Xena Versus The Spartans
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SX-files Part I free porn video
WASHINGTON, D.C.
MAY 12, 1994
1145 EST
When Wolfe Muldrew, Special Agent in charge of the FBI’s Strange Experiences Division, otherwise known as the SX-files, received the phone call from Mattheau Patine, he was pleased and surprised. He hadn’t heard from Matt since they had broke-up a few years ago. Wolfe had wanted it to be an amicable parting, but Mattheau had been hurt and bitter. He had heard that Mattheau had a new lover, he hoped he was happy.
Mattheau said he needed to see Wolfe on an urgent, personal matter. Could they meet some place? Wolfe suggested his office.
When Mattheau arrived two hours later, he was accompanied by a heavyset, distraught looking man he introduced as George Pine, his lover.
Wolfe bade them to sit and without preamble Mattheau began to speak.
“Wolfe, I’m sorry to call you out of the blue like this, but since you’re in charge of the FBI’s SX-files, I thought you should hear what happened to George last week.”
Wolfe looked the anxious looking man over. He was approximately the same size and build as Wolfe, with a little more gray in his hair. They were both approximately 5'9", in the high 200 pound range, with thick arms, legs, chests and especially bellies. Mattheau had always liked older, heavyset men. In fact, as Wolfe waited for George as he prepared himself to tell his story, he could see that Mattheau’s mind had already wandered. Knowing the tall, well built, young man as well as he did, he was sure his ex-lover was imagining what it would be like to get both Wolfe and George in bed with him at the same time.
George took a deep breath and hesitantly began his story.
ARLINGTON, VA
APRIL 19,1994
2030 EST
George Pine was on his way home from work when he noticed the brightly lit tavern. He passed this way every evening on his way home for the past five years, but this was the first time he had taken notice of the place. George figured it was because of all the bright neon lighting advertising BUD, MILLER and RED DOG that attracted his attention.
In this neighborhood the bar was more than likely Gay, but even if it wasn’t George figured he could just go in, have a drink or two and then go home and sleep. He had worked late at the office, just catching up on unimportant stuff that he had let slide, because he didn’t want to go home to an empty house. His lover, Mattheau was out of town on business and was expected back tomorrow afternoon. He missed Mattheau a great deal.
Mattheau and George had met a little over a year ago. Staring at himself in the brightly lit tavern window, George was still not sure what Matt saw in him. From the blazing neon glare was reflected the image of a short, overweight, fifty year old accountant, with thinning grey hair. Whatever it was he hoped it would last for while. With a forlorn sigh George pushed open the heavy swinging door and entered the dimly lit tavern.
It was a Wednesday night and the establishment was moderately crowded. George made his way to the small bar across the room. Four men sat at one end of the bar talking to the bartender, a short, stocky, older man with a jovial face who moved down the bar quickly to take George’s order.
“Yes, sir,” he said as if George were an old and valued customer. “What can I get for you?”
The barman had one of those deep gravelly voices that can either come off as intimidating or robustly friendly. George couldn’t help but think how the compact, gruff voiced man would have certainly caught Matt’s eye. He’d have to remember to bring Matt here some night.
Thinking wistfully of his far away lover, George ordered a beer. As the thickset barman drew his order, George noticed that the group at the far end of the bar were watching him, scrutinizing him closely. After his drink was delivered and George had paid and been given his change, the barmen wandered back toward his regulars and they were all soon laughing and having a good time and not paying any attention to him.
But the feeling of being watched persisted. It was such a powerful feeling that it made George feel uncomfortable. Sipping his beer, George looked around the rest of the barroom. Besides the bartender and his cronies at the far end of the room, there were a few other customers sitting at tables s**ttered around the small room. There didn’t seem to be anyone watching him. Was he becoming paranoid? No, he didn’t feel scared or nervous, it just seemed very intense sense of being observed. It made him feel very self conscious.
George felt himself becoming very warm under such fervent observation. He took a gulp of his beer to calm himself, but that seemed to heighten the feeling of heat. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, in fact it felt quite nice. It couldn’t be a buzz from the beer George thought to himself, he’d only had a couple of sips.
