The Milking Den Ch. 04: Max

As I feel the cool air of the gym whoosh across my face, I almost can't believe what I am doing. Even for me, this is a first. What if I get caught midway - if one of these innocent civilians stumble onto our private game? For the first time in a long while, I feel a bit of the anxiety that comes along with a first encounter. But chin up, chest out - fastening the knot now sweetens the fruit for later.

I mean. If you'd seen his pictures, you would too.

A few days ago, Max's email popped up in my milking box.

"Hey, I'm Max. 27 years old, straight. I'm getting married soon and I thought I'd kick something off my bucket list before committing for life. I work out a lot, if that helps, haha. Email me back if you want, I guess!"

Once we switched to texting, I found out that "I work out a lot" was a massive understatement. What Max meant to say was: I am a thick cut of hunky premium beef and you'd be a fool to give up on this. On the right side of the hulk physique spectrum, Max's muscles are big and pumped with juicy virile energy. His bronze skin radiates health and vitality, and crowning it all is an angular face with a cute small chin, an exquisite blend of delicate ruggedness. To top this all off - Max works as a personal trainer. It is literally his job to be beautiful.

Lucky girlfriend. But lucky me more. While she gets to bed him in the day, I get to rack him up at night, dipping my fingers and tongue into parts of his mind so dark and forbidden that he protects her from their unholy force. Shadows he can only explore with a trusted secret keeper.

There he is, twiddling his thumbs on the bench by the counter, all buff and waiting to be struck by sexy lightning.

"Max!" I call out, striding across the gym floor. This boy is even more dashing in person. While his pictures captured his bulges and contours perfectly, what they didn't show was his smile. Max fills the place with a large aura and bouncy presence that sparkles like a bright fizzy citrus drink. He's wearing a tempting outfit: the gym's blue tank top and white shorts were practically tailor made for showcasing his gorgeous chest, arms, butt and thighs.

Glancing up at me, Max's face beams with surprise as he realizes that his fantasy is condensing into reality. "You came!" He gasps. We'd discussed this entire scenario over email, but he still has to get over the shock of seeing this disembodied dude on the other side of a fever dream email chat actually show up at his workplace. It's becoming real now; he can't back out of this carnal roller coaster.

"Of course I did, Max! You sent me a very promising, ahem, proposal. I just had to see all of this in action." I gesture in the direction of his muscular assets. Max blushes coyly, embarrassed at the obvious sexual gesture while relishing the attention he signed up for. His cock twitches in his tiny white shorts. He saw, I saw, he saw that I saw.

Emboldened, I lean into that ache where shame and pleasure kissed. "Now, coach, where are we headed?" I ask, my voice rippling like a stream of molten dark chocolate.

Max practically moans non-verbally; I can feel his anticipation vibrate off his skin. "Studio's this way," Max mutters, trying to regain his footing. I can see him trying to tame his loins, teetering so pleasurably on the edge of that burn.

"So, er, what're you hoping to get out of this workout?" He's trying to play this all off normally. Pretend we actually are PT and client, not two men meeting covertly to expiate him of his taboo urges.

I reply him as though I was telling him the time of day. "Oh, you know, the usual. I'm trying to really make my muscles pop. Kinda like yours, actually. Grabbable." Max's face sizzles at such open and blatant desire. This was what he told me he wanted; he'd always wanted to experience a PT sex scenario, but couldn't find anyone who would actually take this on with him. For obvious reasons; he'd lose his job and probably his girlfriend too. But now that marriage was looming near, it was now or never again. And, as he said, seeing my boys' testimonials on my ads made him feel like I would really get him.

Interestingly, Max said that he always knew that his fantasy playmate had to be a guy. "It's just different," he confessed over text; "with a guy, there's so much more of a struggle. We can fight and wrestle - and I can actually lose." As with all my other guys, it's really all about finding the space to surrender, to be strong in your weakness in an honest way that society doesn't allow. Now, I'm no slouch myself. I'm nowhere as big a bull as he is but I'm also pretty well built and I could take him on if I tried really hard. Enough to put up a good fight and let Max taste what it's like to be gripped and tamed.

"Well, then, you're in for a good one," Max quips again. Now that we're easing ourselves into the scenario, he allows himself the space to exhibit his gleeful hunger. The air between us hisses like steam.

I dive in beside his ear before we enter our private room.

"So are you."

