e

barrel chest. Huge tattoos covered both arms from the shoulders, along the

chiseled biceps down to the wrists. The wavy dark brown hair was tamed by a

red and white bandanna.

Brock was having a beer with a chubby man, approximately in his early 40ies,

with thin strawberry blond hair, wearing a business suit and a tie.

Darren Orchard, a sales agent from Ohio was a well-off family man. He had a

lovely wife who had born him two lovely daughters. Yet Darren was looking

for a kind of fulfillment his family could not offer. Since high-school he

had felt attracted to men. He was in particular into beefy athletes like the

members of the football team or the wrestling squad. Being a pot-bellied

bookworm, these dream men were clearly out of his reach. Even during his

college time he never got more excitement but to offer a few blow jobs.

This had ged since he was in a position to buy him some hunky lovers. In

the end brain was mightier than brawn and Darren had learned quickly that a

few bucks could win him the attention he had been longing for.

Whenever he was on a busirip he visited a raunchy gay bar and picked

up his beefy prey.

This evening he had been sitting at the ter nervously ing his

glasses, when a huge guy addressed him. Brock, as the stru worker

had introduced himself, was keen to make some quick bucks. He had guessed

why Darren was visiting a plato which he definitely did not belong. The

snug salesman was excited that the impressive hunk had offered to suck

Orchard off for a hundred bucks. Darren couldn't believe his luck to find

such a geous piea willing to give him head so easily.

"Look at this pathetic weakling," Chuck mocked pointing with his head

towards the flabby businessman," he is a borne loser. I 't fu'