Leather

The collection

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By Musclebuff

Guess it is Tom of Finland's early influence on me: I've always been attracted to, fascinated by the amazingly sexual affinity there is between leather and (big) muscle.

There he was, standing on the bottom flight of stairs, sniffing the air. The atmosphere of the underlit cellar was redolent of piss, amyl and marijuana. He found this quite heady, though his own pheramones were easily strong enough to compete. Dark shapes moved beneath him - bare flesh, black leather and steel paused to look up at him. Some jerked off there and then, others started to pant. Slowly all activity ceased as he descended the last few steps into The Dungeon. Hands reached out to touch and fell, his muscle, his leather - he brusquely but gently knocked them all aside as he strode slowly towards the bar. Not that he didnít en joy the inevitable adulation - he was used to it and fed on it - but tonight, his first in San Francisco, he was searching for something, someone particular.

The bartenderís jaw dropped. Usually so taciturn and used to fending off sexual advances from his customers, this extremely well-built, leather-vested, tight-jeans muscle man could not hide his interest in the vision that confronted him.

Leather, for that was his name, or at least the one he was known by, stood six feet four inches tall and about three and a half wide at the shoulders. His physique was Olympian by any standards and the muscles were so pumped and full that the hides of his clothing were forced to stretch into a second skin that echoed every striation and bulging muscle they contained. The ankle-length black, glove leather coat jacket was open to reveal the massive smooth pecs and jutting nips - so massive that their shadow almost obscured the heavily corded eight-pack below, between them and the belt of the chaps that was set low on his hips. Biceps stretched the second skin to its limit whenever he moved an arm, and his quads filled the chaps so tightly that one wondered how he could bend his knees to ride his equally huge motorcycle.

His equally massive equipment was barely contained, squeezed into his studded codpiece which allowed tantalizing glimpses of flesh between it and the chaps. He pushed his leather-and-chains biker cap back on his black brush cut and removed his shades to address the gawping bartender. The DJ forgot to set another disc in action and the whole place was suddenly plunged into a tense, expectant silence. Leather looked over his shoulder and yelled Music! The dancers began their sensual mating dances again, distracted by the presence of this Leather legend.

He leaned over the counter, grabbed the bartended by the balls and demanded the whereabout of a certain very well-known bodybuilder who was rumored to frequent this sleazy dive. "Heís in the back playroom - can I get you a drink?" "Only if you drink my piss first!" came the answer. He swung away before the man could accept the invitation and began to negotiate the labyrinthine corridors and crannies infested with slurping shadows all the way to the back playroom. A burly biker type guarded the entrance. "Members only!" Leather gave him a look, the guy opened the door. Several slings swung in the shadows as guys of all kinds and colors gave and received fingers, dildos, fists, always demanding More! Bigger! The room stank of amyl and shit. At the far end a very well-known Olympian competitor was giving the treatment to a small, younger gym rat who was whimpering with fear and lust as Mr Olympia flexed a bulging bicep and drove his fist without mercy into the muscular bottom.

"Take it out!" demanded Leather as he approached the bare-topped , wide-backed Olympian from the rear. Without doing so, the bodybuilder turned and said, or tried to say "Who the fuck - - " but Leather grabbed his naked dick and twisted it saying "Let him go - youíre wanted." He gently pulled the invading arm out of the guyís ass as he fixed the big BB with his steel blue eyes. BB suddenly lost all the strength in his legs and his dick went limp.

"Yes, SIR!" But the bottom yelled at Leather, "Please mister! Give it to me!" Without taking his eyes off BB, Leather rammed the dildo high into the pretty muscle boy, clamped his other fist round the root of his cock and balls and pulled hard. The bottom came immediately and copiously, splashing his cum on Leatherís jacket.

"Lick it up! Lick your boyís cum off my jacket!" He forced BBís face down on to his sleeve and held it there until every drop had been sucked off. The boy wailed for Leather to fuck him as BB was marched to the door and out - through the dancers they went, Leather pushing BB ahead of him and up the stairs out into the cold night.

"Get on the bike!" he ordered. The half-naked BB sat on the pillion, only to find a dildo rising through the seat into his butt. Leather fastened a strap across his legs to pin him down on the object up his ass. Moments later the huge Harley swept them both away with BB clinging desperately to Leatherís waist, his cock jammed up against the naked behind in front of him. The powerful engine throbbed through both menís vital areas. BB started to squirm - "Donít get any ideas like that! Sit still!" •


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