The Crystal Rainbow

By: Hank Horne
(© 2019-2020 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

HHorne@tickiestories.us

Chapter 21
Part I — Let The Gaymes Begin 

Grant, Majid, Jim, and Scotty were having lunch together at the Residence.  During the conversations, Grant commented, “Scotty, I saw this morning that the Queen is attending the Highland Games this week.”

Majid interjected, half under his breath, “What queen doesn’t play games?”

“Off with his ‘ead!” Jim commented in a Cockney accent.

Scotty ignored both of them and looked straight at Grant.  “It’s an annual event for Her Majesty during her Summer visit to Balmoral.”

“Could we hold a Highland Games type of event here?” Grant asked.

“It’s not beyond the realm of possibility,” Scotty replied.  “There’s a lot of heavy equipment we would need for it.  Cabers.  Hammers.  Shot-put stones.  Over-the-bar stones.  Tug-o’war rope.”

“Not to mention the bagpipers and everybody in kilts and countless cases of Scotch whiskey!” Jim added.

“Do you think there would be enough gay Scotsmen interested?” Majid asked.

Dylan had left his table and stood near their table hoping to become a part of the conversation.  Grant look up at him.  “Come, join us.  You’ve been to the games and would be a tremendous help, if we decide to do this.”

“Tapadh Leibh!  Thank you,” Dylan said as he pulled his chair over and sat down.

“Scotty, have you been to any of the Highland Games?” Grant asked.

 “Not in Scotland, but I did go to the Cobourg Games, Fergus Festival, and the Glengarry Games,” Scotty replied.

 “Where are they?” Maji asked.

“They’re all in Ontario,” Scotty answered.

“Don’t forget the bagpipers and dancers,” Dylan added.

“First things first,” Jim stated.  “Logistics.  Do we have the lodging space?  Can we feed them?”

Scotty started calculating.  “We can house 120 people, two per room at the Lodge.  And we can feed them there.”

“Most of the staff have a spare bedroom and bath,” Dylan added.  “The food would be the issue with that.”

“That’s great,” Grant said.  “We’re starting to think in the positive direction.  Do we have the ground space that’s needed?”

Both Scotty and Dylan nodded their heads, and both said “yes!” together.

“Good!” Grant replied.  “We’ll think about this for possibly next year.  We’ll need time to get the kinks worked out and the publicity in our ads.”

“Including pictures of all our Scottish guys in kilts,” Majid said.  “Maybe even Ginger Vern!” he added snidely.

“Hold on a bloody minute!”  Dylan exploded.  “I may like the bloody Irishman, but including him in a Scottish promotion …?”

Everybody was laughing except Dylan.  Then he realized Majid was pulling one of his legs!  (Guess which one!)

“We can even promote it as the ‘Highland Commando Gaymes!’” Scotty suggested as he signed the ‘air quotes’ with his fingers.

“And the ad pictures would feature a re-creation of the scene from Braveheart where the Scots ‘mooned’ the other army,” Majid added.

“I like that!” Grant agreed.  “Let’s work on it!”

“Majid brought up an interesting thought” Jim commented.  “Do we want to limit it to just Scottish games and dances, or also include the Gaelic games and dances?  Make it an all Celtic affair rather than Scottish only?  Would there be enough gay participants among the Scottish population, or would we need to include Irish gays?

“Valid questions,” Grant acknowledged.  “That might be the ‘first thing first.’  Alright you two, we know you’re there.  Make yourselves visible.”

The two jinn appeared, one wearing an Irish tartan kilt and the other a Scottish tartan kilt with appropriate accessories.

When Grant saw them, he chuckled as he shook his head.  “Why am I not surprised?” he asked, while everyone else in the room was hootin’ and hollerin’ and clapping for the big guys.

“Would ye like far us to do a jig far ye?” they said together, each with the appropriate brogue.

 “You’ve done enough for now,” Grant told them.  “Do you think you could determine the possibility of holding a Celtic Highland Games event here next year?”  The jinn opened their mouths to speak together but Grant was ready for them.  “One at a time – and without the accents – please!”  That drew general laughter and forced ‘shame’ looks on their faces.

