Full story
ENTRANCED AND EXPLOITED
by Foxy Boy
***************************************************
No denying it: the path had grown up around them, to near-impassable heights. Karate-chopping large tendrils out of the path, they made motions like two machete-wielding sugar cane farmers. But this wasn't the rainforest, or even a nature preserve; just a large swath of underbrush, and a nice shortcut from Brock's gym back to their well-hidden retreat. Save for fighting obstacles, freedom gave Machokes little cause to complain.
"WHOO!! Am I the only one still rushin' from that last routine?"
"Yeah, considering I wouldn't touch those new three-in-one gym machines they're trying to integrate. Instead of toning yourself in practice battles, why not get a crappy half-workout on a few muscles instead?"
"Fuck you, the burn means it works. At least I'd never ask Brock for a spot on the weight bench." He followed up with a firm elbow in the forearm.
"The man owns the whole joint, from the floor up."
"The man is blind. Nobody squints that hard constantly, unless he's doing it to cover up some gross, malformed pupils or some shit."
Fighting thickets of reclaimed woods, the slow go made idle chatter look a little more enticing.
"Mmph... Steele?" The first one called, with an unexpected mouthful of leaves. "PPTH, Ugh. You noticed how sunny it is today?"
"Not really. Why, is ol' hard-assed Bolt bucking for weathercaster this year?" He elbowed his compadre like a college sophomore, making 'Bolt' wince in discomfort. They would never accept names from any trainer, but for some reason nicknames were different. As were Steele's jabs, since the five inches of height he had over Bolt meant longer arms and serious pain when he missed the shoulder blade.
"Hell no. But there's something about today, that's just... Different, I guess. I don't know."
"Yeah, I can see that." Curious, Steele cast eyes to the heavens. "... Huh. Really hasn't been this clear in at least a month. Not a cloud any-damn-where."
"Exactly. You know what that means, right?"
Bolt took a fist to his chin, impersonating The Thinker. "Uh, here tharr be dragons?"
He laughed it off. "More like spirits. Remember three years ago?"
"Uh... Shit, now I do. You mean that baby-faced trainer blazed through Pewter, with his wicked-strong ghost types? Mowed down half the gym before that Ketchum dude showed up."
"Yeah, lucky for us." An extended pause. "Hell, he's long gone. What am I worried about."
Kanto palms swayed over their heads, showing every step of forward progress. By now, some features were familiar landmarks; sure signs that their clearing was only yards ahead. No creature comforts, of course, but that came with this level of freedom. Catching more and more sunlight, Bolt's eyes practically danced over thoughts of laziness, under the flimsy veil of 'recuperation'.
Busting out and into the open, all daydreams were quickly shattered. Everything sat safe in its place; two beds made of matted vines, the black-rimmed firepit, a low-strung hammock of brush tied between the taller trees. And, a menacing purple intruder, in studded leather jacket, taking drags off a long cigarette while calmly staring back at them.
"The HELL!!?" Bolt's strong voice channeled the roar of a lion. "THIS IS OUR PROPERTY, AND YOU'RE FUCKIN' DEAD!!!"
Inexplicably, the trespasser said nothing, only whipping eyes between the both of them. But finally, the smoke was pulled from his mouth, and answers could begin.
"Nice digs, in a primitive way. How long have you been here unnoticed?"
"I didn't ask you SHIT, and now you're gonna..."
Bolt's voice shriveled like a rotting flower. He could feel tightening in his throat, until only shallow breaths would be possible.
It was all he needed to remember. And from Steele's face, the conclusion was mutual.
Their nigh-unexplained visitor, in ironed-out quasi-bondage duds, would be Pewter's Gengar revisited.
The swarthy ghost seemed to glare straight through Steele's head. His own voice remained normal, likely for purposes of idle, pre-doom conversation.
"Wh-why did you come back? And where's-"
"-He gave me his version of a pink slip. Let me know I was only so much property." Another slow, deep drag while he adjusted his collar. "Worst mistake he ever made. I skipped out on the funeral." Bolt's eyes shot wide. "... Kidding. What, you think I'm a monster? I attended."
His countenance gave no clue of joking, nor seriousness. They weren't sure they wanted to know.