The older man noticed a tingling around his calves and ankles. He didn’t know what was happening but it made him feel quite horny. Oh, how he missed his Mattheau. And the tingling sensation changed to that of a tender caress, either by an ardent tongue, or a very warm hand moving up his legs, over his knees to his tensed thighs. He could even feel it in his feet, the warm lascivious sensation crept down along the soles of his feet and up between his toes. He hadn’t felt anything like this since he and Mattheau’s first anniversary.
“What the hell is going on?” George thought to himself, mildly curious. He gripped the edge of the bar as he was overcome by a sensuous thrill. It felt as if sharp fingernails were tracing lightly over his inner thighs, a particularly sensitive spot for George. “This is getting ridiculous.”
The heavyset accountant squirmed in his seat, involuntarily squeezing his legs together, as he felt himself becoming aroused. The men at the other end of the bar didn’t seem to notice his distress. His clothing felt so constricting, right now he wanted to tear his clothes off and let whatever this was have full reign over his body.
George closed his eyes and bit his tongue to keep from crying out as what he could only describe as a tendril, snaked over flesh now rampant with goose bumps, to flicker light as a feather or an errant warm breath against his genitals. George spread his legs wider and squirmed lower on the bar stool. It felt as if several sets of hands and tongues were wandering all over the lower half of his body. His toes, the soles of his feet, his ankles, calves, knees and thighs were all being stimulated at the same time. Not to mention what was happening to his cock, balls and ass. It felt as if someone were tonguing his balls, his prick, which felt as hard and stiff as a steel bar, and his quivering asshole, all at the same time. George could feel the insistent, ephemeral tendrils probing tentatively, but persistently into his pliant hole to massage his prostate.
The feeling was incredible and was still moving higher on his body. With George’s considerable weight, his belt was very snug around his waist, but whatever this was had no trouble weaving its way under the tight band of leather to begin exploring and titillating its way over his expansive belly and chest beneath his shirt. There was not an inch of flesh that was left unstimulated or unaroused. The older man felt as if a thick, hot and wet tongue were sluicing out is cavernous belly button and he would swear that he could feel teeth lightly nipping and sucking at his rigid nipples. His whole body was on fire with desire. But desire for what he couldn’t say.
“What the hell is going on!” one part of his mind now screamed on the edge of panic. While another part just wanted take off all of his clothes, sit back and enjoy it while it lasted.
The troubled part of his mind won out. Snapping his eye open, and gripping the arms of the bar stool George forced himself into an upright position. The boisterous group down at the far end of the bar seemed oblivious to what was happening to the lone patron.
Fighting against the phantom ambiences, the semi-enthralled man leaned heavily on the bar, one hand holding onto the hard, wooden counter for support, the other tentatively feeling along his lower extremities to discover what was m*****ing his body.
He could feel nothing but the firm flesh of his own thick leg, there didn’t seem to be anything else under his clothing, but he could still feel the tantalizing sensations running over his body. Sensations he didn’t want to think about, just relax and savor for the moment.
A movement along the floor suddenly caught George’s attention. Because of the dimness of the tavern, he had not noticed the slender trail of white vapor coiling around the base of his chair. Several small fingers of the mist crept up his pant legs. Watching the carefully directed movements of the vapor, it seemed to the mesmerized accountant that it was alive.
The mist ran like a miniature river along the floor against the base of the bar, not spreading out any wider than 2 or 3 inches at its thickest point. George’s eyes followed the course of the mist back until he lost it in the shadows of the dim bar room, but he was sure it was coming from one of the group of men at the other end of the bar or from one of the tables by the side window beyond them. Someone was indeed watching him, though he couldn’t be seen, and this mist, whatever it was, was part of him.
George was about to cry out in shock when he felt the intensity of the mists stimulation on his body escalate, and what started out as a sharp cry of panic, became a low gasp of elation.
The mist was now exhilarating and stimulating over 90 percent of George’s big body, and wisps were now worming their way out of his shirt collar to explore and pervade his ears, nose and mouth. The older, heavyset man could feel tendrils tickling inside his ear making him quake as thrill after thrill traveled down his spinal column. And what felt like a fairly large phallic like object was invading his mouth. He could feel hard, silky flesh against his tongue and a smooth blunt tip against the back of his throat, but he still had no trouble drawing breath.
