Brando
By J. D. Hawkins
Copyright 2015 © JD Hawkins
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either
are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales
or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Get it down. Take chances. It may be bad, but it’s the only way you can do anything really good.
– William Faulkner
My
muscles scream, chest on fire, nerve endings twitching like a million
thunderbolts across my torso. I can feel the beads of sweat on my
forehead running down my tensed neck. I glare at the fluorescent
light on the gym ceiling, feel the cold metal of the bar against my
chest.
That
twinge in my triceps should worry me. Gotta meet Jax at the club for
drinks in a couple hours. Maybe it was a bad idea to do this big a
lift at the end of a workout. Last time a lift went wrong I messed up
my thigh so bad I was finger-fucking girls for a month.
Thoughts
bear down on me like a load of bricks, pressing down on the ends of
the bar, making it even heavier than it really is.
Don’t
think, Brando. Just fucking lift.
I
repeat the words like a mantra. A rhythmic drumbeat that focuses my
mind. I exhale as I push, the rush of adrenaline leaving no room for
thoughts, the heat burning all doubt out of me.
Don’t
think. Don’t
think. Don’t
think.
As
I pump the bar up and down it feels like I’m
lifting the entire building, like I’m
trying to push a planet away from my chest. I feel like I’m
calling on strength that doesn’t
belong to me, strength that comes from the same deep pit of hell the
pain in my muscles comes from. I exhale and my breath comes out with
a long, low grunt.
The
pain and the heat and the testosterone and the adrenaline swirl
inside of me, and I direct it all against this fucking barbell.
When
my set is finished I have just enough energy to bring the barbell
back onto the claws. My fists sting as they let go of it, palms
almost melded to the metal. I drop my arms and breathe deeply for a
few seconds before sitting upright. My blood pumps, veins throb, and
I feel the satisfied ache of a post-workout high seep into my skin.
“Pretty
dangerous, benching that much without anyone spotting you,”
a throaty female voice says from
behind me.
I
look up. The gym is almost empty except for a guy listening to his
headphones as he runs on a treadmill in the corner. I save myself the
trouble of turning around to see her and just look at the reflection
in the wall-sized mirror in front of me.
“Looks
like you spotted me just fine,” I
drawl, eyeing her in the glass.
Even
by gym standards, she’s
unbelievable. She’s
in tight black spandex pants, with nutcracker thighs and hips that
seem custom-made for my hands. Her sports bra is so tight she may as
well be naked, and the thought instantaneously sends about a million
X-rated images through my mind. Judging by the hungry look in her
eyes, I know exactly where this is going—but
I’m enjoying the
foreplay, so instead of just cutting to the chase and inviting her to
suck my dick in the locker room, I grab the barbell and force myself
through one more punishing set of reps.
It
takes everything I have to keep my arms steady, my muscles screaming
all the while, before slamming the bar back onto the rack and sitting
up.
“Impressive,”
she says, eyeing me up and down
in the mirror. “You
certainly don’t do
things the easy way.”
“I
prefer the hard way,” I
tell her, checking out the curve of her breasts like I’m
about to paint a portrait of them. It’s
all I can do to keep myself from just grabbing her and sitting her
down in my lap.
“So
do I,” she purrs,
running a hand across my back. She steps closer, standing behind me
with the bench between her legs. Then she puts both hands on my
shoulders and starts pressing and rubbing.
“Shit
that’s good,”
I say, closing my eyes at the
deeply sweet touch of her hands – the
only thing that could stop me from enjoying the ravenous eye-fucking
she’s been giving me
in the mirror.
“It
should be,” she
says, a tinge of amusement in her voice. “I’m
a massage therapist here. With all the time you spend working out,
I’m surprised you
haven’t stopped in
for a session by now.”
“So
you’ve seen me
around,” I growl.
She rubs harder, massaging a knot next to my shoulder blade until it
loosens, and I groan out loud. “Damn.
Maybe it
is
time to see about that session.”
“Good,
because you’re way
past due. And I’m
not gonna wait any longer.” She
leans down toward my ear, her long blonde hair brushing my shoulder,
and says in a low whisper, “I
teach a yoga class, too.”
Her
words hit me like a shot of adrenaline to the cock. I close my eyes
and let her work me some more, lust building with the sensation of
her palms kneading the base of my neck and the scent of her as she
leans over me. I let out another low moan.
Looks
like Jax might be drinking by himself for a little while tonight. But
I’m sure he’ll
understand.
My
eyes flicker toward the guy in the corner, still running on the
treadmill. The yoga teacher/massage therapist/sportswear siren reads
my thoughts as easily as she reads the tension in my back and nods
toward a side door.
“It’s
your lucky day,” she
smiles. “I’m
giving a free massage to the man who can handle it.”
I
stand up, grab my towel and run it over my face.
“Always
good to have a massage after a workout,” I
reply. “Keeps the
blood flowing.”
She
nods and turns, her body even more erotic in movement. The sway of
her ass makes me grit my teeth. My heart thumps like a revved engine,
her silhouette magnetizing every muscle in my body. This time I don’t
need to push the thoughts away – I
couldn’t think
straight if I tried.
I
follow her toward the massage room, swaggering with the loose power
of muscles after a workout. She looks back over her shoulder just
before opening the door, her blonde ponytail flicking over her
shoulder, and winks before sliding inside.
“Close
the do—” she
starts, but I pounce like a predator spotting its window of attack,
nothing but lust, impulse, and nature controlling me now. In a single
motion I slam the door shut with one hand, push her up against it
front-first, and press my groin hard against her ass. Her surprised
gasp turns into a throaty giggle.
