83 Greek Art Exhibit
Part 1 of 2
Look at this photo of a statue of the gorgeous Greek God Hermes, created by the ancient Greek sculptor Praxiteles 343 B.C. More accurately, the photo shows a recent copy of the aforementioned figure but made of a shiny high-tech chrome material.
Would you say that it's a spectacular piece of art? If you say "yes," you'd be wrong. A figure very much like the one pictured was on display at a museum. Still, it broke, and, in a last-minute emergency switch, a live model, painted silver, posing motionless, was used in its place and actually fooled the exhibit visitors. Impossible? Ridiculous? Well, not so fast. I'll explain.
The Chicago Museum of Ancient Art hosted a special "Greek Statuary of the First Century B.C exhibit." The collection was on tour, making its way across the USA, stopping there for only 10 days. The museum commissioned the modern, metallic, life-size copy of the marble Hermes statue to commemorate and advertise the showing of the ancient collection. Even though the newly crafted figure was not a part of the loaned collection, it immediately became the center of attention to curious visitors and the art media world. This was because its image was used on all the main advertising posters as well as on the expensively produced color brochures. Unintentionally, this newly created facsimile of Hermes generated tremendous public interest in the museum's temporary exhibit.
You don't have to be a connoisseur of art to appreciate it. Anyone can see the precisely etched details in the statue's features. Its popularity might also be because the muscular figure is clearly handsome, youthful, and virile. Its erection looks so real that some visitors actually think they saw precum seeping from the tip of the figure's penis. Since it's life-size, people walk right up to it and are invariably enticed to reach out and touch it, but that is not allowed. I am the security-guard captain, and my nickname is "Chief," it's my job to tell visitors, "No touching, please." Can you blame them for wanting to? Wouldn't you want to grab hold of the steel column of erected manhood, thrusting upward from its loins? Well, you can't.
This is the 10th and final day of this exhibit. The actual metal figure had been on display for nine days. But after the museum closed yesterday, they brought in a couple of forklift trucks to rearrange certain heavy pieces. One of those trucks backed into the Hermes figure, and it fell over and broke in half. It's possible they could have removed it from the exhibit since there was only one day left or, perhaps … displayed the broken remains. But those choices would require that the night crew inform the museum president and the board of directors that their favorite attraction was destroyed. Not only that but what about all the posters and literature that featured this masterpiece that would continue to draw in hordes of visitors today? They would not only be disappointed but quite vocally upset. What about the negative publicity? Who would get fired over this expensive, clumsy mishap?
The night manager, Mr. Winters, chose not to tell anyone that the figure broke last night. He wanted to wait until this final day of the exhibit was over, then report that it broke the day after the exhibit, which would not be as big of a deal; it could then be taken down and repaired.
Mr. Winters had only one day today to worry about. After yesterday evening, he had given this hours of thought and came up with a rather fantastic idea, but he would need a lot of help to pull it off. Winters has a 24-year-old nephew, George, who was a fit, well-toned, amateur, lightweight boxer he wanted to use. The trick was to substitute George for the actual metallic statue. He got this idea from a body-painting art fair he attended last year. Now, I met George a couple of times, and I must say, he's not the sharpest tool in the box; he must have been hit one too many times in the head. But his handsome looks, great muscular physique, and overall appearance made him an ideal choice to match the Hermes statue.
Could a live model stand-in actually fool everyone? Well, consider these points: first, we are only talking about one day; second, the museum ambiance for this exhibit is low-light to present a mystic mood to enhance the ancient-art theme. And third, Mr. Winters asked me to help him pull this off since I'd be right there at the "statue's" side to protect "it" and guard against anyone trying to touch it.
George didn't have to look exactly like the metal sculpture. All we had to do was spray him with silver body-art paint, the type that won't hurt you, and have him stand still in that featured pose. Oh, yes, there is the issue of the perpetual erection, but we'll come up with an idea to resolve that problem … I think. Since the museum opens daily at 10 a.m., we had enough time to discuss the details. Mr. Winters frantically phoned trusted employees during the night, calling in some debts owed to him, and ended up with a small but reliable group of cohorts. The team consisted of me and two other guards; the art director, Paul; Paul's 14-year-old gay son, Tobey; George, the model; and lastly, the forklift operator who caused the accident. Mr. Winters and the forklift operator were the two employees most likely to be fired, so they pooled their money to pay the rest of us $1,000 each for the day.
We all arrived by 5 a.m. through the service entrance and quickly assembled in the infrequently used repair shop of the museum. After about an hour of discussion, the plan was formulated. We all had assigned tasks. I was to be in charge since I'd be at George's side and could best manage our plan in the process; the other two guards were to temporarily clear the room each time George had to stretch or go pee. The forklift operator was to help with the room setup and logistics; Paul was good with art stuff and was the one who would paint up George. Tobey was the innovative, quick-thinking kid we needed to figure out the little stuff, like coming up with a realistic dick-looking dildo, hollowing it out, and securing it over George's actual dick. After all, we had to match the erect image in the ad photos.
