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Archive name: olymp10.txt (MM, parody)
Authors name: Zipper Bird (No Address)
Story title : Olympics 1988
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The Olympics 1988 (MM)
by Zipper Bird
***
"Victor Prickupaskovitch of the Soviet Union will be the
next to skate," Dick read from his teleprompter, not
quite believing he had just blurted a name like that to
millions of television viewers. He looked at Jim Makay
beside him, whose eyes widened suddenly but then
narrowed as he asked an adroit question about Victor's
chances for a medal.
"Maybe not in this Olympics Jim, but watch for him four
years from now, when his body and skating will have
hardened and ripened into a fine specimen by 1992..."
Dick said, feeling slightly unhinged.
"Body hardened and ripened," he thought to himself, "did
I really say that?" Victor skated to the center of the
ice wearing only tight blue satin pants, no shirt, and
the crowd was audibly shocked at the sight of this broad
shouldered, shirtless youth, whose flesh was glistening
with sweat like a gladiator in battle.
A shudder of desire ran through Dick Button's body
causing a ringing in his ears such that he couldn't hear
what Jim Makay was saying, nor could he hear his cues
through his headphones. For several seconds his mind
went blank and he felt a stream of saliva wending its
way out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin,
just as his thoughts suddenly manifested themselves in
words to the viewing audience.
"My God this one is so fucking butch. I'd give anything
to kiss that sweet mouth and run my tongue over his
sweaty balls and suck that dripping dick dry." The words
came out uncontrollably. Jim Makay's face blanched and
his mouth dropped open. He quickly signaled the control
room to switch to a commercial as the monitor showed a
small boat floating in a toilet.
"New lemon in the tidy bowl for you," a little man sang,
"the official toilet bowl cleaner of the winter
Olympics."
Two cameramen had abandoned their posts and Dick felt
himself being hauled over the railing behind the ABC
box, feet first. His head bumped against a railing, and
he woke up in a sweat, wife snoring away next to him.
"I should have known it was a nightmare," he thought to
himself as he lay panting on the bed with three more
weeks until the opening of the Olympics, "Tidy bowl is
not one of our official sponsors," he thought as he
turned to see his ugly wife's face in the morning light,
a golden strand of spittle stretched from her mouth to
the pillow. "Could she be having the same dream?" he
thought as he closed his eyes and tried to conjure up a
picture of the bare-chested Victor.
Mike Velez stood stupidly looking at his back change
loop figure tracing, wishing the asymmetry of one of his
loops would magically correct itself before coach Peter
Pudesco inspected it and threw one of his conspicuous
fits.
The Olympics were only a week away and the atmosphere in
Lake Placid, where many athletes were training, was
charged with excitement as if the Olympics were going to
take place there instead of Calgary. Pudesco, fortyish,
balding, with all his good fucking years behind him,
lumbered over to inspect the tracing and showed little
expression in his face betrayed only by a involuntary
twitching in his left eye.
Inside his head, he was letting out a high-pitched
girlish scream, partly in anguish at the lopsided loop
and partly in delight at the thought that Mike was going
to be his first student in the Olympics, but with such
bad figures. Even though his free skating was pretty
good, these figures were libel to land Mike in an
uncoveted 19th place. Still, Mike had one of the nicest
bodies a skater could have and coach Pudesco wished that
the figure judges would somehow be hypnotized by the
sight of his backside and forget the figure tracing
completely.
"If medals were awarded for buttocks," coach thought to
himself, "Mike would win the gold for sure." Mike Velez
had dual citizenship. Born in Venezuela, he earned a
berth on the Olympic team competing for that country,
even though he grew up and lived most of his adult life
in Lake Placid. Now 21, Mike was a senior at the State
College at Potsdam, which had a rink where he trained
intermittently.
Mike's handsome face, creamy cafe au lait skin, and
perfectly developed ass had made him an idol with the
campus gay set and he'd been written up in the school
newspaper several times as being Potsdam's Olympic
hopeful. Mike carried a B average as a dance major and
was also on the swim team, which he joined just so he
could spend time in the shower looking at naked
teammates' bodies.
Still, homosexually speaking, Potsdam was a bit of a
wasteland. Nearly three quarters of the students were
female, and Mike looked forward to meeting real men, and
the few Olympic gay athletes that there would be in
Calgary.
As Mike's plane touched down in Calgary, he felt a rush
of excitement. "Here I am, at the Olympics," he thought.
Just being there to compete was a miracle for him. He
really wished his dead mother could be there to watch
him skate.
Unfortunately, with seating space for skating events at
a premium, dead relatives were not allowed in the arena.
Mike's father would stay at home watching TV, and
probably not the Olympics. When Mike was a kid, Mr.
Velez wanted his son to play baseball but Lake Placid
was not a baseball mecca and so Mike learned to skate,
with his mother's encouragement, and much to his
father's chagrin.
To this day, it was a source of embarrassment to him
that his son had turned into one of those "ice faggots."
When talk at the local beer joint turned to children,
Mr. Velez pretended he had only a daughter, who,
ironically, had also been a dance major at Potsdam, and
was now married with children and living in Watertown.
Mike had met the two Brians in the last World
Championships, which had been his first. Brian Boichaser
of San Francisco was a nice gay guy, and a terrific
skater and all, but not Mike's type. Brian Orifiz of
Canada was slightly more appetizing but after all, both
of these guys were going to be shitting their pants
trying to win the gold medal, and weren't going to make
an easy lay during these Olympic games anyway.
In fact, Mike was more interested in the speed skaters,
and specifically, a certain Kurt Hilgarth of Austria,
who was rumored to be "c'est ca" as the French say, gay.
Kurt had been warned by the international speed skating
federation that due to his genital size, he would simply
have to wear restraining underclothing in international
exhibition.
This unprecedented ruling was not published in any
magazine, but a picture of Kurt was, and in this case, a
picture was worth a giant zucchini. In Mike's mind, this
made Kurt all the more enigmatic. He wondered what kind
of big-dicked guy would have the audacity to skate
around the speed oval wearing no underwear.
The Olympic Village was buzzing with excitement, an air
of forced international friendliness, and there was also
tension. Several of the Canadian competitors looked
particularly comatose from nerves as they bore the
weight of their country's and hometown honor on their
shoulders. Their cheeks were beginning to ache from the
frozen smiles they maintained through the many press
photos and TV interviews. It was like every Canadian and
American was a celebrity.