All parts of George’s body were being thrilled and mollified at the same time as he was now completely engulfed by the apparition, literally smothered in pleasure. He would drown in sensory overload if this kept up, one part of his mind thought distantly, while another part screamed with pleasure to which he could not give voice as George’s mind, body and soul were rocked by the most intense and complete orgasm of his life.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
MAY 12, 1994
1330 EST
Wolfe Muldrew sat back in his chair staring at George and John stonily and waited. In the silence John leaned forward and rubbed his partner’s shoulders to comfort him. George looked up from the floor to stare back at the sizable government investigator. Finally, Wolfe spoke.
“Sounds to me like one of two possibilities, Mr. Pine,” Wolfe said gravely. “You might have been the victim of either psychic **** or possibly some sort of sexual vampire who fed off your emotions instead of your blood.”
The two men looked at Wolfe in shock, their mouths agape.
“Tell me, Matt, Mr. Pine,” Wolfe continued. “Was there any tell tale evidence left on your body or clothes after the incident?”
George sighed dejectedly, his eyes closing in exasperation and his head dropped to his chest.
“No, Mr. Muldrew,” the two big men now stared eye to eye. “In fact when I had recovered a bit I got out of there and made it home as fast as I could. I stripped off my clothes and checked myself over in the bathroom, there was no residue of the mist, my skin was unblemished, and I know I shot my load in my pants, but there was absolutely no evidence. No crusty patch in my shorts, no smell of spent cum, nothing.”
John suddenly leaned over to George and whispered in his ear. George looked at his companion with a pained expression on his face.
Wolfe was annoyed. If they were going to keep things from him, there was no way he could help them. The big investigator folded his hands across his expansive belly and waited for them to finish and decide weather they were going to trust him implicitly or not.
Though Wolfe was not being completely honest with them either. Another possibility existed. One that if true, would prove to be for more frightening than anything he had ever encountered before.
To be continued.
MAY 12, 1994
1145 EST
When Wolfe Muldrew, Special Agent in charge of the FBI’s Strange Experiences Division, otherwise known as the SX-files, received the phone call from Mattheau Patine, he was pleased and surprised. He hadn’t heard from Matt since they had broke-up a few years ago. Wolfe had wanted it to be an amicable parting, but Mattheau had been hurt and bitter. He had heard that Mattheau had a new lover, he hoped he was happy.
Mattheau said he needed to see Wolfe on an urgent, personal matter. Could they meet some place? Wolfe suggested his office.
When Mattheau arrived two hours later, he was accompanied by a heavyset, distraught looking man he introduced as George Pine, his lover.
Wolfe bade them to sit and without preamble Mattheau began to speak.
“Wolfe, I’m sorry to call you out of the blue like this, but since you’re in charge of the FBI’s SX-files, I thought you should hear what happened to George last week.”
Wolfe looked the anxious looking man over. He was approximately the same size and build as Wolfe, with a little more gray in his hair. They were both approximately 5'9", in the high 200 pound range, with thick arms, legs, chests and especially bellies. Mattheau had always liked older, heavyset men. In fact, as Wolfe waited for George as he prepared himself to tell his story, he could see that Mattheau’s mind had already wandered. Knowing the tall, well built, young man as well as he did, he was sure his ex-lover was imagining what it would be like to get both Wolfe and George in bed with him at the same time.
George took a deep breath and hesitantly began his story.
ARLINGTON, VA
APRIL 19,1994
2030 EST
George Pine was on his way home from work when he noticed the brightly lit tavern. He passed this way every evening on his way home for the past five years, but this was the first time he had taken notice of the place. George figured it was because of all the bright neon lighting advertising BUD, MILLER and RED DOG that attracted his attention.
In this neighborhood the bar was more than likely Gay, but even if it wasn’t George figured he could just go in, have a drink or two and then go home and sleep. He had worked late at the office, just catching up on unimportant stuff that he had let slide, because he didn’t want to go home to an empty house. His lover, Mattheau was out of town on business and was expected back tomorrow afternoon. He missed Mattheau a great deal.
