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— originally published in
Honcho magazine - January, 1996 issue —
— Hong Kong musclestuds to make you squeal —
Locals say the Tough Guy Big Stud Social Club (the name loses something
in translation) is the raunchiest bar in Hong Kong. Definitely not on
the tourist circuit, it's a gritty little backstreet den of depravity on
the Kowloon side where only the hardiest go to have a drink and get
their rocks off. Its reputation as a magnet for some of the hottest,
sexiest and most over-sexed men in the Colony is legendary. Legendary
enough so that when Tom Campbell visited Hong Kong on a short holiday
from the States he made a point of checking the place out for himself.
It was late in the evening on January 30, Chinese New Year's Eve, and
there was already a long line outside the club when Tom arrived. It took
a sizable tip to the surly, sumo-sized doorman to jump the queue, but it
was well worth it. Tom felt an irresistible rush of excitement when he
finally got into the bar proper and had a look around at the
wall-to-wall beef jammed inside. Fuck. It was like he'd died and gone to
Fantasy Man Heaven.
The place was packed with hundreds of Hong Kong hunks strutting their
stuff. Real *men* they were, too. No boys, wimps, geeks, fems or
cardigan sweater-types allowed at the Tough Guy Big Stud Social Club.
These guys were all, without doubt, into either hard physical labor or
gut-busting gym workouts. The place reeked of muscle, man-sweat, rampant
machismo and raging testosterone. And, what with the intense heat and
stifling humidity in the club, everyone was stripped to the bare
essentials. There were hard, muscular, sweaty bodies everywhere.
Tom quickly peeled off his T-shirt and offered up his own tanned, buffed
upper body to the assembled multitude. As the only blue-eyed blond
bodybuilder in a sea of mahogany skin, dark brown eyes and jet-black
hair, his presence did not go unnoticed. He practically caused a small
riot, what with all the attention his impressive five-foot-ten, hundred
and eighty-five muscular pounds produced. Basking in all the admiring
glances, blatant stares and outright lascivious leers coming his way, he
took a deep breath (all the better to show off his pecs) and said to
himself, "I think I'm going to like it here."
First order of business was getting a drink. It took awhile to work his
way through the crowd (nothing like squeezing past--and being squeezed
by--lots of hot men to work up a thirst) but eventually Tom was standing
at the end of a rather long bar line waiting to place his order. A tall,
good-looking jock (a swimmer, judging from the width of the shoulders
and sleek torso) joined the line behind him and nodded a friendly hello.
Tom didn't give the guy a second thought until a few moments later when
he felt something poke against his backside. He reached down and, to his
pleasant surprise, discovered a hard cock with a plump, helmet-shaped
head accosting him.
The swimmer had pulled his engorged, vein-laced dick and juicy,
cum-bloated balls out through the open fly of his pants and was offering
them up to Tom for a little late-night fun, knowing that in the crush of
the crowd no one would have the slightest idea what they were doing. Tom
liked the idea immediately. Their eyes met, they exchanged knowing winks
and Tom's hand tightened around the hot, throbbing organ.
Anyone looking at them would think Tom and the swimmer were merely
standing in line waiting to get a drink. But down below, where no one
could see, Tom's hand was pumping away. The closer they got to the bar,
the harder and faster he went.
By the time they reached the front of the line it was pretty obvious to
everyone what was going on. Especially the way the swimmer was gasping
for breath and grimacing against the pressure building in his balls. No
one seemed to mind, though. In fact, a lot of the guys around them
looked like they wished they were in on the action. A few were even
openly stroking their own aching erections while they watched.
In a feat of near-perfect timing, Tom stepped up to place his order at
precisely the same moment the swimmer let out a deep, guttural moan,
gave a mighty shudder and shot his first wad against the front of the
bar. Without batting an eye, Tom shouted for two beers above the general
din of the club (and the swimmer's gasps) and kept pumping away at the
exploding cock until the man's orgasm ran its full course. The swimmer
must not have gotten his nut in weeks, going by the amount of creamy,
gooey, white cum he left dripping down the front of that bar!