Many of the figure skaters wore walkmans as prescribed
by their sports psychologists to relax them and make
them forget as much as they could that they were in the
Olympics. Carlo Fastbucci crossed the quad, to the
practice rink for afternoon skating practice, flanked by
his two medal hopefuls, Carin Cadippy, and Jill
Tumbleweed, known for her rolling falls under pressure.
The sun shone brightly on the walkway and Carlo groped
in his pocket for a pair of sunglasses, an expensive
Italian pair that a "skating mother" had given him after
raising her voice to him during her daughter's lesson.
Anxious about her daughter's prospects in an upcoming
competition, she'd shouted at Carlo that he was being
too easy on the girl and not driving her hard enough.
She gave him the glasses as a peace offering. Shortly
after, the daughter broke her fibula in 9 places and
wouldn't be skating for two years. At the rink already
was gold medal hopeful Debbie Tumors, who was being
egged on by her coach, as he leaned over the rink
barrier like an unruly hockey fan, giving Debbie last
minute suggestions for improvement.
After a short press conference where Mike met the other
4 competitors from Venezuela, all skiers, 3 of whom,
like him, grew up in the United States, he headed off to
his room with his designated roommate, a skier from
Caracas/Aspen named Nelson. Nelson came from a
terminally rich family, the product of a Venezuelan oil
playboy and a Philadelphia debutante. He was spoiled
rotten and popular with the ladies-numerous telegrams
from Aspen girls, all wishing him luck in the downhill,
were waiting for him in his room.
On the way back to the room, Nelson bumped against
Mike's side several times and Mike had the eerie feeling
that either Nelson was the clumsiest skier on the
circuit or girls weren't Nelson's only interest.
At dinner, Mike tried to look for Kurt, the hot speed
skater from Austria, but couldn't find him. Mike sat
down with the small Venezuelan contingent and was joined
by some bobsledders from Budapest. Tired from his trip,
he went back to his room and opened a magazine, which
had a flattering picture of Kurt in it, his roguishly
handsome face winking at the photographer.
The media were careful not to shoot Kurt below the waist
lest they get a shot of his enormous dick, outlined
clearly by his unitard speed tights. Nelson, oblivious
to the rumors about Kurt Hilgarth's organ and his indigo
sexual orientation, busied himself with postcards to
friends and then took a shower, and came out wrapped in
a towel, drying his hair.
"So, is it true you figure skaters like getting dick up
the ass?" Nelson asked with a taunting smirk plastered
on his face. Mike looked up from his magazine, meeting
Nelson's eyes comfortably and said "Why, is that what
you were thinking of while taking your shower?" Nelson
laughed and said "I just wanted to know."
There was an odd silence after the brief exchange and
Mike got ready for bed. Both guys lay awake for several
minutes until Nelson broke the silence by saying "I just
wanted to know, that's all, no offense or anything."
"You got dick up the ass on the brain or something?"
Mike asked, the sound of the phrase causing both of them
to break out in laughter. For the third time Nelson said
"I just wanted to know, that's all."
"Do you think Katarina Wittlis would like to fuck me?"
Nelson said, knowing Katarina would not be aware of an
obscure Venezuelan skier like himself. Wittlis won the
ladies skating gold medal in the last Olympics and was
here to defend her title. Her homeland of East Germany
considers her to be a national treasure.
"Sure Nelson," Mike began in an exasperated, sarcastic
tone, "I was eating lunch with her the other day and as
she was biting into her blutwurst, she mentioned that
she was fond of "spic fichen," that is spic fucking in
German."
"Okay okay," Nelson said, "I'll shut up and try to go to
sleep, and try not to think of Katarina, in all of her
Aryan splendor."
Both Mike the skater and Nelson the skier slept fitfully
that first night in the Olympic Village, and it wasn't
over thoughts of Katarina Wittlis. Nelson found himself
thinking of Mike in a way that was disturbing to him. He
found Mike's open reactions to his taunts to be exciting
in a way he couldn't quite understand.
There was also something about Mike's blue eyes. Nelson
thought of how Mike's eyes looked earlier in the day,
when the sun had turned them into a liquid
phosphorescent color. They were so blue and were now
haunting him, floating in space disembodied. He tried to
call up the image of Eva, his girlfriend back in Aspen,
with her mousy brown hair, small features and milky
hazel eyes but Mike's eyes and face kept creeping in his
vision to torment him with physical desire. Nelson felt
confused and embarrassed at his own thoughts, and was
sorry for taunting Mike the way he did earlier.
Mike was still awake thinking about his short program,
going over each step, jump and spin in his mind. He saw
the red eye of the TV cameras following his every move,
killing time before the top ten competitors came on to
skate. Still, even if he weren't in the top ten,
millions of people might see his performance if ABC
showed it.
Nelson's taunts had been an almost pleasant distraction
from thinking about skating and he was pleased with how
glibly he'd met Nelson's teasing about being gay, and
skaters wanting dick up the ass. He thought of the smirk
on Nelson's face and smiled to himself remembering how
quickly his retorts left Nelson looking a little bit
unglued, standing there in the middle of the room after
his shower, toweling off his strong arms and wiping his
mass of dark, curly hair.
"What a fucking shame Nelson is straight," Mike thought
before he finally fell asleep.
Morning practice went well for Mike. Brian Boichaser
came right up to him and was friendly, complimenting him
on his beautiful line and the height of his death drop,
one of the flying spins required in the short program.
Mike's death drop was not only jumped high off the ice,
it looked suspended in the air till it finally dropped
into the reverse sit spin.
However, one move does not a short program make and Mike
knew that his lack of a triple Axel would keep him out
of high marks in the short program. Dick Button swept
though the practice rink quickly, followed by an ABC
assistant with a clipboard. Dick's sharp eye not only
scanned the ice for the top skaters but he was ever
vigilant for a handsome face, well shaped ass, and
masculine demeanor, although how he would express these
qualities to the viewing public was always a great
challenge and he shuddered as he thought of his recent
nightmare, all that drooling and the things he said on
live national TV.
Catching a flash of green out of the corner of his eye,
he bowed his head and thought of adjectives he shouldn't
use to describe skaters in his commentary, "divine,
gorgeous, exquisite... other adjectives I'll try not to
use this time..." The sight of Mike Velez bending over
to adjust his skate, the lime green fabric of his
skating pants stretching up the crack of perfectly
formed buttocks drew Dick away from his thoughts. "What
an exquisite ass," he thought to himself.
