna get bigger.” And it did. I went from big to huge, then huge to monstrous. Steve’s eyes were riveted on my cock. He licked his lips.

He rubbed his thumb up and down his ass crack, eying my meat hungrily, eyebrows raised. He turned, and I could see his tiny penis was at attention. I wanted to suck it so badly.

Steve said, “I live in Culver City, with my wife.”

“I live in Santa Monica, alone.”

“I’d like to see your place, Pete.”

That wasn’t all he wanted to see. Once again, my horribly oversized cock had hooked a straight fish. I didn’t know how it was going to work, but I didn’t care. Nature finds a way.

By the time we walked from Venice to my place on Pico, the hot vibe had chilled a bit. Steve looked around like he was having second thoughts.

I watched his eyes dart about. “Steve, are you cool?”

Steve nodded. His mustache turned up as he smiled. “I’m just so fucking nervous. I’ve never done it with a guy like you.”

That put my mind at ease. He’d done it with other guys. “I’ll always be the biggest, but how big was the previous record holder?”

Steve concentrated. “Some Austrian asshole. Thinks he owns the place. I can’t stand his personality. But fuck! He wasn’t hung like a horse, but it was damn big.”

I winced a little at the implied accusation. I was hung like a horse. Stomp! Whinny! But he didn’t mean it that way.

“What’s the smallest you’ve ever been with, Pete?”

I shrugged. “Three inches, maybe.”

“I got him beat by an inch at least.” Steve blushed. He was an outwardly proud and confident man, but this was his Achilles heel. He was ashamed.

It was time for me to say what I had wanted to say back at the gym. “I love them small. The smaller, the better. I love when the whole package fits in my mouth. And little ones always cum so much more.”

Steve smiled. “I didn’t know there were people out there like you. My wife says I’m useless.”

As we stepped over the threshold to my apartment, I put a firm hand on Steve’s ass. “I like the whole package. Your ass is a monument to the male form.”

Steve kissed me very suddenly. He put a hand down the front of my pants and put his hand on the root of my rapidly expanding cock. He undid my belt buckle, letting my chinos fall around my ankles. There was no underwear that could contain me, so I was fully exposed.

I kneeled, unbuttoning Steve, exposing his tiny package. I put my mouth over it like a mother’s nipple. I flicked his clit-like penis with my tongue.

He moaned. “Pete, not too fast. I cum quickly.”

“And often, I hope?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I got a few loads in me. You’ll see.”

And I did. It took less than a minute for Steve to shudder and release a flood of cum in my mouth. I gulped it down like milk. Steve threw his head from side to side, sucking air and grunting.

After another minute, the orgasm ended. Steve’s shallow breaths returned to normal. He grinned. “Okay, my turn.” He bent over, spreading his ass cheeks, revealing a pink squirming hole. I moved him to the sofa.

I did my best to hide my skepticism. Unless he was really experienced, he wouldn’t even get the head in. I kept a tub of Albolene in the telephone table drawer. Steve took a big glob and applied it generously around and inside his hole. Meanwhile, I applied several generous helpings along the length and girth of my manhood.

“Steve, are you sure you want this? It’s going to hurt.”

“Dude, I’m a bodybuilder. I live for the burn.”

Not surprisingly, when I put my head at the entryway, it wouldn’t go any further. Steve pulled apart his ass cheeks to show a sliver of darkness in the middle of his pink pucker. That was my guide.

“Fuck me, Pete. I can take it.”

He flexed his hole open wider, allowing the tip of my head to enter. I pushed gently, but could go no farther.

“Pete, I mean it. Fuck me hard! Put it in me!”

I felt a rush of joy come over me. This man was my ideal lover. He wanted to please me, and he let me please him. To anchor his ass in place, I held him by the crotch. I could feel dribbles of precum forming rivulets in my hand. It made me even harder. Steve screamed.

“Oh god, I’ve hurt you!”

“No. You got really big for a second but it’s good now. Just keep pushing hard.”

With an audible pop, I heard my head pass his inner sphincter. Even though my cock gets thicker all the way to the base, it still felt like a milestone. I got another six inches inside him before I hit the back of his rectum. I turned him on his side and pushed deeper, entering the colon.

Steve’s eyes fluttered in his head. “Oh fuck man, I’m gonna fucking pass out.” And he did. When he came to a few moments later, I was most of the way in. I had only about six inches to go. Steve wrapped his powerful legs around my waist and forced me all the way in. His eyes were fogged over from pure pleasure. He pushed me back with his feet, then pulled me in.

