Introducing Blowfish

PROLOGUE

My name is Arthur Benjamin Huntsman - the Blowfish.

I'm a 33 year old gay man living in Los Angeles, CA. My career as a yoga instructor to the privileged women of Beverly Hills and Malibu has made me prosperous and well-off with a sleek apartment in West Hollywood.

I own my own studio and work 4-day weeks. I'll tell you what I do with the rest of the week, which will surely tantalize your carnal needs, later on.

Most of my yoga clients are women. They follow my lead and listen to my every instruction which is amplified by the PA system I had installed in the studio.

As you can imagine, most of these women are the typical "trophy wife." They always seem to have blonde hair with blue eyes, and married to a rich husband. Courtney Stockman was one of these women.

Courtney has been coming to my studio for the past three years, which adds up to over $30,000 in membership fees (I'm that good!). I was first made aware of her marital problems after overhearing some gossip from some of my other clients.

It was a Thursday, my last working day of the week, when I had one of the most interesting propositions made to me by a woman.

"Artie can I speak with you for a moment," the perky 28 year old requested.

"Certainly, let me just lock up the studio and I'll walk you outside."

California has a culture that supports fitness and overall wellness and Courtney was just one of my many disciples. Her need to speak with me seemed rooted in emotional distress. I had a hunch it had something to do with her husband, Dale Stockman.

Dale, the man who was actually paying me the $30,000, is a powerful entertainment lawyer representing various movie studios in the area. His name adorns the law firm - Gage, Whitney & Stockman.

Needless to say, Courtney was an important client:

"So what was it you wanted to talk with me about?" I asked delicately.

"I don't want to talk with you."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I really want to speak with the Blowfish," she used air quotes.

Her knowledge of my alias with Patroclus Escorts punched the wind out of my lungs. What's she up to?

CHAPTER ONE Now I am not a man easily surprised, but Courtney's request takes the cake. It made me horny and ready for some action.

"Hank has to hear this!" I thought out loud. I was in my West Hollywood apartment taking off my yoga shorts and V-neck, exposing my well kept gluts and getting ready for a swift shower.

I barely dried myself off and half-heartedly put on my leather ensemble.

I wanted to hurry up and get my ass to Achilles Kneel, Hank's gay night club and home to the secretive Patroclus Escorts. It was a quick two blocks away from where I lived.

The crowd of men outside waited eagerly for the 8 o'clock opening.

I recognized many of them and wanted to get to know the rest of them, but there was no time. I had to see Hank right away.

I entered Achilles Kneel through the side, avoiding the lovable crowd. There was a secret entrance only the escorts were allowed to use. It was a coded door that led to an exclusive stairwell.

I inputted "B-L-O-W-F-I-S-H-7-6-7," and jogged upwards.

The sight before me was not surprising. Hank had one of his cocktail waiters bent over his desk pounding away. Both were fully naked and sweating. The boy was blonde and well shaven, a stark contrast with Hank who prided himself on being a hair bear. I made my presence known and Hank beckoned me to join him.

Hank lifted up the nameless waiter with his bear claws and sat in his chair putting the blonde boy in a reverse seated cowgirl position. Hank knew what I liked. I knelt in between his legs and throated his cock easily. His 9 inches made my mouth water instantly while I tickled his hairy balls. This was only a quick polish, however, with me playing the role of wet nurse preparing Hank's cock for the blonde above me.

I slide Hank into the waiter's already stretched hole and watched the boy go to town on my business partner. But Hank, knowing I only really liked giving blowjobs, took control of him and stopped his eager horse riding.

He told the nameless waiter, "Stop moving, my friend down there is going to give you some mouth love, let me do the drilling."

Hank then grabbed his neck and thrust into him. Before I could get started on the young man, his face was already red from Hank's neck grab. His cock was a modest 6 inches which made it easier for me to swallow both his cock and balls. I was on my knees, appropriate for the Achilles Kneel.

My head bobbed up and down in a steady rhythm. I could tell I was making this employee crazy with my tongue action. Hank was going on a good three minutes of nonstop anal pounding. Surely, he was rubbing the boy's prostate with each reentry. I freed my 7 inches from my leather bottoms and stroked my member with much more grace.

The boy tried to scream his pleasure but Hank's bear claws prevented him from doing so. The closer Hank came to coming, the more he reduced the kid's oxygen supply.

