Swole Read online

  Trent let go of his dick, its weight crashing down on Tony’s head. He stepped back a little, and Tony started to take the slab of beef into his mouth. It was hot inside, sending waves of euphoria through Trent’s body.

  Fuck, this boy knows his shit! Trent said to himself. He stepped forward this time, pushing more of himself inside Tony’s mouth.

  Tony moaned and gagged, the wretched sound driving Trent forward even more.

  “Come on boyo, take it. I know you can.”

  Tony groaned, spit, and precum leaking out the sides of his mouth and onto the comforter. There was a lot of it, and Trent knew that if didn’t stop then there’d be a lot more.

  “Good boy,” he said, pulling out quickly. “Taste like you imagined?”

  Tony’s shiny face beamed. He nodded.

  “You’re good at this. Really good. Think you can handle me… elsewhere?”

  Tony’s expression changed. He looked scared, his grin diminished. “I’ve… I’ve never…”

  “It’s okay,” Trent said supportively. “I don’t want to wreck you for everyone else. Let’s go back to what we were doing, but before that, let’s get your shorts off. I want to see that oil slick you have working down there. Come on.”

  Tony sprung back up on his knees; there was a pronounced wet spot in front.

  However, Trent continued to lift him up until he was standing on the mattress. He grabbed hold of each side and yanked the shorts down.

  “Fuck!” Trent exclaimed. “That’s impressive as hell!” Though Tony wasn’t huge, it was an ocean down there.

  Tony seemed bashful; his eyes flitted toward Trent’s much larger cock, but Trent used his index finger to redirect Tony’s gaze into his to say that didn’t matter one bit.

  Grabbing Tony’s ass, Trent pulled him closer, rubbing his beard on his midsection. His lips then tasted his skin as he drew Tony back down onto his knees. Their stiff dicks touched, and Trent made sure to grab both at the same time. He started to jerk them off, Tony wasting no time leaking with excitement again. It was super silky, Trent enamored by the David and Goliath size difference. Lifting a wet hand to his mouth, he licked off some of the liquid, feeding the rest to Tony.

  “Okay now,” Trent said. “Let’s finish what you started.”

  Tony flopped back on the bed, this time on his back.

  Trent led his cock into Tony’s warm mouth again, tilting his head back in pleasure. This angle was easier for Tony to accommodate him while thrusting, though Trent’s girth still provided a challenge.

  Tony had a hand on his own dick, while the other reached up to rub Trent’s v-line and lower abs.

  Trent continued grinding as he watched both his cock (bulging Tony’s cheeks and down his throat) and Tony’s (oozing so much pure joy).

  Tony’s pace was getting faster, his breathing the same. Sounds of gagging returned and Trent started to feel that vibrant rush in his core. Things were surging toward their inevitable end and this time he wasn’t going to pull out.

  “I’m about to cum,” Trent said lowly, his hips rocking erratically as Tony’s cock flowed. “Fuck here we go!”

  What started with dribbles out of Tony’s dick erupted into powerful jets of white, his body convulsing as he glazed himself with over ten potent shots. A couple were powerful enough to even reach Trent’s beard, drops falling on the man’s heaving chest before streaming down his flexed abs.

  Concurrently, Trent was filling Tony to the brim, cum overflowing from the sides of his mouth like the spit had earlier. When Trent pulled himself out it was like a drain had been unplugged, the bed now drenched on either side of Tony’s head.

  Trent collapsed onto the bed and Tony didn’t move. Both were breathing heavily.

  “Don’t think you’re off the hook, Tonio,” Trent said between deep breaths.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you only live four hours away lil’ motherfucker, so you best be prepped for a ride the next time.”

  Tony chuckled softly. “I… I thought this was a one-time thing?”

  “If there’s one thing folks learn about me,” Trent said as he propped himself up, getting whiffs of their sinful aftermath, “is that it’s never just a one-time thing.”

  Chapter 2

  J-Rod

  Trent opened his groggy green eyes (they could only make it to the halfway point) and took in the blurry surroundings. The grubby room and shabby mattress at the Sunnyside Lodge were gone, replaced with coziness that one’s own bed and cologne-ingrained pillows could muster.