Tom paid for the beer and then tugged the heaving, sweat-drenched
swimmer out of the way. He propped the satisfied athlete against the
bar, gave him one of the Tsingtao beers and, after wiping the cum on his
hand on the T-shirt dangling from the guy's belt-loop, set off again to
explore the club.
The more Tom saw of the club, the more Tom liked it. It was every bit as
raunchy as he'd heard. It appealed to him--and his hard cock--on a raw,
visceral level. Everywhere he went there was something of interest.
Against one wall, a short construction worker type (stocky,
thirty-something, not particularly handsome but built like a brick
shit-house) smiled like a Buddha as two guys stood on either side of him
and chewed on his nipples while a third knelt in front of his open jeans
and gave him a blow-job.
In the far corner, in one of the few areas with any space, a tall,
strikingly handsome, naked young man with the face of a movie star, the
impressive, beefy body of an NFL linebacker, and the huge, jaw-dropping
equipment of a Guangzhao draft horse was strung up between two upright
wooden posts. He was getting the bejeezus whipped out of him by a small,
wiry little guy half his size who knew exactly how to get the biggest
bang for his fuck out of his cat o'nine tails. Despite his obvious
pain--or more likely because of it--the naked young man's huge, uncut
cock (who says Chinese guys have tiny dicks?) was swollen to epic
proportions, glowing like a burnished teak log and dribbling a copious
amount of creamy, white pre-cum.
After getting another beer (no hand-job this time but a tattooed
skinhead did run an appreciative hand over his chest), Tom made his way
down to the far end of the bar where, for some reason, there seemed to
be a bit of empty space.
On closer inspection, he noticed that the bar itself was slightly
different. For the last fifteen feet it was only three feet high and a
brass handrail ran along the front of it. *That's odd*, he thought.
At that very moment, a very good-looking and exceptionally well-built
young man wearing only spandex gym shorts and matching baby blue
sneakers pushed his way into the empty semi-circle and made an elaborate
production of primping, preening, posing and flexing. It didn't take
long before the shameless little muscle-stud had most of the wolves
present licking their chops and chomping at the bit. Some of the
hungrier denizens even had their hard dicks out in the open, they were
so excited and ready to pounce.
His attention-getting gyrations complete, the sexy satyr smugly bellied
up to the bar and ordered a scotch. He took one swig and then slowly,
seductively, peeled off the spandex shorts. Resting his arms on the
handrail, he posed and flexed one of the most gorgeous and beautifully
buffed bubble-butts Tom had ever seen in his life, before looking round
and locking eyes with one of the waiting wolves, a hulking dockworker
type with big bulging muscles, scars, tattoos and a humongous, very
mean-looking dick.
Taking his cue, his thick cock poised for action, the dockworker
strutted up behind the bobbing bubble-butt and made ready. He pulled on
a condom and slapped on some lube (both kept in large ginger jars
sitting on the bar), positioned his dick at the waiting asshole and
then, without further ado, shoved it all the way in.
What came next was a hard-driving, body-pounding, ball-busting fuck. Tom
could see now why the brass rail would come in handy. The dockworker was
an animal brute, a maniac, who turned butt-fucking into an intense,
bone-jarring experience which made hanging on to something a necessity.
The fuckee in question was obviously no butt-sex beginner. Judging from
the way he not only met each pile-driving thrust but loudly begged for
more, he clearly loved being ridden long and hard. The rougher and
harder the fuck, the better he liked it.
Absorbed as he was in the butt-fucking extravaganza, Tom barely noticed
the first tentative grope down at his crotch. He looked around for the
perpetrator but shrugged it off as an accident when he failed to make
eye contact with anyone. When he felt a second, unmistakable grope he
looked down and discovered a bald, brawny little midget grinning up at
him, totally naked except for a crimson colored jockstrap.
The midget said something in Cantonese, pressed his lips on Tom's hard
cock and tried sucking him off through his pants. Never having been
blown by a midget before, and in just the mood to try it, Tom thought,
*What the hell*, unzipped his pants, and hauled out his meat.
