The Best of

   The Best























 Illustration by

Michael Kirwan 

Fiction by

Lance Rush



Originally published in Dude magazine - July, 2000



Awesome Rent-A-Studs Worth $1,000+ a Pop!




"First time here?" the dark, brooding hunk of a bartender asked me.

"Yeah, but I'm ready," I assured him, taking in the sedately fabulous scenery.

It felt like Cafe Society. The zebra skin seats and walls almost purred against the sound of a tuxedoed cat at a Wurlitzer. He was scratching my mood with jazz. Neon poured in from Bourbon Street marquees, turning the singer and all the men he serenaded into soft blue silhouettes.

That night I'd abandoned the crowded meat markets and noisy dance clubs of New Orleans for the lush, sophisticated parlors where hot sex was easily found ... for sale. Yes, that night I was about to get laid by the stud of my choosing. I had a pocketful of cash and a fully working dick drooling down my thigh.

The burly, mustachioed barkeep leaned in fellatio-close, taking my breath as well as my cocktail order.

"You know, only the biggest and best studs on the fuckin' planet practice their wares here. The hottest out-of-work models, actors and athletes. So, what are you into?" he asked.

"Me? I want a man who walks, talks and fucks like a man," I said, noting the size of his arms.

I'd already scanned the model book, perused the photos and read all the vital stats. Shit, I was in homo heaven, waiting to get my wings! Still, I couldn't help but wonder when it was all said and done, would I scream like a demon or purr like an angel?

In the lounge, a celebrity lookalike posed with a martini, a ringer for that guy in the latest fighter pilot flick. But the way his faded jeans hugged his dick, I'd bet the resemblance ended there.

The guys who worked in this male brothel were extremely polite. Hunky waiters freshened my drink, and everyone walked around with a smile. I was very accommodated. When Francois, the proprietor, tapped my shoulder, I'd already chosen my stud du jour. Well, actually I'd narrowed it down to three.

"Come with me, Mr. Rush," he said politely. "The men are waiting for you."

I followed him into a small den where three cock-stiffening studs stood like contestants in a beauty pageant. There was a striking blond male model, a hot, coffee-black stud, and a dark, brutish athlete. All were exceptional-looking men indeed, but I needed to know what I'd be up against. I wanted to see them in the flesh.

"Am I allowed a peek at their, uh, packages?" I whispered to Francois.

"Of course, Mr. Rush," he replied. "Guys, why don't you show Mr. Rush what makes you so special?"

It was just that easy. Why couldn't all perspective lovers be that willing?

First the blond, Dave. He stared at me and jade-green lights shone from a face so gorgeous it should be illegal. Then the model whipped out his flaccid hanging thing, which was larger than most turgid cocks. Yes, as far as dicks went, it was more than decent. Then he spat in his palm, slid his fist up and down the shaft and turned what was already formidable meat into an immensely thick mast under dirty blond pubes.

"It's nine-and-a-quarter inches," he said, wagging it at me.

Of course it was!

Next, the black man, Nate, a six-foot-seven, two hundred and sixty pound ex-basketballer. Everything about the dude screamed big one. He teasingly licked his lips as he rubbed his fist-sized mound. He then reached in and glided this giant flesh pole through his zipper. The cock knob looked lethal and blunt; the length of the freaking shaft, menacing. I gasped out loud and my cheeks tightened in an instant. It was a mighty slab of horse dick. Beyond big. I'm talking behemoth. This was a Cadillac of cocks!

"It's a foot long, baby. Do you wanna ride?" he asked.

Even as desirable as he was, with that enormity jutting between his legs, I had to decline. One look and I knew Nate would put a hurting on me. After all, I wanted to be able to walk the following day!

Lastly there was Steve, a former pro fullback. He had the body and the looks, but where was the real beef? Well, turns out the beef was marinating under a pair of Calvin Klein boxers. With the yank of the fly, out it sprang. A long, fat titan, easily nine-and-a-half or maybe ten inches, and wrist-thick!

We had a winner. Steve's dick really excited me. While the fucker was a big one and super-veiny, it seemed at least manageable. He looked strong and capable of showing me a hot time.

Steve's face was chiseled by the gods into a stern, rugged mask, the kind one might wear on Halloween if one were going as A Man. His mountainous physique was evident. His head was larger than the average man's, but then, everything about him was. Huge feet and hands. His fucking neck rivaled my thighs! Sweeping shoulders bulged heroically through his shirt. His muscular build, so miraculously V-shaped. Powerful guns. He was the ultimate athletic specimen: ripped, hyper-manly and reticent.

I got an eyeful of his plump, rounded ass. A big, meaty, fuckable ass. The jut of his globes and his bulging thighs possessed the cut of his trousers as he walked. And he walked the jock strut. Yes, Steve moved with that cocky confidence like a guy used to men moving the hell out of his way.

We retired to the dining room for a civilized New Orleans dinner. Despite his gruff, intimidating appearance, Steve had polish. Impeccable table manners. Spoke four languages. The guy had class.