"Now, to humour you studs with the basics of how and why." One word - the obvious - came with a sort of lilt. "I beat you fair and square, back when it mattered. But you were so unaware of everything I did, behind your back... While you focused on attacks, I focused on you. And since I tracked you down, and you're so clearly under my power, I've got a surprise for you." A random gust of wind rolled through the brush, whipping the soft spikes of ectoplasm over his head.
The Machoke buddies cowered like a child in the dark. "And, that w-would be?"
Immediately, dark clouds began rolling in above them. "I'm not here to battle."
At first, all they could feel was a tickle at their hips, like that of a sliding motion. As they both looked down, it was plain to see their power belts were slowly coming undone. With a mixture of fear and disbelief, both tried valiantly to stop the motion, clutching the belts tight as a wood vice.
This was the last thing they would do of their own will, before it all but disappeared into another's. Feeling remained in their hands, and everywhere else, but they had no power to move them.
Soon, the ghoul's Cheshire-cat-smile made its grand appearance. "Y'see, it's not so easy to find an attractive dude in my type around here, since most everyone remembers me as the wall of pain that swept through like Sennacherib." He took a moment to dispose of his cigarette, in a nearby bird's nest. "And everyone gets bored from time to time. SO," He articulated, "I'm lookin' to see a nice show. Now close your eyes, or you'll be very, very dead."
It was soon clear to them he only came to indulge, not to torture, as their eyes shut entirely on their own. The feeling, at first, was familiar; from the many times dreaded Psychics would hypnotize in battle. But naturally, it never quite reached the point where they dozed off... Rather, it seemed to infiltrate their mind. Steele tried his best to ignore the influence, but in the end it only meant three more seconds of modesty, and the grip around his belt changed to a firm downward pull. Bolt, not knowing why, found himself dying with curiosity. Seconds later, his head spun right to compare, finding eight-and-a-half smooth inches to his own six - both quickly stiffening.
And as they felt the last of control being drained, with new and subjective thoughts slipping in, the Gengar took one single step back, sat gently against a tree, and exposed the five translucent inches he posessed. Now, to watch pure, telekinetic might bring his fantasies glowingly to life.
"Yo, man," Bolt intoned, through blue-tinted pupils - Steele shared this colour, the sign of their present state. "Y'know, we've got a comfy setup here. Maybe just right for some fun."
Predictably, Steele caught the meaning. "Yeah, no lie. Get over there, so you can see what you've been missin'."
He'd gestured towards the nearest bed. Gengar - eyes wide open - sat stroking himself, tongue darting out with devious pleasure every now and then. Soon, he glanced upward, and the clouds quickly parted. This was done, of course, to start his new slaves and their many muscles sweating. It had just begun to bead, when Bolt leaped on the bed to lay down, and Steele climbed over top of him. In a single moment, Bolt's toned ass lifted from the vines, and his legs followed.
"Now, let's part those solid cheeks." Steele's voice - a rough leer - prompted several throbs from his gym pal's rock-hard meat; his own member, he thrust into the waiting hole, and the Gengar began a slow, rhythmic jerk. Bolt hardly moaned, or even winced... Which aroused their captor even more, as his control stopped at will; A lack of reflex, could only come from prior experience. Though closeted, one of his 'actors' truly loved it.
Steele's method was hard and fast; with a carnal grimace, he pounded into Bolt like daggers through butter. "Yeah, take it you man-bitch. Now we both know how lucky I am." Each retraction exposed half the reach of its head, then back in again. He had unrivaled talent, and used it well; the Gengar, now jerking much harder, set the free hand on his balls below. Focused on the hot performance, he rolled them gently around between fingers, content that this was better than he'd even expected.
"AAaahhh, fuck. Can't say you're tight, but you're great anyways." Steele's grip on his buddy became a firm hold. "Now, I'll make ya wish you had somethin' to bite down on."
That was all the warning Bolt received. A moment later, his hung partner's thrusts came even harder, slapping two hefty balls between his legs. "F-FUCK, hhhhuugh. Yerr in deep, man. Don't SSS-stop."
