Vampire LaCour's 2nd Coming Ch. 08bysr71plt©
The bodybuilder toweled himself off and posed to admire himself in the mirror in the locker room before dressing. He was one ripped dude; hard as steel everywhere. So hard that his veins had nowhere to go other than to pop out on his body and flow across it. He liked that. All men of steel had that. He'd worked hard to get here. And he hadn't gone the easy route either. No steroids for him, he thought, as he looked at the fine hunk of meat dangling between his legs. He earned most of his money in porn movies now over in the second-floor walkup on Burgundy, in the French Quarter. He wasn't going to do anything to his body that would keep him from performing at top shape.
As he dressed, he realized he felt tense and hyper tonight. He knew what he needed; he needed a blow job. He also needed to do some work on what new twist he'd put into the movie they were doing next Tuesday night. He decided he could work on both those needs by spending some time in that porno movie house just inside the Quarter on Barracks.
He left the gym and strutted down St. Phillip and across Basin Street and North Rampart, into the quarter. He held his head high, his chest out, his tight butt tucked in, and his basket thrusting out in front of him. He was so self-absorbed that he didn't notice the figure in the black cape who was trailing along behind him.
The bodybuilder entered the theater and sat in one of the back rows, away from the doors. He knew it wouldn't be long now. He'd seen the movie they were showing already and thought it was a bit pedestrian, but it was nearly finished—the one guy was yelling loud as he thrust into the other guy's ass—so chances were good the next one would be more interesting. But it wouldn't be long until some dude showed up to relieve this pain in his nuts.
He was right. It wasn't long before a middle-aged man draped in a black cape sat in the seat next to the bodybuilder. The bodybuilder looked over at him in the dim light. Not the greatest of catches, with that craggy face, but it probably had been handsome once, and there was something about the eyes. The way he was wrapped in the cape, though, suggested a beer belly and a tiny penis. Oh, well, he was only here for a soft mouth and a deep throat anyway.
And that's what he got in short order. The man's arm extended within the folds of the cape and a long, slender hand landed on the bodybuilder's basket. The bodybuilder didn't know if he liked those long, sharp nails at the end of the fingers, but he did like Pop's directness and the way those fingers were finding and measuring his cock through the layers of material. He was hardening up pretty quickly under the attention of those long, slender fingers.
The man's fingers went to the waistband of the bodybuilder's gym shorts and he pulled the shorts down and off the bodybuilder's legs, followed by his supporter. The bodybuilder wasn't sure he liked being stripped down completely like this, but he didn't raise any objections, because Pops was already stroking the cock and kneading its knob in a highly experienced fashion. Within minutes, the man had lowered his mouth onto the bodybuilder's cock and was giving him efficient and tantalizing head. Prime physical specimen that he was, the bodybuilder came in three strong spasms that hit the back of the man's throat. The man licked the cock dry, and the bodybuilder assumed that that was that and his attention went to the new movie showing on the screen. He laughed, because he himself was in the movie now showing.
But the older man didn't leave. He leaned into the bodybuilder, obviously wanting a kiss for a job well done. The bodybuilder took pity on Pops and gave him a short brush of the lips. Or at least that's what he intended to do. But the older man surprised him by forcing his lips open in a wet kiss. The bodybuilder was caught completely by surprise, and an intoxicating wash of the man's saliva was swirling around in the bodybuilder's mouth before he knew what was happening. He immediately became woozy and lost much of the sensation in his body. He certainly found that his limbs wouldn't fully respond to his commands, and he fought hard, and unsuccessfully to put two thoughts together.
The man turned out of his seat and knelt down in front the bodybuilder. His cape opened and swirled around the two of them, and the bodybuilder got a glimpse that made him think the older man was naked to the waist and seemed to be in pretty good shape for a man pushing fifty.
While the man was pulling the bodybuilder's T-shirt off, leaving him naked down to his sneakers and socks, the bodybuilder was trying to form the thought of why this wasn't disturbing him.