Within seconds of the little guy going down on him, Tom went weak at the
knees and gasped out a choked, incredulous "Oh, fuuuuuuuck!" The midget
was awesome, absolutely fucking awesome! He had a mouth on him that
could put a vacuum cleaner to shame. And his technique! Fuck, he not
only chowed down on Tom's thick, circumcised schlong with the insatiable
hunger of a starving calf at its mother's teat but played it with all
the skill of a jazz trumpeter. In no time Tom was seeing stars and
panting for breath. His balls suddenly pulled up tight, there was a
blinding flash and then--*boom!*--his nuts blew and he was jerking about
and spewing his load.
After squeezing the last drop of cum from Tom's rapidly shrinking dick,
the midget gave him a satisfied smile and pushed off through the crowd.
"Weird, just too fucking weird," Tom mumbled as he zipped up and set out
to find the washroom. He had to admit, though, that the quickie helped
take the edge off his raging libido. At least for the moment. The men's
can wasn't all that difficult to find but, what with the bar's tightly
packed revelers, it did take a while to reach it. By the time he
squeezed through the door, Tom had been groped, fondled, examined and
otherwise given the serious once-over more times than a two-bit Tijuana
whore. Not that he minded. Actually, it was kind of fun being treated
like a cheap side of beef. Tom took an immediate liking to the can. Its
rank confines appealed to his baser, more prurient instincts and, once
his eyes got used to the gloom, he couldn't wait to explore the room's
grungy, foul-smelling interior.
In the center sat a large bronze bathtub which was used as a communal
urinal. Sitting in the tub was a naked, Chinese fashion model type who,
going by his damp hair, dripping wet body and throbbing erection, got
off on water sports. Standing around the tub with their hard dicks
sticking out of their pants was a small coterie of guys who obviously
liked to watch.
Behind the tub on the left were two empty stalls (no doors). One
contained a working toilet, the other had a toilet seat with enough room
under it to fit an upturned face. Behind the tub on the right, suspended
from the ceiling near a couple of sinks, was a large, heavy-duty leather
sling (hanging unused on this particular evening) and a set of manacles
bolted into the wall.
Nature again reminded him why he was there so Tom stepped up to the tub,
opened his pants and flipped out his cock. Fortunately he was only
half-erect and didn't have a lot of trouble taking a leak. He gave the
model a thrill by pissing all over him (a good soaking it was, too) and
was gratified by triggering a major orgasm in one of the dick-wanking
spectators.
Out in the bar less than five minutes later Tom had another, most
satisfying (to say the least), international incident. Just like in the
movies, the milling crowd magically parted and he found himself staring
at an absolutely heart-stopping mountain of massive Chinese muscle.
Forget aesthetics, this guy was a prime example of a bodybuilder with a
bigger-is-better mindset and the genetic ability to "get huge" and gross
out the general public. Almost six feet tall, weighing at least two
hundred and sixty rock-solid pounds and wearing only a skimpy pair of
white, sweat-soaked gym shorts cut high on the sides to accommodate his
elephantine thighs, he was a muscle-bound freakazoid who possessed
staggering, unbelievably monstrous, physical proportions. He was so
bulked-up it was a wonder he could move at all, let alone pump heavy
iron. But move he did, right up to within inches of Tom's flushed,
awestruck face.
For someone who got off on Serious Muscle (and Tom loved guys who were
into the bigger-the-better mindset), this monster was a dream come true.
Even better, the monster was making it very clear he liked what he saw,
too. So Tom did what any muscle aficionado would do--he reached out and
grabbed a handful of monstrous pec.
That pleased the monster. He gave a wry, egotistical grin and flexed the
thick, overhanging slabs of curved pec-muscle mounted on his chest. It
was a vain, in-your-face exhibition of pure muscle-head posturing and
Tom loved every inch of it.
They were a perfect match. The monster was into getting his big muscles
worshiped and Tom was more than happy to provide that adulation. Fuck,
he was practically creaming himself, he was so happy. His hands boldly,
lovingly roamed all over the awesome curves, peaks, valleys and ridges
of the man's gigantic, rock-solid musculature as the monster went
through his posing routine and brazenly put his unnatural size, shape
and density on display. Front chest, double biceps, side chest, abs and
legs, rear back, moon pose, most muscular: he hit them all. And when he
finished one set of poses he went through them all again. And again. And
again. In no time his satin-smooth, totally hairless almond-colored skin
was glistening with sweat (which added to his allure) and his huge,
massive muscles were pumped even bigger from all the exertion.