He did this a few times, establishing a rhythm. “Okay Pete, you’re in charge now.”

He pulled off his t-shirt, revealing a powerful sweaty back and huge pectoral muscles dappled with fur. I got super hard and he winced.

“Oh yeah. Don’t hold back. Fuck my ass.”

I thrust in and out with an ever increasing speed. When I knew he could take it, I pulled the head of my cock right back to the entrance, then thrust it all the way inside his colon. The effect on Steve was extreme. He couldn’t use words anymore, just guttural noises. Looking into his eyes, I could see a distant galaxy. His lips moved in time with my jackrabbit paced fucking.

Steve’s tiny dick was almost gushing precum. The clear sticky goo soiled the suede cushions of my couch. I didn’t care. My cock was completely buried inside this muscle god, and then it was almost out, then all the way in again, over and over. I had been with some pretty talented bottoms, but none of them let me fuck them this deep or this fast. Steve was the best fuck of my life.

I could see Steve was about to cum hands free. I rotated him so his cock faced me. I opened my mouth, and caught the first massive load. I got the second and third spurts, too, then it shot all over my legs. It was so warm, I thought for a second he had pissed himself. I’d seen it happen plenty of times before, especially if I fucked hard and fast. Sure enough, after the cum came a fountain of piss, ruining my couch. It was worth it.

The sense of power I felt at being able to make another man cum and piss against his will was overwhelming. I felt a tingling in my balls that meant things were coming to their conclusion, at least for the moment.

“Steve, I’m gonna cum.”

Steve’s mouth hung agape, but he nodded. Only a moan escaped his lips.

I reached the zenith of my speed and ferocity. Steve started punching the arm of the couch. He broke it with his powerful arms and rock hard fist. His huge glute muscles clamped around my cock like a vise. The added pressure was the tipping point. With my cock somewhere in his lower digestive tract, I fired round after round of cum inside the sexy bodybuilder.

With straight guys, I never kissed. But Steve pulled me close and rubbed his mustache against my lips. I had to break my rule. We locked tongues, exploring each other’s mouths. I enjoyed the sensation of his mustache tickling the hairs of my nose. He tasted like cigarettes and testosterone.

We remained in that embrace for a long time. My cock softened, but it was too thick for Steve to push it out on his own. As long as I stayed wrapped in his arms, I was buried inside him. At last, he let go and I stood up. Slowly, the mass of my cock came dislodged and exited Steve’s asshole, followed by an obscene river of cum.

Steve came out of his reverie. “Oh shit, did I say anything stupid?”

“No, you didn’t say anything at all.”

Steve frowned. “Darn. I hoped I said something stupid like ‘I love you’.”

He left his shrew of a wife and moved in with me. He couldn’t afford to replace the sofa, so I made him work it off. His ass was so loose, his farts came out like a whisper.

#

‘Tis the Season

In my youth, I was an actor. Not what Hollywood folks call a “legitimate” actor. I was on the other side of the hill, in the San Fernando Valley. My parents moved to Reseda from Chile when I was just a boy. I could speak fluent Spanish, but I chose to speak English most of the time.

Living in the Valley, you couldn’t miss the effects of the $4 Billion adult entertainment industry. Gentlemen’s clubs, sex shops, arcades, X-rated movie theaters – they were all around us. We all remember high school dares. In some parts of the USA, it might be cow tipping or streaking through the barn. At our high school, friends used to dare each other to go into a video arcade and try to pass as an adult.

It was senior year, during just such a dare that I met Gary Hauser. Gary not only produced porn, he was an actor as well. I had never seen him before. I didn’t realize I was gay until the moment I set eyes on Gary jacking off in one of the private booths. His door was propped open. He took one look at me and he knew what I was, even before I knew myself.

“Come here, kid, and suck my cock.”

It was a magnificent cock in many ways. It wasn’t huge, but it was well proportioned, with a fat vein running down the underside. It was already slick with precum. When I put my mouth on it he shuddered. After a few minutes fucking my throat, he sprayed my face and tongue with cum.

“Kid, you’re a natural. Let me see what you’re working with down there.”

I blushed. I was maybe 2 inches soft, and 4 inches hard. I reluctantly pulled down my pants and showed him my small penis.

“You’re a bottom, I take it.”

“A what?” I had never had sex with anyone until just this moment. Gary saw the look of freshly lost innocence in my eyes and new he could exploit it for profit.

“Let me take you home and show you.”