Seconds later, Hank did his trademark growl and started to slow down. He came. He went. He conquered. None of his cum escaped the boy's ass. Hank remained plugged in knowing I'd clean up. Meanwhile, my mouth was building up the pressure on the cocktail waiter.

Hank let go of his neck and the employee screamed with whimpering pleasure. I swallowed every last rope of his cum. Soon after, I unplugged Hank and ate out the waiter's asshole. Hank's cum coated my throat and I loved every droplet.

Unfortunately, the nameless waiter started to speak, "Gosh, Mr. Sheen, your friend's a real cum slut isn't he?" This made Hank mad.

I knew what was to happen next, stood up and leaned back on Hank's desk with my cock in full view. I still had my leather ensemble on.

"Sounds like you're talking about yourself there Tommy," Hank got rid of the reverse cowgirl position and pulled Tommy to his knees between my cock, "You shouldn't disrespect my friend here with such ease boy."

I didn't say a word.

Hank's big hands took control of Tommy's head and forced a face fuck.

I bit my lip, heart beating faster.

Poor Tommy was choking on my dick. He could only take 5 out of my 7 inches. But I didn't care, he insulted me and Hank was defending my honor. The boy's saliva was polishing my cock and made my leather bottoms glisten.

Hank gave the boy an oxygen break and gave me a loving cock lick. His tongue was rough, but warm, sending shivers down my spine.

"Mmmmmmm," I moaned into his big brown eyes. Hank loved me and vice versa. He licked the inside of my pee-hole, forcing a leg shake.

Finished being tender with me, Hank pulled Tommy's hair again, instructing him to put his tongue out. Hank grabbed my cock and started slapping the boy senselessly. He rubbed my member all over Tommy's face.

"Hank," I said, "put him against the wall." Standing up, Hank pulled Tommy to the wall immediately behind his desk. He had an idea of what I wanted.

This new position allowed greater throat access. Hank left me to finish on my own. He sat in his chair and admired the face fuck I gave Tommy.

Tommy choked again bringing up more saliva. This time, all 7 inches of me managed to fit down Tommy's mouthpiece. I went in and out rhythmically. Tear drops exited Tommy's eyes. Hip thrust after hip thrust, more tears came. Apparently, Tommy was wearing some eyeliner, because his tears were black and grey.

Chemical responses in my brain were firing off like crazy. My balls slapped against Tommy's chin. He moaned helplessly.

A collection of Tommy's saliva collected under my ball sack and became heavy enough to fall in a long, bubbled droplet form. The floor of Hank's office was wet and slippery.

Hank voiced his approval, "Yeah Artie, fuck that loud mouth. Most of my employees need that lesson." I laughed at his cheesy remark.

I went rapid, thrusting in and out with a faster pace.

My pressure was building. I was close.

I knew I wanted to cum down Tommy's throat.

He was a cum slut too, remember?

Placing my left hand atop Tommy's head and my right hand under Tommy's chin, I readied for the final stretch. I moved faster, creating a lot of heat with the friction of my cock and Tommy's tongue.

Tommy's head banging against the wall was creating funny theme music for this face fucking.

My body heat rose and I came. Rope after rope slapped against Tommy's throat walls. There were five involuntary convulsions meaning at least five thick ropes of my man juice. Some of it escaped his mouth and dripped down his chin then falling on his chest. I kept my cock down his throat for a good thirty seconds. I said my cheeky comeback, "Swallow it cum slut." Tommy had to gulp two or three times to get rid of it all.

Beads of sweat ran down my face. I walked away hearing a popping sound effect as my cock exited Tommy's mouth. I high-fived Hank and made my way to his office bathroom to freshen up.

Hank threw Tommy's clothes intentionally on areas were my cum rested.

"Looks like it's time to get out of here Tommy. Get dressed and go open the club doors. Let the customers in." The cocktail waiter got up and exited Hank's office. Hank quickly got dressed in his high-priced Italian suit imported from Florence.

I was in the bathroom wiping of the beads of sweat and tucked my satisfied cock away for another rainy day.

"Normally you don't come here on Thursdays, something must be up," Hank knew me all too well.

My thoughts turned to Courtney's erotic request.

"You won't believe what one of my yoga students asked me today."

I smiled. He smiled with anticipation.