Mattheau and George had met a little over a year ago. Staring at himself in the brightly lit tavern window, George was still not sure what Matt saw in him. From the blazing neon glare was reflected the image of a short, overweight, fifty year old accountant, with thinning grey hair. Whatever it was he hoped it would last for while. With a forlorn sigh George pushed open the heavy swinging door and entered the dimly lit tavern.
It was a Wednesday night and the establishment was moderately crowded. George made his way to the small bar across the room. Four men sat at one end of the bar talking to the bartender, a short, stocky, older man with a jovial face who moved down the bar quickly to take George’s order.
“Yes, sir,” he said as if George were an old and valued customer. “What can I get for you?”
The barman had one of those deep gravelly voices that can either come off as intimidating or robustly friendly. George couldn’t help but think how the compact, gruff voiced man would have certainly caught Matt’s eye. He’d have to remember to bring Matt here some night.
Thinking wistfully of his far away lover, George ordered a beer. As the thickset barman drew his order, George noticed that the group at the far end of the bar were watching him, scrutinizing him closely. After his drink was delivered and George had paid and been given his change, the barmen wandered back toward his regulars and they were all soon laughing and having a good time and not paying any attention to him.
But the feeling of being watched persisted. It was such a powerful feeling that it made George feel uncomfortable. Sipping his beer, George looked around the rest of the barroom. Besides the bartender and his cronies at the far end of the room, there were a few other customers sitting at tables s**ttered around the small room. There didn’t seem to be anyone watching him. Was he becoming paranoid? No, he didn’t feel scared or nervous, it just seemed very intense sense of being observed. It made him feel very self conscious.
George felt himself becoming very warm under such fervent observation. He took a gulp of his beer to calm himself, but that seemed to heighten the feeling of heat. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, in fact it felt quite nice. It couldn’t be a buzz from the beer George thought to himself, he’d only had a couple of sips.
The older man noticed a tingling around his calves and ankles. He didn’t know what was happening but it made him feel quite horny. Oh, how he missed his Mattheau. And the tingling sensation changed to that of a tender caress, either by an ardent tongue, or a very warm hand moving up his legs, over his knees to his tensed thighs. He could even feel it in his feet, the warm lascivious sensation crept down along the soles of his feet and up between his toes. He hadn’t felt anything like this since he and Mattheau’s first anniversary.
“What the hell is going on?” George thought to himself, mildly curious. He gripped the edge of the bar as he was overcome by a sensuous thrill. It felt as if sharp fingernails were tracing lightly over his inner thighs, a particularly sensitive spot for George. “This is getting ridiculous.”
The heavyset accountant squirmed in his seat, involuntarily squeezing his legs together, as he felt himself becoming aroused. The men at the other end of the bar didn’t seem to notice his distress. His clothing felt so constricting, right now he wanted to tear his clothes off and let whatever this was have full reign over his body.
George closed his eyes and bit his tongue to keep from crying out as what he could only describe as a tendril, snaked over flesh now rampant with goose bumps, to flicker light as a feather or an errant warm breath against his genitals. George spread his legs wider and squirmed lower on the bar stool. It felt as if several sets of hands and tongues were wandering all over the lower half of his body. His toes, the soles of his feet, his ankles, calves, knees and thighs were all being stimulated at the same time. Not to mention what was happening to his cock, balls and ass. It felt as if someone were tonguing his balls, his prick, which felt as hard and stiff as a steel bar, and his quivering asshole, all at the same time. George could feel the insistent, ephemeral tendrils probing tentatively, but persistently into his pliant hole to massage his prostate.
The feeling was incredible and was still moving higher on his body. With George’s considerable weight, his belt was very snug around his waist, but whatever this was had no trouble weaving its way under the tight band of leather to begin exploring and titillating its way over his expansive belly and chest beneath his shirt. There was not an inch of flesh that was left unstimulated or unaroused. The older man felt as if a thick, hot and wet tongue were sluicing out is cavernous belly button and he would swear that he could feel teeth lightly nipping and sucking at his rigid nipples. His whole body was on fire with desire. But desire for what he couldn’t say.
