Open Sesame

By: Hank Horne
(© 2018 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 22

After dinner, Dildar and Hassan helped Greta with clearing the table and getting things cleaned up in the kitchen.  The other four of us went to the basement to show the guests our workout area.  They were amazed with the equipment and mats. 

“House rules for wrestling, no clothing whatsoever, loser services the winner.”  That got their attention.

“Are you serious?” Ethan asked.

“Very much so!” I replied as Maji nodded his head.

Ethan and Scotty looked at each other, laughing. 

“So that means that you two have an open relationship?” Scotty asked.

“Definitely!” Maji answered.  “It’s more fun that way.  But it doesn’t mean we love each other any less, it’s just that after wrestling someone else, it’s strictly sex.  In bed with each other, it’s much more than that.”

“Wow!” Scotty commented.  He adjusted his manhood inside his pants to be more comfortable as Maji proceeded to strip completely.

“If you want to be really comfortable, shed ‘em,” I told him, as I removed my own clothes.  “Ethan, Scotty, you’re welcome to join us, observe – or whatever.”

About then, Dildar and Hassan descended the stairs.  “You didn’t wait for us,” Hassan complained as he pulled his shirt off.

Our two guests were standing at the edge of the mats with their jaws hanging open.  Scotty began to take his shirt off, and Ethan sat in a chair watching him.  Everyone else in the room glued on him as the young hunk stripped.  Broad shoulders, biceps that curved into round masses of solid muscle and sharply defined triceps were obvious even with the shirt on.  As it was pulled over his head, the washboard abs reflected the light and the deep cuts were emphasized by the distinct shadows.  Scotty pulled off his shirt and his perfectly formed pecs returned to their natural full, rounded development with protruding nipples centered in large rosy-brown areolas. 

“Oh, my gosh!”       “Allah be praised!”       “Oh wow!”

That was followed by one of my best wolf-whistles.  Scotty laughed, then struck a double-bicep pose, a side-chest pose, then a most-muscular pose.

“You’ve done some competitions, haven’t you?” I asked.

“Some.  Never won anything, but that’s life.  It was fun, ‘though lots of work and discipline.”  He proceeded to take his shoes off and drop his trousers, revealing tighty-whiteys unable to hide an incredible tent mid-front. 

“Take it off!  Take it off!” began the chant and hand clapping.  Scotty started flexing his quads, then swirling his hips, and teased lowering his briefs.  First one side then the other, turning his back to us and revealing a pair of perfectly round bubble ass-cheeks.  Then he pulled the briefs all the way down, revealing his manhood to Ethan before turning around to show the rest of us.  Ethan was drooling. 

“If I had known what I had in my office, I would never have called you, Grant.  I’m taking him home for me and Donnie,” he laughed.   Scotty turned around to reveal — nine inches of rock hard, thick, uncut man-meat! 

“O-M-G!” I gasped.  “I submit! I submit NOW!”

Scotty started pumping it, hand sliding up and down the full length.  Then he struck a pose, full erection straight out in front of that incredible body with biceps flexed, then a series of required competition poses, each one showing his flagpole waving in front of him.

“Okay, show-off, pick your punishment!  You can have any of us you want to wrestle,” I told him.

“All of you, sooner or later,” the young muscle-hunk said as he looked over the four of us lined up in front of him.  “Back in primary school, one teacher taught us a rhyme to help pick at random.”  He closed his eyes and counted off each of us as he said, “Wire, briar, limber, lock, three, geese, in a, flock, one flew east, one flew west, one flew over, the coocoo’s, nest. O, U, T, spells, out, I, pick, YOU!”  Presumably, he picked me at random to be his wrestling opponent. 

The others moved off to the side and we stood facing each other.  Scotty backed up a couple of steps and turned his back to me. ‘What the hell is he doing?’ I thought.  Then he did a back flip and landed face toward me, with his legs around my neck and his hard poker right in my face as I landed on my back with him on top of me in a leg-scissors head-lock. 

“Submit?” he asked.

“Only if I have a broken back,” I replied.  I brought my legs up into a leg-scissors around his head, then rolled over with him on his back and me on his stomach.  A huge cock was down my throat.  I started manipulating the giant lollypop with my tongue, and lightly scraping my teeth over the giant wiener I was chewing on.  Scotty took my joy stick in his mouth and began doing things to it that I had never dreamed of.  Instantly, I got hard as he manipulated me side to side and up and down inside his mouth.  He pulled his mouth off slightly, so his tongue could reach up and rub across the eye, lapping the leaking pre-cum around on the head.  He worked his teeth lightly at the base of the corona, scraping over it back and forth, stimulating the sensation.  Sometimes, we rolled on our sides.

Meanwhile, I was sucking on him with all the suction I could muster.  I felt him swell up and expected him to shoot a load down my throat any moment.  But he refused to release anything.  He kept working my rod ways I didn’t know possible until I couldn’t hold it any longer.  I shot volley after volley down his throat until I was drained of all I had.  And still he held his load within him.  He pulled off my shriveled remnant of manhood and asked, “Submit?”  When I didn’t say anything, he released his load – or maybe that was loads, because he sent at least four massive shots down my throat. 

It was only then I lay my head back on the mat, released his head from my legs, and gasped, “I submit.  Use me any way you want.”

“Later, gator!” Scotty said.  “You wore me out – in more ways than one.”

