The Enduro

Pete carried the busy dining room's last tray of cleared china on his shoulder, a good 50 yard walk from the furthest private room, through the main dining room, up a ramp, past the cooks, and to the conveyor belt to load for the dishwashers. A couple of weeks into his summer job as a busboy at an exclusive lakeside resort while on break from college, he'd already made the trip countless times; first for breakfast, then for dinner, every day. He was already in top physical condition, swimming for his small Midwestern college team, so it wasn't the weight of the trays that bothered him. His shoulders and arms were strong and carried the lean muscle of an athlete with thousands of hours in the pool. But his feet were not accustomed to such duty, especially carrying a 40 lb. tray of heavy china and flatware multiple times every meal. He groaned inwardly, reminding himself that this was just breakfast, just the beginning of the day.

He unloaded the dishes, joked a bit with the dishwashers and cooks, loitering about, grabbing a slice of bacon from a tray, and ambled out to the dining room to help finish cleaning up. He was looking forward to his own meal, then a little time by the lake to relax and water-ski, maybe flirt with some girls, before the dinner shift later that evening.

He walked over to his friend Tom, who attended the same school and fraternity, and who'd gotten him the job this summer. Tom had worked at the resort last summer and, at school, spoke glowingly of his exploits there, describing days golfing and lounging by the water, and nights in the bar picking up guests of all ages, the nannies who traveled with them, and waitresses heralding from Europe for the summer. "What the fuck did you sign me up for man", Pete complained to him. "My feet are killing me."

"New shoes, pussy", Tom replied. "And you'll get used to it after a few more days, trust me. You'll be in even better shape at the end of the summer."

Just then, Terry, an older waiter, was walking by. "Get some inserts", he advised. "And, soak your feet at night, until those muscles develop. Or, hey, I used to be a licensed masseur, so I can give them a good rub down for you, if you want."

Pete glanced at Tom, and chuckled awkwardly. "Nah, it's all good man, I'll survive. Thanks though."

Terry shrugged and walked off. Pete and Tom cracked up a bit. Terry was a nice guy, early forties, a triathlete, in great shape, very good looking, tall, with thinning blond hair, but certainly gay all the way.

Not that there's anything wrong with that, Pete knew. He wasn't threatened, and liked Terry, had talked with him several times about their respective training regimens. In fact, Tom had had a couple of rather mild experiences with other guys before; a drunken hot tub jerk-off session with a fellow swim instructor from last summer's job after everyone had passed out at a party once, and an impromptu, coked-up threesome while sharing a bed with a guy and girl from school, which really amounted to nothing more than some heavy petting and fingering while they took turns fucking the girl. If either one of the experiences had been Terry in the guy's place, he would have gladly accepted. He didn't mind either time, even was thrilled by the novelty and forbidden nature of them, but his tastes ran to women, and women of all ages and nationalities were in no short supply at this place.

Thus, he certainly surprised himself when, while clocking out and walking toward the front door for the ¼ mile trek back to his room, he spotted Terry climbing onto his bike. "Hey", Pete said, "Man my feet really are killing me; is that offer still open?"

Terry smiled and said "Sure. I'm in Hopkins cabin, by the marina. You know where it is?"

"Uhhh, I'll look at the map and find it, no worries."

"Around two?"

"Great, uh yeah sure, thanks man" Pete replied. "See ya."

"Jesus," Pete thought to himself as he walked back to his own dorm to shower before lunch. "Did I really just do that? Well yeah, I guess I did, and I wanted to after all, even sober. Weird..."

Pete felt the familiar butterflies of anticipation as he returned to his room. He cranked out his pushups and situps, and decided to forgo the walk back to the employee cafeteria for lunch, instead opting for some canned tuna, crackers, and fruit he had in his room.

He then gathered his shower items, slipped on his slides, and went down the hall to the showers.

Pete clipped his toenails, and spent extra time cleaning his sore feet, making sure they were as hygienic as feet could be. He chuckled to himself, picturing poor Terry wearing a gas mask to fight through the freak show that were his smelly, beaten down dogs. "Might as well trim myself up" he thought to himself while showering. Being a swimmer, he'd already taken care of most of his body hair, and in keeping, kept his cock, balls, and crack shaved clean, leaving only a small patch of trimmed hair above his cock. Most girls liked it that way, and it made his cock stand out nicely. Girls, and even the couple of guys who'd touched it, had always complimented him on it. A little shorter than average, but definitely thicker than average, straight and smooth. He shaved his pubic region clean, rinsed down with soap, and paid careful attention to his asshole, making sure it was smooth and clean. "Never know" he thought to himself, his cock semi-stiff as he soaped his ass, not resisting the urge to slip in a soapy finger. He dried himself off in the shower, and went to get dressed.