"Omigod! Omigod! Omigod!" Tom kept murmuring (when, that is, he didn't
have his mouth, lips or tongue on the man's beefy upper body). It was
almost too good to be true, getting his hands on such monstrous muscle
as this. Fortunately, he didn't stop to ponder his lucky karma but kept
going gaga over the big stud, doing all the right things and pushing all
the right buttons.
And while he figured the monster's cock was probably of secondary
importance when it came to getting the guy off, Tom did wish he had
another hand or two when the monster stopped posing and flexing just
long enough to pull down his gym shorts and free his raging hard-on. But
just then, almost in answer to his prayers, the same midget who blew Tom
earlier pushed his way through the mass of spectators and, after first
seeking their approval, pounced on the monster's one-eyed love muscle
and proceed to give it a workout of a far, far different kind.
Less than two minutes later, right in the middle of a double biceps
pose, with Tom worshiping his big, pumped-up muscles and the midget
sucking on his bloated pecker, the monster blew. Big time. Really big
time. His orgasm was nothing short of spectacular: contorted face,
bulging muscles, veins popping up all over the place, one agonized
contraction after another.
By sheer coincidence, the monster blew mere seconds before midnight so
that he ended up having his orgasm at exactly the same moment as the
club erupted in some unbelievably raucous and wildly exuberant Chinese
New Year festivities. Drums pounded, cymbals clashed, confetti flew,
laser light shows flashed overhead, long strings of firecrackers
exploded in the corners and a fierce Chinese dragon (manipulated by a
dozen naked young acrobats) snaked its way through the boisterous crowd,
all in celebration of the New Year--the Year of the Pig, according to
the Chinese lunar calendar--all while the monster bucked and jerked and
spewed and had a few major fireworks of his own.
After helping the drained and exhausted muscle-head get to the nearest
wall, Tom gave the guy's right pec a last, lingering caress then turned
to join in the partying. That's when he was stopped dead in his tracks
by a pair of smoldering brown eyes belonging to the sexiest man he had
ever seen in his life.
They stared at each other from a distance of about twenty feet and Tom
slowly turned to mush. The guy was gorgeous, drop-dead gorgeous.
Absolutely everything Tom could possibly want in a man.
Unmistakably Chinese, the hunk was in his early thirties, stood a tad
over six feet, weighed in the neighborhood of two hundred and twenty
pounds and, aided by his rather severe crew-cut and stern, military
bearing, reeked of arrogant self-confidence and tough, macho sex appeal.
He had his shirt off and, judging by the broad shoulders, bulging arms,
massive pecs, narrow wasp-waist and washboard abs, obviously spent a lot
of time in the gym. His flawless skin, smooth and hairless, made his
muscled physique all the more attractive and appealing.
He gave a reproving snarl and pushed his way over to where Tom was
standing. Leaning close so he could be heard over all the noisy
celebrations, he said in precise, perfect English, "I've been watching
you. You are a pig. A real fucking pig."
"Yeah, I guess I am," agreed Tom. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of
his mouth. He took a deep whiff of the hunk's heady cologne and raw,
intoxicating man-sweat, their eyes met again and a thousand butterflies
took off in his gut. He placed his hands on the man's curved and
polished slabs of pec-muscle in such a way that his thumbs could tease
and titillate the two plump, dark brown, raisin-sized nipples while his
fingers worshipped the rest of the imposing mounds.
"I have an idea," he purred, getting hornier and crazier by the second.
"Since this is the Year of the Pig, why don't I show you just how much
of a pig I can be?"
"Right here? Right now?" asked the hunk, clearly intrigued by the
invitation.
"What better place to be a pig than in a pigpen surrounded by other
pigs?" replied Tom. He latched onto the hunk's nipples and used them to
pull the man close for a deep, serious lip-lock In no time, they were
practically eating each other alive, their hungry kisses were so intense
and demanding. Tom fanned the flames by first tightening his grip on the
hunk's nipples and then twisting the nubs back and forth harder and
harder until the hunk suddenly broke the kiss, threw his head back in a
rapture of tit-ecstasy and gasped, "Okay, let's do it! Right here, right
now!"