Majid gave us each a hand and pulled us up.  “So, you’re a gymnast too?  Any aerial work?  Trapeze?  Ropes?  Poles?” he asked.   “Sing? Dance? Act?”

“Just some musical theater in high school.  I did perform the Winston Smith role in 1984 and The Artful Dodger in Oliver my senior year.”

“What the fuck haven’t you done?” Hassan asked.

“I haven’t done any porn yet, but that’s on my bucket list for some time in the next ten years,” Scottie said with a smirk.

“We’ll arrange that within the next year, my man!” Majid commented.

We got dressed and went back upstairs.  All of us were exhausted from the excitement and exercise in the basement.  We older folks decided we needed to hit the hay, the younger ones could do what they wanted.  Ethan, Majid and I said good night to the others, and they said they would be up soon.

* * * * *

Hassan and Dildar took Scotty back into the office.  My unobserved spy relayed what went on in there.

Dildar opened the conversation with, “Scotty, I hope you will take the job.  You would be a big help with this project.”

“Yeah, Scotty, we could certainly use someone like you to make this thing go well,” Hassan added.

“That’s why I would like to talk with you guys,” Scotty replied.  “Grant and Majid seem like great guys to be with and would be fair to employees.”

“He would be fair.  And he would respect the opinions of everyone.  He is a news reporter and has always reported what he sees and the ways he sees them.  If there was any editing of his views, it was done at the corporate level,” Hassan said.

“He is not renewing his contract with GNN, so this will be his full-time work,” Dildar added.

“How does he get his funding?”

Dildar and Hassan looked at each other.  They both shook their heads.  “We don’t know,” Dildar replied.

“It’s just there when we need it,” Hassan commented.

Scotty added thoughtfully, “It just appears in his account daily at the bank, and our records say it’s in cash.”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask him.  If you really need to know that, he’ll tell you sometime.  It’s not something we need to know,” Dildar commented.

Scotty had a puzzled look on his face. 

“Would that make a difference if you would take the job or not?” Dildar added.

“It might,” Scotty answered.  “Since you’re Majid’s cousin, what did you do in Iraq to qualify you for Chief of Security?”

“I was required to patrol the streets of my home town to make sure everything was okay.  If I found something out of order, I would call my superiors for back-up and we would investigate.  I would be part of the investigative team to follow through and clear up the irregularity,” Dildar answered.

“Hassan, you’re set up to be Chief of Personnel.”

“And Resort Manager,” he replied.  “I spent several years working in hotels doing a variety of jobs and got to observe nearly every aspect of customer relations.  I worked well with other employees and most of the guests.  I don’t have the finance experience that we need, and why we need you in that position.”

“Then there’s Majid.  Where does he fit into the mix here?”

“Majid was Grant’s cameraman in Iraq,” Dildar clarified.  “They hit it off from the start.  By the time Grant’s assignment was over, they both knew what they could expect from each other.  Majid was on a shot the instant Grant would change the subject in his narratives.  It was as if they were reading each other’s mind.  Or if Majid swung his camera to pick up some action, Grant was talking about it by the time the camera was focused on the action.  It was uncanny how they worked together.”

“And you have no idea where Majid is getting his portion of this investment?”

Dildar shook his head.  “Not a clue, unless ….” Dildar suddenly had a coughing attack.  At the same time, he heard Majid’s voice whisper to him, “Qul shayyaan ean aljini.”¹⁰    Dildar grabbed a glass with some water in it and drank it.  “… sorry, I need to learn not to swallow and breathe at the same time.”

“Unless?” Scottie asked.

“Unless their network bonuses for being in a zone of military unrest was more than they spent, since all their expenses were covered.  That’s all I can think of,” Dildar finished.

 “Ghita’ jayidan. ‘iinaa fakhur bika,”¹¹ Majid’s voice whispered in his ear. 

{Thank you, Arman!}

“How does the sister fit into all this?” Scotty quizzed.

“She’s not any part of this at all.  This house was their parents, where they grew up.  They inherited it when the parents were killed in an auto wreck.  Greta lives in what was their grandparents’ cottage until they died.  I think she will keep this when she marries, and Grant moves to Georgia.”

“What kind of videos will Majid’s production company do?”

“To begin with, when we’re just getting established, Grant wants to recreate some of the great dance scenes from the old MGM musicals,” Hassan replied.  “He has talked about hiring members of the Atlanta Symphony as the musicians, and dancers from the professional dance groups around Atlanta.”

“The studio will be set up like The Hall of Mirrors at Versailles, or Schonbrunn Palace in Vienna, or Lichtenstein Palace,” Dildar continued.  “The ladies will be in late 19^th century ball gowns, and the gentlemen will wear tails.”

“Not the kinky ones that slaves wear up their asses while crawling around on hands and knees,” Hassan interjected.

“There may be other types of dances with some changes to the sets, such as folk dances from different countries,” Dildar added.  “This will be the types of videos we’ll produce here in the first year or two for general release. After that, we’ll start releasing the types of videos we really want to do under a different production company name.”

“And that is?”

Dildar and Hassan looked at each other as they answered the question. 

“Muscle-men fuck-films.” 

“I’m sure Majid and Grant would agree to you being our first featured stud,” Hassan added.

“Let’s go to bed.  You can join us if Ethan won’t object.”

“I’ll wait until I’m on the payroll – if that happens.”    

 To be continued... 

¹⁰“Say nothing about jinn.”

¹¹“Good cover.  I’m proud of you.”

Posted: 11/30/18