My buddies saw me leave with Gary. Some of them recognized him from straight porn. I was going to be the laughing stock of Reseda High. Gary had a bossy, commanding way about him. I would rather have been humiliated for the three remaining weeks of senior year than miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime.

Gary broke me in. I screamed and wailed and begged him not to go any further, but he was an expert. He waited patiently until I could finally accommodate his cock. By the time it was all the way in, I was dripping precum all over the bedspread. When he slowly pulled back and pushed in hard, I moaned. He knew he had me.

“Feels good in that tight pussy, doesn’t it?”

I nodded and let out groans of pain and moans of pleasure. Gary picked up the pace. I pushed back to meet his thrusts. I wanted him to go deeper, but he wasn’t big enough. I wanted him to stretch me even more, but he wasn’t thick enough. Still, his technique made up for a lot. He was the perfect cherry popper. After a long while, Gary grunted and shot his load in my ass. It turned me on so much, I shot a load of my own without even touching myself.

Kid, I don’t know your name, but you are definitely a bottom. How would you like to make some money? You already earned a hundred bucks today.

I was blown away. Back then, one hundred dollars was an impressive sum. I nodded.

“Meet me on set this weekend.” He handed me a card. “Don’t tell me your name, I don’t need to know. You’re going to go by the name Jason Cox. It’s best to have a stage name. Using your real name will cause you no end of trouble.”

So that’s how I got my start in the gay porn industry. Every top wanted me to bottom for them. There were some cocks that defied imagination. Others, whose size would cause any average man to blush in the gym shower, seemed small to me after having tasted more.

Legit actors have the same problem as porn actors. You cross a certain invisible age line, and the work dries up. I spent my twenties and half my thirties earning enough to buy a small house in Van Nuys. Some of the bottoms had big cocks, and they were able to flip. I wasn’t versatile that way, so when my bottoming career ended, it was over.

Nobody had taught me how money works, so other than my modest house, I had no investments or other means to live by. I started taking odd jobs in the catering industry. It didn’t matter where I went, somebody always recognized me and addressed me as Jason, instead of Immanuel, my real name. I learned to enjoy the way these men gushed about how I got them off. Either they were tops that had wanted to fuck me, or they were bottoms who identified with me as I got fucked. I missed my youth, when I turned down every regular joe because I knew I had a porn star cock waiting in the wings to fuck me.

One year, I was hired to be a bartender at a Christmas party in Encino. The house was magnificent. There was a pool, a gym, and tennis courts. I arrived early. The owner showed me the bar inside the gym and I got started setting up. The owner had a large mustache, which I normally associated with my early career. It turned me on, even though I thought it was tacky and outdated. The way the owner kept looking at me, I knew he recognized me. When another man came out and put his arm on the guy’s shoulder, I knew it. There wasn’t a gay man alive who hadn’t seen one of my movies.

“Are you partners?” I asked, pointing to the guy cozying up to the owner.

The two men looked into each other’s eyes. They laughed. “We’re girlfriends from way back.” As the friend said this, I found myself doing a double take. He was my age, with a rugged face, mustache, broad shoulders and a thin waist. He wore a robe, so I couldn’t see much else.

“This is a clothing optional pool party. You’re cool with that, right?” The owner winked.

I nodded politely. “Yeah man, I’m cool with it. I think you know who I am, so you know I’ve seen more dicks than daisies in my lifetime.”

The friend came up and put his arm around my waist. “I like this one. Jason, right?”

I nodded, not wanting to reveal my true name. I was a lot shorter than this cowboy in a robe. When he turned to leave, I felt something brush my thigh that should have brushed my elbow.

“I’m Roger Breakwater.” He left a hundred in the tip jar. “I’m gonna be naked the rest of this party, so I want to tip you ahead of time.

Without any delay, he shed the robe, revealing a soft, fat snake of a cock that dangled near his knees. “I got paid more to do straight porn,” he said, “Or I’m sure we would have met. I know I wanted to.”

I was rock hard in my tight black polyester blend khakis. It didn’t matter, because I was so small. Roger didn’t even notice, he just jumped into the pool.

…to be continued

At the Lucky Market – An erotic story

…the way he squeezed the banana was more than suggestive…

On summer break from college back East, I came to stay with my Grandmother in Fresno, CA. Fresno is the largest city between Los Angeles and San Francisco. It sits in the middle of the Central Valley, where it bakes like the raisins and prunes it is famous for producing. Fresno was trying to be a big city, but it was a farming town at heart, so all the trappings of a proper city were there, but there was no one to use them. The Rumpus Room, the one gay bar in town, seldom had more than twenty lonely men who all knew each other. It wasn’t officially gay, but all the clientele were bisexual or gay men. Women didn’t go there.

