CUT: Part 10

The hot tub sat tucked around the side of the house on a low patio near the end of the driveway. Leo had used it once before, back in spring when Milt dragged the team out for posing practice. To his delight, it was still filled, water bubbling and steaming as he popped the cover off. Thick clouds of vapor rolled up into the night air.

He peeled the white FUCK jockstrap down his massive thighs in one slow tug. The fabric dragged over the thick root of his soft cock before it swung free—heavy and long. He stepped in gingerly, water swallowing his tree-trunk legs, then his hips, until the surface lapped at the bottom of his abdominals. Patio lights carved every ridge and vein in perfect relief: olive skin gleaming wet, lats flaring like wings, treasure trail arrowing straight down into the dark water where his enormous cock floated lazily, already thickening.

He hit play on the Walkman, rock music pounding through the headphones, and sank back, muscular arms draped along the edge. Bodybuilding team bullshit didn’t matter much to him—his physique was pure genetic gift, a 280-pound Italian masterpiece that stayed carved with almost no effort. He closed his eyes and let the heat melt everything else away.

Voices drifted somewhere in the distance. He ignored them.

After a while the heat became too much. He opened his eyes, pushed himself up onto the edge, water streaming down the deep grooves of his abs. His huge cock hung over the rim—thick, veiny, now harder from the warmth, slit already weeping a slow bead of pre.

He looked off into the dark. A short distance down the driveway, a tall figure stood against a tree, back turned. Wide, muscular slab of a back under a tight green tee, blue cap pulled low over red hair, jeans stretched obscenely over thickly muscled legs and a round, powerful ass. Leo’s dick gave a hard twitch against his thigh.

The figure turned, shaking the last drops of urine from a truly monstrous cock—long, thick, uncut, hanging heavy between those linebacker thighs. They locked eyes.

Leo wrapped a hand around his own thickening shaft and gave it a slow, deliberate stroke—open invitation.

The other man smirked, tucked himself away, and started walking toward the patio.

When he arrived Leo reached out a wet hand. 

“Freddie,” the redhead gruffed, voice deep and rough. “I’m the unlucky bastard who has to follow Gusto Tormenta around with a camera all day.”

“Leo Russo. Bodybuilding team.” Leo grinned wide, eyes already roaming. “So you’re stuck with Gusto, huh? I’ve seen the way he preens on TV. Should just tether a rolling mirror to his ankle—he’d never notice the difference and he’d probably love it more.”

Freddie laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made Leo’s cock jump again. His green eyes dragged down Leo’s body—taking in the soaked olive skin, the way water ran in rivulets over every carved ridge of his pecs, the way Leo’s hand still lazily stroked his own leaking shaft.

“You want some company in there?” Freddie asked, voice already thicker.

Leo nodded, slow and hungry. “Fuck yes.”

Freddie didn’t waste time. He stripped fast—green tee peeled off to reveal a linebacker chest, heavy pecs dusted with red, nipples dark and stiff in the cool air. Jeans dropped next, revealing thick thighs and that massive cock swinging free again, already plumping up fast, veins thick and proud along it’s swelling 11.5” inches. He kept the Yankees cap on. Naked except for that, he stood in the moonlight like a god carved from meat and muscle.

Leo let out a long, appreciative whistle. “Jesus, dude—you should be on our fucking team.”

Freddie stepped into the water, the surface rising around his hips, cock floating heavy and half-hard between them.

Leo slid closer, water swirling, until their knees bumped under the surface.

“Fuck,” Leo breathed, hand already reaching out to wrap around Freddie’s thickening length. “We’re gonna have some fun.”

Freddie’s big hand closed around Leo’s cock in return—slow, firm, stroking once from root to tip.

Leo’s hand tightened around Freddie’s thickening shaft under the water, thumb sliding over the slick head as the foreskin peeled back fully. Freddie groaned low, hips bucking forward instinctively, green eyes half-lidded under the brim of his cap.

“Fuck, man,” Freddie rumbled, voice gravelly with heat. “You got big mitts—feels good.”

Leo grinned, water lapping at his pecs. “Wait’ll you feel my mouth, big red.”

He didn’t wait for permission. Leo sank lower in the tub, steam curling around his dark hair as he leaned in. His full lips wrapped around the fat head of Freddie’s cock—slow at first, tongue swirling the slit, tasting salt and chlorine—then took more, cheeks hollowing as he swallowed half the 11.5-inch length in one go.

Freddie’s head tipped back, a deep, manly growl rolling out of his chest. “Goddamn, Russo—suck that dick like you mean it.”

Leo hummed around the shaft, the vibration making Freddie’s thick thighs tense. He bobbed deeper, throat relaxing to take more, nose brushing the red treasure trail as water sloshed around them. One hand cupped Freddie’s heavy balls, rolling them gently, the other braced on a linebacker quad that flexed hard under his palm.

“Shit—yeah, just like that,” Freddie grunted, big hand tangling in Leo’s wet hair, guiding but not forcing. “You’re a greedy bastard, ain’t ya?”

Leo pulled off with a wet pop, grinning up through steam. “Takes one to know one, cameraman. Now get that big cock back in my throat.”