When the laughter died down, Jamal told the group, “Scotland and Ireland have many athletes who are gay, and many of them participate in the traditional competitive sports.  Therefore, we believe that many young gay men here in the Americas from Celtic ancestry would participate in an all-gay competition.”

“If you were to include the closely related Celts – Irish and Scot – you would get more response and a higher level of competition,” Arman continued.  “Rather than just man against man, it would be Scots versus Irish.  Even the dancing competitions would be more enthusiastic.  And the wrestling events would be a huge hit with both teams.”

“Gaelic is a language, whereas, the Celts were a group of people with a specific culture that used the Celtic languages,” Jamal interjected.

“And Gaelic is a ‘subset’ of the Celtic languages, specifically belonging to the Goidelic family of Celtic languages,” Arman added.

Scotty and Dylan were nodding their heads vigorously and had gleams in their eyes.

“Thanks, guys,” Grant said.  “If you would get us a rough idea of how many we could attract to this event, without straining our resources too much, we would appreciate any help you can give us.”

The two jinn bowed to their masters, then began a highland backhold style wrestling match as they disappeared.

“Scotty and Dylan, if you two could work with those two to make the prelims as simple as possible, please do and get back with us when you have some solid information,” Grant said.  “So, who’s ready for some dessert?     Angel, what’s for dessert?”

* * * * * * *

Ideas kept popping up for the next several months.  Harvey and Lane started the promotion in the gay oriented magazines and papers.  The ad featured Scotty in his Jonas (Jones) clan tartan, and Dylan in his tartan “mooning” the camera.  Contact was made with the various Highland Games organizations in the United States, Canada, Ireland, and Scotland.  It was encouraging how positive the responses were when emails began pouring in from gay men who wanted to participate.  Many wanted to enter the heavy event competitions — stone put, tug-o-war, caber toss, hammer throw, sheaf toss, weight throw and weight-over-the-bar.  Others were more interested in the running, cycling, backhold wrestling and the Maide-leisg (Lazy stick) competitions.  The bagpipers and sword dancers also had a large number of requests.  About a dozen dance groups asked if their gay members could participate, and all sent applications when notified they would be welcome.  

At least two-thirds of the responses were from the United States and Canada.   Of the others, Scotland, Ireland, and Northern Ireland were about equally represented.  The guys in the office stayed busy replying to everyone by return email with a form letter and a formal application.  Certified judges in all categories were contacted individually and there were about twenty-five who expressed interest in being part of the gaymes. 

Sometime later, the Directors met to discuss The Celtic Highland Commando Gaymes.  Dylan was asked to present the report of his and Scotty’s work, and the information collected by the jinn.  The presentation was outstandingly favorable, and it was decided to invite fifty Irish and fifty Scottish contestants, including four highland fling dancing groups and four small bagpipe bands from each national background.  Solo sword dancers and bagpipers would come from those groups.

The jinn found two judges from either side of the Irish Sea who identify as bisexual — one from Galway and one from Limerick, Ireland; one from Dumfries and one from Inverness, Scotland.  Either Scotty or Dylan would be the extra judge to break any disagreements.  The jinn recommended a dance competition judge from Londonderry, Ireland, and another from Glasgow, Scotland, to judge those competitions.  Alton or Cole, our chief choreographers, would decide the winners if there were disagreements in the dancing.  They need to find qualified judges for the bagpipe competitions.  The visiting judges would be housed at the Residence, while the competitors would stay at the Lodge.  Paying visitors would arrange their own accommodations off site.

Dildar volunteered his security men to handle the tickets for one day admission for each person; special rate for carload.   Each day would have a different color ticket so they could come and go for that 24-hour period — six days equal six colors.  Parking would be on cleared areas beside the outer portion of Crystal Rainbow Boulevard with two shuttle-buses running continuously from 9:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. each of the six days.  The admission to the games would include admission to the Club that evening. 

Angel, one of the Residence chefs, asked if the planners had considered getting street vendors to set up their carts around the various driveways to the playing fields to feed the visitors.  The vendors could charge their regular food rates for local food types, but Scottish and Irish specialty foods would be fairly priced.

Dylan raised the question of souvenir vendors and Dildar suggested putting them around the edges of the parking lots outside the resort.  Immediately Jim included a fifteen percent cut of everything sold for the Crystal Rainbow.   (Of course!  Guthrie is a Scottish name!)