Closing the door behind us, Max springs into action like a well oiled machine. Fierce bassy music fills the room and pulses its dark beat into my blood.

"Cool! Welcome to your first training session!" Max declares, as though we aren't just working our way into the hottest sexual adventure of his life. "Today, we'll be focusing on bodyweight exercises. Simple circuit - pushups, squats, crunches. Let's start with some simple warmups. Jumping jacks, five counts of four, let's go!"

My heart pumps in sync with the music. I can see why Max was always fully booked. Like all the best trainers, Max has a distinct charisma that makes you really want to work hard for him. Part of it was in the youthful charm he carried his body with, that winsome smile that told you he believed in you... and was that a mischievous smirk as well, a bit of a rakish streak that was only arising now that he was opening up to the fantasies he's only dreamed of so far?

"Yes, coach!" I holler as he takes me through the jumping jacks and into the crunches and pushups. Heat builds up in my body and mists my neck and arms with sweat. Foreplay scenario aside, I love exercising, and I have a bit of a sub side as well; these are coming together nicely under this spanking specimen of a PT. Let him have his own dom moment while he can.

Firm and encouraging, Max shouts excitedly. "You can do it - keep your core tight and legs strong! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

I can feel the soft burn of Max's gaze on my back, pushing me to my limits where strength meets willpower. Oh boy, the man is good. This is actually wearing me out for real. Each burpee carved hot aching strokes into my abs and legs, but I push on anyway. I know what he's doing; he's testing me to see if I can earn the right to collar him later.

With a final huff, I push my chest off the floor, drawing myself up to meet Max's height. I take a step closer to him and our heats merge into each other. My body is all pumped with power and ready to go. I jut my chin at him to throw down my challenge.

"Done. Now, your turn."

Max's brows blaze back. We dig gazes like two dogs circling each other. "Oh yeah? My turn to do what?"

I grab him by his tank top and pull his scrumptious chest in.

"I'm a bit concerned about my push-up form," I breathe hot into his neck. "I think I need a demonstration."

Max eyes me like one beast challenging another. The energy between us is charged like a dance of sharp swords. "Happy to do so." He takes a step back, but I rein him back in again. He arches a brow, and I answer him by sliding his tank top up against his abs. His face blooms with hard masculine force.

"I need to see exactly how your muscles work."

As if on cue, the thick dark beats smoothen into a slower sensual burn. Max tones down on the lion energy; he becomes a bit more peacock as he pulls his tank top off. In one smooth motion, purposely slow enough to rustle up my own longing, he unveils a lean rack of abs and pecs so big and full you could use them as pillows. As accustomed as I am to sexy men, I still stare at Max's accomplished physique. "Ready?" He smirks as he pops his pecs to tease me even further, and I don't bother hiding his effect on me.

"Wait."

I lie down on the floor and beckon him over - yes, over me - with a sly wave. Max gulps but that stick in his crotch tells a different story. The danger of him being at work, being so exposed and manhandled where his co-workers might see him, is making this all the more delicious for him.

"Better view. Now, I'm ready."

Awkwardly, as if priming himself to spring back into normalcy if somebody sees us, Max mounts me like a motorcycle. I smell his hardworking body and feel the fire burning off his skin. His libido is dark and strong like gasoline fire.

"Come on. Show me how a push-up is done... Coach."

Max is so sexually aggravated he could probably cum here and now. All bound up with lust and forbidden excitement, his lower lip trembles ever so minutely. Slowly, trying to avoid rubbing his bulge against mine, he descends. He lodges his chin beside mine, his chest pressing down onto my own, and he grunts futilely as he feels my hardness press against his. I feel him too; rock hard and ready to launch.

"Oh, coach! That's a bit naughty of you!" I pant into his ear. Stoically, Max rights himself, holding his body in a plank above mine. His face is warped with embarrassment and abject enjoyment. In fact, they seem to be the same thing. He gulps in the moment in deep sips of air.

"Need me to show you again?" He asks through his strained breath. Less peacock now, more puppy. Eager to please.

"Yes, please. I think I need a bit more of a firsthand feel of what's going on in your body. Ah... yes. Again, please."

Max grunts as I clasp the meat of his left pec with one hand, and sighs as I slide my other hand down his shorts. I love using him like a rider mounts his horse and I'm sure he does too. I rub against the hot damp fabric of his underwear as he strains to hold himself upright. Overloaded with sensation, his knees buckle and sink down beside my thighs, and I squeeze him a bit harder to remind him he's here to please me.