  Stretching, Trent yawned. He had planned on sleeping in, since his trip from Miami left him feeling drained both mentally and physically. Speaking of the latter, he wondered if Tony was being more productive than he was that Sunday morning.

  Probably already up and busy working, Trent thought. He seemed like the type.

  Trent also wondered if the guy would have any explaining to do to his boss, should any of their pre-motel escapades make it onto the service station’s security cameras.

  Who are you kidding? Trent shrugged off. The bossman didn’t even have modern pumps, what makes you think he’d have video cameras? Homing pigeons, maybe. Cameras, definitely not.

  Not that it mattered to Trent one bit. He’d been caught on so many different cameras that opening a web page was a viable option, but he didn’t want Tony getting into trouble, or the shit kicked out of him. Folks in places like that liked to keep their small minds on even shorter leashes. He’d have to go back one day and check on …

  “Yo Trent, you up?” came a deep voice from down the hall. It was his roommate Jared Hughes.

  Good thing I didn’t plan on sleeping in, J-Rod!

  “Yeah,” Trent called, his voice crackled from dehydration.

  “I’m cooking some chicken before I head over to see Greg. He’s still all sorts of shook up from a couple of weeks ago. Want something while I got pans dirty?”

  “Sure, sure!” Trent replied, flinging the covers off the bed. Naked, he shuffled over to his chrome dresser, pausing to look at his disheveled self in the mirror. God you look like shit, he thought, finger-combing out the major kinks in his hair and beard.

  Nabbing a pair of red short shorts from the middle drawer, he wrestled them on, junk falling to one side but not out of the bottom – barely.

  “Hey beautiful, can you put on some coffee too while you’re at it?”

  “Already got you covered, lazy hole.”

  “Aw, if you weren’t such a dick, J-Rod, I’d marry you.”

  “Spare me the agonizing thought, please!”

  A few minutes later, Trent rounded the stairs into the decorative kitchen, spotting Jared by the stove with a cast iron skillet and a pair of tongs. He was shorter yet stockier than Trent was, dressed in a pair of form fitting khakis and a tight, short sleeve Henley. Even though it was black, his thick back resembled a flared cobra (not that Trent was in any way jealous of that at all. No way).

  “You know, if those were any shorter you’d be naked,” Jared observed, pointing toward Trent’s shorts. He could definitely see parts of his roommate peeking out like a shy toad in a hole (which that thing was anything but).

  “Don’t be jealous,” Trent retorted pulling out the centermost of three barstools. He sat and indeed, in that position those shorts could not contain him. Hell, they probably couldn’t contain anyone with a strip of fabric that narrow.

  “Oh, I’m not,” Jared said, running his fingers through dark, longish hair. He noticed something else about Mr. Cassidy. “Um, Trent? Did you dye your hair?”

  “Yeah, dark brown. So?” Trent asked sharply.

  “Just wondering, since it looks so close to your natural color. Why even bother?”

  “Well, the comp cards that were sent to that agency had older pictures and I was sporting a different look at the time. Just wanted to make sure I matched the stats.”

  “Compulsively needed to more like,” Jared replied. He flipped a couple
of chicken breasts that were sizzling away. “I bet Lavonda charged an arm and a leg, or a third leg, for that too. You know, sometimes your OCD manages to slay mine, bro, and that’s saying something. I seriously wonder how you breathe during the day without stressing about the number of oxygen molecules you’re intaking.”

  Trent scoffed. “‘Molecules,’ he says. That’s a word you and your khakified-college ass would love to have shoved up there right next to ‘compulsively.’”

  “Geez, not this again, man.” Jared rolled his blue eyes before they settled back on the stove.

  “Well, J-Rod, we can’t all be perfect like good ol’ Mr. Hughes now, can we?”

  Though Trent was prodding, Jared didn’t look like he was going to take the bait and entertain him that morning.

  Grease splattered on his hand, and Jared grumbled something under his breath. Walking to a nearby cabinet, he pulled out two plates, loading each with a cup of rice out of the steamer. He then returned to the stove, put chicken on the plates, and handed one off to Trent.