Grandma drove a massive Town & Country station wagon. At night, she let me use it to “go do your college stuff” which was her way of saying “cruise for chicks”. I cruised for dicks. Having a rather small penis myself, I fantasized about playing with a big one. My boyfriend in college was average; we broke up in the Spring. I was too afraid of seeing someone I might know at the Rumpus Room, so I just drove endless streets in the swollen suburb to no avail. Who was going to get it on with a guy in a station wagon? I knew about parks and rest areas, but I preferred to know my date before we fucked.

That was why I was so surprised when a trip to the grocery store turned into the raunchiest, sexiest encounter of my life.

It was July. The vinyl on Grandma’s seat was so hot, it would give second degree burns, so I sat on a terry cloth towel. It was still so hot my legs turned red, but my skin stayed attached to my body, so it was an improvement over the alternative. Fresno’s didn’t have fancy grocery stores like Zabar’s. The closest they had was the Lucky Supermarket. It was a chain from somewhere east of California, but it specialized in local meat and produce, which was the best thing about Fresno. Farmers and cowboys were scary, but they made some damn good food.

On this fateful day, Grandma shopped on the butcher aisle and sent me with a short list to get fruits and vegetables for the week. It was near the melons I saw him: a cowboy with thick legs, a round butt (complete with Copenhagen snuff in the back pocket), and shoulders nearly twice as wide as his waist. From behind, he looked well-built. He picked up a cantaloupe and thumped it before putting it in his shopping cart. He froze. Turning his head, he caught me staring at him. His face was framed by a square jaw, big ears and a ten gallon hat with jet black hair poking out from under the brim.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

I blushed and hurried down to the onions and potatoes. The last thing I needed was for another cowboy to beat the shit out of me. I’d had enough of that in high school. I cursed when I realized I had forgotten tomatoes, avocados and bananas; the cowboy was right there in the aisle where all three met. He was inspecting the fruit. Again he turned his head in my direction, but this time he winked. He grabbed an avocado and gave it a gentle squeeze before putting it in his hand basket. He pressed a finger on a tomato. The skin gave but didn’t stay depressed. He put the ripe beefsteak tomato in the basket. Then he picked up a bunch of bananas. He held them close to his generous nose and inhaled deeply. To my horror, he gave the biggest banana a squeeze test.

“You’re not supposed to squeeze bananas, you’ll bruise them.”

The cowboy turned to face me. “I know.” I was mesmerized by his dark green eyes. The way he squeezed the banana was more than suggestive. He lowered it to crotch level, where something much larger than any banana was stuffed down his Wranglers. He used the banana to outline the enormity of his endowment.

“You like what you see?” He flexed it make it stand out even further. “You got me hard, son, and you’re going to help me with it. I can’t walk around like this.”

“Wh-what did you want me to do?”

He tilted his head towards a nearby door to the stockroom. “You walk right in front of me, nice and easy.” I covered him from the front, and the hand basket covered him from the side. I had no idea what was about to happen to me. There was more than a 50 percent chance I was in for a serious fag bashing. I was wrong.

The employee restroom was a private stinky toilet with a filthy wash basin. The cowboy hustled me in there and locked the door behind us. He raised his hand, causing me to flinch involuntarily.

The big bear of a man chuckled. “I ain’t gonna hit you, but I may hurt you. I think you’ll like it.” He unbuckled his belt unzipped, and let his Wranglers drop. They didn’t go far, just enough to reveal the root of his massive cock, which was big around as a Coke can. Now, I get turned on by huge cocks, but I had never been fucked by one that summer.

“Pull them down, son.” I dropped to my knees and freed the rest of his cock, which hit me with a strong uppercut to the jaw.

“Holy fucking shit!”

He frowned. “Watch your mouth.”

I lowered my gaze. “Yes, Sir.”

Calling the cowboy “Sir” made me feel something new and different. I submitted to his superior masculinity. I was his bitch, and I liked it. So did he. He grabbed the ten inch log of cock and slapped me with it hard before shoving the tip in my mouth.

“Open up.”

I didn’t think it was possible to take more but he held my lower jaw and stretched it. The head slipped past my teeth and pressed on my tonsils. I gagged, but he held it there, letting me gag and spit up over and over until the reflex stopped.