"This isn't very professional of you, Coach Max. Can you focus on your demonstration, please?" I demand.

"Of course," Max grunts, his voice strangled by this tight tug of strain and sex, and he pushes against the intensity of being so exposed and sexualized just a wall away from the rest of his co-workers. I sigh, dizzy with enjoyment, as I run my free hand over the sweat of his pecs, feeling those glorious muscles contract in ropes of thick bundled strength. Max holds back a moan as he relishes in the attention I'm giving him. "Oh yes... good. Is core strength important too?" I quip, exploring downwards as well. Max breaks for a bit, crashing down into me as I slide my fingers down his sensitive abs, the stubble of his chin rubbing against my jaw.

"Please - I'm just trying to do my job." A far cry from before, Max is all meek and timid now. He glances feverishly at the door, hoping it doesn't swing open.

"Keep on going, coach... keep on going. Do it for me." As his gorgeous frame twists and thrusts above me, I begin stroking his cock under his clothes. Drunk on submission, Max starts panting and keening as he rocks back and forth over me, driving his cock into my palm and his pecs into my snout. He knots his brow in degraded bliss.

"Oh my god... I'm close. I'm close." He's completely given up on monitoring the door. Thrusting into his aching shame, all that he has is an animal's need to cum.

This is where I need to stop.

I pull my hands out and push him off my body. Max rolls onto the floor, his chest ruddy and wet, his bulge clearly outlined by his small tight shorts. His face is red with thirst and disbelief that I left him hanging right on the edge of release. I smile at him, challenging him to finish himself off if he dared. Our chests rise and fall as we stare at each other like boxers in a ring. Is he sure he's straight? He looks ready for us to hatefuck each other to the moon.

"Coach, I think I need some extra training. Why don't you come to my place tonight so we can finish off what we started?"

"What? Tonight? But... what about now?" Max exclaims. Every muscle in his body is tight with desperation. I laugh at that pathetic image; a muscle-bound man, built so big, but wet with need and worked over like a rag.

I reach over and push a piece of paper into his underwear, giving his cock a final stroke for the road and making him twitch and moan one more time. Max glares up at me like he can't decide if he wants to punch or fuck me. Leaving him on the floor, I get up and make for the exit.

"See you tonight, Coach Max. And you're right. It was a good workout."

***

That was all in the afternoon. Now that the bull has been primed, it's time to tame him for good.

The doorbell rings! I leap up from my armchair in the den and rush towards the door. I haven't been so excited for a session in a while. Looking through the peephole, I see Max waiting expectantly outside. Fidgeting about with a frisky sort of unease, Max's whole body language is so thoroughly suffused with a swollen urge to bust a long roasted nut. I get hard as I think about how he survived the afternoon; how could he concentrate on his job if his abs still seared, if his cock still swelled with need?

"Hey Coach!" I greet him, swinging the door open wide.

"Hi. I'm here for our... private coaching session." Max stares at me with such hard longing that I wonder if he recognizes how not straight he can get once his cock demands what it needs.

"Come on in! We'll be using that room - right down the corridor."

Max's duffel bag drops to the floor of my milking room as he stares, his body stricken with shock, at the setup ready for his use. Right in the middle of the room is an exercise mat, which is also the most normal-looking part of it all. To one side is an inclined bench rigged with restraints at every joint and to the other is my infamous milking bed. In the back, I have a whole shelf of toys and instruments that I use to extract every drop of semen from my boys. Still trying to register that this isn't just happening in his head anymore, Max breaks character. He giggles like a boy in a toy store.

"Oh my god. This is so unreal. I can't believe you actually have this in your house!" Max sounds a bit like someone who's just met his favorite celebrity for the first time. Now that we aren't roleplaying duelling alpha males, he's actually quite chirpy and easily tickled.

I chuckle and put an arm on his shoulder. "Well, I guess you could say I'm quite experienced. But how're you doing, Max? Enjoying yourself so far?" I soften myself so I can check in on him for real.

"Yeah. This afternoon was so fucking intense. I loved it. Thanks, man. I really don't know how I can repay you."

"Oh, don't thank me yet." I tug on his shirt, easing back into my stern and demanding character. "Let's see if you make it past circuit training."