"Yes, it's true," he said. "I played for the Bears for three seasons. Then I was traded to Green Bay. But all at once, I was hit with a knee injury. Ended my career. I was only twenty-six. Most guys would've thrown in the towel. Luckily it didn't stop me from doing what I do best," he grinned, blue eyes shining.

"Really? And what would that be, exactly?" I asked.

"Well, once we go upstairs, maybe I'll show you," he said, eye-fucking me shamelessly.

Hell. Enough dinner! This ex-football player was hot, and I was ready to be tackled into submission!

We walked slowly upstairs to one of the bordello's many bedrooms. As I looked around the place, Steve walked up behind me, wrapping those terrifically pumped biceps across my chest. I moaned. His body was hard, hefty and beginning to sweat.

Deep breaths raced down my neck as I stood, taking in his heat. He sort of dipped lower, grinding thighs and cock against me. Mmmm. I could feel the awesome throb of his rising dick. Either he really liked me, or just took his job seriously, because the length and the girth of the hard-on sliding across my ass felt like a protruding pipe, burning at my cheeks.

"So ... you like big men, huh?" he asked, letting his lips trace the back of my neck.

"Yeah. Guess I do," I admitted, merely stating the obvious.

When I turned to face him, his fuck bone throbbed clear down his thigh.

"Go on. You can touch it. It's all yours ... for the night," he grinned.

Standing before me, those thunderous legs spread wide, pants unfastened, belt buckle dangling, he seemed to relinquish all control to me. Me, the guy who'd paid top dollar to rent his big, pleasure-giving tool.

With that invitation, I shoved my hand down his pants. Down the rough, scratchy ride of cock hair. Down the moist bridge between hair and his cock's wide base. Down the long, warm ride of his aroused dick skin. Inches and inches of it. I'd definitely chosen the right man. My hand was full of dick. A long and fat, veiny dick. I thrilled to the hulking pulse of it, rising and hardening and hardening even more as my fingers prowled it. Wrapping my fist around its brawny circumference, I jerked the engorged shaft slowly.

My free hand unbuttoned his shirt. Massive chest. The hard pectorals heaved and pitched as his breathing increased. A thin lacing of black fur swirled his torso. Not obscenely hairy, but just enough to reveal firm, etched muscle, and those large, ripe man tits. My thumb and forefinger squeezed the nipple's peak.

I leaned in and nibbled it lightly. How succulent it was. Full and hot in my mouth, as my tongued encircled it, I could feel the tit, mounting harder and harder, just like his dick. The same dick sliming my prowling fingertips.

I reached in and hauled out the long, fat fuck tool. Up close, the thick, bronzed rod was a thrill to see and to hold. I hadn't noticed before, but he was uncut. I raked its slimy hood. Shit! That moist, musky smell of sex emanated from it. It looked more hot and dangerous skinned back.

"Show me what you're into. Tell me what you want!" he said, wagging the fucker at me. "Go on, taste me," he continued, hands on his hips, making it bob with no hands.

The torrid sight of his hot, bouncing dick brought me to my knees. With a cock so big and that erect, there was just no resisting it. My breathless mouth fell open and he slid that bulbous cockhead through my lips. I struggled with the long, widening wedge, wanting to consume its full, pulsating entirety. But that proved impossible. He glided the throbbing shaft along my tongue as I moaned, savoring its heated flavor. Then, flexing my throat, I attacked it with the greediest slurp.

Holding this pulsating cock slab, I pumped its bottom half. Cum-heavy balls swung to and fro as I grabbed his pitching ass. With each slow thrust and suck, he throbbed and his cock mounted harder and thicker until its fucking girth completely crowded my mouth.

"Yeah, suck my big dick, man! Take it all down!" he sighed, his power thighs rocking as I clutched the hard, hairy boulders of his ass.

Then, all six-foot-two, two hundred and sixty pounds of raw, hairy nakedness tumbled on top of me. I landed to the floor and he vigorously face-fucked me. The stud had some potent skills. Somehow, between sucks, he managed to position that husky body with amazing fluidity into a heated sixty-nine.

Those lips swept up my eight-inch cock as if it were a thin, hot pretzel and vacuumed it deep down his throat. His thighs formed bronzed mountains and his dick was the summit. I prowled the wide crest, gobbling and gagging on Steve's raw slab of mega-dick. The more I sucked, the more fantastically thick his fuck tool became. The more he sucked me, the harder I felt the push of cum rolling in my balls.

We panted and slurped, bucked and groaned like braying beasts. Hairy balls smacked my chin.

Slobber and cock ooze leapt from my mouth. Panting grew more intense. Steve slammed that mammoth, meaty dick down my gulping throat and lacquered my pleasured rod to a spit-shine.

Then, all at once, his suction ceased. He grabbed my hair and yanked me away.

Shaking his towering dick meat my way, he said, "I think it's time I fucked you."

He got up, pants plastered around his mighty calves, as his cock sprang forth like a freaking jack-in-the-box. He wrestled a rubber down to its base and tapped the threatening wedge in his fist.

"Where do you want me?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" I asked surprised. Was he suddenly struck deaf, dumb and hung? Hell, I wanted him in my ass, of course!

"You wanna do this here, in the shower, on the bed, on the terrace?" Wherever, I'm flexible," he said.