Weather on the downhill run was warm and windy. Nelson's
first practice run had been 2 seconds slower than his
nearest rival, a skier from Brazil, and on his second
run he decided to go all out. Half way down the hill he
lost his balance on a turn and fell, smacking his
shoulder against a ski as it detached from his boot and
got tangled in a pole.
He got up, helped by a course assistant, and put his
skis back on, rubbing his shoulder to make sure it
wasn't dislocated, and continued down the run, something
that wouldn't be allowed in the real race. As he crossed
the finish line, once again in last place for the run,
he started feeling depressed, and wished he'd taken his
training in Aspen more seriously, instead of playing
around so much. Not only that, he felt a palpable spirit
of resentment from some skiers from other countries,
Austria and Germany especially, who he'd met while on
the competitive circuit earlier in the year.
In Austria alone, there were probably 30 down hillers
that could achieve a faster time than Nelson, but the
rules would allow only 3 competitors from the top
countries. Yet, Nelson, representing Venezuela, was in
the Olympics and they were not, and never would be.
After Nelson got back to the Olympic Village and found
Mike was not in the room, he headed for the dining hall
and hoped to find him there, knowing Mike would
understand his fears. Mike had gone out for lunch, into
Calgary with a group of skaters he'd met at practice.
Nelson sat at a table alone and was quickly joined by
members of the Austrian and Swiss speed skating teams,
led by the handsome and jock strapless Kurt Hilgarth.
Kurt sat down right next to Nelson eyeing his wide
shoulders and strong arms, while glancing over his tall
masculine form. In fact, Nelson was not unlike Victor
Prickupaskovitch, who was the bare-chested Greek god in
Dick Button's nightmare. The table chatter was a
momentary distraction for Nelson's feelings of
frustration and he was pleased when Kurt asked him what
room he was staying in, and that he might drop in the
next night, if it was okay. Kurt wrote the number down
on a piece of paper and folded it. They shook hands
goodbye and Kurt watched Nelson get up from the table.
Kurt's middle finger darted in and out of a fold of the
paper he was fidgeting with in his hand, as he watched
Nelson walk toward the door. At the sight of Nelson's
backside, Kurt felt his lust rising and wondered if he
could wait a whole night before he had a go at him. A
smile crossed his lips as he thought of his past
successes, as few as there were, in seducing straight
guys, using the line "you've heard of the novel Moby
Dick," while touching the huge mass in his pants coyly.
Bouncing into the room in good spirits Mike noticed
Nelson sulking, sitting on his bed with his head down,
taking swipes at the textured surface of his official
Olympic bedspread. "What's the matter?" Mike asked.
Nelson told him about his bad practice runs which led
into an unburdening of his fear of embarrassing himself
in front of his friends, family and all of Venezuela and
the world. He related his fear of falling right out of
the starting gate or finishing 10 seconds behind the
leader. To not be in contention for a medal is one
thing, but to worry about coming in last place.
Nelson qualified for only the downhill event and had
begun to blow the situation out of perspective. "Look,"
Mike began, "I'm in the same situation. I'm just going
to make the best of it. You know long after everyone
forgets the place standings, which is what, a week after
the games, well, we have our whole lives to say WE WERE
THERE."
"I guess you're right," Nelson said, beginning to feel a
little better, rubbing his sore shoulder as he went to
the bathroom to take a hot bath. Understanding Nelson's
fears well, since they were also his own, made Mike want
to put his arms around him and comfort him, but he
didn't, thinking Nelson might mistake it for a pass.
Nelson went into the bathroom and got into the large
tub, leaving the door ajar thinking he might want to say
something to Mike while soaking. "Oh, I had lunch with
Kurt Hilgarth." Nelson said casually and Mike sat bolt
upright on his bed, forgetting his train of thought.
Making an effort to sound calm and disinterested, Mike
asked if Kurt had anything to say. "He's going to drop
in tomorrow evening," Nelson said, adding "should I
leave the room so you two can get to know each other
better?" Mike froze for a second and finally said
"better? I don't know him at all."
"But you'd like to, right?" Nelson said teasingly. "Yes,
yes, yes," Mike said in disgust as he got up and went
into the bathroom to face Nelson.
"If you must know, I'd like to fuck his brains out. Does
that answer your question?" Mike said, glaring at his
roommate's face and waiting for him to react.
Not wanting to get Mike mad at him, Nelson looked down
at his bath water to avoid Mike's blue eyed stare and
said slowly "Do you think you could massage my shoulder
a little, while you're here, I hurt it in my practice
run today." Mike felt like grabbing his head of curly
hair and pushing it under the water but found himself
obeying, politely agreeing to massage his shoulder, the
mood having changed completely, because of the
vulnerable tone of voice Nelson used.
His left shoulder muscle showed two large bruises his
shoulder had struck his ski during the fall. Mike knelt
down beside the tub and put some soap on his hands and
began massaging. Nelson closed his eyes and started
feeling relaxed at first, then after a few minutes,
stimulated.
He could feel his cock getting hard and was glad he was
sitting up with his back facing Mike so he could hide it
from him. Mike felt Nelson's strong shoulders and neck
muscles as he ran his hands over his back, and began
feeling aroused himself. When he asked Nelson to shift
his body to rinse his shoulders, Mike was surprised and
excited to see that Nelson had a huge hardon, the large
pink knob of his thick cock sticking up above the
surface of the water.
Mike resumed using his hands to full effect, using more
gentle motions on Nelson's neck, shoulders and back.
Nelson was in ecstasy already and above the steamy smell
of soap he could smell the scent of Mike's skin, which
smelled good and made him want more of him. He bent his
head back, eyes closed and opened them looking in
fascination at the growing bulge in Mike's pants.
He looked up at Mike's blue eyes and turned around
slowly to face him, putting his hand behind Mike's head,
drawing his lips slowly toward his, thinking how strange
and exciting it was to kiss a boy this way. They
embraced passionately, water droplets from Nelson's arms
causing dark marks on Nelson's shirt.
"Why don't you take your clothes off, get in with me.
It's big enough for two people" Nelson said softly.
"Good idea," Mike breathed, stripping his shirt off,
letting his pants fall to the floor. He stepped in the
tub, straddled Nelson's hips with his legs, and eased
himself down on Nelson's body with one fluid motion,
wrapping his arms around him, as water splashed out of
the tub.