Pete certainly wasn't sure what this "massage" entailed, if Terry was simply offering a kind gesture for a co-worker. But, he decided he'd give Terry a thrill in return. He selected a white lycra spandex thong, usually reserved for workouts. He found the stretchy pouch-type thongs worn under shorts kept everything in place while running or doing stairs, and they just felt comfortable and sexy. He sometimes wore them under jeans if he went out to a club to dance, as they made his package look huge. This accentuation was a bonus for this occasion, and the cut left no doubt as to his grooming habits. It could not be any lower rise, with the top just barely covering the base of his cock and the pouch pushing everything out front. He slipped on a performance tee shirt, some loose fitting basketball shorts, and flip-flops. A quick check of the map in the property's brochure revealed the location of Terry's cabin, and Pete was out the door, a little late, around two.

Terry's cabin was situated on a far corner of the property, a little wooded area overlooking the lake. "Nice", Pete thought to himself as he approached, and wondered how the hell Terry was able to pull that. As far as he knew, only the wine masters, senior cooks, head waiters, and captains had their own cabins. The rest of the wait and bar staff had dorm style rooms on stilted cabins; small, wood-paneled, poorly insulated rooms that made his own digs at school feel like the Waldorf. Terry answered Pete's knock, and opened the door with a smile. "Hey Pete, come on in", he said. Terry was wearing some bike shorts and riding bibs. He looked like he was ready to get out and go for a ride. "Uhhh, were you leaving or something? You sure this is a good time?" Pete asked.

"Yeah it's fine. I actually wasn't sure if you were coming, and today's my 40 mile ride, so I was getting ready just in case."

"Oh, sorry I'm a little late Terry. We can always do this another time."

"No, no, it's no problem, I've got time now."

Terry walked over to his dresser as Pete took in the cabin. It was tastefully decorated, and stored a couple road bikes and a mountain bike hanging from hooks on the ceiling. Several trophies adorned shelving on the walls. "Nice place man, how did you manage to secure this little gem? You related to the Porters or something?" The Porters were the family who owned the old, stately resort.

"Nah, they just give us old guys private places. We need our sleep, and can't function like you kids up all night", Terry laughed. "Actually, I've been working here for seven summers now, so I do have a bit of seniority. And, since it looks like I'm not going riding today, I guess we can share this little gem, too." Terry turned and produced a neatly wrapped joint from his dresser drawer. "Another perk, one of the groundskeepers keeps me well supplied in some choice home-grown."

Pete laughed. "Sweet, I gotta make his acquaintance sometime!"

Terry clicked on some mellow reggae, sat on the edge of his bed, and sparked the joint. Pete sat in an easy chair across from him, and they shared the excellent pot. Terry cracked a couple of cold craft beers from his mini fridge. Conversation turned to work, which captains were nicest to work with, Pete's swimming workouts in the lake, Terry's trophies and what races he'd won, and what local races he was entering this summer. "You should enter the Enduro in August before you go back to school, Pete", Terry advised.

"Shoot, I'd likely be one of the first ones out of the water, and still finish last, or dead on the road somewhere" Pete joked.

"Nah, you'd do fine. I've got an extra bike to help you train." Terry blew out a thick stream of smoke, snubbed out the last half of the joint into an ashtray, and walked to the small closet across the room. "Glad I kept this", he said, unfolding a portable massage table. As Terry began to set up the table, Pete took this as a signal the massage was about to begin. He'd originally planned to simply let the massage happen fully clothed, but, as often happened to him, the high quality pot served a dual purpose: He was now incredibly horny, and his inhibitions were low. He was already a bit of an exhibitionist, and proud of the body he'd worked hard to attain, so without much thought and before he could change his mind, he kicked off his flip flops, pulled off his tee shirt, and stepped out of his loose fitting shorts, leaving on only the small, tight thong, which housed a cock that, although not at all hard, was certainly beginning to stir with some blood at the excitement. Terry turned around, took a glance at him, quickly up and down, and said, smiling "Wow, ooookaaay..."

"Well, you were nice enough to offer to massage my feet", Pete grinned, "so I figured I'd give you something nice to look at while you were doing it."