Justin asked about placing outdoor facilities around the grounds.  “Has anyone considered how many heads we would need placed around the various viewing areas for the guests?”

“Not yet,” Jim replied.

“And how will they be kept sanitary?”  Angel interjected.  “I wonder if there could be a way to have them sanitized after each person uses it.”

“Yeah.  You know how picky queens can be about using the loo,” Hassan added.  “Maybe we could have a disinfectant sprayed in them each time the door opens and closes.”  

“Or select someone for P. L. D.” Justin commented. “Maybe Jamal or Arman!”

“What’s PLD?” Dildar asked.  All eyes went to Justin.

“Permanent Latrine Duty!”

Immediately, the hunky Marine began the process of getting the biggest erection anyone had ever seen.  His already magnificent cock kept growing, and when it reached its full length, he obviously wanted to ejaculate but couldn’t.  It was the most amazing edge you could imagine!  Then his balls stretched out from his shorts and literally turned a rich, royal blue.  Justin groaned in pain and desire. He was miserable from being sexually tortured.

“Okay, guys, you’ve had enough fun.  Back off – NOW!” Grant demanded.

With that, Justin’s manhood began to shrink, and his testicles returned to their normal size but kept a baby blue hue.  He still wanted to shoot off, but held it in, much to his discomfort.  He was actually shedding tears from the ache in his genitals.

Majid spoke up at this time, “Arman and Jamal certainly can be responsible for keeping the latrines exceptionally clean.  After each one is used, the toilet seats and wash bowls can be sprayed with a disinfectant and wiped immaculately clean — unknown to any of the guests.  Is?  That?  Clear?” he emphasized for the two senior jinn, with his dark brown eyes glaring in anger at them.

Both replied humbly, “Yes, master!  It shall be done – as you wish.”

* * * * * * *

As soon as full page ads broke in magazines, applications started rolling in from Canada, and the United States.  The same ad was placed in magazines popular in Scotland and Ireland, and combined with contacting Highland Games Associations, there were more than a hundred applications for individual competitors and groups.  They all included videos of their previous competition in the games and the awards they had won.  Jim, Scotty, Justin, Harvey, and Dylan viewed the videos and selected the men they wanted to invite. 

The date was set for the first week of October, so hopefully the weather would cooperate and not be too hot or too rainy.  As the date got closer, some of the applicants backed out because of one thing or another.  Several American and Canadian guys made advance reservations at the Lodge to arrive a few days early and to stay an extra day or so after the games.  Grant made the arrangements with the ten judges who stayed at the Residence.  Jamal made the arrangements that the five Irish and five Scot judges would be civil with each other and would willingly share a suite with the “enemy.”  By opening day, there ended up being one-hundred-ten combat – uh – contestants. 

The opening ceremony was set on the lawn of the Residence in front of the fountain.  The combined bagpipers and drummers lead the procession from the back patio playing the “Intercontinental Highland Gathering” by George McIlwham, followed by all hundred-plus of the other participants.  Scotty and Dylan co-hosted the ceremony; Scotty, as Master of Ceremonies, made the welcome speech and Dylan sang “The Star Spangled Banner,” backed by six of the Crystal Rainbow’s other singers, all wearing a LGBTQ Pride tartan kilt and tam.  For once, the National Anthem was sung by a non-military singer who performed it with respect and none of the improvisations of others who have rended it. 

(And NO, he did not grab his crotch during the performance!  It was sung with respect!)

When the singers were finished, Scotty closed the ceremony: “Let the gaymes begin – and God bless us, everyone!”

The band turned to leave, playing “Amazing Grace.”  They marched down to the Lodge, where they disbanded.  The other competitors milled around on the Residence grounds, meeting the men and women from the Crystal Rainbow.  All the men were bare-chested, and the women wore colorful halters.  Everyone welcomed the visiting men with friendly hugs and some with a kiss.  The afternoon was beautiful and comfortable. 

The visitors were invited to use the Residence’s pools and enjoy the refreshments Emile and Angel had set around the patio.  Several of the Residence staff set the swimming tone by stripping completely and jumping in the outdoor pool and the visitors followed their example.  Gradually some swam inside, and it didn’t take long to find the Grotto.  Staff members helped the others to find one of its purposes.  Soon there were more than a few couplings in the dimly lit cave.