"OK then," I said, "Let's get going. George, the hair on your head looks fine, it seems to match the poster image, but you need to disrobe so we can shave off your body hair." Turning to Paul, I said, "I see you brought your spray-paint equipment, but before you set that up, let's get George shaved. Did you bring the shaving gear?" Paul nodded and set the razor, cream, and the other items on the table.
Then George spoke up for the first time, looking at me puzzledly, "'Disk-robe?' Ah … Chief? … Was I supposed to bring some disk-robe?" I smiled back patiently and told him that I meant for him to take his clothes off. He responded, "Oh, yes, Sir, of course, Sir," and immediately stripped down to his briefs.
“OK, so far, so good. Now, pose like this photo of this statue.” George made a half-hearted effort. He was confused. “Good enough, you’ll do fine.”
"Tobey," I said most seriously, "None of this plan will work if you can't find something to secure to George's body so he looks like he has a natural erection. You have my permission to find whatever, do whatever, just, please … succeed, OK?"
Tobey picked up the poster, studied the image of the nude, and then stared at George, posing in briefs, with his arms up. “OK, George, take your shorts off, let’s have a look at all of you. George hesitated then did as requested. He was one shy fellow. I could tell Toby was focusing on George's dick, then back to the photo and back to the dick. Suddenly, his cute little face lit up with a child-like grin, as if he had just opened up a present and saw his new favorite toy.
I pulled Toby aside, "One last thing, Toby, don't tell George about your getting a fake penis glued on him. Let him think he'll be on display as is. I don't want to confuse him further or give him anything to worry about right now. When you glue it on, then he'll know. And we'll have to shave his beard off when we do the body shave."
OK, so I'll admit, trying to use a painted-up, live naked model as a stand-in for a life-size statue of the Greek God Hermes is difficult and tricky. But the six of us agreed to help Mr. Winters carry out this hoax to use his muscled-up nephew, George, as the stand-in. George, a 24-year-old amateur boxer, had a fit body and was willing to let us shave him, spray-paint him silver, and then pose on the museum floor. I'm not saying George is stupid, but I think he was hit in the head too many times. We explained that he'd be naked among many nude Greek figures and artifacts and that visitors would gather around him and even photograph him, believing he was a real statue. "George, the only thing you have to do is remain motionless. That's it. No matter what, you cannot move. Your breathing must be shallow and comfortable so no one will notice your chest or belly moving. The room will be in low accent lighting, so that will help. Do you understand? Can you do that for your uncle so he won't get fired?"
"Yes Sir, Chief, Yes Sir. No problem." As the head security guard here at the museum, I was tagged with the nickname "Chief," so that's what everyone calls me. I felt confident George could and would handle his role, and as long as the rest of us did our jobs, we might pull this off. "Now our art director, Paul, will shave your body and then spray paint you with non-toxic silver paint. He's going to do that in the next hour. The museum opens at 10 AM, and we want you all statue-like and ready by 9 A.M. sharp. That gives us several hours, but that's enough time." George was continually nodding "yes" and showing no issue.
Unbeknownst to George, the statue's erection was a key part of pulling off the switch. It obviously is an … an … an … outstanding feature of the original figure. I'm trusting Tobey, ... he's Paul's son, … and a very clever whiz kid to figure out a way to glue on a fake but realistic dido, pointing up, to match the image of the Hermes god. The only thing I told George about Tobey's role is that he will be helping us to make sure no little details go undone. "George, just let Tobey do whatever he wants. I know he's a skinny little guy, but don't let that fool you. Just do as he says. That's very important, OK George?" Again, without hesitation, I got the same eager-to-please agreement from him.
I dismissed George to go over to Paul and shave his full body. I couldn't help visually savoring his dynamite, tight-trimmed, hard body as he walked away. Wow! Was he a great choice to be substituted for a youthful god? "Fuck! Maybe this will actually work," I thought to myself. I watched Paul apply the shaving cream to George's torso and use several disposable safety razors to shave him. Paul worked one large area at a time and, lastly, did his balls, dick, and ass crack. It was remarkable that George never got a firm erection during all of Paul's manipulating of his rather nice-sized, cut dick. His dick filled out and looked large, but it never pointed outward. I guess that's how straight men respond to another man's touch.
The shaving took a bit of time, but what surprised me was that the spray painting went amazingly fast. Paul put goggles over George's eyes, sprayed with a small air-brush paint sprayer at his feet, and worked his way up. Paul told him to spread his legs apart and raise his arms out and up. He did. He continued spraying the silver paint all over him, not missing a spot or even his ass crack. As I saw George turn from a flesh tone to a solid silver color, the first image that came to mind was the Tin Man character in "The Wizard of Oz" movie. But the Tin Man didn't have a fucking bad-ass physique as George did. Fuck. And he's married with children. Oh, well. The last step was to remove George's goggles and hand paint around his eyes. Finally, Paul's work was done. He did his part very well. He left the sprayer with extra paint in case George needed a touch-up, then left for the day. Of course, when his phony erected dildo was adhered to George’s dick, one of us, Tobey or myself, would have to re-spray George's groin area silver so it would look like his own … I mean … the statue's own erection.