"You'll talk when I say you can, so long as yyyou're my bitch." His back arched, while huge meat continued its pounding. This would be the moment that broke the Gengar of his distance, and in one swift motion he jumped to his feet. Walking slowly in their direction, dick throbbing in his hand, it only made things better that they never seemed to notice.
Until he stood no more than a foot in front of them. Steele posed the obvious question. "You wanna get in on this?"
A ghastly grin curled what amounted to Gengar's lips. "Not completely. Hunks like you would tear me apart, if I took a form more, sexually able. But I just don't think Bolt's feeling conquered enough. Let's fix that little problem."
And with dick still half-engorged, Gengar lifted it to 'stare' at Bolt, who barely knew of his presence. His eyes narrowed, a large tongue flicked out several times, and the first little spritz began.
Soon, Bolt's upper body was drenched in warm yellow. "AAAAHHHhhh. Now you're two kinds of studly bitch." His urine came double-streamed, on both chin and chest. Bolt, already moaning from terrific anal, even smiled as Gengar's piss rose to flow over his back.
The fetish-captor's voice was low and lurid. "You better recognize. Who's the fuckin' stallion?"
"S-STEELE!!! SHIT, yeah!!"
"I knew it. And who's opened that door for you?"
"YYYyou!!" Ten beefy toes curled; every inch of submissive meat pumped large and in rhythm.
Trails of urine cascaded between the gym rats, lubricating the slide of Steele's pecs over his buddy's back. Through the whole sultry shower, their pace maintained, Bolt's heavy moans timed with the motion of his gifted friend. Once the Gengar's bladder reached empty, he stepped back, tugging furiously as Steele begat signs of his home stretch.
"OOO-OO-OHHHH, FUCK!!! IT'S COMIN' , DUDE, IT'S COMIN'!!"
Once again, and to the Gengar's delight, Bolt was somewhat unprepared. Steele's hips practically shot forward to meet his buddy's ass, and the latter could only wince at the generous load pouring into him. Small amounts that escaped coated most of the tall dom's legs, and Gengar had no qualms about sliding forward beneath him to lick it off.
"YEAH, STEELE!!" Bolt's dick was too hard to move. "FUCKIN' STUD!!" Now, would be the first time he looked back, and saw who had joined them. "NNNICE, huh?"
"No *SLURP* duh." His long, plasmic tongue cleaned Steele like a mop. "Alright, time for honesty. You want me up there to finish this, as it were."
Bolt's mind, or at least most of it, regained control; by this point, Gengar's influence would be redundant. "Hell y-YEAH, I do."
Steele, now thoroughly spent, pulled slowly out and revealed his hanging pipe. Glancing up, Gengar met a wide, macho grin, and a single drop clinging to its owner's other head. On his feet in no time, he relished this unfamiliar scene; two-handedly stroking Steele clean, with the odour of man hanging all around him, staring behind as Bolt lay stomach-up with his engorged member. Just watching and waiting.
Though devious, Gengar wasn't exactly cruel. "Alright, no more puppy-dog eyes. Your time just started." Leaving Steele with a final, extended glance, he marched towards the waiting second with even greater attention. It had been far too long, since the sweaty musk of a shaft hit his tongue.
Bolt's eyes followed him with anticipating shine, lids relaxed as he knelt between muscled legs. Steele, his own portion over, simply watched with arms crossed. Deep in the back of his mind - where unprovoked by state - it was comraudery, like cheering Bolt in a drinking game or stories of a loose girl he had the night before. Simple entertainment, with Gengar's chosen twist.
It was the shaft's root he chose to explore. Through his narrow-eyed grin, tongue flicked around Bolt and above his hanging sack, with soft leather hanging over each beefy leg. The taste, a strong mix of sexual sweat with his own urine. One upward glance, at bulging pecs and the face of a man being satisfied, and he downed the whole length in half a second.
"MMMMMm." Bolt's initial groan preceded one huge hand on the back of Gengar's head. It had neither time nor the need to press down; his company knew all the motions, and seemed to be there for his benefit only. Wet swipes below his balls sent them rolling around, while the veins just above pulsed and throbbed. All the same, Gengar's pace would slow, if just long enough to buy them time and prevent a quick ending. In skill, it was far better than anyone he'd ever known, and gave him the feeling he'd won out as favourite. That is, when he could focus without his toes curling in ecstacy.