The guys were backing into, or bumping arms, or “accidentally” brushing a hand against a firm protrusion with someone.  A cyclist/runner/wrestler bumped into just such a protrusion. 

“Sorry!” he said to the equally hot stud whom he had just invited to plow him – of sorts.  “It’s so dark in here, butt … it’s more fun that way!”

“My pleasure!” The stud replied.

“Oh, you’re Irish!?  I’m Ian.  I’m from Aiberdeen.”

“Ah! A Scotsman!  I’m Sean from Limerick … and aye, I’ve a manky mind!  Poetic or not,” Sean replied.  Both men laughed and reached for an outstanding part of the other’s body – Ian reached for Sean’s fully erect bod as Sean began rubbing Ian’s.  They moved over to the side of the Grotto where the ledge was inviting.  Ian picked his new partner up and sat him on the ledge, showing his physical strength.  Sean’s boner was aimed straight at Ian’s face, waiting for a convenient, wet orifice to penetrate.  Ian went down on the huge Irish pean mór.  Slowly, the Scotsman descended, devouring the gantin without gagging the first time. 

Sean gasped with pleasure and leaned over to comment so Ian alone would hear, “I can’t believe ye took the whole thing the first time!  Ye’re a better man than most, Gunga Din!”

Ian looked up at the Irishman with his eyes gleaming as he slowly ascended the tube.  “Ye’re a bigger man than most, Sean Dally!”

Sean slid off the ledge, picked his partner up, turned around and sat him on the cushioned platform, showing his physical strength also.  He proceeded to take the Scottish Bone-Daddy to the base too, with only a moment’s pause to avoid a gag reflex.

“Almost had you there, laddie!” Ian rubbed the Irishman’s curly auburn locks. “But I’ll take ye in the cycle tomorrow!”

“Ye a bettin’ man?” Sean asked.

“Only when I know I’ll win!” the Scotsman replied.  “What ye got under those pervy curls?”

“A wee bit of a wager on the outcome for the race tomorrow.”  Ian looked interested.  “The winner takes the loser’s arse tomorrow night,” Sean continued.

“That’s tomorrow night!” Ian replied.  “What about a wee taste now as a sample of what we’re getting up for?”

The two men stretched out on the ledge so that each could enjoy the other’s offering.  They paid no attention to the similar activity around the Grotto.

* * * * * * *

That evening, there was a semi-formal banquet at the Residence for the judges which included the top brass of the resort.  The meal included some of Ireland’s and Scotland’s favorite foods, prepared just as it would be in Dublin or Edinburgh.  Everyone was decked out in their Clan tartan, and those without either Irish or Scottish ancestry wore one of the LGBT tartans — such as, Majid, Dildar, and Hassan.

Considering the jet lag for the visitors, going to the Club was skipped, so the evening at the Residence consisted of digestifs while Ari and Ty played various popular songs of the guests’ home countries.  The judges were so surprised at the musicians’ knowledge of the songs, they got caught up in a little contest with them.  They named various songs that they thought might be too obscure for a foreigner to know.  The guys amazed everyone with the depth of their repertoire, and Dylan sang each one from memory.  When the guests started winding down, after all, their body-clocks said it was three o’clock in the morning, Ari and Ty played a medley of “My Bonnie Lassie,”  “My Wild Irish Rose” and “Goodnight, Sweetheart” … and sung by Dylan, Grant, Harvey, Scotty, Jim and Justin.

Humm! A SEXtet!

* * * * * * *

Across the road at the Crystal Rainbow Club, the guys who were on the Tug O’ War teams were hitting the drinks as only the Irish and Scots could. The North American guys were into the partying as much as the European guys.  Their drinking, laughing, drinking, ass-slapping, drinking, crotch grabbing, drinking got everyone in a horny mood. 

“Juist hauld yer horses 'til we pull ye intae th' mud!”  Dougal, a Scotsman demanded.

“Aye!  Whit urr ye dae tae?”  Seamus, the Irishman next to him retorted.

“Tie ye up wi' a rope, then a' o' us wull ram yer pumpin' asses stowed oot!” 

