Authors: Barry Lowe
Stewart was delighted. “That's it. That's good, really good. Now, pretend you have been out in the snow all day, you've just got back to your house and you're taking your clothes off. One by one. Slowly. Slowly. It feels so good. Yes. Yes.”
From the back of the theatre where he was sewing Paul watched the transformation. Einarr was no Chita Rivera, but then who was, the men on the ship hadn't paid to see her strip, they'd paid to see a hot muscle stud. As long he could do it with a little panache he would be fine.
“Right, now you're down to your underwear. Take your undershirt off really slowly, that's it, rub your hand across your chest, feel your nipples, pump up your bicep, ooh, that's great.” Unbidden, Einarr had licked his own bicep. That would produce wood on many in the audience.
“Now, take your underpants off like it's the sexiest thing you've ever done and you want to make love to the audience.”
Einarr froze. A few perfunctory bumps and grinds, an attempt to remove his underpants, albeit in mime, had him tripping and falling on his ass on the stage. Stewart hopped up to join him. He demonstrated what he meant but no matter how many times Einarr attempted it, it still came out lame.
“Perhaps if you tried it in costume,” Paul called, holding up the pair of extremely tight briefs that would be the penultimate clothing.
Stewart retrieved the outfit admiring the skill with which his lover had produced it. Einarr wondered how he would ever fit into that little scrap of material or how it would contain his cock. Stewart explained that he would be wearing a cup under the briefs to keep his cock snug but for now, they would rehearse with what they had. When he'd been fastened into the costume, Einarr had to admit he felt sexy. A little too sexy as his cock began to grow but if he thought of Robert or Chuck that kept it down.
He went through the motions as outlined by Stewart earlier. He was free to vary his movements any way he wanted, except that he was leading up to an explosive orgasm, a communal audience fuck, as Stewart put it. But he only got so far before the whole act fell apart.
Stewart had an idea. “When you get down to your briefs, don't think of the audience, think of someone you'd like to fuck, say, someone like Gus. Pretend it's Gus you're dancing for. Show him what you've got for him.”
Einarr began moving even before the director had finished his instructions. Slowly and sinuously he moved his groin, his eyes concentrated on something or someone in his mind, oblivious to everything but the figure in his imagination. He was hard, very hard and his lower body was in a frenzy of desire. He ground his body against his imaginary lover, he was making love in dance. Paul stopped to watch. Stewart held his breath. Sure, there were a few subtleties that could be incorporated but otherwise this was terpsichorean sex. Even after the briefs gave way from the strenuous body movement and the stiffening of Einarr's prick, he kept on. As Stewart approached to stop him, Einarr grabbed him by the thighs and thrust his face into his crotch sucking his cock through his trousers. Stewart could have easily cum, especially after Einarr grabbed his hand and pushed it to his butt crack. Stewart buried his fingers in the giant's hole as he tried to suck the cum out of him through his trousers.
Using every ounce of his willpower, Stewart broke the spell and Einarr fell down exhausted on the stage.
“That will have the entire audience blowing its load before the night is over,” Paul said with satisfaction.
Stewart was panting. “Take a break and come back in about...” He looked to Paul for an estimate of when the costumes would be ready.
“About two...make it three hours.”
Einarr needed the break. He knew now he would not disgrace himself. That Gus would be proud. He appreciated what Stewart and Paul had done for him. He would have to think of a way to repay them. He pulled on the sweatpants, Paul had promised to make him some casual wear for the cruise as well if he couldn't find anything at one of the ship's menswear stores, and headed back to the cabin.
Gus was out so he lay down on the bed and promptly fell asleep. He awoke hours later to the sound of loud knocking at the door and discovered Gus curled up in his embrace.
“Holy shit!” Einarr said, rubbing the fatigue from his eyes. “I was supposed to be back at rehearsal half an hour ago.”
He flung open the door. Stewart was pacing impatiently. “We haven't got much time. Just one run through.”
Einarr blew a kiss to Gus who still hadn't woken up fully and disappeared down the passageway behind Stewart. He came back, looking well pleased with himself a little over an hour later immaculately attired, wearing new body hugging trousers picked out by Paul at one of the tailor's stores on board adjusted to a perfect fit by Paul's magic sewing ability. Gus whistled his appreciation. He was reluctant to ask how rehearsals had gone, but curiosity got the better of him.
