Fishing Pier Vampires by Felix Lance Falkon

     As the sun settled into the Pacific, Ken started up the brass ladder that led from the beach to the underside of the pier. He heard the sea gulls crying, the slosh of the waves against the sand and the pilings under the fishing pier, and overhead, the rumble of the pier's merry-go-round and its pipe- organ. He looked down, saw Miklós start up the ladder, and asked, "How do we get in?"

     Miklós said, "There's a trap door at the top of the ladder -- just push up with your head and it'll open."

     Ken did, the trapdoor did, and Ken climbed into a room hidden behind the merry-go-round. As Miklós climbed in and closed the trap door behind them, Ken glanced around and saw a window overlooking Santa Monica Bay, easy chairs, a TV set, a king-sized bed, and a door . . .

     ". . . that goes to the kitchen behind our hot-dog stand," Miklós explained.

     "You live here?"

     "Sure. It's convenient to Muscle Beach and the big gyms -- Gold's, World -- and we've got a long-term lease."

     Ken peeled off his T-shirt, kicked off his sandals, and dropped his shorts, letting his stiff shaft snap erect. He stretched, comfortably conscious of his powerfully muscled physique, then watched Miklós shed his clothes.

     "Want a hot dog before we -- start?" Miklós asked. "We make them ourselves. They're lots better than what you can find anywhere else."

      Ken tensed his stomach into a hard, concave six-pack. He started to shake his head, then shrugged his thick shoulders. "Yeah -- sure -- now that I don't have to worry about my diet." He took a deep breath, feeling his pectoral muscles tighten. His nose caught the smells of the fishing pier: fish, popcorn, seaweed, salt air, and -- hot dogs.

     Miklós finished stripping, revealing a prong as rigid as Ken's, went to the door, and called, "Nils!"

     "Whatcha need?"

     "One hot dog -- no, make it two -- he looks hungry."

     "On the way -- supply's gettin' low, though." And a moment later, a sturdy blond in his late teens trotted into the room. "Ken!" The blond held out a tray with two steaming hot dogs wrapped in buns. "Hey, you really got robbed in the Mister A contest last month -- you shoulda taken first f'sure."

     "Judges are giving points for a good tan," growled Ken, around a mouthful of hot dog, "and redheads like me, we don't tan -- we freckle." He wolfed down one hot dog, picked up the second. "And a build like mine's out of style. They're going for the steroid look -- Hey! These franks are good."

     "They should be," said Nils. He hesitantly touched Ken's right shoulder. Ken nodded -- he hoped encouragingly -- and the blond youth ran his hand down Ken's torso, hesitated, then stroked Ken's rock-hard cock. "Dude, with your muscles and that prong, you'd be a natural for the gay-porn videos."

     "Hey, Nils," said Miklós, "don't talk him out of feeding me now."

     "Don't worry," Ken growled. He swallowed the last of his second hot dog. "Now that I've got this far . . ." He studied Miklós for a moment -- a gymnast's body rather than a body- builder's but a rock-hard shaft every bit as big as Ken's own -- then asked, "Do you and Nils . . ."

     ". . . own the place?" Miklós shook his head. "Zoltán's my partner. He's collecting another prospect; they'll be back soon."

     "Me and Rex, we're just the hired help," Nils said, "We both work out at the Beach, and by the end of the season . . ."

     "Yeah -- I've seen you there," said Ken. He touched Nils's shoulder, felt solid muscle under the cloth.

     Miklós said, "Since we're running short, go tell Rex to close down the stand early. Afterwards . . ."

     Nils grinned, turned, and scurried away. Ken watched the blond leave, then turned to Miklós. "So. Let's . . ."

     ". . . get started?" Miklós steered Ken to the nearest bed. They mounted the bed and knelt, facing each other. Miklós leveled his rigid cock and nodded at Ken, who leveled his own, then gingerly touched his glans to Miklós'.

     Something -- something slick and hard from inside Miklós' rigid cock probed Ken's, found the opening at the tip, and slid in. Ken pulled back and saw a pencil-thick tendril now linked his glans and Miklós'. "Is that . . ."

     ". . . what I use to go inside and . . ."

     ". . . turn things on?" Ken raised his head and met Miklós' gaze.