Now
that I’ve got her
where I want her, I’m
as slow as I was quick. I wrap my hands around her waist, brushing my
fingers lightly against her exposed midriff. I close my eyes, let the
electricity between our skin guide me. I press my face against the
side of her head, letting the scent of her drive my body wild,
pulling away teasingly after every touch.
“I
like your style, Brando,” she
says, turning her head to shoot me a sultry stare.
“How
do you know my name?” I
hum into her ear as I slide my hands slowly up her stomach, under her
top and between her heaving breasts.
She
puts her palms higher on the door, steadying herself and pressing
back into my body.
“You’ve
got a reputation.”
I
taste the nape of her neck, eliciting a deep moan from her that tugs
at my balls harder than a magnet.
“What
reputation?”
She
laughs lightly, in between the stuttered sighs and gasps that she
responds to my every touch with.
“Big…bold…brash…Brando.”
As I lift her tight top up over
her breasts with one hand, my other snakes down her pants to find the
wet line of her pussy. “Half
the girls in my yoga class want to fuck you…and
the other half claim they already have.”
I
run my tongue down her neck, tasting the tender, pale skin. Her
nipple hardens under the gentle touch of my fingers, pinching
lightly, palm tracing the flawless shape of her breast.
“You
girls really like to talk,” I
say, before taking her earlobe between my teeth.
“I
had to see for myself if the rumors are true. This is just research,”
she says. I feel a tremble
between her thighs as my finger moves slowly over her clit, brushing
it until I feel her backing into me with a sharp intake of breath.
“Then
I’ll assist any way
I can,” I tell her,
giving her clit a firm, steady press with my palm as I slide a thick
finger deep into her slick pussy.
“Fuck,”
she moans, leaning into it. I
work my finger back and forth inside her, agonizingly slow, until
she’s panting
heavily and writhing against me. “More,”
she begs.
I
spin her around to face me. She tears her top off the rest of the
way, breasts bouncing back into firm shape, and eyes me like I’m
a three-course meal and she’s
fresh off a hunger strike. Then she pulls my mouth onto hers and
swirls her tongue aggressively around mine. It’s
more like martial arts than making out, but I’m
not complaining. I run my hands down the taut skin of her sides, grab
her breasts, feeling every curve so thoroughly I could sculpt her. We
back and forth with our tongues, pushing and pulling, lashing and
biting. Striking the sparks of the oncoming flames.
“It’s
no secret,” I say,
pulling her toward me as I back off and sit on the massage table,
“that I love women.
What else do you need to know?”
I
pull off my shirt, and she spends a full five seconds staring at my
chest with her mouth open. I slide my shorts down while she watches,
her eyes glazing with lust. “I
think I have everything I need right here,” she
finally manages. “All
that’s left is a
little field work.”
She
reaches into her pocket and pulls out a condom. I put it on while she
peels off the second skin of her spandex pants.
“Welcome
to the field,” I
say, as she straddles me on the massage table.
She
cups my face in her hands and thrusts her tongue into my mouth,
pulling away only to bury her teeth into my neck. I let out a hiss
and wrap my lips around her nipple, rolling my tongue around it like
it’s the sweetest
thing I’ve ever
tasted, teeth biting just enough to make her shake. She moans as she
hugs me tight to her chest, rolling her clit up and down the shaft of
my cock.
I
lose myself in her curves, hands tracing the arch of her back as her
pussy winds up against my cock harder and faster as she starts losing
all restraint. She moans in short, sharp bursts, and I feel the hum
of her voice as I move my mouth from one breast to another.
“Slow
down, baby,” I tell
her. “You gotta let
yourself enjoy it.”
She
laughs wildly, looking down at me as I grip her ass tightly and
maneuver her over my cock. Her pussy is ready and wet as it presses
against me, and I read the expression on her face like a dirty novel,
all drugged eyes and strained pleasure. She squeezes the head of my
cock between her lips, pulling me into her, but I hold her off,
tantalizingly close, but not there yet.
“Tell
me what you want,” I
say, when her eyes go pleading.
“I
want—” She
gulps deeply, all the playfulness gone out of her now, replaced with
fierce need, and speaks between pants. “I
want you. Inside me.”
I
let her take a little more, and she releases another low, vibrating
moan.
“Tell
me,” I command.
Her
eyes narrow, the pupils dilated. “I
want your dick.”
“Again.”
“I
want your big, hard dick. All of it. Right now.”
I
adjust my grip on her ass to let her take my full length and she
slides down onto it, her moans turning into squeals of helpless
delight. She bounces like she’s
riding a horse, her body taking over, moving up and down on my cock
according to the thousands of sweet sensations that emanate from our
connection. I let her get her fill for a few minutes and then take
charge, grabbing her ponytail in my fist and pulling her head back.
“Don’t
move,” I say. I ease
out of her slowly and she whimpers in protest.
“Wh—”
With
no warning I slam back into her, both of us groaning as I plunge into
the depths of her tight, hot sweetness. Then I hold her steady and
fuck her with everything I’ve
got, turning in a performance worthy of a major award. As we find our
rhythm she convulses and sways like a girl possessed, whispering
obscenities and encouragement in between her moans. I run my tongue
up the tender spots between her breasts, pumping with all the
determination of a champion racehorse. I focus on the sensations
radiating from my dick, finding a oneness with the zen of the energy
building between us. My hands stroke the curve of her thighs as she
bucks wildly on me, matching my power with every harder, deeper
thrust.