“Oh, will ye now?  Ye 'n' whit airmie? Thir's nae a yin o'ye wi' a boaby muckle go leor tae a bhaint amach é!” 

“Says wha?”  

“Deir mé!”  

The two huge, strong men, who would be tossing the caber and weights the upcummin’ days, sat their drinks on a nearby table in preparation for a mano-a-mano settling of the debate immediately — and not wait until the next day!

At that moment, a very handsome and muscular young Persian man walked out of the DJ’s booth, wearing short-shorts and a rainbow-patterned tank-top.  He walked up to the two men who were much larger than he appeared to be. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, as he grasped their arms in a grip neither man could believe such a relatively small man could enforce.  “This is neither the time nor the place for a controversy.  You will take your disagreement into the carpark and continue your discussion there!”  The smaller man physically turned the two men toward the entrance and mentally encouraged them to move in that direction.

“What the bloody hell?” 

Both men were in disbelief that someone that much smaller could control them so easily and with such strength!

“Hey!  I want my drink!  I paid for it and I want it!” the Scotsman protested.

“Sorry!  You forfeited the last half of it when you started your disruptive aggression,” the young jinni replied.  “This will be reported to the Marshalls for any further consequences.  Do you need any more help to find your rooms in the Lodge?”

“Na!”

“Have a good evening and rest well!” Khayal told them, as he gave them an encouraging push on their backs toward the drive in front of the Club.

They were quiet until they got near the Lodge parking lot, when they began yelling again, then started throwing fists at each other.  The ruckus fortunately ended up on the grass when Seamus landed a hard uppercut to Dougal’s chin, putting him on his backside and rubbing his chin. Seamus fell on him, forcing him flat on his back.  In a swift motion, the Irishman raised the Scot’s legs, and forced his monster battering ram all the way into Dougal’s ass in one motion.  The big Scot muscleman tried to scream at the brutal invasion, but Seamus knocked the wind out of him and the only sound he could make was a gasp. 

Seamus paused only a moment then began a rough pounding that knocked more air out of the Scotsman with each forced battering of his insides.  And it didn’t take long before the Irishman shot his load deep within his victim. 

Dougal recovered very quickly and threw off his antagonist, flipped him over on his back and returned the battering, proving he would finish this fight on top.  The Scotsman rammed his massive fists into both sides of the ribcage before he slammed his body on top of the Irishman’s lungs.  He proceeded to force the massive legs over the fallen man’s head, then rammed his own power-pole all the way to its base without lube of any sort – the same punishment he had taken.  Dougal paced his invasion so that it would take him much longer to work himself up to the frenzied climax he had just taken. 

By this time, Lodge Security had heard the commotion and appeared on the scene.  All they saw when they arrived was two big men fucking each other on the Lodge grounds.  Nothing wrong with that, so they just enjoyed the show until it was over.  Then the Irishman and the Scotsman stood up, and – after a manly embrace on the ground – helped each other inside and up to their rooms.

During the night, the four jinn visited each of the men at the Lodge and the Residence, and each jinni injected the visitors with their immunization serum – or rather semen.  Once orally and once anally per participant.  And to them, it was all a very pleasant dream!

Early the following morning, the cyclists were up and inspecting the racing bikes which had been provided for them.  There were at least fifty bikes for the twenty contestants to choose from which were on loan from the Crystal Rainbow staff.  The visitors tried several of them, riding up and down the driveway to the Lodge.  As each was picked, the bike owner attached the number matching the competitor to the handlebars, and the new rider rode the length of the boulevard to get really comfortable with the strange cycle. 

The road course for the 3,200 meter race was the service drive around the back of the developments, with the start and finish at the entrance security gate.  The cross-country had the same start and finish, but the hiking trail through the woods created some obstacles typical of a woodland trail.  The turnoff was marked just after the Club’s rear entrance parking lot, wandering in a loop for a mile on the dirt path back to the service road near the gardens.  This is the same path the runners would use for their trail race later.

The Crystal Rainbow cyclists who’s bikes were not assigned to the guests, rode along with the visiting guys to make sure they knew the road course, then they rode around with them on the second lap to ensure they were familiar with the trail portion for the afternoon race.

When it was time for the competition, Rainbow cyclists stationed themselves at all driveways along the way and at the trail entrance so no one would lose time getting lost.  They were also prepped to assist any cyclist in trouble.