     Miklós nodded. He thrust with his hips; Ken looked down and met the thrust with a thrust of his own. And as Ken stared, fascinated, he felt and saw his own prong slide into Miklós', which telescoped itself into a tube that fitted snugly around Ken's prong.

     And as Ken thrust his prong deeper into Miklós', he felt Miklós' stiff tendril impale his own, deeper and deeper. A moment later, Ken's prong was hilt-deep into Miklós' groin. "Are you . . ." the bodybuilder asked.

     ". . . all the way in?" Miklós nodded. "Can you feel me . . ."

     ". . . opening me up? I can sure feel you doing some-fucking-thing inside me. Feels almost like you're digging in and taking root."

     "Better than having me bite a hole in your neck, the way old-fashioned vampires do?"

     "Lots better. Whatever you're doing, it's really turning me on, 'specially the way your muscles kind of ripple along the outside of my cock."

     "Now then; I'll lie back, and you come down on top of me -- there, that's it."

     Ken settled his broad chest onto Miklós' and wrapped his powerful arms around Miklós' chest while Miklós clamped his legs around Ken's waist. He rammed himself in deeper, feeling his balls grind against Miklós', pulled back, thrust in to the hilt again, and on into a smooth, deep-thrusting rhythm.

     "Going to shoot soon?" asked Miklós.

     "Yeah -- can you tell?"

     "Your muscles are tightening up."

     "I'll slow down -- make it last -- talk about something -- Hey; what'd happen if I tried to pull out now?"

     Ken felt and heard Miklós chuckle, then heard Miklós say, "That tendril I slid into your prong -- it's thicker now than when it went in . . ."

     "Yeah, I can feel that -- kinda stretching me from the inside."

     ". . . and the muscles inside my hips are squeezing you from the outside . . ."

     "I can feel that too."

     ". . . so the best you could do if you really tried would be to pull your prong out by the roots."

     "Yeah. And talking about doing that is making me hotter than ever." Ken thrust, thrust again, gradually speeding his stroke. He expanded his chest, sucked in his stomach, rammed himself in to the hilt, and went rigid all over, every muscle straining, while inside, he felt the glands in the base of his shaft pump and pump -- and pump still more, long, hard squirts of . . . "Hey! I've never shot this big a load before," he sighed as he slowly relaxed.

     Miklós chuckled, then said, "You've never had me work on you before, either. Right now, what you're shooting is all semen. By the time your glands run dry . . "

     ". . . it'll be all blood?"

     Ken saw Miklós nod.

     "Yeah. Anyway, I can feel another load getting ready, inside." Ken resumed his stroke, and kept on pumping as he heard the trapdoor flip open. Ken turned his head and saw Dusty, a 20-year-old bodybuilder from one of the Hollywood gyms, emerge.

     "Ken!" said Dusty, stopping halfway through the trap door. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

     "What's it look like?" said Ken, still humping. "I just shot one load, and I'm working on the second. How about you?"

     "Uh -- yes." Dusty climbed the rest of the way into the room, followed by a man who looked like a younger version of Miklós. "Me and Zoltán. . ."

     "Zoltán?" asked Ken. "I've seen you around too."

     "I am he." Zoltán stripped quickly; Dusty hesitated, then came out of his clothes with shaft up and hard.

     "Anyway, I realized that I'm as big as I'm ever going to get, so . . ."

     Ken heard a door open. He turned his head, saw blond Nils enter the room.

     "Ooops," said Dusty, trying to hide his hard-on with both hands.

     "Cool it, stud," said Nils, as a second youth, this one dark-haired, followed the first and closed the door. "We know the score. Just closed the hot-dog stand for the night. That's Rex. I'm Nils. You are?"

     "Uh -- Dusty. Zoltán's going to --"

     "I know, I know." Nils handed Dusty a hot dog. "We'll make up a new batch tomorrow, when Miklós and Zoltán finish feeding on you dudes." Both youths stripped quickly, revealing well-muscled physiques and long, stiff shafts.

     Ken saw Rex pat Dusty's shoulder, back, and rump. "Lots of meat on your bod, Dusty."

