Newsgroups: alt.sex.motss Message-ID: 1993Aug19.001105@gsosun1.gso.uri.edu Followup-To: alt.sex.motss Keywords: hole, chain, lime pie, that sort of thing Reply-To: () Organization: None Lines: 178
[Part two]
Ski patrol Kyle paused at the top of The Terminator, the toughest slope at the resort. He peered into a raging blizzard and saw nothing. Normally, he wouldn't ski in these conditions, but he had been told (via radio) that two skiiers were unaccounted for in the storm. It was Kyle's job to find them. That's why Aunt Krystal and Uncle Blake had hired him for their resort. To search for skiiers.
Kyle certainly did not look like a ski patroller. His ski togs were faded, nearly-worn-through tight 501s, old boots, and a three-year old North Face Down jacket. He found that he caught and evicted more hotdoggers if he looked grunge than if he dressed the part. In the snow, however, the blue jeans were not always a good idea. They had been soaked through, and Kyle was cold. And their tightness, and weakened state from being wet, made them likely to rip if we stopped too fast or turned too hard. The jeans, faded almost white, were tight. Every well-developed muscle in his legs rippled through the fabric, and his ass, a tight, skiier's ass, looked exquisite. His dick, a large dick, had not shrunk down to nothing in the cold. Kyle was kinda proud of that. Other guys got small when they were cold (He had checked). He stayed large. He had been down most of the other trails, with only a few more to go, so he pushed wearily down the double black diamond widowmaker (as the course was nicknamed at the resort).
But Kyle was an excellent skiier, he schussed effortlessly, making wide turns as he searched the slope. (He also made a few tight turns, only to be rewarded by a ripping sound from his crotch. "Well, these jeans are shot." he thought). Presently, he realized that someone had been down the slope recently, as he saw ski tracks. He also noted with a chuckle that whoever had been down this slope had fallen many times, leaving plenty of evidence in the snow. "God damn assholes think they can take the tough ones," he thought, as he followed the trail and fall marks down, down, down the slope.
Kyle was getting horny. "Shit," he thought, "this happens every time I ski down the widowmaker in a blizzard with pants ripped open at the crotch. Well nothing to do about it now, I have a job to do!" He redoubled his efforts. Kyle was nothing if not conscientious. He put his throbbing, lenghtening, dick out of his mind.
Meanwhile, Kris and Jeff had realized what trouble they were in, standing half-nude and shivering on the ski slope. Jeff shook his head, sending slush flying, and asked, "What the fuck can we do to get outta here?" to which Kris replied "Shouldn't we just ski down?"
Jeff shot him a scornful look. "Two naked studs ski off a slope? No thanks, I don't want people to think I'm not st8!"
"Yeah," said Kris thoughtfully. "Hmm..."
Their shivering reverie was interrupted by the arrival on a man on skis, who stopped just above them on the slope. Kris and Jeff turned to see the man in tight white jeans hoisting a radio from his jacket and heard him call in "Found the two lost wanderers. Both standing so they're okay. I'll call back when we're at the lodge". Then he put the radio away and advanced towards them.
Kyle had been real happy to find two people at once. It meant his day was over, so he quickly radioed in, then skiied in to get a closer look. "Holy shit!" he thought, "there two studs have no pants on!" Immediately, his dick, long and hard, was back foremost in his thoughts. He popped off his skis, then walked towards Kris and Jeff, savoring the feeling of his hot cock rubbing against the cold denim of his crotch. "Yummmmm" he thought, but out loud he said "Hi I'm Kyle of ski patrol, what the hell are you doing up here in a blizzard without pants on?" Kyle noticed that the two stud dicks were impressively large, and wet, a state he attributed to the snowstorm.
Jeff and Kris blushed crimson, and Jeff stammered out an answer, "Well, we kinda collided, and our pants were ripped off in the collision, and..." his voice trailed off, cheeks burning crimson. Kris piped up: "Can we get outta here, I'm freezing my balls off!" "But we'd like to avoid, the," Jeff paused, searching for a word to make him sound erudite, " the hoi polloi!"
Silently noting the pleonasm, Kyle smirked, grunted and said, "Can you still ski?" Kris nodded, but Jeff said "My leg is pretty sore, but I think I can make it." "Follow me, then, to the back entrance of the lodge. No one goes in there, and the first aid stuff is there too. I'll take a look at your leg." The men put on their skis and pushed down the slope, going slowly.
Minutes later, they were in the lodge, in the deserted first aid room in the basement. Kyle radioed in their arrival, found a blanket then turned to Kris. "You can take a shower right there," he said, indicating a shower stall with a frosted glass door. "You," had added, to Jeff, "take off your boots and parka, wrap yourself up with this blanket, and lay on the table, I'll take a look at your leg. Hold on a sec, though," he added to Kris, "let me jump in the shower first, to warm up a bit, I'm soaked to the skin."