Around seven short minutes, and he felt the sensation. "YEAH man, you know what's on the way. GET it, son."
A single, hard slurp that made his body tingle. "You just be ready to blow like Vesuvius. MMMMm." That sound, the strongest suction yet, and all else he knew was the low lilt of Steele's manly chuckle.
It came on like the very first time. "SSSHHHHIT, AGHH!!" Loads were soon shooting down a throat in constant movement. "YEHH! OHHhh! Oh-Oh-Mmmyeah!" Small drops of errant cum hit his chest, to go with sliding trails of piss and sweat. Gengar's eyes shut tight and focused, as did his own; knees heaved, and hips thrust. Fifteen seconds of carnal joy, and the feeling began its inevitable exit. But all the while, Gengar's tongue did its magic, ensuring that the end would come slow and without disappointment. When at last Bolt's motions relaxed, eyes, head and all came up off of him. The visitor collapsed backwards in messy contentment, and all was done.
"Fuck, dude." Bolt wiped his brow in the still-looming sun. "Best trespasser ever."
"Yeah," Gengar muttered, "I know. And so you don't have to ask, yes, this was planned."
"Natch. So, we all take a break, then?"
For once, Gengar's grin was facetious. "Yeah, forever. It's a big risk, putting this together in the open." He gave his claws an idle inspection, completely ignoring the galaxy of white spots on his jacket. "I don't want this little pasttime well-known. And in a minute or so, you'll understand why."
Bolt prepared to ask, but wouldn't get the chance. Quickly as he came, their captor drifted off his feet, into the air and simply disappeared.
And with him, went any shred of control. In mere moments, the two Machokes were free.
Free to handle waking up, spent and half-soaked in most every manly fluid, completely bewildered and without belts to hide their hanging meat.
"Uh, Bolt?" Steele turned to his buddy, who sat up on his bare hind.
"Y-yeah?"
"Why do I feel like givin' you a huge kiss?"
END OF LINE.
by Foxy Boy
***************************************************
No denying it: the path had grown up around them, to near-impassable heights. Karate-chopping large tendrils out of the path, they made motions like two machete-wielding sugar cane farmers. But this wasn't the rainforest, or even a nature preserve; just a large swath of underbrush, and a nice shortcut from Brock's gym back to their well-hidden retreat. Save for fighting obstacles, freedom gave Machokes little cause to complain.
"WHOO!! Am I the only one still rushin' from that last routine?"
"Yeah, considering I wouldn't touch those new three-in-one gym machines they're trying to integrate. Instead of toning yourself in practice battles, why not get a crappy half-workout on a few muscles instead?"
"Fuck you, the burn means it works. At least I'd never ask Brock for a spot on the weight bench." He followed up with a firm elbow in the forearm.
"The man owns the whole joint, from the floor up."
"The man is blind. Nobody squints that hard constantly, unless he's doing it to cover up some gross, malformed pupils or some shit."
Fighting thickets of reclaimed woods, the slow go made idle chatter look a little more enticing.
"Mmph... Steele?" The first one called, with an unexpected mouthful of leaves. "PPTH, Ugh. You noticed how sunny it is today?"
"Not really. Why, is ol' hard-assed Bolt bucking for weathercaster this year?" He elbowed his compadre like a college sophomore, making 'Bolt' wince in discomfort. They would never accept names from any trainer, but for some reason nicknames were different. As were Steele's jabs, since the five inches of height he had over Bolt meant longer arms and serious pain when he missed the shoulder blade.
"Hell no. But there's something about today, that's just... Different, I guess. I don't know."
"Yeah, I can see that." Curious, Steele cast eyes to the heavens. "... Huh. Really hasn't been this clear in at least a month. Not a cloud any-damn-where."
"Exactly. You know what that means, right?"
Bolt took a fist to his chin, impersonating The Thinker. "Uh, here tharr be dragons?"
He laughed it off. "More like spirits. Remember three years ago?"