The warm water enveloped both their bodies as they
continued to kiss and stroke each other. Mike worked his
tongue on Nelson's nipples and felt them grow hard. It
was the first time anyone had done this to Nelson and he
writhed in pleasure at the feel of Mike's hot tongue,
which he thought was sent straight from Hell to torture
him with delight.
Mike gently grasped Nelson's balls, as he let his tongue
lick down from his nipples, following a hairy line right
down to take his hard pink cockhead between his lips.
Nelson found himself lusting for every part of a guy for
the first time in his life. He wanted to be inside Mike
and take him inside of himself both at once, and he
continued to run his hands over Mike as he felt himself
shoot a huge stream of cum up over his chest.
For Mike, the pleasure of playing with a guy, driving
him to this level of ecstasy, had its own reward. He was
surprised when Nelson, after he came, went hungrily for
his dick and began sucking like a starved baby, his own
dick going hard again. Mike came into his mouth as he
jerked another load out of Nelson's big member.
Nelson felt rattled as he climbed out of the tub. Mike
sensed his confusion and didn't know what to say. After
all, it took him 2 years to fully realize he was gay and
that all happened when he was 15 years old. He moved
toward Nelson and said "just take it easy Nelson. I know
this is something new for you. I'm not going to make you
do it again if you don't want." Nelson was tired and he
climbed into his bed and fell asleep. Although Mike
realized Nelson was probably bisexual, he also realized
that Nelson wasn't ready for an emotional relationship
with a man.
He pictured Nelson in the morning, pretending nothing
had happened.
For the pairs finals, Mike sat in the special seats
reserved for Olympic participants. The top Russian pair
of Gordeeva and Grinkov were far superior to all the
other pairs but Mike was happy Jill Jetson and Peter
Oppinhard were in position to win the bronze.
Jill had such bad luck in the past, having taken enough
dives to almost qualify for the summer Olympics. She
fell in the long program, but her performance was
otherwise fine, and Mike stood up and clapped his hands
red at the end of their program. Dorothy Hambone was
sitting a few seats away, there with her new
husband/doctor. She waved to Mike and gave him one of
her "Hi, I'm Dorothy Hambone" smiles.
Dorothy skated in Lake Placid a few times, but Mike was
only a boy then, and they didn't have much to talk
about. Mike was pleased she remembered him at all after
winning a gold medal and earning around 10 million
dollars in the past 12 years, since winning the 1976
Olympics in Innsbruck. She made 2 million in
endorsements from Clairol. Who could forget her Hambone
haircut. Although the American Brian Boichaser stood to
make a few million should he win the gold, it was
nothing compared with the stardom that could be attained
by a female ice queen.
Mike had watched pair skater Sergei Grinkov in practice
and found it impossible to get near him since the
security around him was as tight as his terrific ass,
and he also felt unnerved by Serge's quirky good looks
and celebrity status. Mike began breathing normally only
after the pairs competition finally ended. Sympathizing
with each pair of skaters as they took to the ice was
getting exhausting. He thought of how glad he was not to
be in pairs.
"How awkward it is to blow it and have your partner
depending on you. Just being chained to a partner for
your skating career could be difficult, especially at
the top, where you are not recognized as an individual
but always linked to your partner, even romantically,
whether there is any romance or not. Poor Randy Garden,
forever linked to Tai Babbalogna... her tits and hips
getting bigger every year and you gotta just keep
lifting..." Mike daydreamed.
When Mike got back to his room it was 11 p.m. and as he
entered, there was Kurt "underwearless" Hilgarth sitting
right on his bed. He'd forgotten that Kurt was coming
over to visit Nelson. Kurt was explaining something
about the mountains of Innsbruck as Mike entered the
room, and then he forgot what he was saying.
Mike reflexively bent over to pick up a pair of dirty
underwear he'd left on the floor and Kurt swallowed hard
as he saw Mike's ass. Mike straightened and held his
dirty underwear out and said, "You don't wear these do
you."
The brazen Kurt Hilgarth had met his match in Mike Velez
and Kurt blushed, as he mumbled something about not
finding underwear comfortable, adding defensively that
there was no law that said skaters had to wear certain
clothes under their suits.
Nelson make a polite excuse to leave them alone, saying
he had to visit another skier and that he'd be back in
an hour. He'd promised to help a fellow Venezuelan with
his ski base preparation, and didn't think Kurt would
come so late. "I'm sure you two will have lots to talk
about, being both skaters and all" Nelson said as he
ducked out the door.
"Nice guy," Kurt said, nodding toward the departing
Nelson.
"Yes, he's great" Mike said, "but let's talk about you
Kurt."
Kurt didn't say anything and instead they locked stares
and Mike advanced toward him like a cheetah stalking its
prey. There were only so many opportunities for athletes
to have privacy during the games and Mike wasn't going
to let this chance pass him by. Pushing Kurt back on the
bed, Mike put his knee on top of Kurt's chest and
grabbed the front of his shirt at the neck.
"Listen you sexy bastard, take your clothes off before I
rip them off," Mike said to a genuinely startled Kurt.
Kurt was used to making the moves and at first was
hesitant, which quickly have way to submission, as he
obeyed, swiftly removing his clothes and throwing them
to the side of the bed. The legendary mass was growing
after being released from its confinement. Mike was
transfixed by its size and its ugly beauty. Kurt was
horny as hell and he unbuttoned Mike's pants and pulled
them off, grabbing for his dick like it was the finish
line.
Even if there hadn't been a health crisis, there was no
way Mike was going to let a guy with a dick like Kurt's
fuck him, with or without a condom. It was simply too
big. Kurt grabbed his cock and waved it back and forth
like a bat.
"It is big, no?" he smiled the same roguish grin as in
the magazine photo.
"Yeah, it sure is Kurt baby, but I can't get fucked with
that, it'd kill me, I wouldn't be able to walk, let
alone skate, for weeks."
Kurt laughed and grabbed Mike's head in his hands
playfully and kissed his open mouth. Kurt's tongue could
reach almost as far as his dick and their kissing got so
intense, Mike really wanted to feel himself inside of
Kurt and he raised Kurt's muscular legs, knees straining
toward his shoulders and felt for his ass hole. Still
wet from Kurt's saliva, Mike eased his 7 inches up Kurt
as Kurt groaned. He grabbed Kurt's hard bat and stroked
it steadily. Kurt wanted it even harder.