Tom broke into a big shit-eating grin and whooped, "You got it, babe!"
He gave the hunk another long, passion-filled kiss while
enthusiastically playing some more with the two rubbery nipples until he
lost it, totally lost it and went on the attack.
Leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses as his mouth worked its way down
the hunk's neck, chest and abs (pausing here and there to do some
serious nibbling at the really tender, excitable parts), Tom slowly
dropped to his knees and, after driving the stud crazy by eating out his
cute little belly-button, finally made for the grand prize packed away
in the bulging, skin-tight blue jeans.
Not without some difficulty, Tom wrestled the hefty uncut cock and
hairless, walnut-sized balls out into the open and got the jeans down
low enough so he could also get his hands on the twin globes of hard,
muscular bubble-butt. He studied the thick, throbbing column of
man-flesh staring him in the face and felt his heart start to race. He
wanted it, wanted it bad. And then, like a hungry terrier with a big
juicy bone, he pounced on the erect, cum-dripping seven inches and
savaged it something fierce. He unleashed all the drive, intensity and
skill that an experienced, man-hungry sex-pig could bring to a serious,
hardcore encounter. Gentle he was not. But the hunk was with Tom every
step of the way and, in fact, loved the roughness of the attack He got
more and more frenzied the longer Tom chowed down on his cock, chewed on
his ample foreskin, tugged and twisted his balls and man-handled his
ass. And when Tom stuck a finger up his twitching butthole, squeezed his
dangling gonads and sucked on the exposed knob of his cock all at the
same time, he almost fucking lost it!
Figuring he had the hunk primed and ready to go, Tom got up and
maneuvered the big guy over to the low bar with the brass railing. They
looked at each other and instantly both knew what the other wanted. Tom
hurriedly stripped off his pants while the hunk slipped on a condom and
slapped on some lube. Grabbing on to the railing, Tom bent around to
look at the handsome, brawny hunk and growled, "Do it, babe. Fuck me.
Fuck me good and hard!"
The hunk didn't need to be told twice. He positioned his cock at Tom's
puckered, pink butthole, gently pushed it in just far enough for his
knob to clear the portal and then, after the slightest pause to let them
both catch their breath, drove his dick right to his balls in one hard,
concerted thrust. "Oh, fuck, yes!" gasped the hunk.
"You got that right!" echoed Tom, quickly surrendering to the waves of
pleasure-pain radiating from his ass. "Fuck me like you mean it!" For
good measure, Tom clamped down good and hard on the hunk's hot,
throbbing dick and wriggled his ass to get things going.
"Yeahhhhh!" the hunk rumbled. And then he started fucking. Nice and slow
and easy at first but then harder and faster and rougher as he got into
it. In no time he was a sex-crazed, butt-rutting animal.
Holding on for dear life while the hunk pounded thick pud up his
shit-chute, Tom opened his eyes and looked in the mirror behind the bar.
In it, he saw scores of faces intently watching him getting fucked and
pleasured and turned on by the whole mind-blowing experience. It turned
him on even more when he noticed some of the guys had their hard dicks
out and were openly jacking off while they watched him getting fucked.
*What a trip,* he thought, *getting fucked by a muscle-stud in front of
a bunch of appreciative fellow sex pigs*. He couldn't help grinning like
a schoolboy, it was so hot.
It wasn't much longer after that when the hunk's pounding cock detonated
the sizzling jizz in his sexy brown balls and he lost it in a
body-convulsing orgasm. This triggered Tom's own bouncing balls and he,
too, without so much as a finger on his cock, lost it and drenched the
bar in front of him with thick, gooey gobs of his cum.
Even after his orgasm had run its full course, it took Tom a long time
to get his breathing anywhere near back to normal. He couldn't help
wincing when the hunk's dwindling dick finally slipped from his tender,
super-sensitive ass but he also knew it wouldn't be long before he'd be
craving it all over again.
The Year of the Pig was only ten minutes old.
THE END
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