"How about right here on the waterbed?" I suggested.

"Cool, dude. Let's do it," he smiled.

His dick didn't smile, however. In fact, I'd swear it almost snarled at me when he launched the fucker back and let it smack hard to his belly!

I hurriedly stripped down. The bed was king-sized, like him, and a large mirror hung overhead on the ceiling. I lay down, my body ebbing and flowing, with my cock standing like a freaking mast in his hulking presence.

"Spread your ass for me, dude," Steve commanded. "Mmmm ... nice. With an ass like that, I'm sure you usually don't have to pay a man to fuck it. I'm going to enjoy my job."

He bounded onto the bed with that huge dick wavering. Then, in a smooth, tackling motion, his tongue cut a sure swatch through my hairless crack. My stunned rectum trembled as he set an offensive pattern, virtually attacking my bud.

I groaned as he munched, lost to the heat of his eel-like tongue, the friction, the wild heat. His large hands held me to a shiver as he wrestled my pinned ass down, determined to go deeper. I writhed and twisted to his sopping wet motion.

"Yeah, that's it! Lick it, man! Yeah, that feels fantastic! Lick my hot butthole!" I howled, my dancing dick stabbing the air, mere seconds from blasting off in a premature orgasm.

Glancing up, he asked, "You like that, dude? You want more, or are you ready for my fuck?"

"Yeah, I'm ready for you to fuck me with that huge thing of yours," I panted in reply.

I lay back on the waterbed, rippling, flowing, knowing I was about to have the stuffing fucked out of me. Steve raised my nervous legs and threw them over his beefy shoulders. I saw him aim that pipe into my chute and closed my eyes. Oh, shit! His first penetration with that fiercely bloated head. Wow! First his hot, bloated mushroom, and then his long, steely cock shaft burst through. My lacquered butthole registered each rough inch of his sizzling glide. My eyes widened with shock.

He lunged, and my colon spasmed. He drew back and pitched forth, slicing me with dick. I squeezed my cheeks tight around it, hissing through the awesome sensation. My clutching asshole had no choice but to flex as Steve's pole surged, thicker, stiffer up my ass. Then, lunging back and pitching forth, his rhythm slowly built. This stud took to fucking like an athletic event, charging up the tight field of asshole. Those gridiron hips rammed hard and rigorously. His cock blasted past my ass-ring with the might of a fullback's force. With a wicked thrust, he'd made me his own wide receiver. As if my hole weren't wide enough, the baller went deeper! Oh, shit! I could feel every ripple of my colon throb with a deep, pitching desperation. My boiling load was eminent.

But before I spewed my vat of white gold, I had one more request. "O-o-okay, Steve. That was great, but I wanna fuck you now!" I huffed.

He stopped in mid-thrust. Steve looked down at me as if trying to decide if I were worthy of fucking his beefy, brawny, ex-footballer's ass. Yes. I'd read his vitals. Big, bad, macho Steve usually topped. But shit! I'd more than paid for a piece of his sumptuously rounded butt.

He shrugged. No protest. I was still stuffed with his cock. Then he pulled his enflamed rod from my clutching chute with a long, tugging swoosh. I watched those thick-skinned, beauteous man-globes jutting as the big man lay on his belly and sprawled for me.

Spreading a dollop of lube along its perfect seam, I couldn't believe I'd soon be sinking inside the hole of an ass so fine. Sure, I've seen my share of nice ones. But Steve's ass belonged in a fucking art museum ... a fucking Ass Hall of Fame!

He got on his hands and knees, outrageously buffed sinews flexing everywhere I looked.

My condomed cock crest pierced his small, puckered slit. I wasn't surprised by its tightness. It looked and felt as if it had never been invaded by another man's dick. But as I pushed through the tightest, muscled tunnel, it accommodated the swell of my prick. I wanted him to feel all of me. But Steve snatched me up in this constricting grip and left me trembling and groaning from the bliss.

I fucked him with short, quick jabs, feeling those inner walls giving with each thrust. Steve's ass was incredible. It settled into my choppy friction as I kept pounding my hot cock up his tight man-cunt. I couldn't last long inside him. But my aim was to lunge every inch of me clear up his rippling belly.

The bed churned beneath us, flowing to his weight and the force of my swerve. He fell forward, slamming his monster's appendage into the undulating mattress. I went deep, then deeper still, wiggling and lurching full-speed as Steve writhed and bellowed out.

"Aw! Damn! Now you're fucking, man!" he yelled. "Do it! Plow it! Ride me! More! I can take it!"

More? Nothing beats a hunky whore! I lay my sweating skull to my back, squeezed his nipples and had at it. My dick hit it so hard I thought we'd puncture the waterbed. Soon my boiling cock and his piping prostate merged in an absurdly deep thrust. Jism volleyed from my dick as he bucked and sprayed hard to the floating mattress. I pulled out, scalding his back and that hot ass in ropes of dick lava.

It was one strenuous workout. It was well worth it. Pound for pound, inch for inch, Steve was one hot-ass man. If cocks were meals, he'd be the Dong Deluxe, with everything on it. But then, what else would you expect for a thousand dollars a pop?




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