     "Ken's the real prize," Dusty said around a mouthful of hot dog. "but you two are coming along real well too -- good, solid pecs and shoulders, but Rex could do with more leg work,"

     Nils patted his own chest muscles. "In a few months, we'll be ready to feed these dudes ourselves."

     Rex said, "I'll probably feed them first -- I've got ten or fifteen pounds on Nils. He's better hung, though," he added, touching his own stiff prong.

     "When you do feed them," Ken said, "you'll wish they'd taken you even sooner. Miklós is really doing a number on me, turning me on like nobody I've ever pronged before." He rammed his prong in deep, felt Miklós meet that thrust with an upward squirm of his naked body while inside, he gave Ken's prong a hard, somehow hungry squeeze.

     Zoltán put his right hand on Dusty's left shoulder. "Ready?"

     "Uh -- yeah. Sure -- let's get started."

     As Ken and Miklós fucked toward a second climax, they watched Zoltán and Dusty touch prong-tips together, watched Zoltán's penile tendril slide into Dusty's shaft, watched Dusty's shaft slowly impale Zoltán's. The linked pair rolled onto the bed beside Ken's and Miklós's locked bodies with Dusty on top and his warm shoulder pressed against Ken's.

     As Dusty and Zoltán began to fuck, Ken asked, "How is he?"

     "Good," panted Dusty. "Real fucking good. He's working on the outside of my cock, and he's gone all the way inside and working there too, and -- and -- this is every fucking bit as good as you said it is."

     Nils asked Ken, "How 'bout a three-way?"

     Ken slowed his stroke, looked up at Nils, and licked his lips. "What you got in mind?"

     Nils took a deep breath. "You could suck me off while Miklós works on you. Or I can climb on and fuck you, and . . ."

     "How 'bout doing both?" asked Ken, feeling oddly eager. "I'll suck you off first, and then you can climb aboard and slide on in."

     "That means it'll take longer for me to fuck you; but if that's no problem . . ."

     "That's anything but," growled Ken. "Lemme start on you before I unload again." He slowed his stroke almost to a stop, letting Miklós's internal muscles do all the work while Nils knelt at the head of the bed. Ken licked the blond youth's prong for a moment, then slowly took it into his mouth. And as he bobbed his head and worked his tongue and sucked, he felt the bed shift.

     Ken released Nils's shaft and turned his head. Rex was now kneeling beside Nils, and Dusty was exploring Rex's prong with tongue and lips, while Zoltán, on his back under Dusty's well-muscled torso, licked Rex's balls. Ken felt himself grin as he turned back to Nils's waiting shaft and engulfed it again.

     A few moments of hard sucking brought the blond teenager to the brink -- muscles straining, cock quivering -- and then sudden release, filling Ken's mouth with warm sperm. As Ken swallowed and sucked and swallowed again, he felt his own shaft jerk, felt his own muscles go tight, felt himself pump another load into Miklós. His cock kept on pumping as he swallowed the last of Nils' slippery cream.

     Ken released Nils' cock; Nils pulled back, then relaxed against the bed's headboard with a long sigh.

     "That was a suck," Nils said. "You must have had practice."

     "Strictly for money," Ken said, as his own climax gradually ended, "strictly for money. Or at least, up to now." He felt Miklós tighten and relax, tighten and relax around his still-rigid prong, felt the tendril that had impaled him dig deeper into the roots of that throbbing prong, and felt another load gathering inside. "Before now, a second round was always a lot less than a first; but this time . . . I have never, ever had a fuck like this." He looked down at Miklós. "The way you're working on my cock, and poking around inside, and drinking everything I can pump out -- wow!"

     Miklós grinned up at Ken. "And you're pumping out lots of good stuff for me to drink. Very tasty, too," he added, squeezing Ken's shaft, relaxing, then squeezing even tighter.

     "You can taste what I'm feeding you, down there?" asked Ken.

     "Sure. Body-builders like you taste especially good. Pretty soon, you'll be shooting almost steadily. Eventually, though . . ."

     "Yeah, I know. But until I do run dry . . ."

     "How long with that take?" asked Dusty.

     Zoltán said, "Hours and hours. You're both big men."

     "But after that . . ." Ken paused, licked his lips, went on. ". . . you'll grind up what's left for your hot dogs?"