"Well, in my time as a masseur, I certainly had to deal with a lot of body types and odors", Terry replied, "and I've seen them all. Bodies like yours made it a pleasure to work on them. You're in fantastic shape, and, nice touch", he said while letting his eyes linger an extra beat on Pete's package.

"Thanks, I kind of like showing it off actually, Pete said. "So how do you want me to begin?"

"Let's have you lay on your back, Pete." Terry produced a small pillow, and Pete got situated. He was acutely aware how exposed he was, practically naked, willingly, while Terry was still fully clothed. The thought appealed to his exhibitionist side tremendously. Between his ever-growing excitement and pouch thong, his bulge while lying down looked absolutely huge.

Terry moved to the end of the table, moved a small table next to it, and placed some oils on it. "Thanks for having some clean feet here, it saves me a step. Now just relax and we'll get these feet feeling better for the dinner shift."

Pete closed his eyes as Terry began to work his feet. He had obvious skills, and knew the pressure points well. "That feels amazing", he said, as Terry expertly massaged one foot then the other, for what felt like an eternity of bliss, but in reality was about fifteen minutes. From time to time, Pete would open his eyes and glance down at Terry and notice how large he was growing. He now regretted choosing a white thong, as he was pretty sure he was about to start dripping, and any leakage would be immediately visible to Terry. Strangely, the thought served only to excite Pete further. Once, when he opened his eyes, he saw Terry staring directly at his cock. They locked eyes briefly and Terry smiled. Pete smiled embarrassingly, and closed his eyes again, but not before slightly opening his legs and thrusting his hips up slightly as if to say "Here's a little better view for you, if you like what you see so far."

As if on cue, Terry proceeded to move up Pete's legs to his calves, methodically and expertly massaging one, then the other. "Nice shave" Terry said, snapping Pete out of his trance.

"Yeah, you know, well, swimming."

"Hmmm, you swim naked?" Terry smiled, obviously looking now at Pete's body, almost examining his bulge. The thong left no doubt that Pete was shaved everywhere.

"Haha, no, I mean, if you're going to wear this, you kind of have to shave it all, ya know?"

"Yeah I was just kidding. I like it though", Terry said, as he moved his hands even higher, to Pete's thighs. Pete sighed with pleasure, and noticed he'd been slowly spreading his legs, bringing his feet up a bit to bend his knees, which offered Terry a perfect view of his package. There was no mistaking the fact that Pete was growing hard, and leaking precum into the tight, white thong, his cock straining against the stretchy fabric. He suddenly realized he was involuntarily moving his hips slowly, thrusting in an attempt to create some friction for his cock, which clearly afforded Terry an even better view of his shaved asshole. The whole experience was so erotic; nearly naked, willfully spreading his legs for a clothed man to touch, and now to openly examine every inch of him. Pete was caught up in the moment, and to further strengthen the feeling, he raised his arms over his head and clasped the edge of the massage table, letting himself feel open and exposed.

As if reading his mind, Terry said "mmm, you're just letting go, aren't you? Letting your body feel good?"

"Yesss", Pete whispered softly.

"You like to feel a little submissive, a little vulnerable?"

Pete didn't answer, but nodded slightly and raised his hips. That was all the answer Terry needed.

"Do you trust me, Pete?" Terry asked, as he moved toward the head of the table, while softly taking two fingers, and letting them trace over Pete's thong, from his asshole, around his balls very gently, and around his leaking cock. It was the first time he'd touched anywhere of a sexual nature, and Pete involuntarily gasped. "Yesss", he said.

"Good", Terry said, "Can I restrain your wrists?"

Pete nodded in assent, clasping his hands together. "Yes."

Terry produced a bandana from his drawer by the head of the massage table, and quickly bound Pete's wrists to the table support bar over his head. "Now, don't worry Pete, this won't be any S/M thing. I just think you might like to feel at my disposal for a bit. If you ever want to stop, and I will stop whatever I'm doing, right away, just say the word 'Enduro'. You understand?"

Pete nodded in affirmation, not hiding the fact now that he was openly writhing his hips, breathing heavily, his cock feeling like it would burst through his thong, the thong which was preventing his full erection, and quickly becoming wet with his leakage.