On my shelf, I have two props that I bought specially for this session. I put on a training cap and sling a red whistle over my tight white tank top and matching red shorts. I cut quite a nice figure myself, and I'm sure, so sure I'd bet being milked myself, that Max isn't really totally straight, and that he's trying to discreetly check me out right now.

I raise an eyebrow at Max and he trembles. Our session begins now. That same music from today in the gym fades on from my speakers.

"Cool! Welcome to our first training session!" I declare. Max's face drops at the sound of his own words from this morning bouncing right back at him. "Today, we're gonna focus on endurance, stamina and explosive power. Change into your workout gear and let's go, go, go!" I blow on my whistle, and Max stares at me before bursting into a nervous fit of confused laughter.

"What? What's going on? What workout attire?" Bewildered, he gestures at his own dri-fit shirt and shorts, and then back at my own impression of his spiel. I tilt my head to his left; there, on a stool beside him, are two sets of briefs that are obviously too small for him. One red, one blue. Max blushes ripely and I blow into my whistle again.

"Let's keep it moving, Max!" I taunt, and Max hurriedly pulls his clothes off and stops a bit at his own boxer briefs. He looks up at me to beg with his eyes - I widen my eyes testily, and he gets the message. Shyly, he steps out of his underwear, revealing his amply sized cock and full, plump balls. While the rest of him might be a bit embarrassed by the sudden degree of exposure, his cock certainly isn't. It's been primed like a pump and ready to blow since the morning.

Now, Max is dressed the way I want him. He's gone for the red. Whichever way he goes, he's practically naked, and even that tiny bit of lollipop red fabric is struggling to hold his impressive bulk in. He looks so insecure but eager to be adored at the same time, like a reluctant Greek god.

I toot harshly on my whistle. "That wasn't fast enough. I'm going to have to punish you."

Max stiffens up, unsure of what's to come, but the fun is in the danger. Smiling smugly, I pull a bottle of oil off my toy shelf and swagger up to Max, gloating over how submissive he is for me. I can feel his breath trembling as he tries avoiding my gaze, avoiding looking at my own toned arms. I've lusted for this moment for so long, ever since I first laid my hands on his mountainous pecs in the gym. Max gasps as I drizzle oil down his chest, coating his pecs, his abs and thighs until they drip and shine. I empty the bottle all over him, front and back, until oil cascades down every carved muscle like a gleaming waterfall. His bulge is soaked through and we've only just started.

And then, barely containing my own bursting need, I smear my hands across his slippery smooth body. Max's beautiful bronzed skin is luscious and soft like butter. His gasps segue into a deep guttural moan as my hands rub circles around his shoulders, down his magnificent wings and over his broad thick chest. From behind him, I reach around to the front and enjoy his nipples and abs. "Oh, holy fuck... yes." Max is so charged that he starts rocking his pelvis just by getting off on my objectifying attention. We haven't even gotten to his cock yet.

"Flex for me. Bounce your pecs and squeeze them." Max pulls his shoulders together and forces his chest into a prodigious bulk. He clenches each side in order, and I coax them, through rhythmic pinches of his nipples, to bounce along to the beat of the music.

"How used do you feel now?" I hiss.

"Ugh... very." His pecs continue bouncing under my grip.

"Whose piece of meat are you?"

"Yours."

"Good. You're nothing but my muscle toy. Who am I?"

"My coach."

"Yes. So say 'yes, coach.'"

Max sighs; I've locked my psychic leash around his neck with that command. "Yes... Coach."

I slide one hand back up to grab him gently by his stubbled jaw and pull him back to my chin. "Have you learned your lesson? Are you going to put in your best for Coach now, Max?" I whisper lusciously. Max is so tightly strung that he can only whimper.

"Yes, Coach." A delicate strain of surrender.

"Good boy. Let's warm up. Jumping jacks, squats and pushups. Let's go!"

Another peep from my whistle and Max goes off into his workout. Just by watching him jump and pump - this oil-soaked body of absolute muscular perfection - I am drawn close to the horizon of orgasm. I feel like I'm admiring my own personal Rocky Horror sex toy. His bulge swings and slaps against his thighs as he jumps, and the finely grained muscles that bind his back pop like golden straps with each pushup. This stud, proud and confident of himself in everyday life but made to serve as my own nearly naked hunk for display, bulging and swinging as he sweats and grunts... I'm in heaven. And I'm sure Max is too.