"Uh... Shit, now I do. You mean that baby-faced trainer blazed through Pewter, with his wicked-strong ghost types? Mowed down half the gym before that Ketchum dude showed up."
"Yeah, lucky for us." An extended pause. "Hell, he's long gone. What am I worried about."
Kanto palms swayed over their heads, showing every step of forward progress. By now, some features were familiar landmarks; sure signs that their clearing was only yards ahead. No creature comforts, of course, but that came with this level of freedom. Catching more and more sunlight, Bolt's eyes practically danced over thoughts of laziness, under the flimsy veil of 'recuperation'.
Busting out and into the open, all daydreams were quickly shattered. Everything sat safe in its place; two beds made of matted vines, the black-rimmed firepit, a low-strung hammock of brush tied between the taller trees. And, a menacing purple intruder, in studded leather jacket, taking drags off a long cigarette while calmly staring back at them.
"The HELL!!?" Bolt's strong voice channeled the roar of a lion. "THIS IS OUR PROPERTY, AND YOU'RE FUCKIN' DEAD!!!"
Inexplicably, the trespasser said nothing, only whipping eyes between the both of them. But finally, the smoke was pulled from his mouth, and answers could begin.
"Nice digs, in a primitive way. How long have you been here unnoticed?"
"I didn't ask you SHIT, and now you're gonna..."
Bolt's voice shriveled like a rotting flower. He could feel tightening in his throat, until only shallow breaths would be possible.
It was all he needed to remember. And from Steele's face, the conclusion was mutual.
Their nigh-unexplained visitor, in ironed-out quasi-bondage duds, would be Pewter's Gengar revisited.
The swarthy ghost seemed to glare straight through Steele's head. His own voice remained normal, likely for purposes of idle, pre-doom conversation.
"Wh-why did you come back? And where's-"
"-He gave me his version of a pink slip. Let me know I was only so much property." Another slow, deep drag while he adjusted his collar. "Worst mistake he ever made. I skipped out on the funeral." Bolt's eyes shot wide. "... Kidding. What, you think I'm a monster? I attended."
His countenance gave no clue of joking, nor seriousness. They weren't sure they wanted to know.
"Now, to humour you studs with the basics of how and why." One word - the obvious - came with a sort of lilt. "I beat you fair and square, back when it mattered. But you were so unaware of everything I did, behind your back... While you focused on attacks, I focused on you. And since I tracked you down, and you're so clearly under my power, I've got a surprise for you." A random gust of wind rolled through the brush, whipping the soft spikes of ectoplasm over his head.
The Machoke buddies cowered like a child in the dark. "And, that w-would be?"
Immediately, dark clouds began rolling in above them. "I'm not here to battle."
At first, all they could feel was a tickle at their hips, like that of a sliding motion. As they both looked down, it was plain to see their power belts were slowly coming undone. With a mixture of fear and disbelief, both tried valiantly to stop the motion, clutching the belts tight as a wood vice.
This was the last thing they would do of their own will, before it all but disappeared into another's. Feeling remained in their hands, and everywhere else, but they had no power to move them.
Soon, the ghoul's Cheshire-cat-smile made its grand appearance. "Y'see, it's not so easy to find an attractive dude in my type around here, since most everyone remembers me as the wall of pain that swept through like Sennacherib." He took a moment to dispose of his cigarette, in a nearby bird's nest. "And everyone gets bored from time to time. SO," He articulated, "I'm lookin' to see a nice show. Now close your eyes, or you'll be very, very dead."
It was soon clear to them he only came to indulge, not to torture, as their eyes shut entirely on their own. The feeling, at first, was familiar; from the many times dreaded Psychics would hypnotize in battle. But naturally, it never quite reached the point where they dozed off... Rather, it seemed to infiltrate their mind. Steele tried his best to ignore the influence, but in the end it only meant three more seconds of modesty, and the grip around his belt changed to a firm downward pull. Bolt, not knowing why, found himself dying with curiosity. Seconds later, his head spun right to compare, finding eight-and-a-half smooth inches to his own six - both quickly stiffening.
And as they felt the last of control being drained, with new and subjective thoughts slipping in, the Gengar took one single step back, sat gently against a tree, and exposed the five translucent inches he posessed. Now, to watch pure, telekinetic might bring his fantasies glowingly to life.