Under the enveloping cloak, the man was sitting on the bodybuilder's thighs, facing him, and his lips and tongue were exploring the bodybuilder's torso. The bodybuilder reached down and felt something gigantic between the older man's legs. Must have brought along a super-sized rubber dildo, the bodybuilder was thinking. That didn't scare him, though, he'd taken eleven inches and been double fucked in his movie career. He probably had the slackest hole in the business. In fact, in this movie now on the screen, if he remembered rightly, he'd taken a full ten inches.
Meanwhile, the man's tongue was tracing the popped out veins crisscrossing the bodybuilder's chest. The man must have found one he really liked; because the bodybuilder felt a pricking sensation and then the feeling he was being sucked.
Hokay, he thought. It didn't hurt—much—and there was a real interesting segment playing on the screen just now—where he was sucking that ten-inch cock, about ready to be topped—and the bodybuilder was feeling lightheaded and disjointed anyway, so he just turned his attention to the screen. Pops was stroking his cock again now anyway, and that was a more interesting place for him to focus his attention.
At length, the vein the man was working on dried up and collapsed, and he moved to another, and then another.
The bodybuilder's cock was fully engorged a second time now, so the man slipped down on his knees and sucked him off again, taking in all of the semen for a second time. After having done this, he rose up on his knees and fluffed out the cape. The bodybuilder's eyes wandered down to take a look at him and he went into shock. The guy wasn't old at all. He was very well cut and was nearly as hard bodied as the bodybuilder himself.
But the bodybuilder had only gotten a quick look, and his mind seemed confused, so he wasn't all that sure what he saw. The man had quickly swirled the cape over their torsos again, and his tongue and lips were moving around on the bodybuilder's belly. There, at the edge of the bodybuilder's flat belly was another throbbing vein, running from somewhere near his navel down into the pubic hair of his groin. The man traced the line of the flow and sank his teeth into a likely spot and fed with little mewing and gurgling sounds.
The bodybuilder was feeling increasingly tired, he had developed a slight headache, and there was a quiet buzzing in his ears. He continued watching the movie screen, having a hard time focusing on it.
When the vein down into the groin collapsed, the man worked his thighs under the bodybuilder's butt, which was jutting out over the end of the seat. This tilted the bodybuilder's pelvis up. the man took the bodybuilder's legs and draped the beefy calves over the back of the seats in the row in front of them. The bodybuilder just watched him doing this, wondering a bit about what was going on down there.
The man raised his chest to the chest of the bodybuilder, and now the bodybuilder felt that the man seemed younger than ever and he also had pecs of steel, with veins popping out. What the bodybuilder didn't comprehend, however, was that his own chest veins now were collapsed and his thinned blood was madly dashing about in his body, searching for open passages.
The man moved his lips to those of the bodybuilder, and they engaged in a passionate kiss that stifled the bodybuilder's reaction to the man's engorged monster cock sliding, with some difficulty, into the bodybuilder's slack-jawed asshole. With effort, the bodybuilder moved his hands to the man's cock and realized that this was no rubber super-sized dildo. This was a living cock and it was larger and thicker than the bodybuilder could ever imagined a human cock could be. What a porn movie this fucker could make. It seemed like, what—twelve inches? This was a challenge, and the bodybuilder was game for such challenges.
His eyes went to the screen, and just as he was being slowly entered, there was a big close-up on the screen of the horse-hung, ten-inch dude slowly entering he himself from the rear. On the screen, the bodybuilder raised his pelvis to welcome the entry, and then he did the same down here in the theater seats for the man's ass splitter. The bodybuilder was getting skewered massively in two dimensions—both on film and in real life.
The bodybuilder returned the man's kiss. This master fucker no longer was to be considered Pops, as the bodybuilder could tell by moving his hands languidly around the man's chest, down his abs, and to his hard, flat belly. This had to be another bodybuilder, and maybe even younger than he himself. This man could be a star.