"Achhh, fuck me harder," he called out as Mike began
banging Kurt's hot ass as hard as he could. Mike was
glistening with sweat as he drove himself into the hunky
speed skater's ass with all his might. Finally, he came
and a few seconds later gobs of cum oozed out of Kurt's
fat dick head in a pulsating stream. Not only was he
hung like a horse but he came like one too.
"I'd better go, before Nelson returns," Kurt said,
pulling his jeans on and hurrying out the door. "See
you," he said as he winked and ran out. In the hallway,
he did a jump, as if over barrels and through a hoop of
flame, and then skipped his way past security people.
A few minutes later Nelson came in as Mike was getting
ready to step in the shower, which he delayed for a few
minutes. Mike liked the smell of Kurt on him, shit and
all. By the time Mike finished his shower, Nelson was
already in bed, covers pulled up to his chin. "So, did
Kurt fuck you?" he asked.
"No, in fact, he didn't, if you must know, I fucked
him." A streak of jealousy pierced Nelson's being, the
same kind he felt with his girlfriends when they showed
interest in other men.
But, he controlled his feelings this time, since they
were for a guy and logic told him he didn't want to get
involved with Mike anyway. Kurt's short strong body did
not have the same effect on Nelson as it did most
people, and he couldn't understand why Mike was excited
over him. He was too loud and cocky for one thing,
Nelson thought.
Although sex was exciting, Mike had his compulsory
figure competition the next day, and nothing was more
important. It was as if sex made a good diversion from
the constant pressure of thinking about the Olympics,
the years of training leading to these few days.
For Kurt Hilgarth, Mike had been more than a diversion.
Nineteen years old and still living at home in
Innsbruck, Kurt had very few sexual experiences. He met
no one of interest at the University, and there were
only a few surreptitious couplings, Kurt playing the top
man, with guys like Henk, a married Dutch speed skater
he saw only during competitions.
Kurt found Henk attractive but felt guilty about fucking
him, knowing he was married. Henk was kind but made it
clear that it was more a compulsion with him, to have
men once and while, or be HAD by a man once and a while,
and that it wasn't going to interfere with his marriage.
Kurt went back to his room and couldn't sleep for 2
hours thinking of Mike's smell and the feel of his dick
inside him, which left a pleasant soreness as a
reminder. He drew out his huge cock and jerked off
thinking of Mike inside him. In the morning he wrote a
short note, self conscious of his English, but knowing
he had to write something.
-----------------------------------------
Dear Mike,
Last night was fantastic. I think of you
often. I can't sleep for wanting you and
hope you feel something for me and like
me a little at least.
Sincerely, Kurt
-----------------------------------------
When Mike read the note, just before he went to
breakfast, it made him glow inside and the colors around
him seemed more intense. Suddenly being in the Olympics
was something to be savored and no matter how he did in
the competition, he'd have the pleasant memory of Kurt.
He thought he'd better keep his head and concentrate on
the figure competition, but without missing out on the
excitement of just being there.
People who'd drawn numbers before him were completing
their first figure and Mike laced his skates carefully,
thinking of every element of the back change loop he had
to skate as his first figure. When he got on the ice, he
looked at the sparse audience, some of whom were
spectators who couldn't get tickets to the free skating,
and had to settle for watching people trace figure
eights. Mike would have felt a little sympathy for them
ordinarily, but his mind was on the back change loop
figure only.
Mike thought of Kurt for a second, and took a deep
breath before stepping on the ice. He didn't have
anything to lose really, he was "just one of the skaters
people don't notice," he kept telling himself. The first
figure was skated and he knew it was good by the look on
his coaches face. It was ranked 7th out of the 22
skaters and coach Pudesco was beaming as if Mike had
already won a gold medal.
The next two figures were more characteristic and pulled
his overall score back to 12th place, but he couldn't
help feeling overjoyed that there were 10 skaters behind
him. His forte was free skating and the short program
was the next day, and if skated well, would surely
position him in the top ten. Walking down a dank hallway
toward the locker room, Mike felt a hand touch his
shoulder and looked over to find Kurt at his side.
Kurt put both his arms in a bear hug around Mike and
lifted him up off his feet saying "way to go!"
"Put me down you animal," Mike said laughing. Arms
around each other's shoulders, they headed down the hall
together.
At lunch in the dining hall, they found a corner table
with some Russian cross-country skiers who didn't speak
any English or care about meeting them.
"I got your note," Mike began slowly, as he watched a
look of anxious anticipation come over Kurt's face, "and
want to thank you," he continued, as he put his hand
under the table and pet Kurt's inner thigh. Kurt smiled
at first but then frown as he realized he was getting a
voluminous erection. Kurt grabbed the hand and said,
"Stop that, or I'm going to make the table go up, you
know with my dick."
Mike laughed and thought of the table rising toward the
ceiling. In the raucous clatter of the dining hall, they
talked about their families and childhoods. Mike was
surprised that Kurt had grown up as an only child, and
not surrounded by friends, but still alone, like he'd
been in Lake Placid.
Back in Kurt's room, Mike sat on his lap and they kissed
affectionately as he eyed a clock on the table for a
moment. Mike had practice in a short while and Kurt had
his first race that evening, the first of three. Both
wanting to conserve energy, they stopped feeling each
other's bodies and just looked into one another's eyes,
satiating an emotional thirst they'd both suffered from.
Mike broke the silence with, "What's it like having such
a huge cock? as he placed his hand on Kurt's growing
crotch.
"Ha, I don't know, it has always been with me... what's
it like having such blue eyes?" Kurt countered, touching
Mike's cheekbone and mimicking the same tone of voice
Mike used in his question.
Mike noticed his eyes in the mirror and although he
liked their blue color, he saw nothing special in them.
However, other people, even passers by, often found them
startlingly blue and some even thought he had a special
power to see things, like a seer might.
"For speed skating, my dick is no good," Kurt began,
wrinkling his brow and reflecting on it for a moment as
if it were a serious philosophical question, "it is like
a suitcase I have to carry between my legs and it not
helps me to skate. I think all the best speed skaters
carry small baggage," he added.
Kurt had often felt insecure about himself because some
men would look at his crotch before they would look at
his face. On the street, he wore pants that were baggy
so people would not stare. For speed skating, he found
all forms of athletic support to create a cramping
feeling and early on he discovered the only solution was
to wear nothing at all under his tights, although even
that was not completely comfortable. So it showed more-
he knew he was envied and it's no different than a girl
with big tits-sometimes there's not much you can do to
hide.