Kyle removed his jacket and boots, and an old T-shirt (his nipples stood erect out on a nicely furry chest) before unbuttoning his 501s (an impressively large cut dick flopped out -- Kris and Jeff watched in admiration), sliding them down his powerful legs, and stepping out of them and into the shower. He turned, and saw that Kris and Jeff were watching. "Strip off those wet clothes!" he barked. "You'll get pneumonia if you don't". Kris and Jeff jumped to compliance.
Two minutes later, his cursory shower done (he had resisted the mighty temptation to stroke himself in front of the two studs), he stepped from the shower, and let Kyle in. Pulling on a pair of white nylon running shorts onto his wet torso, he walked over to the massage table where Jeff was lying under a blanket. "Let's see what we have here," he said, opening up the bottom of the blanket to start massaging the thick muscles of Jeff's aching leg.
Jeff thought to himself, "How come this guy seems so powerful to me? Why can't I take authority? I'm a studly str8 guy. How come I can't bellow out to this man who ...ooh that feels great on my leg!" Suddenly his thoughts changed as electric bolts of feeling shot up his leg. His dick twitched. "I'm Jeff Stryker, studly str8 man!" he thought with a start, and his dick subsided. "But why does this ski patrol, this Kyle, why does he have a hold on me?" Jeff glanced down at the muscled back of his masseur, and noted with appreciation the symmetry of the development. He noted with a slight intake of breath that the shorts has become soaked with water, and were mostly transparent. The erotic feelings in Jeff's cock intensified. A tent formed in the blanket.
Kyle turned to Jeff. "I'm having trouble getting the right angle on your leg, so I'm going to straddle you," and he climbed onto the table with his back to Jeff, and knelt down so his knees were at Jeff's waist, and bent to his task, trying to find the stiffness in Jeff's leg, to set it free.
"It feels great, man," said Jeff, as Kyle continued. Jeff glanced down towards his legs. The view was mostly blocked by Kyle's tight muscled ass in semi-transparent loose white shorts. Then Jeff noted with a gasp that he could see right up the legs of the shorts! He realized that the shorts were old ones, or at least well worn, cause the elastic around the inner mesh lining was shot, and Kyle's dick was hanging down! Jeff looked at it, and licked his lips. Str8 man or not, he decided he would have to taste it. It looked succulent, large, with a nice flared head, and a big piss slit that his could probably slip his tongue into if he wanted. Jeff felt his own famous member lengthen and strengthen.
Kyle was not dumb. He noticed Jeff's lengthening erection as he stroked his leg, and it was making him hot. He decided to take action. He stopped his massage, and straightened out, still straddling Jeff. "Time for a break," he said, as he pushed his arms over his head, "I'm getting stiff." At the same time, he knew that by straightening out, his dick had pushed farther out of his pants, and Jeff's gasp confirmed this. Kyle jumped off the table (dick throbbing) and walked to the head (dick bobbing) to talk to Jeff. Jeff turned his head and found his lips inches from the heavy, loaded basket of Kyle. A basket covered only with translucent white nylon. Jeff could make out the fat dickhead, the long, steel-hard shaft, the dark shadow of hair. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" Kyle asked.
With a groan, Jeff brought one hand to Kyle's basket and gave it a squeeze as his other hand found his own throgging piece of manhood under the blanket. "For one thing," Jeff said, "I'm kinda hot!" And he threw off the blanket. "And for another," he added, "you are overdressed!" He pulled down Kyle's shorts and immediately sucked the man's pulsing prick into his mouth, beating his own meat furiously.
Kyle gasped, and pulled Jeff's head to his groin. "Man," he thought, "this is a class-1 cocksucker. I'm gonna blow in a minute if he keeps this up!" Jeff's talented str8-boy tongue brought Kyle to orgasm in a few minutes, and Jeff greedily slurped down every drop as Kyle bellowed out his approval.
Kyle turned to take a look at Jeff's aching hard throbbing, dancing prick. Licking his lips, he bent his head down and had just touched the famous cock-tip, when he heard over the intercom:
"Kyle, report to the main office. Kyle Carrington to the main office."
"Sorry man, duty calls," he said with a sheepish grin. "Maybe the dude in the shower will help you out. Get outta there before you use all the water!" Kyle yelled at Kris. Immediately, Kris turned off the water and opened the door. He grabbed and pointed his rock hard prick, slippery with water and thick as a wrist, at Kyle and Jeff. "Have you been having fun?" Kris asked? Jeff's prick jumped as Jeff drank in the sight in the shower. Kyle looked from Kris to Jeff as he pulled on a pair of khakis. Smiling, he said, "I'll be back as soon as I can studs. If you're still cold, there's a sauna behind that door," he added, pointing to a solid wooden door with a small square window. "Later." Kyle was gone.
Jeff looked at Kris in all his erect glory. Kris pondered the glorious sight of Jeff Stryker on the table with a throbbing, meaty erection. Kris silently padded towards the sauna, dick bobbing and weaving, opened the door, turned back to look at Jeff, gave his thick shaft a salacious stroke or two, entered the dry heat of the sauna and closed the door.
Jeff sat up on the table, his dick pointing at the ceiling, and stood up. Slowly stroking his fat hard-on, he walked to the sauna, and opened the door.
[to be continued?]