  “Figured you might need it after your festivities in Miami,” Jared said. “Here, take this too.”

  Trent snatched the fork away, replying, “Thanks, though I’ll have you know I didn’t do anything in Miami.”

  “I know you and your technicalities all too well. You might not have done something in Miami, but I know that someone got a taste of Trent on this venture. You can’t go a day without that thing starving to death.”

  “Whatever,” Trent said, shoving a hefty helping of protein into his mouth. It was over-salted. No wonder you look so bloated all the time, J.

  “Needs more salt,” Jared stated. He sprinkled a few more dashes over his plate. “Oh, by the way, guess who I got a call from the other day?

  Trent shrugged.

  “Jonny!”

  Trent’s lighthearted thoughts about a bloated Jared became an instant burst of happiness. It’d only been a week or so since Jonny Cameron had stayed over during spring break. The slender guy left quite an impression with them over that time, leading the roommates into territory even Trent didn’t realize he knew about.

  Tony sure benefitted from that, Trent thought before turning his attention back to their boy. “How is the lil’ dude?”

  “Doing well,” Jared answered. “Missing us a lot, of course.”

  “Me more, probably.”

  “Funny, he didn’t say that. Anyway, classes are kicking his ass like they are mine, but he did say that he was excited about coming back here once they were all done in a couple of months.”

  Trent swung his gaze toward Jared, who did the same. There was some awkward tension between the two of them.

  “Glad to hear it!” Trent said. “Hopefully he can stay a little longer than a week this time.”

  “I hope so, but…”

  Trent waited for an immediate follow up but the pause was too long for anything good to come out of Jared’s mouth next.

  “Buttttt…” Trent repeated with caution.

  “But he’s not going to be coming alone this time.”

  Trent didn’t know what to think right away. He was unsure he wanted anyone else in on the intimate thing they had going on. More was not the merrier.

  “Who?”

  “Nobody interested in you for that,” Jared continued.

  “Well cocky-fucking-do, J-Rod, you still haven’t told me who!”

  “It’s his uncle. I can’t really remember a name – I was more in tune with talking to Jonny about… other stuff.”

  “Well shit. What’s he want? You said he wasn’t interested in me for that.” Trent had his foot up on one of the stool’s cross-supports. His whole leg started shaking.

  “Your franchise,” Jared said. “He wants to talk to you about that. Seems like you’ve got a guaranteed facility over in Marshall, should you want it.”

  Trent perked up, his serious face on. “Really?”

  Jared nodded, still seasoning his chicken.

  “Well damn, that’s great news. I was planning to take the day off, but I think I’ll head over to the office and at least pull some preliminary paperwork. It’ll be dead in there apart from Will…”

  Trent’s voice trailed off at the mention of Will’s name.

  “You okay? Will?”

  “Huh?” Trent said, snapping back to reality. “Oh, yeah, Will Marsh. Huge mofo who trains at Swole. Eats three kids like Jonny for breakfast.”

  “Sounds like a scary dude. You know, Jonny and his uncle won’t be here for a couple of months. I think you can definitely risk a day off.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you know how I get when I have something on my mind and get cooped up inside. Besides, I don’t want to bother you and Greg.”

  “No worries there; you won’t. We’re not planning on coming back here. I just want to take him to lunch and the movies. Something, anything to get his mind off things.”

  “I got coupons that could help. Buy one get one free snacks and outright freebie hot dogs!” The look on Trent’s face was borderline insane.

  Jared’s expression became wrinkled like a wad of used paper. “You worry me Trent. Thanks, but I think we’ll be okay.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said. “More for me then. What time are you heading out?”

  Jared craned his neck to look at the wall clock. “About half an hour.”

  “Cool. I’m going to finish this chicken and head over to the office, probably pick up a smoothie too.”

  “Hopefully not bananas,” Jared laughed. It was obnoxiously loud.

  No, but hopefully this shitty salt block will free up my taste buds by then, Trent mentally jabbed.

  He watched as Jared took the last bite of chicken on his plate, which was salted at least five times during their conversation.