“Good boy.” In one swift motion, he forced his fat cock down my throat. My airway was blocked. He held it there for a while, until I saw stars. Just when I was sure I would suffocate, he pulled back just enough to give me a quick gasp of air, and then he was back in my throat, fucking my face. His big meaty hands held my ears to keep me from pulling away. I was his bitch and I had to take it the way he wanted.

I glanced at the bathroom mirror. The sight of his huge cock going in and out of my mouth gave me an instant boner. Not that he could tell. Like I said, I’m small. Just when I was getting used to his cock in my throat, he pulled me to my feet by my ears.

“It’s good an wet now. Take ‘em off.”

I obediently removed my jeans. He ripped a hole in my underwear. He had no interest in seeing my tiny cock. I stroked it through my underwear between my thumb and forefinger until he slapped my hand.

“You’ll come when I say you can come.”

“Yes, sir.” The words were barely audible after the brutal pounding my throat had taken.

I swooned when I felt his tongue circling my hole. He spit on the hole and used his fat finger to work it in. His finger felt bigger than my ex-boyfriend’s dick! He worked it in, then another, eventually he had three fat fingers inside me.

“Unh!” The pain in my anus was canceled by the pleasure in my prostate. A wet spot appeared on my briefs where the pre-cum was leaking out.

My cowboy pinched my nipples with his free hand. This made the juice dribble out faster. Suddenly, the fingers were gone.

He said, “This is gonna hurt, sorry.” He wasn’t lying. He had to clamp his huge hand down over my mouth to keep me from screaming. He pushed his cock partway into my ass, so that the thickest part of the head was in my anus, stretching both sphincters further than I ever thought possible. The pain caused my vision to go bright white, then I passed out.

When I came to, he was fucking me hard and deep. Whatever pain had been there before had quieted down. This new pain was much more tolerable. I felt him slipping around a corner in my gut I never knew existed. Each time that he turned the corner, a raw wave of pleasure sent shockwaves through my body.

“You daddy’s little pussy? Daddy’s little pussy boy, huh? You like it when I fuck your little pussy?”

“Yes, sir.” I couldn’t deny it. I love being his hole to use.

Apparently he had been holding back. Our last interchange put him in high gear. He pulled to the point that his head stretched my sphincter to its limit, then plunged in past the junction and deep into my colon. He did it over and over again until my legs started to give way. He just picked me up and turned me to face him. He pushed me against the wall and fucked even harder. He smashed his mustache into my clean shaven lips and buried his tongue in my mouth. He looked down, saw the big wet stain on my shorts, and smiled.

“Did I make your little clit all wet?”

I nodded my head. That was probably what put him over the edge. His violent thrusts were stretching me in ways I never thought possible. I could see the huge head press a large lump into my belly. I put my hands over the spot and squeezed each time his head popped up.

“Oh yeah!” The cowboy threw his head back so hard his hat fell off, revealing a bushy head of black hair that made his green eyes smolder. As he drew closer to climax, I cupped his bull balls, feeling them churn as they prepared to empty inside me.

“Take it, boy!” His cock thrashed inside me as it emptied warm, slippery cum into my belly. He held still, his crotch pressed hard against my buttocks, as deep as he could go. He kissed me passionately as more and more sperm emptied inside me.

“You can come now, son.”

“I already did.” It was true. My teeny weeny peeny had synced up with his giant bull cock. I didn’t care. It felt so good being filled with his cum, I hadn’t even noticed my own orgasm. His was far more important in every way.

He lifted me off his cock, which had softened enough to get me off it. It smacked his lower thigh and spattered the dregs of his cum on the dirty bathroom floor.

“Good boy.” He stuffed his cock back in his jeans and carefully zipped them. I thought how easy it must be for his dick to get caught in the zipper!

He said, “I want to see my cum leave your ass. Stand over the toilet.”

I did as I was told. He took a finger and easily entered my loose hole, opening the inner sphincter to allow the white man juice to pass. I was shocked by how much came out. As soon as I thought I was done, another spoonful would come flying out. The toilet water was white, with great ropes of the stuff floating about in eddies.

“That’s it, boy. Let it all go.” He stroked my cheek with his hand, but didn’t kiss me. He walked out of the toilet and slammed the door behind him. I had found the best fuck of my life, and he was walking out on me!

