Stallion Station Ch. 04

"How do you know about this place?" he asked Carl when Carl had crawled out of his car.

"I use this gym," Carl answered. "There's a gym over there on that end of the old motel. That's where I go to work out."

"And no doubt where you developed your interest in men," Rick muttered under his breath. When Carl turned to him with an expression that indicated he knew Rick had said something but he hadn't heard what he'd muttered, Rick said, "You know what they use the motel for now, don't you?"

"Yes," Carl answered. "That's what I was thinking about you. You could stay here and work for Jess Gordon—if you like. I could make it worth his while to keep you here to be on call for me—and to do whatever else you wished above that."

"Maybe," was the most that Rick was willing to offer. However, it set pretty well with him. It would be a roof over his head and spending money—and when Carl visited him here, he'd have to pay for it. Rick had almost said yes to this before. He'd liked the look of that Gordon guy.

And speaking of Gordon, he was coming out of the place at the other end of the old motel spread from the gym. It was a newer, two-story place. Gordon was looking as good as ever to Carl. He was in gym clothes, probably having come from there recently. He ran the gym. He ran the motel male brothel operation as well, and Rick wasn't sure what else. Something might be going on in the new addition at the far end of the motel line. The man had said something about movies when Rick had been here before.

Gordon's muscles were busting out of the gym outfit—his veins popping out on his arms and legs because there was no fat on the man to hide in—and he was quite a colorful and jangly guy. Bullet headed with a face that probably frightened his mother, offset by a beautifully developed, nearly overdeveloped, body that was covered in colorful tattoos. He might as well not have been wearing the V-necked athletic shirt that seemed spray painted on his chest, because Rick could clearly make out the rings in the man's nipples and in his navel and the material was transparent enough to see that there was naval battle going on up and down and across the man's torso. It was only later—but not much later—that Rick would get the feel of the thick ring in the man's cock head.

"This is who I called about, Jess," Carl said as Gordon advanced on them. "I thought that maybe—"

"I remember you, Red," Gordon said, ignoring Carl—who, in this grouping was eminently ignorable. "You thought about my offer and came back for it?"

"Maybe," Rick answered.

"Ah, so you know each other," Carl virtually squeaked with pleasure. "And so it's all right if he—"

"Maybe," Gordon cut in. Speaking again straight to Rick, he said. "You'd have to audition first, and you'd be working on a hourly rate and would have to be willing to put up with a lot without whining or being sick a lot. And, as I said before, it would entail some movie work. You OK with that?"

* * * *

Rick found himself in a full Nelson again, although unlike the one in the park. They were in the movie studio Gordon had installed at the end of the motel wing. Rick was facing down on a blue velvet-skirted platform bed in the middle of the room. The platform was surrounded by lights on poles and cameras—videos whirring from different angles and photo cameras flashing still shots off periodically.

Both men were naked. Gordon had told Rick he liked to make each photo shoot as different as possible, and this one was certainly different. Gordon was behind Rick's reclined body and stretched over him, holding the strawberry blond's torso off the surface of the platform in an incline and immobilizing Rick's arms with a full Nelson hold. Gordon's thighs were encasing Rick's long, slender legs, Gordon's groin was attached to Rick's buttocks with his cock buried in Rick's channel, and Gordon was rocking their bodies back and forth in a movement that caused his dick to stroke Rick's channel deep and that looked real interesting from several of the camera angles.

Amid the moaning and groaning, Rick was fixated on the size and vigor of the cock mining his ass and thinking that one question he'd had for years was being answered: you really could feel the distinct rubbing of a thick cock ring inside your ass passage—even when a condom was in use. He hoped the condom head was extra strong, though.

Gordon finished him more conventionally, with Rick on his back on the platform, Gordon crouched over him between his parted thighs, and Rick tracing the naval battle going on on Gordon's undulating chest muscles and tugging on nipple and navel rings as Gordon pumped him hard and deep.

"Your room will be number 5; there are keys on the wall beside the desk in the motel office. You can move your stuff in as long as it doesn't get to looking too domesticated or froufrou."

That's the only thing Gordon said after the photo shoot to indicate that Rick had passed the audition, but Rick already knew, as much pleasure as Gordon was showing during the fuck, that he had passed.

"One thing," Rick said. "What about anything I do on the outside on my own time? What I don't bring back to Stallion Station."

"Your own time away from here is your own time," Gordon answered. "I just don't want you being paired with a guy here that you don't fuck for money here but that you make an outside appointment with."

Good, Rick thought. Because he really didn't want to give up his efforts to improve his Frisbee golf skills in the park—and all that went with that.