Kurt's first race, the 500 meter, was not his best event
and he finished in 7th place which was 2 places higher
than he expected since the American seated above him
fell, having had to cope with news of his sister's death
earlier in the day. Dan Jensen's family tragedy helped
Kurt's place standing. Kurt's best event was yet to come
and he knew he had a remote chance at a medal, he just
didn't want to think about it too much, there were many
factors. He wanted Mike to be there and since it was 3
hours before he had to skate his short program in figure
skating, Mike agreed to come.
"Kurt looks so hot in his green skating tights" Mike
thought as he watched Kurt nervously waiting for his
race to begin. He was one of the last to skate and but
when the gun sounded, he exploded off the starting line,
a little out of control at first. Mike felt as though he
were inside Kurt again, as much as he did the night
before, only this time he was skating for him. When he
crossed the finish line his time flashed on the board
and he'd won the bronze medal.
Kurt was ecstatic and enthusiastically extending his
hand to skaters who wanted to shake it. The Austrian
coach was in tears since it had been several years since
Austria had won any medals in speed skating. Too far
away from Kurt to get down near him quickly, Mike was
stuck up in the stands while the last few skaters
finished the race.
At the medal ceremony, the silver medal winning East
German looked sad in contrast to the smiling Kurt, who
looked like he'd just won five gold medals instead of a
bronze. The medal ceremony wasn't shown on American TV,
since an American didn't win a medal, and it took some
fancy camera work for Kirk's dick not to dominate the
screen.
Kurt was looking for Mike in the audience and finally
their eyes met, Mike biting his lip with excitement and
joy for Kurt, and partly in anxiety-his short program
was only a few hours away. Many European newscasters and
journalists were very much interested in interviewing
Kurt, and Mike had to fight his way through the throng
to shake his hand.
A German reporter asked Kurt a question and Mike slipped
away to head for dinner, so he would have energy to
skate the evening's short program. He met Nelson in the
dining hall and told him about Kurt's bronze medal.
Halfway through his meal of turkey-tetrazini on toast
points, Kurt came swaggering in, accompanied by a few
Austrian and German speed skaters who were basking in
his limelight, hoping some good fortune would rub off on
them.
Winning the bronze medal puts an athlete in the
statistics books but it doesn't mean any riches in
product endorsements. Many skaters wouldn't be happy
with anything less than gold.
"Where did you go?" Kurt asked Mike when he finally
located him. Mike explained that he didn't think Kurt
would get away for hours with all the fans mobbing him.
Kurt grabbed Mike's arm and lead him into the bathroom,
where he turned and put his arms around his neck,
kissing him without regard for anyone lurking in a
toilet stall. "I love you Mike," he said without
hesitation.
"Oh come on Kirk," Mike said holding himself back for a
moment, wanting to believe he meant it, "That's just the
bronze medal in you talking."
"No, No, no, nein, it isn't, Kurt said convincingly, "I
love you and I want to have your baby," he said as he
grabbed Mike's crotch. They both howled as the sound of
their laughter ricocheted off the tile walls. They
returned to the table happy, looking like they'd both
won the Olympics.
In contrast to the simplicity and excitement of the race
for gold in the speed skating oval, the atmosphere in
the Saddledome was thick with tension for the men's
short program. Brian Orifiz hadn't kept skating for 4
years, since his second place finish in the last
Olympics, only come in second again. He kept pacing back
and forth, walkman playing his therapeutic distraction
music.
Boichaser had the lead after figures and everyone who
had seen his sensational short program in the U.S.
Nationals knew he could conceivably do it again and
cause the final long program to be a heated face-off.
The focus was heavily on the two Brians and Mike and
other skaters felt relief that they didn't have the
extra pressure of publicity and expectations.
Mike was the 4th skater of the evening, as he skated to
the center of the ice, feeling unreal at the wave of
applause that greeted him, mostly from Americans who
considered him one of theirs even though he represented
Venezuela, knowing that he grew up in the U.S. The sound
of Ravel's Daphnis and Chloe Suite No. 2 filled the
arena as Mike closed his eyes and concentrated on the
sequence leading to his first jump combination. His
turns felt smooth on the newly cleaned pristine ice that
had not been chewed up by skaters before him. His triple
jump combination made the audience gasp as he threw the
second jump way into the air and seemed to hang in space
for a few seconds before landing.
However, a triple Loop is only of moderate difficulty in
the array of skating tricks and unless he jumped ten
feet off the ice, it would never compare with the triple
Axels of the top skaters.
While entering one of his camel spins, the audience held
its breath as he stumbled by catching a toe rake in the
ice, but recovered sufficiently to execute the spin
well. A high death drop and it was over. Waiting for his
marks, he stood in front of a TV camera and as the first
set came up, all hovering in the 5.0 range for technical
merit, the audience booed.
When the artistic impression scores flashed on the
board, the audience's reaction quickly changed as he
received all 5.7s for artistic impression, except for
the American judge who gave him a 5.6. Mike felt like
jumping up and down when the high artistic scores were
displayed but instead tried to smile in an acceptable
way for the millions who might be watching on
television, if it were being shown live.
As he was leaving the arena on his way to the dressing
room, Coach Pudesco's arm around his shoulder, Mike
could hear Dick Button's voice mumbling in the
background as another skater was ready to begin his
program. JoJo Starcluck, pair skater from back in the
early 70's, stop to congratulate him on his way down the
hall, and told him perkily, "and you made live ABC
coverage Mike!"
An hour later, in the final group, Boichaser and Orifiz
came out and skated spectacular routines to remain neck
and neck going into the long program the following
evening. Mike was 8th in the short program which brought
him up to 10th place overall.
"I wish it was over," Mike told Kurt when they reached
his room after the competition, "I'd be happy to finish
in 10th place overall" he thought as he sighed and
thought how glad he was not to be one of the Brians.
"When are we going to have a chance to sleep together?"
Mike asked Kurt in a plaintive tone not expecting an
answer. He knew that it would all be over for both of
them tomorrow night and they could start enjoying the
Olympics and each other. Mike walked Kurt out the door
just as Nelson was coming in to go to bed.
Nelson's regular breathing during sleep soothed Mike as
he listened to it, still wide awake at 2 a.m. He
couldn't get the idea of doing a quadruple jump out of
his mind. No skater had ever landed one cleanly in
competition, although Boichaser had tried in the past,
and he was known for doing them easily in practice. Only
one skater in the competition was attempting one, a
Canadian boy who was not in the running for a medal
therefore had nothing to risk.