Ian and Sean lined up, side by side to start the race and crossed the Start line at the Security Gate together.  They made the turn onto the track together.  Anytime one pulled ahead the other put extra effort to catch up again.  They were side by side as they passed the trail entrance and still shoulder to shoulder at the half-lap mark.  Ian tried to pull ahead as they passed the video studio back driveway, but Sean picked up his speed also to stay abreast of his buddy. 

They had picked their way among the cyclists who had started ahead of them to take the lead and by the time they passed the castle, they had steadily increased their lead.  As they came to the rear driveway at the Lodge, Sean had the short turn to make and Ian, on the outside of the track, had the long turn.  But that changed as they came to the turn onto Crystal Rainbow Boulevard.  Ian had the short turn and Sean the long one.  This put them cheek by jowl together again.  Both men turned up the heat in the last hundred yards to the Finish Line at the Security Gate.  

Majid and Cliff had video cameras trained on the Finish Line.  Majid was shooting from the sideline with his Canon Camcorder on the finish line while Cliff was on top of the Security building holding his Camcorder on a pole out over the center of the track.  Both were set on high speed to ensure the accuracy of the winner on the video frame. 

After the last man had crossed the Finish Line, the cameramen took their cameras into the Guard Station and reran them frame by frame.  Both cameras showed exactly the same result.  Ian’s tire touched the painted white line one-frame before Sean’s tire.  Both men were happy to divide the winnings of that race.

The afternoon competition was the Tug-O-War between Scots and Irish, each team using eight of their heavy weight contestants.  Each of the three rounds included some Canadians and Americans and used different team members than the pull before. 

Seamus and Dougal were the anchors for their eight-man teams, each team made up of four native Scotsmen and Irishmen each and two each American and Canadian hulks of Scot or Irish ancestry.  The judge commanded, “Pick up the rope!”  The teams moved backward until the rope was taut.  Then, the judge inserted the marker flag opposite of the center marker on the rope and commanded, “Take the strain!”  The teams leaned back on the rope and heeled in, until the judge commanded, “Pull!”  Then they fought with all their massive strength to pull the opposite team across the line.  They each gave some ground and their coaches adjusted their strategy, until Dougal’s team got their momentum going and pulled the Irishmen across the six-foot line — a total pull of twelve feet. 

The two teams switched sides and brought in one substitute of either American or Canadian reserve.  The second pull went to the Irish team, then both teams brought in their second fresh substitute for the last pull.  For the third time, the judge called, “Pick up the rope!” then “Take the strain!” and both teams leaned back on the rope and heeled in — arms nearly straight and legs as low a position as possible and all members of the team ready to pull in unison at the command from the judge, “Pull!”

Several minutes went by with little movement in either direction.  Conversation from the sidelines questioned, “Will it be a tie?”  Then the center marker on the rope moved toward the Irish side a few inches.  The Scottish coach was on it and ordered his team to hold, waiting for a better time to make a move.  It came soon and the Scottish team regained the loss and added another few inches on the Irish.  The Scots dug in and gave no quarter.  Slowly they made progress and eventually pulled the Irish across the line. 

Dougal raised his right arm in victory, extending his middle finger at Seamus and yelled, “Fuck ye!”

The Irish judge was on him in an instant for the foul language infringement.  “That’ll be one point against ye, and if ye argue with me about it ye’ll be disqualified, so the other team will win this one.  Do ye want that, laddie?”

Dougal looked as if he would argue with the judge anyway when his teammates grabbed him by both arms, and one clamped his hand over Dougal’s mouth to prevent the disqualification.  The team dragged him off the field, with him struggling all the way.

* * * * * * *

During the afternoon, the dancers were practicing on the stage in the Club.  The accompanying bagpipers were off to the side where they could see each other.  The real competition would begin at 5:00 p.m. when the audience was let into the bar and diner.  The arrangement of the stage with the “interesting” shapes of the three sections seemed to blow the minds of the visitors. 