“I won't let you down,” Einarr smiled.
Gus hoped not because the buzz aboard ship was electric. The performance tonight was standing room only. And tickets were going fast for the remainder of the voyage.
Einarr pushed his way into the bathroom. “I need a shower. I stink.” When he emerged about fifteen minutes later, scrubbed clean, but still dripping a little, the towel barely fitting around his waist, he sat on the bed next to Gus. He didn't know how to say what he felt in his heart.
Gus knew if he didn't do it now he would lose his nerve. “I have a present for you. It's nothing much. It's one of the reasons I'm on this cruise, apart from the ex-boyfriend business.” He opened his hand to reveal a small, smooth, freckled grey rock.
“It's a magic troll rock. I want you to have it.”
Einarr recognized it at once for what it was. But it had nothing at all to do with magic. Or trolls for that matter.
“Whenever you're lonely, or sad, or need a friend, squeeze this and think of me. It was my mum's. She gave it to me before she died. Said she and my dad had met on a beach in Iceland when they both reached for the same stone. I was taking it back where it belongs.”
Einarr took the gift, it would be precious because it came from Gus not for any magical properties it supposedly possessed. He pressed it to his lips, then to Gus's. He was tongue-tied with desire for the young man beside him.
“I hope I make you proud tonight. But no matter what happens, let me say I don't regret one moment of it. Most of all I would not have missed meeting you for all the world.” Einarr got up and left quickly so Gus could not feel his heart thumping in his chest. Gus was glad as well, so that no one saw the small tear in the corner of his eye.
Gus showered and changed and joined Stewart and Paul at the captain's table which had pride of place nearest the stage. The audience was boisterous and the opening acts were tolerated begrudgingly. As the night wore on they became progressively more drunk and more vocal. It was clear they were here for Einarr. Well, no, not Einarr. They were here for the Viking Stripper. Gus was so nervous he shredded half a dozen paper napkins. The lights dimmed, the audience hushed, the spot lit up...nothing. As if something was wrong the spotlight roamed the stage like a beam quartering a Nazi POW camp. Finally, it hit Einarr at the side of the stage. There was a collective gasp. His hair had been styled, shaggy primitive, but not unattractive. It matched the faux fur vest he wore, and the baggy briefs that covered his groin. He wore faux fur boots that came up to his knees, his thighs and his arms glistened with oil.
“The oil is a nice touch,” Gus whispered to Stewart.
Einarr acknowledged the audience with a sly smile. He glanced around until he found Gus, then winked. Gus's heart did a somersault. He walked toward the centre of the stage in semi-darkness until he whistled to the follow spot to follow. The spot scrambled after him. The audience erupted in laughter. Einarr threw down the sack he was carrying and made out like he was tired. Pulling the vest over his head revealed he had pumped up his muscles before coming on stage. He dipped his hands into an old wooden bucket set for him and rubbed his hands across his chest and then more slowly down his rippling abs. His hands were coated in oil and his body sparkled. Gus could hardly breathe. He was not the only one.
He was scarcely aware of the music but it was there subtly in the background but gently increasing in volume as Einarr shed his outer garments in time to the beat. Finally, he was down to his briefs and his boots. No one cared if he removed his footwear. The music gave way to the throbbing pulse of heavy metal. Einarr opened a locket he had around his neck and kissed the portrait inside. He stole a look at Gus as he did so, it was not missed by anyone at the captain's table. Then he ran the locket down his crotch as he began to sway. He pumped his crotch at the audience, bending forward as he opened his mouth to lick his lips, his eyes half hooded with desire.
The teasing was brief and tantalizing before he hooked his thumbs in the waist of his briefs and removed them in one fluid motion to reveal a leather cup encasing his cock and balls. He moved his hips as if grinding against an unseen lover. He dipped his hands in the bucket before turning his back, slathering his butt until it glistened, then parting his cheeks and dipping his slick fingers toward his hole, grinding his ass, inviting the audience to fuck him collectively.