In practice a few weeks before, Mike had landed his
first and only quadruple, a quadruple toe-loop, and he
thought of the furor that it would cause, if he, a
nobody in 10th place, landed one in the Olympic finals.
After deciding to talk it over with coach Pudesco in the
morning, Mike finally turned over and went to sleep.
"Sure, if you want to try it, go ahead, why not, but
only if you feel you can do it" Pudesco said, scratching
his head in delighted amazement that his black sheep
Venezuelan might rise to the occasion and go down in
skating history. Pudesco knew better than to try to hold
a bucking stallion by the reins and so far, Mike had
already done better than his highest expectations.
Mike did not try the quad in practice that afternoon
saying that it might make him change his mind, and after
all, he didn't want to injure himself trying something
new in practice. He hurried off to watch Kurt's final
race. Kurt placed 12th in his last race, but was happy.
His times were good, and he had a bronze medal. Only a
small proportion of Olympic competitors go home with any
medal.
"Well Liebchen," Kurt said to Mike before going to his
seat in the athlete's section of the arena, "I love you
baby, and I'll wait for you by this door over here" Kurt
said pointing to an exit door. Mike was on his own now,
this long program would be his last hurdle. There were 2
groups of six skaters that went before him and he wanted
to watch a few of the first skaters, just to get a feel
of the full arena.
Kurt brushed past Dorothy Hambone on his way to his seat
and she leaned over and said in a low voice, "Is it as
big as they say?" Kurt looked at her and whispered, "You
will never know" as she broke out in good natured
laughter as he continued to his seat.
Backstage, the minutes dragged by for Mike as he started
to think about his mother, and how he wished she were
alive to be there to see him skate. Being gay, or being
straight-it wouldn't have mattered to her. She would
have loved him as he is no matter what his sexual
preference. Since green was her favorite color and she
said it always looked good against his creamy brown
skin, Mike wore green in all competitions. He thought
about his costume, and smiled as he thought of Kurt in
his green speed skating tights, which of course, was the
Austrian uniform in speed skating for the Olympics.
The long program competition in progress, Mike went into
the locker room and started getting prepared in a
ritualistic manner. First taking his clothes off, he put
on his special supportive underwear, green in color, so
they wouldn't show through his green pants. The dark
green silk shirt fit his body loosely, although it was
held in by high waisted pants which showed off his long
legs and beautiful ass. He fastened the straps of his
pants underneath his skates and headed out for the warm
up, which was to begin in fifteen minutes.
The skaters ranked from 6th place to 10th, on the basis
of the combined score from figures and short program,
were ready to take to the ice for their warm up. Mike
had drawn numbers and he was second to skate, right
after George Canby, the Canadian skater who would be
attempting a quadruple toe-loop jump.
Coach Pudesco arranged to tell Mike whether Canby had
completed the jump successfully by giving him a hand
signal as Mike came out to enter the ice. If Canby had
made it, Mike didn't want to risk it. But if Canby blew
it...
George Canby did not complete the rotations of his
quadruple toe loop and the rest of his program, which
included a bad fall, threatened to lower him from 6th
place. Also in the next to the last group with Mike were
two Americans, Paul Whileaway and Christopher Blowman,
both excellent skaters, but it was Mike's turn now.
An exchanged glance with Coach Pudesco, his palm turned
toward the ice showed Mike that Mark had not completed
his quad toe-loop. The audience roared as Mike skated to
the center of the ice, waiting for his music to start.
Kurt swallowed hard as Mike's name was being announced
over the loud speaker, as Dorothy Hambone looked over at
him and smiled, feeling delighted that she knew a
secret, that Kurt was there to watch Mike.
It was written in every tense line of Kurt's face. A
trumpet fanfare heralded the wide serpentine sequence of
turns which led to Mike's first jump sequence, a triple-
toe loop followed immediately by another triple toe-
loop.
Dick Button had watched Mike do his triple toe-loop,
triple toe-loop combination in practice and was
announcing it to the audience, "You know Jim, this
Venezuelan boy has a lot of style, but his technique is
just not up to par with the top skaters... he will be
opening with the same jump combination Debbie Tumors
opens with in her long program and let's see how he does
it."
"Just imagine what Venezuela thinks of this young man,
how proud they must be Dick" Jim said, reading from his
script of mindless chatter.
Mike felt an enormous tension building in his legs as he
made the turn from forward to backward in his approach
curve for his first triple toe loop. The curve felt just
right, fast, and he decided right there that if the
landing on his first triple was okay, he'd throw himself
into a quadruple with all his strength. Toe pick pole
vaulting him neatly into the air for his first triple,
Dick Button murmured "nice" into the microphone and then
with a burst of energy, in attempt to get all the height
necessary to complete all 4 rotations of the quadruple
toe-loop.
Mike threw himself high into the air, pulling in his
arms swiftly, and landed on one foot after completing
all four rotations, the first person to do so in any
competition. As he landed he knew he'd done it because
the sound of his music had been replaced by a deafening
roar coming from the audience. Like a tidal wave, he
rode the sound into his next sequence which was a
comparatively pedestrian double Axel followed by a
flying camel spin.
Dick Button stammered and stuttered for a few seconds
until he realized fully what he'd just seen. "I don't
believe it," he said to the live viewers at home, "this
boy has just done something no one has ever
accomplished, a quadruple toe-loop, and I didn't even
know it was in his program!"
"Not only did he do a quadruple toe-loop, he did it in
the exquisitely difficult combination out of a triple
toe loop... It was simply divine and totally unheard of,
I mean never seen before... just gorgeous..." Dick
continued, violating his self imposed taboo on using
words like "divine" and "exquisite" in his commentary.
Jim Macaw chimed in with an idiotic, "But what does this
mean Dick, does he have a chance for a medal?" As Dick
was explaining that no, even perfect marks could not
pull a person from 10th place into 3rd, unless the top
skater did "very poorly, very poorly" Dick repeated as
Jim said "very poorly" like a parrot in training.
Finally, after a minute into his program the din began
to settle down and Mike found his place with the music.
Several fans were still on their feet and Dorothy
Hambone was clapping her hands and saying over and over
to her husband, "I don't believe it, I just don't
believe it!"