An extra platform was placed on top of the three sections so as to create a greater echo from the taps and still preserve the original stage floor.  The dancers were selected by drawing for the order of appearance.  An Irish group was first, followed by a Scottish group, then alternating after that.  It took a couple of hours to complete the first round of dancers — both groups and solos.  By that time, the Club was nearly a full house, with visitors to the Highland Gaymes and local members together.  The judges gathered at the Residence to discuss the pros and cons of the dances.  Majid and Cliff made sure every competition was covered by video so the officials could review any portion they questioned.

Back at the Club, the competitive dancers were a popular group with the paying customers.   All the guys got into the swing of stripping and the bagpipers played for them to dance for the Club patrons.  During the competition portion, the dancers had worn shirts with their kilts.  The bagpipers did the same.  But afterward, the bagpipers performed shirtless and no shame with letting everyone know what was under the kilts.  The dancers started fully clothed but shed the shirts in true stripper fashion and made sure their legs and kilts were kicking high!  And none refused the generosity of the audience.  All made sure everyone who wanted to had a close-up view under the tartan. 

As the guest dancers mingled with the patrons, they were treated to a snifter of either Irish stout or Scotch ale as a tip.  Several barbacks milled around with clean snifter glasses and a pitcher of both types.  When the patrons would offer the dancers a chair to sit in, all the dancers simply propped a foot on the chair seat and visit while standing and guzzling his beer.  Still, a nice view of the inside of the kilt!  And most customers reached for the dancers’ family jewels. 

Tuesday morning, the runners were up and getting ready for their mile race.  It would start out at the back driveway leading into the apartments, go past the Club and end at the Security Station.  It’s the same track they used for the bike race but going in the opposite direction.  They used the driveway to stretch and do some sprints so as to not injure themselves in the run.  By 9:00 a.m., they were warmed up, stretched out and had received their numbers to attach to their waistbands.  Some wore tank-tops and others were shirtless.

Dougal and Seamus had their personal bet on again for the caber toss that afternoon, loser gets fucked.  Many people have the idea that the winner is the contestant who tosses the log the farthest.  Not so!  The winner is the man who is able to put his log closest to an imaginary “12-o’clock” position relative to the direction of his run.  On this particular day, neither man would win.  A young man from Canada, Gordon Graeme, won the competition.  He’s a big, handsome logger from Quesnel, British Columbia, who could give Delmar a run for his money in size, strength, and sexuality. 

Thinking of Delmar, both of his parents are of Scottish origin (Andrews and Robbinson).  He found out about the competition and wanted to watch them and learn about some of the different tests of strength, so he took a week off from school in Washington, DC, to spend with Dylan.  The young security hunk got a kilt of each parental clan so his deaf friend would fully fit in with the group.  As the big guys practiced each event, Dylan would instruct Del how to toss the caber and each of the stones.  Although eligible because of his ancestry, he had never competed so was satisfied to watch each game but try it himself during practice.  He particularly enjoyed the Scottish Wrestling and the Maide-Leisg against some of the bigger men.  Dylan was proud that his protégé was a natural competitor.  Maybe someday they would go to the Highland Games at Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina for Del to really compete.

Dougal and Seamus were arguing about which of the two of them was closest when Gordon walked up to them, put a big powerful hand on each of their necks to get their attention.  “Wha’ the fuck?” the two said at the same time.

“I’ll see you both in my room tonight at nine o’clock for some personal services due the winner.  Make sure you don’t cum before you’re in my room.  And don’t be late!  You don’t want me to have to go looking for you!” the big dark haired muscle stud ordered.

Nine o’clock sharp, the Irishman and the Scotsman met in front of the open door belonging to the Canadian lumberjack and his roommate.  Logan Levin is a hulk of a man from Ketchikan, Alaska, and is signed up for the weight throw, weight over the bar, sheaf throw and the “Lazy Stick” (also known as the Maide-Leisg).  Gordon introduced his roomie in case they hadn’t met before.  Both men were already naked, and it didn’t take long for the newcomers to join them.  A Stout for Seamus and a Bock for Dougal helped relax the foreigners and after a couple of beers, everyone was a wee bit more ready for some rough action.

“Have ye competed yet, Logan?” Seamus asked.

“Not yet,” he replied.  “I’m in the weight throw tomorrow morning and over the bar in the afternoon.  Then on Thursday, I’m in the sheaf throw and Friday I’m signed up for the Maide-Leisg.  What have you got on slate?”