"Yo, man," Bolt intoned, through blue-tinted pupils - Steele shared this colour, the sign of their present state. "Y'know, we've got a comfy setup here. Maybe just right for some fun."
Predictably, Steele caught the meaning. "Yeah, no lie. Get over there, so you can see what you've been missin'."
He'd gestured towards the nearest bed. Gengar - eyes wide open - sat stroking himself, tongue darting out with devious pleasure every now and then. Soon, he glanced upward, and the clouds quickly parted. This was done, of course, to start his new slaves and their many muscles sweating. It had just begun to bead, when Bolt leaped on the bed to lay down, and Steele climbed over top of him. In a single moment, Bolt's toned ass lifted from the vines, and his legs followed.
"Now, let's part those solid cheeks." Steele's voice - a rough leer - prompted several throbs from his gym pal's rock-hard meat; his own member, he thrust into the waiting hole, and the Gengar began a slow, rhythmic jerk. Bolt hardly moaned, or even winced... Which aroused their captor even more, as his control stopped at will; A lack of reflex, could only come from prior experience. Though closeted, one of his 'actors' truly loved it.
Steele's method was hard and fast; with a carnal grimace, he pounded into Bolt like daggers through butter. "Yeah, take it you man-bitch. Now we both know how lucky I am." Each retraction exposed half the reach of its head, then back in again. He had unrivaled talent, and used it well; the Gengar, now jerking much harder, set the free hand on his balls below. Focused on the hot performance, he rolled them gently around between fingers, content that this was better than he'd even expected.
"AAaahhh, fuck. Can't say you're tight, but you're great anyways." Steele's grip on his buddy became a firm hold. "Now, I'll make ya wish you had somethin' to bite down on."
That was all the warning Bolt received. A moment later, his hung partner's thrusts came even harder, slapping two hefty balls between his legs. "F-FUCK, hhhhuugh. Yerr in deep, man. Don't SSS-stop."
"You'll talk when I say you can, so long as yyyou're my bitch." His back arched, while huge meat continued its pounding. This would be the moment that broke the Gengar of his distance, and in one swift motion he jumped to his feet. Walking slowly in their direction, dick throbbing in his hand, it only made things better that they never seemed to notice.
Until he stood no more than a foot in front of them. Steele posed the obvious question. "You wanna get in on this?"
A ghastly grin curled what amounted to Gengar's lips. "Not completely. Hunks like you would tear me apart, if I took a form more, sexually able. But I just don't think Bolt's feeling conquered enough. Let's fix that little problem."
And with dick still half-engorged, Gengar lifted it to 'stare' at Bolt, who barely knew of his presence. His eyes narrowed, a large tongue flicked out several times, and the first little spritz began.
Soon, Bolt's upper body was drenched in warm yellow. "AAAAHHHhhh. Now you're two kinds of studly bitch." His urine came double-streamed, on both chin and chest. Bolt, already moaning from terrific anal, even smiled as Gengar's piss rose to flow over his back.
The fetish-captor's voice was low and lurid. "You better recognize. Who's the fuckin' stallion?"
"S-STEELE!!! SHIT, yeah!!"
"I knew it. And who's opened that door for you?"
"YYYyou!!" Ten beefy toes curled; every inch of submissive meat pumped large and in rhythm.
Trails of urine cascaded between the gym rats, lubricating the slide of Steele's pecs over his buddy's back. Through the whole sultry shower, their pace maintained, Bolt's heavy moans timed with the motion of his gifted friend. Once the Gengar's bladder reached empty, he stepped back, tugging furiously as Steele begat signs of his home stretch.
"OOO-OO-OHHHH, FUCK!!! IT'S COMIN' , DUDE, IT'S COMIN'!!"
Once again, and to the Gengar's delight, Bolt was somewhat unprepared. Steele's hips practically shot forward to meet his buddy's ass, and the latter could only wince at the generous load pouring into him. Small amounts that escaped coated most of the tall dom's legs, and Gengar had no qualms about sliding forward beneath him to lick it off.