My underwear was torn in back, and sopping wet in front. I took me a minute to get them off and toss them in the waste bin. I wanted to cry. But then my eye landed on something unexpected: a banana. On the banana was written “Cody. 777-8714”. The rest of the summer, I “did my college stuff” in Cody’s barn, where he showed me every variety of pleasure two men can have together.

To this day, I can’t shop Lucky’s without getting hard.

Five Erotic Tales

PS Publishing recently made available five of Peter’s best short stories in an anthology called Five Erotic Tales – These are available in one volume, or you can download each separately.

Muscle Beach (free download)

“Muscle Beach” is one of several works of short erotic fiction written by Peter in the 1970s that had been lost to time. PS Publishers stumbled across it in a filing cabinet reserved for taxes. The language and expressions in “Muscle Beach” come directly from the thriving gay community in Los Angeles at the time. Although the story is not dated, it is likely written several years earlier than 1976, when the Big Donut Drive-In Became Randy’s Donuts. This story is set in the burgeoning bodybuilder community that became the center of a movement.

The story deals with many themes that appear in his novels. The matching of a well-endowed everyman with a perfectly sculpted, under-endowed muscleman appears in the earlier novel “Dark as a Dungeon.” Like his contemporary, Tom of Finland, Peter preferred an exaggerated reality. The difference is in the attitude towards size great and small. Extreme size becomes a burden rather than a blessing. Peter suffered from the same problems of over-endowment as the hero of this story, Taryn Rearden.

Miles High

“Miles High” was another story found among the files of unpublished works of Peter Schutes. The original title, “Eight Miles High,” was at risk of copyright infringement, so we took the liberty of changing it to something we believe Peter would have agreed to, given the situation. Peter left a handwritten note stapled to the manuscript. It read, “Like my Panama novel, this story is told primarily from the point of view of a man with a very small appendage. I often fantasized what it would be like to be small like Jeffrey. I have known very few men with small endowments. They are just as rare as the horse hung. Just like I felt with my unwieldy monster, they have all said that they saw their tiny penis as a curse for years. It wasn’t until they discovered that with many men, opposites attract. By embracing their femininity, rather than yearning for masculinity, they became a coveted sexual partner. I have a much harder time finding someone to top me than do they. ”

KwikLube 5000

Kwiklube5000-rev

“KwikLube 5000” is set in the mid 1970’s on Van Nuys Boulevard in the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles. At that time, Van Nuys was the “cruising” street of choice for young drivers. Cruising was outlawed by the quasi-fascist LAPD, who saw fit to curtail freedoms if they were inconvenient, for along with the cruising came fights, accidents, and crime. Jack “Snake” Elgin is a businessman who sought to capitalize on the explosion in car culture in his hometown. This story tells a tale of a man battling inner demons and outer extremities. His employees help bring him out of his own personal hell into a new kind of heaven.

Of this Story, Peter wrote: “KwikLube 5000 was my first attempt at portraying the San Fernando Valley, the capital of pornography and bleach blond hair. The Valley is an enigmatic place. There is no “there” there, as Gertrude Stein would say. It’s just an endless expanse of ugly signs and drive-thru businesses. Nobody leaves his or her car, which is why KwikLube 5000 was such a success. The driver could stay in the car and read the Los Angeles Times while mechanics fiddled with the car one story down. Despite my disparaging words, the Valley is actually dear to my heart. The bathhouses there have the most handsome men, who are much more receptive to an old, well-hung fart like me.”

Dirty Cop

This work of short erotic fiction is another that was found in the tax filing cabinet of Peter Schutes. It features the re-appearance by Shamus Little, the short body builder with a big rear and a tiny endowment. He built his body for one purpose, and he never fails to amaze. Dirty Cop was most likely written in 1977 or 1978. Around this time, there were a number of “buddy cop” stories in movies and television. Peter’s handwritten margin notes mention the inspiration for the characters Ash Hunter and Rocco Pounder came from an Italian polizziotto called “Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man.” Tasked with doing “whatever it takes” to bring down a drug ring in Venice, California, the two cops discover just how close they have become. Ash and Rocco reveal hidden secrets about their friendship and their anatomy.

Enjambment

“Enjambment” is one of the last stories written by Peter before his death in 1981 at the age of 85 years old. It is set in his adopted city, Los Angeles, in the present, which was 1980. The language and expressions are modern. The story deals with modern themes, like sexual hypnosis, exercise and fitness, and the cult of body worship that became synonymous with the 1980’s in the wake of Olivia Newton John’s “Physical.” It is a testament to his skill as a writer that he captured this moment in time so precisely.