“I’m on for all of those!  I didn’t come this far just to sit around drinking and not enjoy some comórtas every chance I get,” the Irishman retorted.  “So, will I be pounding your asal deas every night this week?”

“Don’t count on it!” Logan replied.  “I’ll only consider it if we are matched up in the Maide-Leisg.”

“Are ye going to use one of us tonight?” Dougal asked Logan.

“Not the way I’m going to use you!” the Canadian answered.  “He’s just the distraction while I plow the field!”

The two visitors looked puzzled.

“You will be on your knees in front of him for the duration of my attention to the rear entry.  Now who’s the first victim?”

The Irishman was seated across from Logan, so he went to his knees, spread the Alaskan’s legs, and began oral service to the logger’s caber that was aimed directly at him.  The Canadian lubed up the waiting entrance, first with one finger, but soon adding additional pressure from two other fingers as well.  With his other hand, he was lubing his own caber to aim at the twelve o’clock hour.  As he withdrew his three large fingers on his right hand, he slid his mammoth caber into the waiting opening.  In one smooth push, he rammed all the way to the base, his man-knockers hitting the Irish danglers hard.  It pushed the big foreigner all the way to the base of the Alaskan’s offering and deep into the stretched throat.  Sean didn’t know what he could do — gag? cough? choke? stop breathing?  All motion stopped for a moment when both loggers began a retreat from their deep penetration.  Both slid out just enough to keep their corona barely within the opening.

The two top men began a steady pounding, but to Seamus it seemed a deliberate staccato.  They were not on the same rhythm!  Tears were streaming down their doggy’s face.  Gordon leaned over to play with Seamus’ genitals and Logan began twisting his nipples.  After several minutes, their victim showed reactions that he was ready to explode.  Gordon and Logan stopped their double attack on him, leaving him on the edge as Gordon slapped his balls hard, causing pain to shoot through his gut. 

Seamus was stunned at their treatment to him.   “What the fuck?” he asked.  “You going to leave me like this?”

“We’re not done with you yet,” Gordon told him.  “Dougie! … get your ass over here!”

The full procedure was repeated with the Scotsman, and twenty minutes later, he was ready to shoot his load.  But the two north-men ceased their pounding with a sharp slap to the balls. 

Logan handed each of the visitors another bottle each.  “Have a beer and get ready for round two.”

“What the fuck are you going to do to us now?” Dougal asked.

“You get to lie down while we do all the work this time,” Gordon answered.  “Side by side on the bed.”

The Scot and the Irish side by side, legs in the air waiting for the invasion by the north from the south.  They looked at each other with mutual respect, admiration, and an element of affection. 

“Ready?” the muscle stud from the Commonwealth asked.

“Ready,” both men answered as they prepared for the sensations to come.  Breathing deeply, while relaxing their anal muscles, then accepting the full sensation as two North American built torpedoes forced their way into a still tight entrance.  They gasped as the entry was made.  A pause.  Then slowly proceeding until the armament could go no farther.  The two muscular targets began to breathe easier. They turned their faces to each other, then moved closer as their lips connected in a gentle, sensual kiss.  They felt the two invaders begin to retreat … then slam full-force back into them.  As the pounding continued, their mutual kiss became more active with tongues dueling for dominance. 

Five minutes….  Ten minutes….  Their own massive cocks became firmer and firmer as they needed to release their seed from their confines. 

Then the pounding in their nether regions stopped.  Their recta were empty.  They wanted to ejaculate … but lost the impetus of their fuckers.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?”    “What? Why? Don’t leave me like this!”  the martyrs screamed.

Logan took Dougal’s legs and slid him around on the king-sized bed so that the two men’s faces were opposite the other’s manhood.  Gordon and Logan turned their bottom sacrifices on their right side so they could suck their friend off while the North American tops finished their fuck-fest.  It only took another five minutes and all four men shot voluminous loads of man-milk inside the two combatants (lovers maybe?). 

A few minutes later, Gordon pulled another four bottles of beer from the mini-fridge.  The four men, now particularly good friends, toasted each other and chug-a-lug-ed the cold brews.  Then everyone was racing to the toilet, two disposing of the baby-makers inside them and everyone passing the brew.  

To be continued...

The competitions are underway!

Posted: 09/25/2020