He turned, slipped the cup off his cock which was now lengthening and slid his greased fingers along the shaft, cupping his balls with the other hand. He stroked his cock, aiming it toward the members of the audience but always ending up back at Gus. He threw his head back and let out a scream as if he were coming, his prick glistened briefly, and the lights went out.
There was dead silence for a moment and then pandemonium broke out. The lights came up and Einarr stood there naked, oily and smiling. The audience stamped their approval of his performance, Gus jumping to his feet, not forgetting to slap his approval on the relieved backs of Stewart and Paul. The cheers were so prolonged Einarr was frightened he might have to do it all again.
He put his hands up for quiet and eventually the audience sat down and the applause dried. “I want to thank you for your kind applause but I couldn't have done it tonight without the help of Paul, my costume designer.” Paul stood and took a bow. “Stewart, my director.” Stewart did the same with more theatrical modesty. “But most of all, my dearest friend, Angus.” He stood in a daze as the applause swept over him.
“Don't forget guys, don't be shy. If you see me around the ship, come over and say hello. I'm a friendly guy.” He winked and they went berserk again.
He bent down to pick up his briefs, showing his luscious butt again, to the whistles and envy of those present. He faked a modesty he no longer felt. He walked to the captain's table where he pulled on the briefs and ran his thumb along the tabs so they wouldn't burst open. He did not dare sit down as the oil would ruin the chairs. He accepted congratulations from all those at the table before he turned his attention to Gus who mouthed the words, “I'm so proud of you.”
Einarr grabbed Gus around the waist, hoisting him over his shoulder, cave man style, before making his way through crowds of men who made no secret of their desire to touch him. But Einarr was single minded and ignored everyone until he reached their cabin, where he dumped Gus on the bed.
He fumbled with the buttons on Gus's shirt until impatience drove him to rip it off. Gus had already shucked off his shoes and socks and was unzipping his trousers lest Einarr tear those off his body as well. Soon he was as naked as Einarr who had ripped his own briefs off and stood like an oiled god before him. Einarr grabbed him, rubbing their bodies together until Gus was slick as well. He had been excited all through Einarr's performance and had almost shot in his pants at a number of points in the act. His cock was not only slimy with oil but with his own pre-come.
Einarr put a greasy hand around Gus's cock to caress rather than milk it. But Gus stopped him because he would come too soon. Instead, he bent his head, opening his mouth to feel the oil slicked cock slip between his lips. It had a slight taste, not unpleasant, the oil helping lubricate his throat as it penetrated deeper with each thrust.
He kept his tongue at the ready to slide along the underneath of the shaft as it slipped in and out, sending shock waves of pleasure to Einarr's brain. The giant watched his shaft slide into his boyfriend, for he knew now that he would fight for Gus with every ounce of his being. He stroked his hair as he slowly pushed deeper and deeper, feeling Gus's throat constrict around the knob. He'd waited so long for this he didn't think he could hold off but he wanted to warn Gus. He whispered, “Soon now.” Gus didn't take his mouth away and then it was too late. Einarr thrust as deep as he could, holding Gus's head still, pumping string after string of spunk into his throat, pulling back before he choked so he could taste the flavor. He made no effort to push Einarr away.
They lay back in the bed, their arms around each other too frightened in case it was all a dream. Einarr kissed him deeply tasting his own spunk, mixed with the body oil, on his tongue. Rolling on his back, Einarr pulled Gus on top of him and looked him in the eye as he ran his fingers across his face. “Your turn.”
“You haven't come yet.”
“I can wait.”
“No, I want you to come now,” Einarr said.
“Nobody's ever worried about me before.”
Einarr grabbed Gus's cock and greased it with the oil on the palm of his hand. Then he slid the red-haired beauty down over his stomach and still hard cock until he was between his legs. He hoisted them in the air and held his butt cheeks apart.
Gus just stared at him. “You want me to fuck you?”
“Don't you want to?” Einarr teased.
“Hell, yes. It's just, I thought someone like you...”
“Stop thinking and fuck me!”
Gus scrambled like a man who'd been thrown a lifeline. He kneeled between Einarr's legs, pressing his fingers against the giant's hole to grease it as best he could, also using some of the cum that was still drooling from his cock. Nervously, he positioned himself at the muscle ring, he had done this only a few times before, and pushed. It gave way, his prick sinking in its above average length and thickness.