The man continued to work his cock into the bodybuilder, who was taken him in pretty good stride. The massive cock was a good ways in now, and it was pumping slowly in and out of the bodybuilder's ass. The bodybuilder sighed and was panting slowly, enjoying the fuck. He could take this for hours.
The man disengaged from the kiss and let his tongue work its way down the bodybuilder's throbbing neck on the right side and to his arms. He located a vein standing out near the bicep and sank his teeth into it. His cock stopped pumping at the mid level and was digging deeper again and now homed to the root at nearly twelve inches. The bodybuilder was groaning and moaning quietly, loving the cock this far up his ass, proud that he was managing more here than he was up on the screen. He did a little constricting of his ass muscles, a trick that he'd learned on the set, thinking that this would get the man's rocks off in short order, but the man's cock responded to that—and to the blood being drawn out of the bodybuilder's arm—by stretching out to immobilize the bodybuilder's ass muscles and by lengthening to thirteen inches. This was farther in than anyone had pushed into the bodybuilder before, and he was doing a little huffing and puffing.
The vein in the right arm collapsed, as did the bodybuilder's right arm, and the lips and teeth moved onto the chest and buried themselves around the rim of the aureole of the bodybuilder's right nipple; a little blood able to flow there and also from the left nipple to push the man's cock to fourteen inches. And it went to fifteen inches before the vein into the bodybuilder's left arm—and the arm itself.
The man moved up and on to one of the carotid arteries in the bodybuilder's neck, which was still weakly throbbing, and the man sank his teeth into that and sucked. The bodybuilder's head lolled back and his eyes rolled up into his head.
On the screen, the top pulled his long cock out of the bottom and shot off on bodybuilders back, and both the top and bottom shouted for joy. In the theater seat, at sixteen inches in, the bodybuilder was releasing everything he was—young, assured, vital, resilient, perfectly formed—to revitalize the man of the black cape and the monster cock for yet another week. And, in his confused and intoxicated state, the bodybuilder had no regrets. He was having the most fantastic fuck in his whole life.
The slathering of preejaculate and blood on the man's cock had pushed him to nineteen inches in and to a thunderous ejaculation deep inside the broken shell of the bodybuilder. Their vital body fluids mixed and the transfer of new life was again complete.
The man withdrew and left his latest lover then; leaving the bodybuilder slumped in the theater seat, unseeing eyes pointed at the monotonously long and unimaginative doggy fuck the then-living bodybuilder was performing on the horse-hung former top on the movie screen. In this isolated case, the celluloid image had outlasted the real-life experience.
Emile returned immediately to Fortnet's Retreat. He was fed, but he wasn't happy. He hadn't been happy for several days. Scrounging around for his needs in dark, seedy gay theaters wasn't what he had come back to life for. It was luscious taking that aristocratic descendent of the arousing Adrian LeMoyne and it was even fun slumming inside that quadroon. That young man had had admirable musical talent and a smile to die for. In the dark of the theater, Emile had known nothing of his prey beyond the fact that he had been in superb physical condition and that those veins popped out on his torso by his musculature had been just too enticing.
Breaux. It was all Lamont Breaux's fault. Everything was going fine until Breaux had gotten so greedy and needed to be stopped. Breaux had arranged everything. And Breaux at least had breeding and position. He was someone Emile could come back to mansion and tell of the hunt.
Now there only was the chauffeur. The Latino who had spied on him for Breaux and who had neither good breeding nor great intelligence. All of that gold bullion stacked under Emile's bed. What could he do with it. Breaux had known how to convert it into something useful. But the chauffeur? The chauffeur hadn't a clue, obviously, how to change it into usable goods. And you can't eat, or suck, or fuck gold. All the chauffeur would be good for would be one terminal feeding and fucking when Emile was desperate. And he almost had been desperate tonight. Making do with hunting in the underseam of the Quarter.
Emile needed someone to maintain his life and turn this bullion into something useful. And he needed appropriate companionship.
Emile was no longer particularly pleased with this new world he had been unleashed into.