  “Ah,” Jared said proudly. “Now that is perfect.”

  Chapter 3

  Will Marsh

  It was three o’clock in the afternoon by the time Trent made it to the north side of town. His morning was spent unexpectedly on social media, swirling in the black hole of political commentary and debates, cute animal videos with the inevitable ‘this is abuse’ comments, and incessant inbox messages that opened with the high-quality prose, “Hey.”

  After all of that (a downright hot mess if he had to categorize it), his first stop in the Summerset Center was Sir Mixalot. There he got himself a medium Berry Cherry smoothie, Jared’s irksome voice snickering in the back of his mind.

  Fucking J-Rod and his cucumbers and bananas, Trent remembered, his free hand spontaneously rubbing his ass to relieve the phantom soreness. Idiot.

  As he walked outside, stepping from the covered walkway into the sun, Trent glanced right in the direction of Swole. Like most Sunday afternoons, the parking lot had been empty when he arrived. but now there was a large, supercharged Tundra in the parking lot. Trent’s mood dampened when he saw the black truck – parked right in a front space no less – and he sucked a little harder on his straw. Cherry flavored brain freeze soon followed.

  It was Will Marsh’s truck, the immense man no doubt just getting there to do his workout.

  Why couldn’t you have lifted this morning? Trent mused, regretting giving Will a key to the facility (even though he had brought Trent the most referral business out of everyone there combined).

  Stopping at his Charger, Trent eyeballed the workout bag in the passenger seat and considered taking Jared’s advice and just skipping any paperwork for the day. After all, it could wait for…

  Too late.

  Will emerged from Swole, moving as fast as his absurd muscular build could propel him. He was wearing a pair of gray sweat pants and a supplement tee that had to be 3XL (yet was still tight). If the wind caught in those massive lats, he could possibly soar (if he wasn’t so heavy, that is). Reaching his truck, Will jerked a pair of Chuck Taylors from the rear passenger floorboard, happening to look in Trent’s direction when the door closed.

  “Fuck,” Trent grumbled,
realizing his outfit – a bright yellow stringer, red shorts from earlier, and bright kicks – didn’t work so well to blend into the otherwise normal surroundings. “Now he knows for a fact you’re back from the trip.”

  Sighing heavily as Will went back inside the building – casting one last, lingering look at the gym owner – Trent yanked the car door open and reluctantly climbed inside.

  Trent reached the entrance a short time later (wishing it took a lot longer to get there). His gym bag was slung casually over his shoulder, shifting slightly as he reached out to open the door.

  Why did you bring this if you’re only here for paperwork, man?

  Will had left the front door open in anticipation of his arrival, Trent locking it after he got inside. The air was slightly on the warm side, which Will said helped him get better pumps, but it made Trent all the more edgy.

  Ahead of him, Trent could see the iron jungle in all its glory. Even though he’d been gone a few days, nothing beat home turf for working out (hotel “fitness centers” often sporting a dilapidated treadmill and bike, few or no free weights, and definitely no selfie-worthy mirrors – good lighting priority number one a serious fitness fanatic like Trent.)

  A loud bang came from the left in the leg room. Will was probably doing a few deadlifts with half the plates in the facility to warm up. The other half (plus some he’d bring from home from time to time) came into play after that.

  Right, Trent thought assertively, blazing a path toward the offices. They were in the rear, right corner of the building. Straight to work. Yep! No time to play today. Passing the leg room in three, two…

  “Hey Trenton!” Will boomed, triggering Trent to shudder then halt.

  “Yes Bill?” Trent replied, the hate of his given name apparent.

  Will ticked his head in the direction of the weights. “Come and give me a spot.”

  Alrighty then, Trent thought, sliding his gear off his shoulder. Guess I don’t have a choice.

  Setting the bag outside the room as a subtle hint that he would have to grab it and carry on with (more important) business of his own, he ambled inside. Maneuvering through the equipment, Trent knew that he wasn’t about to get into a compromising position with this guy (like he might have done with Jonny, and a few others before that). What was Will doing then, asking for a spot on deadlifts of all things? It wasn’t until he finally saw what Will was lifting that he knew why.