Classic Erotic Gay Fiction: Buttboy in a Blindfold by Anonymous

By An Unpaid Intern / Tuesday, January 1st, 2013

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Check out this excerpt from Buttboy in a Blindfold, one of the many monitor-melting gay erotic stories the Inner Circle has in its library:

Having banged up my Jeep coming home drunk from the game with my buds, needing some dough quick so I could fix the fender and not have to hear my Dad chew my ass out about soaring insurance premiums, I was about ready to hump it over to Mickey D’s and apply for a job flipping cow patties when I came to a full stop in front of the bulletin board at the Student Activity Center.

Athletes Wanted, the flyer said in big, bold letters. Well, hey, that was me. I play on the college football team and the baseball team. When I want to relax, I’ll pick up a game of b-ball with the buds — plus swim, jog, lift weights. You name it, I do it. Oh, I go to classes too. But college to me is all about the sports.I even gave up regular underwear and wear a jockstrap now. It saves time in the locker room and it’s what I’m most comfortable in, anyway. Males Only, the flyer continued. For a research project. Participants will be paid. $100 minimum. I didn’t need to read any further. I dug my cell out of my backpack.

The number I dialed rang twice. A smooth baritone voice answered. “Human Response Research Center. This is Dr. Sven Carlsen.” I gave the doctor my name and was about to mention the flyer when he broke in. “Tell me about your physical dimensions, Tom. We are seeking very fit young men.”

“Oh, I’m fit alright!” I ticked off the sports teams I was on. “I’m 5’11″, 188 pounds, and have maybe one-fourth of one-percent body fat. And no body hair. Do I make the team, Coach?” He asked me to come in the next day and said the tests might take as long as three hours. “No problem,” I lied. I’d be ditching a class, but what the hell! I could always get one of the chicks I was balling to give me the notes — or do my homework, for that matter. Right now the most important thing was to lay my hands on fast cash!

The office was in a high-rise building downtown. I arrived right on time and walked into what appeared to be an empty office. I rapped on the glazed-glass window and looked through the little hole to see if anyone was behind it. Nothing. Had I gone to the wrong address? No, 20th Floor, Room — just then a fuzzy figure walked toward me.

The divider slid open. On the other side was a guy with jet black hair and blue hospital scrubs. He was shorter than me, but his build was impressive, showing very hairy arms in his rolled-up half-sleeves — a gym guy for sure! I liked him immediately. “Tom . . . Geller?” he said, looking up from his clipboard. I nodded. He looked me up and down steadily — sized me up is more like it! It felt kind of uncomfortable. He asked me to turn around. Seconds passed. Then to turn back, and when I did I was met by a big, approving smile that made me forgot to be nervous.

He opened the door and told me to follow him down the hall. What a muscle stud!, I thought. His ass-cheeks flexed as he led the way. What kind of machines was he using to build up those power-glutes, what weights was he at! Jeez, they were huge — not that I was perving on him or anything. Girls tell me I’ve got a nice butt, but this guy’s was . . . well, it was something!

He left me with Dr. Carlsen and closed the door. I guess I notice certain things because my body is so important to me, but Dr. Carlsen had a massive physique in his dress shirt and tie. He had white-blond hair a bit longer than I expected for a doctor but nicely trimmed, and his white lab coat hung open in a casual way. I shook his hand — powerful grip. No doubt, this guy knew his way around a gym. Though he wore wire-rim glasses and a thoughtful expression, he reminded me of some Viking from a movie, a very smart Viking, but underneath, all Norse muscleman.

He pointed to the chair across from the desk, and when I set down, he gave me one of those Norsemen smiles with about 100 dazzling teeth on display. I looked around the office. “What kind of experiments are you conducting here, Doc?”

Read the rest.



 
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