Freddie laughed—rough, appreciative—and fed it back in. Leo took it eagerly, sucking hard, head bobbing faster, water splashing over the tub’s edge with every thrust of Freddie’s hips.

After a few minutes of sloppy, hungry head, Freddie hauled Leo up by the shoulders, pulling him into a bruising kiss—tongues battling, tasting himself on Leo’s lips.

“Let’s see if your other hole is up to snuff,” Freddie growled against Leo’s mouth. He spun the Italian stud around in the water, pressing that broad, hairy chest to Leo’s wet back. One thick arm banded across Leo’s pecs, pinching a dark nipple, while the other guided his slick cock between those perfect olive glutes.

Leo pushed back with a cocky chuckle. “Do it, big man. Fuck this ass like you mean it.”

Freddie didn’t ease in—he thrust forward hard, burying half his length in one go. Leo’s deep moan echoed across the patio, head dropping forward, hair dripping as his hole clenched around the invasion.

“Fuck—tight as hell,” Freddie grunted, pulling back and slamming home, balls slapping wetly against Leo’s. Water surged over the edges with every powerful drive, the tub rocking under their combined weight.

“Give it to me, red—pound that hole,” Leo barked, voice rough, pushing back to meet every thrust. His own massive cock bobbed untouched under the surface, leaking steadily into the churning water.

The thickly muscled cameraman obliged, hips snapping like pistons—hard, deep, relentless. His free hand roamed Leo’s body, gripping a thick pec, slapping the wet muscle of his ass, fingers digging into the V of his obliques. “Take it, you cocky fuck—gonna breed this perfect muscle ass.”

Leo laughed through moans, the sound turning into a growl. “Do it, stud—fill me up. Make me feel that big dick for days.”

Freddie’s hips snapped forward with relentless power, water churning violently around them as he pounded into Leo from behind. The big redhead’s thick arms banded across Leo’s chest, pinning him against the tub’s edge, every thrust driving that 11.5-inch cock deep into Leo’s clenching ass. Steam swirled thick in the night air, patio lights casting golden glows over their sweat-slicked muscle—Freddie’s hairy pecs heaving against Leo’s broad back, Leo’s own massive cock slapping untouched against his quads with each brutal impact.

“Fuck yeah—take it, Russo,” Freddie growled in Leo’s ear, voice rough and commanding. “This ass is gripping me like a vice.”

Leo moaned loud, head thrown back, hair plastered to his forehead. “Pound me, big man—wreck this hole—”

Suddenly, every light on the patio snapped off at once. The garage floodlights, the house windows, the soft glow of the tub jets—all gone. Darkness swallowed them, broken only by faint moonlight filtering through the clouds.

Leo tensed immediately. “Whoa—hold up. Lights just went out. We should check that shit—”

Freddie didn’t slow. If anything, he thrust harder, one meaty hand clamping over Leo’s mouth playfully. “Fuck checking. I’m balls-deep in the hottest ass I’ve ever had—I’m cumming first, pretty boy.”

Leo laughed breathlessly despite the unease crawling up his spine. “Greedy bastard.” He pushed back harder, clenching deliberately around Freddie’s shaft. “Then make it quick, fucker. Breed me.”

Freddie snarled approval, pace turning savage—hips slamming, water splashing over the edges in waves. His free hand gripped Leo’s thick pec, twisting a dark nipple until Leo’s moans turned desperate. The friction, the heat, the raw power—it pushed Leo over the edge first. His massive cock jerked untouched, spurting thick ropes of cum into the churning water, hands-free, body shuddering as pleasure ripped through him.

“That’s it—milk my dick,” Freddie roared, thrusts erratic now. He buried deep one final time, a guttural bellow tearing from his throat as he unloaded—hot, heavy pulses flooding Leo’s ass. The sound was primal, almost a scream echoing across the dark lawn.

Then—silence. Freddie’s weight sagged forward, heavy and suddenly limp against Leo’s back.

Leo panted, grinning at first. “Goddamn, big man… you trying to crush me?”

No answer. Just dead weight.

A cold prickle raced down Leo’s spine. He twisted, looking back, trying to see in the moonlight.

Freddie’s lifeless eyes stared past him, a knife impaled in the side of his neck, blood pouring down his hairy chest in thick streams. The big redhead’s body slumping forward, cock softening inside Leo but unmoving—dead.

Standing beside him, at the edge of the tub, ventriloquist-doll-mask leering in the moonlight, was Hollowface. The killer’s gloved hand gripped the hunting knife buried in Freddie’s throat.

With casual strength, Hollowface yanked the blade free in a wet spray of red. He shoved Freddie’s corpse backwards—disengaging the dead cock from Leo with a slick pop—and the big cameraman toppled backwards into the water, blood blooming like ink around him.

Leo’s scream caught in his throat. He scrambled forward over the tub’s edge, water cascading off his naked muscle as he vaulted out. Feet hit wet stone, slipped once, then found purchase.

He ran.

Bare, panicked, heart exploding in his chest, Leo sprinted across the dark lawn—olive skin gleaming with water and sweat, massive cock swinging heavy between his thighs, glutes flexing with every desperate stride. Behind him, the spectre of Hollowface, bloody knife glinting in the moonlight, was in hot pursuit.