"YEAH, STEELE!!" Bolt's dick was too hard to move. "FUCKIN' STUD!!" Now, would be the first time he looked back, and saw who had joined them. "NNNICE, huh?"
"No *SLURP* duh." His long, plasmic tongue cleaned Steele like a mop. "Alright, time for honesty. You want me up there to finish this, as it were."
Bolt's mind, or at least most of it, regained control; by this point, Gengar's influence would be redundant. "Hell y-YEAH, I do."
Steele, now thoroughly spent, pulled slowly out and revealed his hanging pipe. Glancing up, Gengar met a wide, macho grin, and a single drop clinging to its owner's other head. On his feet in no time, he relished this unfamiliar scene; two-handedly stroking Steele clean, with the odour of man hanging all around him, staring behind as Bolt lay stomach-up with his engorged member. Just watching and waiting.
Though devious, Gengar wasn't exactly cruel. "Alright, no more puppy-dog eyes. Your time just started." Leaving Steele with a final, extended glance, he marched towards the waiting second with even greater attention. It had been far too long, since the sweaty musk of a shaft hit his tongue.
Bolt's eyes followed him with anticipating shine, lids relaxed as he knelt between muscled legs. Steele, his own portion over, simply watched with arms crossed. Deep in the back of his mind - where unprovoked by state - it was comraudery, like cheering Bolt in a drinking game or stories of a loose girl he had the night before. Simple entertainment, with Gengar's chosen twist.
It was the shaft's root he chose to explore. Through his narrow-eyed grin, tongue flicked around Bolt and above his hanging sack, with soft leather hanging over each beefy leg. The taste, a strong mix of sexual sweat with his own urine. One upward glance, at bulging pecs and the face of a man being satisfied, and he downed the whole length in half a second.
"MMMMMm." Bolt's initial groan preceded one huge hand on the back of Gengar's head. It had neither time nor the need to press down; his company knew all the motions, and seemed to be there for his benefit only. Wet swipes below his balls sent them rolling around, while the veins just above pulsed and throbbed. All the same, Gengar's pace would slow, if just long enough to buy them time and prevent a quick ending. In skill, it was far better than anyone he'd ever known, and gave him the feeling he'd won out as favourite. That is, when he could focus without his toes curling in ecstacy.
Around seven short minutes, and he felt the sensation. "YEAH man, you know what's on the way. GET it, son."
A single, hard slurp that made his body tingle. "You just be ready to blow like Vesuvius. MMMMm." That sound, the strongest suction yet, and all else he knew was the low lilt of Steele's manly chuckle.
It came on like the very first time. "SSSHHHHIT, AGHH!!" Loads were soon shooting down a throat in constant movement. "YEHH! OHHhh! Oh-Oh-Mmmyeah!" Small drops of errant cum hit his chest, to go with sliding trails of piss and sweat. Gengar's eyes shut tight and focused, as did his own; knees heaved, and hips thrust. Fifteen seconds of carnal joy, and the feeling began its inevitable exit. But all the while, Gengar's tongue did its magic, ensuring that the end would come slow and without disappointment. When at last Bolt's motions relaxed, eyes, head and all came up off of him. The visitor collapsed backwards in messy contentment, and all was done.
"Fuck, dude." Bolt wiped his brow in the still-looming sun. "Best trespasser ever."
"Yeah," Gengar muttered, "I know. And so you don't have to ask, yes, this was planned."
"Natch. So, we all take a break, then?"
For once, Gengar's grin was facetious. "Yeah, forever. It's a big risk, putting this together in the open." He gave his claws an idle inspection, completely ignoring the galaxy of white spots on his jacket. "I don't want this little pasttime well-known. And in a minute or so, you'll understand why."
Bolt prepared to ask, but wouldn't get the chance. Quickly as he came, their captor drifted off his feet, into the air and simply disappeared.
And with him, went any shred of control. In mere moments, the two Machokes were free.
Free to handle waking up, spent and half-soaked in most every manly fluid, completely bewildered and without belts to hide their hanging meat.
"Uh, Bolt?" Steele turned to his buddy, who sat up on his bare hind.
"Y-yeah?"
"Why do I feel like givin' you a huge kiss?"
END OF LINE.