“What the hell is going on!” one part of his mind now screamed on the edge of panic. While another part just wanted take off all of his clothes, sit back and enjoy it while it lasted.
The troubled part of his mind won out. Snapping his eye open, and gripping the arms of the bar stool George forced himself into an upright position. The boisterous group down at the far end of the bar seemed oblivious to what was happening to the lone patron.
Fighting against the phantom ambiences, the semi-enthralled man leaned heavily on the bar, one hand holding onto the hard, wooden counter for support, the other tentatively feeling along his lower extremities to discover what was m*****ing his body.
He could feel nothing but the firm flesh of his own thick leg, there didn’t seem to be anything else under his clothing, but he could still feel the tantalizing sensations running over his body. Sensations he didn’t want to think about, just relax and savor for the moment.
A movement along the floor suddenly caught George’s attention. Because of the dimness of the tavern, he had not noticed the slender trail of white vapor coiling around the base of his chair. Several small fingers of the mist crept up his pant legs. Watching the carefully directed movements of the vapor, it seemed to the mesmerized accountant that it was alive.
The mist ran like a miniature river along the floor against the base of the bar, not spreading out any wider than 2 or 3 inches at its thickest point. George’s eyes followed the course of the mist back until he lost it in the shadows of the dim bar room, but he was sure it was coming from one of the group of men at the other end of the bar or from one of the tables by the side window beyond them. Someone was indeed watching him, though he couldn’t be seen, and this mist, whatever it was, was part of him.
George was about to cry out in shock when he felt the intensity of the mists stimulation on his body escalate, and what started out as a sharp cry of panic, became a low gasp of elation.
The mist was now exhilarating and stimulating over 90 percent of George’s big body, and wisps were now worming their way out of his shirt collar to explore and pervade his ears, nose and mouth. The older, heavyset man could feel tendrils tickling inside his ear making him quake as thrill after thrill traveled down his spinal column. And what felt like a fairly large phallic like object was invading his mouth. He could feel hard, silky flesh against his tongue and a smooth blunt tip against the back of his throat, but he still had no trouble drawing breath.
All parts of George’s body were being thrilled and mollified at the same time as he was now completely engulfed by the apparition, literally smothered in pleasure. He would drown in sensory overload if this kept up, one part of his mind thought distantly, while another part screamed with pleasure to which he could not give voice as George’s mind, body and soul were rocked by the most intense and complete orgasm of his life.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
MAY 12, 1994
1330 EST
Wolfe Muldrew sat back in his chair staring at George and John stonily and waited. In the silence John leaned forward and rubbed his partner’s shoulders to comfort him. George looked up from the floor to stare back at the sizable government investigator. Finally, Wolfe spoke.
“Sounds to me like one of two possibilities, Mr. Pine,” Wolfe said gravely. “You might have been the victim of either psychic **** or possibly some sort of sexual vampire who fed off your emotions instead of your blood.”
The two men looked at Wolfe in shock, their mouths agape.
“Tell me, Matt, Mr. Pine,” Wolfe continued. “Was there any tell tale evidence left on your body or clothes after the incident?”
George sighed dejectedly, his eyes closing in exasperation and his head dropped to his chest.
“No, Mr. Muldrew,” the two big men now stared eye to eye. “In fact when I had recovered a bit I got out of there and made it home as fast as I could. I stripped off my clothes and checked myself over in the bathroom, there was no residue of the mist, my skin was unblemished, and I know I shot my load in my pants, but there was absolutely no evidence. No crusty patch in my shorts, no smell of spent cum, nothing.”
John suddenly leaned over to George and whispered in his ear. George looked at his companion with a pained expression on his face.
Wolfe was annoyed. If they were going to keep things from him, there was no way he could help them. The big investigator folded his hands across his expansive belly and waited for them to finish and decide weather they were going to trust him implicitly or not.
Though Wolfe was not being completely honest with them either. Another possibility existed. One that if true, would prove to be for more frightening than anything he had ever encountered before.
To be continued.
Mckenna
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