     "That reminds me." Nils climbed off the bed, trotted away, and returned in a couple of moments with a pair of bottles. "Gatorade," he explained, putting one within Ken's reach, the other within Dusty's. "That'll keep you going even longer."

     Ken took his bottle and gulped down a long swig, washing down the slippery remnants of Nils's ball-cream. For a moment, he watched Rex reach his own climax while Dusty hungrily sucked and swallowed. A moment later Dusty reached climax himself, caught his breath, then resumed fucking Zoltán.

     "Uh -- like I told you," Nils said, "it'll take me a while to reload, but since I'm still hard . . ."

     Rex said, "Being around Zoltán and Miklós does that to a dude."

     ". . . you might as well spend it plugged into my butt?" asked Ken. "Sure -- climb on and go to work." He watched the blond teenager smear something on his cock. Ken slowed his stroke as Nils mounted Ken's back, probed, then found the target and slid in. The impalement left a brief, burning pain that quickly faded into a warm erotic glow.

     "All set?" asked Nils as his arms tightened around Ken's broad chest, locking their naked bodies together.

     "All set." Ken accelerated his stroke, felt Nils eagerly match his pace, thrusting when Ken pulled back, pulling back his own long, throbbing cock when Ken drove deep into Miklós. "Ride me cowboy; fuck me hard!"

     Dusty was fucking briskly beside Ken, slowing to let Rex climb aboard, then speeding his stroke to match Ken's.

     And -- as promised -- Ken found each climax lasted longer and the pauses between them ever shorter. Nils shot a load into Ken's butt, then lay on -- and plugged into -- Ken to recharge.

     Ken finished his bottle of Gatorade. Nils unplugged himself and brought two more. Rex reached his second climax. Ken and Dusty grinned at each other as Nils mounted again. Ken said, "We got a lusty pair of guys riding our butts."

     "We're doing okay ourselves," Dusty replied. "I've been shooting almost non-stop."

     "Me too. That tendril Miklós spiked my cock with --"

     "-- I know what you mean --"

     "-- is drinking everything I can shoot and digging for more." Ken looked down and tightened his arms around Miklós' chest. "If I had known how much fun getting eaten alive like this is, I'd have let you take me years ago."

     Miklós grinned, licked his lips, and said, "And if I had known how good you taste, I'd of gone after you the first time you showed up at the Beach."

     "Well, I'm glad you two waited until I was ready to climb on," said Nils.

     "On board and in deep," Ken grunted. "Like Rex said, you're really hung. Hell, if I'd known how much fun getting fucked by you would be . . ."

     "Yeah? You got me ready to try for a third round. Lemme try a different angle and . . ."

     Ken felt Nils sit up -- cock still buried in Ken's butt, his legs alongside Ken's and Miklós' flanks -- then thrust, pull back, and thrust again. Ken straightened his arms, lifting his chest and shoulders off Miklós' taut-muscled torso, and looked back over his shoulder at the blond teenager. "You're a good-looking hunk of muscle, kid; you'll feed Miklós real well when he goes into your cock with that tendril of his."

     "But not right away," said Rex, as he slowly fucked Dusty's butt. "We both gotta put on a few more pounds of muscle before it's our turn. Right now, though --"

     "Yeah." Ken settled his broad chest onto Miklós's and resumed his fuck. A moment later, Nils lowered himself onto Ken's back, and wrapped strong arms around Ken's chest.

     Ken felt Nils's hands start exploring Ken's solid pectoral muscles. "Like what you feel, kid?"

     "Fuck yes," the blond teenager sighed. "Looking at you is fun, and feeling you up is even more fun, and fucking you . . ."

     Ken felt his face go warm with an embarrassed blush. "Come on, kid; fucking me is nothing compared to what Miklós is doing to me now and what he'll do to you when you start feeding him."

     Ken lay almost motionless for a moment, savoring Nils's long cock as it slid deep, pulled back, slid in again. As the red- haired body-builder resumed his own fuck, he pumped shot after shot of blood and semen into one hungry vampire while, alongside, a younger bodybuilder fucked -- and fed -- another naked vampire.

Copyright (C) 2001 by Felix Lance Falkon; you may save or make paper copies for your own use; do not post, repost, publish, or archive elsewhere without the author's express permission.

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