After Terry had secured his wrists, and confirmed the binds were not too tight, his hands wandered over Pete's chest. He was now standing off to the side by Pete's head, and Pete looked at Terry's crotch. His biking shorts left nothing to the imagination, and Pete could clearly see Terry's growing cock inches from his face. He felt Terry's hands move to his nipples. Pete's nipples were one of his most sensitive areas; it was as if there was a direct line from them to his cock. He loved to have them flicked lightly, squeezed, and pulled during sex. Once Terry began to softly rub them with his fingertips, Pete moaned loudly for the first time. He stared at Terry's cock through his bike shorts, even opening his mouth and moving his head towards it to try to kiss it. Terry smiled and moved it just out of reach. "Hmmmm, looks like I've found your hot button." Terry said. "That's good to know...they're nice and long. It looks like they've been played with quite a bit?"

"Yes", Pete gasped..it feels so good, I love it."

"Hmmm, we'll come back to those later, I've got a surprise for them, Pete. I see you want to kiss me there. Do you?"

"Yes" Pete said, straining to reach.

"Ask me."

"Pleaaase."

"Please what?"

"Oh please can I kiss your cock? I want to so bad."

"Just one kiss Pete, and no tongue", Terry said, moving his crotch within reach.

Pete moved to kiss hungrily, but Terry moved away quickly, and squeezed Pete's sensitive nipples hard, causing a gasp. "What do you say when I let you, Pete?"

"Oh, thank you."

"Thank you for what?"

"Thank you for letting me kiss your cock Terry."

"Mm, that's better", Terry said, loosening his grip, and again lightly brushing Pete's nipples while moving close again.

"Thank you" Pete said again, just to be sure, and kissed the head of Terry's hard cock, over his bike shorts, letting it linger until he pulled away.

"Now", Terry said, as his hands once again returned to Pete's inner thighs, this time standing to the side of the table, "let's go over a couple rules for our game, shall we?"

Pete nodded.

"You notice I have not tied your legs, Pete, only your wrists. That's because I want you to have a choice, and that choice will be to keep your legs spread for me. I want you to be fully exposed, open and vulnerable for me at all times, and that means you will willfully keep your cock and ass on full display for me. Do you understand?"

Pete said "Yes" and spread his legs a little wider, as Terry was again softly caressing his balls and cock.

"Good. Now the next rule is, and this should go without saying, Pete, but of course you may not come without my permission. In fact, you must ask me to even ask for permission to come. I don't want to hear you beg to come without me first giving you permission to even ask. Understood?"

"Yes, thank you", Pete moaned, quickly slipping into the role.

"Good. You're learning fast." Terry begin lightly tracing the outline of Pete's straining cock, lingering around the underside, feeling the leaking pre cum through the fabric. "It looks like this cock is excited, doesn't it..." Pete nodded. Terry began to lightly slap Pete's cock quickly, slowly growing in intensity, until he was slapping it hard and fast. Pete moved his hips back involuntarily after one particularly hard slap. "Good, that brings me to my final rule" Terry said. "This cock is mine for the next little while, and when I slap it, you are to raise your hips into it, to fully offer it to me, no matter how hard. In fact, if I lightly slap it, you are to beg me to slap it harder. Do you understand?"

"Yessss", Pete moaned, and Terry traced his cock again, and began to lightly tap it with his fingers. "Please, please, slap my cock harder" Pete begged. Terry smiled and upped the pressure a bit as Pete raised his hips, submitting his cock to Terry. "Please, oh please slap it harder Terry!" Terry once again slapped his cock hard and fast, and Pete closed his eyes and forced himself to thrust his wide open hips upward to meet Terry's hand. After twenty hard slaps, Terry stopped and said "Very good Pete", while pressing his finger against Pete's asshole, over the strap of his thong, and wiggled it slightly. Pete knew what he was supposed to do, and strained to thrust against it, offering his asshole to Terry. The latest round of slaps had made even more blood rush to his cock, and Pete was dying to be completely naked, but he didn't dare ask, so he just gyrated his hips as Terry picked up a bottle of oil, and, using the lighter they'd used earlier on the joint, began to warm the bottle while admiring Pete's body.

Satisfied the oil was warmed, Terry moved down to the foot of the table once again, unscrewed the bottle, and held it high over Pete's cock. He slowly let the warm oil drip all over Pete's cock and balls, over his thong, soaking it. Pete writhed and moaned in pleasure at the sensations. He looked down and saw that his white thong was soaked, and every outline of his cock was now visible. He could feel the warm oil dripping down to his asshole, which was pulsing after Terry's finger had teased it.