Kurt felt a surge of excitement, brought on largely by
the audience who was making more noise than anything
he'd ever expected at a figure skating event, and
realized that Mike had done something extraordinary in
his opening jump. People around him were saying the word
"quadruple" and Kurt realized that Mike must have done
the first one ever.
Going into a triple flip jump, Mike became twisted in
the air and fell off his landing edge, skidding on his
ass toward the barrier. The audience "ooohed" in
sympathy but he got up in one smooth motion, and after
just making history in his triple- quadruple
combination, he almost didn't notice he fell. Another
slip caused him to double out of a triple Salchow and a
minute later he did the same with a triple Loop.
"This will effect his score," Dick said, still very
excited about the quadruple, "but who cares about scores
when you are headed for the history books."
"I'll say," Jim chimed in, picking up on Dick's
uncontained excitement.
Mike ended his program with a well- centered scratch
spin and the audience was on its feet. Taking several
bows to the tremendous ovation, there was a delay before
the next competitor could get on the ice, Christopher
Blowman. Before leaving the ice, while taking his bows
to a tremendous ovation, Mike held both his arms in the
air and looked up to where Kurt was sitting and said to
himself out loud, "I did it, I did it."
Mike's scores were high enough to pull him into 5th
place. After Brian Boichaser accepted his gold medal, he
skated to the side of the ice where Mike was standing,
and raised Mike's arm for everyone to see. Boichaser was
quite a sportsman to relinquish part of his moment of
deserved glory to an unknown Venezuelan competitor. In
the news for the next few days, film clips of the 2
Brians would be followed by 10 seconds of Mike Velez
performing the first quadruple jump in competition.
"Mike Velez, the dual national Venezuelan who came out
of nowhere to capture the spirit of these Olympic
games," the announcer said, happy to have a sunny story
to report.
Mike had to push through the crowd to get to the door
where he knew Kurt was waiting. Finally he got up to
him, through many people. "Look, I'll meet you back in
my room, in an hour or so, when this is all over."
Most of the reporters were gathered around Brian
Boichaser but the people from the foreign press, as well
as members of the skating world who couldn't get close
to Boichaser, came up to get a look at Mike, and to
congratulate him. It seemed like a dream and Mike, all
of a sudden, wanted to be alone for a few minutes. He
thought of his mother and what this would have meant to
her.
Students back at Potsdam were planning a Michael Velez
day while Mike's father was receiving calls from people
he didn't know, asking for interviews. He hadn't even
been watching the TV, as Mike suspected. Under the
circumstances, realizing that his faggot son was a hero,
he rose to the occasion and pretended that he had been
following Mike's skating enthusiastically all along.
Several people watching at the bar in Lake Placid, were
surprised to hear that Joe Velez even had a son, let
alone that he was now an Olympic record holder.
Nelson fell during his first downhill run and was almost
happy he didn't have to finish with a time that was much
slower than other competitors. He was anxious to get
back to Aspen where his father had promised him he'd buy
him a new sports car, no matter how he finished.
Spot lights glare on an empty patch of ice as Kurt
emerges in a pair of white tights, a pack of white
poodles scampering along at his heels. He circles the 10
barrels that are placed in the center of the ice as the
music builds dramatically. The poodles try to keep up
with him but keep slipping. They take short cuts through
the center, much to the audience's amusement.
Then as Kurt takes his leap over the barrels, the
poodles jump on top of them and hop from barrel to
barrel to meet their trainer who is waiting to make his
entrance behind the curtain. Trainer and dogs come out
and the dogs perform a precision routine where they jump
through hoops and over each other, and through the
hollow barrels. A large hoop is set a flame and hung
over the barrels as Kurt skates out again, lights
lowered this time, spotlights causing the sequins on his
black costume to glitter. A drum roll begins and Kurt
jumps over the barrels and through the hoop, his three
minutes of skating completed for the night, done for the
salary of $35,000 a year.
Festive island music fills the arena as forty skaters
come on in feathered South Seas-via-Hollywood costumes,
shaking and dancing across the ice to the rhythm of
jungle drums. A pirate appears and scares away the
merry-making islanders, but soon he's challenged by
Errol Flynn in the form of Mike Velez.
After an extended sword fighting sequence, both men
skating and skidding around the ice, Mike runs his
opponent through at a climactic moment and skates a
dynamic victor's solo as the islanders gyrate joyously
in the background. The number has been carefully planned
to bring the audience to a fever pitch for Mike's
arrival, and when he skates, the audience swoons. Mike
finishes his number to thunderous applause and heads for
his dressing room to change into another costume for his
final number of the evening.
The South American tour of Holiday on Ice netted twice
as much money compared with the previous year, all
because of Mike Velez. He took his already excellent
style and turned it into something blatantly sexual. His
acting ability to play macho roles to the hilt, rare in
most male skaters, exuded a sexuality that drove
audiences wild.
"We've got to talk about this" Mike turned to Kurt, who
was peeling off his eyeliner, his part in the show
finished for the evening. Kurt's contract for a solo act
was not renewed for the following year since he refused
to go to one of the European divisions and perform his
barrel jumping act there, without Mike. The show offered
Mike a raise of a hundred thousand dollars, making his
yearly salary three hundred thousand, if he'd stay on
for a second year and repeat the South American tour,
where he was most popular.
Mike didn't want to see Kurt return to Innsbruck, and he
knew Kurt was getting a tired of barrel jumping. He
wanted to find the words to tell Kurt that he wanted him
to stay with him on the tour. "It's all because of you
Kurt, that I had the guts to try a quad in the first
place," Mike said. "You know," he continued, "if I
hadn't done that one jump, I probably wouldn't have been
noticed by anyone and if I'd gotten in a show at all, I
would have been at the bottom of the barrel, making what
Gina makes, twenty-two a year."
Kurt sat listening, nodding his head, hoping to hear
what he wanted to hear.
Mike said in a matter of fact tone, "Even for the three
hundred thousand Kirk baby, I can't do it without you
here."
Kurt let his breath out in relief. "Okay then, I'll
stay," he said.
During their second year in South America with Holiday
on Ice, Mike was still a popular figure with the crowds
that came to see the show, and many came specifically to
see Mike Velez, one of their own, in the show. Kurt was
happy, using his free time to read about the culture of
the various South American cities through which they
traveled.
Even the dogs, now doodling their way around in a
European tour, were happy, because they never liked
sharing their act with Kurt in the first place. Mike and
Kurt left the show a year later and bought a house
together in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where they started a
bicycle business.
THE END
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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 17