About an hour later, Tobey returned carrying several small bags of stuff. It looked like he went to a couple of stores. I asked him if all was OK. He said, "Chief, I have everything figured out perfectly. Did a little shopping. You need not worry. My method of solving the dude's boner issue differs from what you suggested, but don't worry, what I came up with will work great and look more natural. I need to work with George a bit." I relaxed somewhat and continued reviewing the details of our planned hoax. I wanted everything to go like clockwork. Tobey went to the other side of our rather large repair shop and was talking with George, who was now totally smooth and silver. I couldn't hear what he was telling George, but it was funny to see skinny, short, kind of queeny Tobey giving what appeared to be a serious lecture to tall, muscle-bound, macho George. We had a 14-year-old giving "orders" to a 24-year-old. Tobey seemed to not need or want my help, so I went to check on the members of our crew assigned to set up the area where George would stand motionless.
"Listen up, George," Tobey told him with an air of authority, "I need to help you deal with bathroom breaks. If you are on display and need to stretch or go to the bathroom, you are to wait until no visitors are near you and then make a very low grunt, so the Chief or I can hear you. We will both remain near you. That will be your way to signal that you need to move. The two security guards working with us will then clear the room of visitors and close the room doors. They'll announce something like, 'We need to do a brief maintenance task. Doors will open again in 10 minutes.' Then and only then can you move and walk to the bathroom; the Chief told you that already."
George was doing his polite constant nodding, indicating he understood clearly. "But any need to go pee too often creates a hassle for us all. So I got you some pills that will help control that urge. In fact … here … let's take one right now." And Tobey pulled out a small package of blue pills and gave him one with a cup of water, and George swallowed it without question.
"Thank you, Sir, thank you, Mr. Tobey. Thanks for all your help, Sir." George wanted to comply with Tobey's instructions fully as requested by "the Chief" and as needed to help his uncle out of a jam. But here is this other factor about Tobey being gay, and he was not shy about his sexual orientation. He was very fixated on George's great body. He loved looking at it, and the thought of him being able to touch it any way he wanted gave him a hard-on. Even more, the idea of controlling that hunky muscular body sent chills up his spine. He wanted George erect for more reasons than just for the exhibit. He wanted to see his boned-up muscle boy for his own devilish enjoyment. Tobey told him he'd get one of the "blue pills" every few hours as he saw fit, and George nodded in agreement. He never mentioned to George that they were actually Viagra.
"Listen to me, George," Tobey said, "We have one other issue to deal with. You see these posters of the Hermes God you are to copy in the same pose? Well, when you pose like that, bent forward a little, with your hands to your head … and you must hold that position absolutely still for a very long time … your muscles will get tired, and you'll start to cramp up. If that happens, you'll move and screw this up. Your uncle will be fired because he is the night manager and responsible for the original stature breaking last night. You don't want that, George. Do you?"
"Oh, my, Sir, oh my. I don't want to screw this up. No Sir. What do you want me to do, Mr. Tobey? What should I do?" The muscular George spoke pleadingly as he looked down at the skinny little kid boss.
"George, my friend … you can count on me," he said as he got on his tiptoes to put his arm around naked, silver-painted George after noting that the paint was completely dry. Tobey was getting aroused with just one arm on the hunk's shoulder but successfully hid his boner in his pants. What would you expect, Tobey's a horny gay teenager, and now he was touching a completely naked gorgeous male, who, in fact, he was in charge of. "I went out and bought you something special." Then he pulled out two chrome egg-shaped "balls" from a bag.
They were about the size and shape of small chicken eggs, each with an 8-inch string attached for each removal. George squinted and stared at the two oval objects in Tobey's palm, unsure what to make of them. The boy continued, "These are very high-tech gadgets called Muscle Relaxation Devices, or MRDs for short. I'm going to give you these. They emit a high-frequency wave that relaxes muscles. When turned on, you might feel a slight warmth and a low vibration emitting from them. That's how they work to melt away tension and any oncoming muscle cramps." George nodded in amazement.
Actually, these two chrome-colored eggs were remote-controlled vaginal or anal erotic vibrators. Normally, you'd use only one, but Tobey found a two-pack that worked off the same remote and figured it'd produce twice the vibrating stimulation. Tobey was counting on these eggs to give George a real erection as he posed as the Greek God for the visitors. The blue Viagra pill he gave him, and he would give him more later, would cause him to maintain his erection for a longer time. The combination of Viagra and occasionally turning on and off the vibrating eggs using his remote control should give George a constant erection while on display. The pills could be given to George while on a stretch break, and the battery-powered remote control in his pocket could be utilized anytime he was within 20 feet of George.
"Yes, George, and I don't want you to tell anyone that I'm giving you these pills or that you have the … a … the … MRDs. I wasn't supposed to … but I feel for you. I'm going out on a limb for you here, George." George thanked him profusely, shaking his head, confirming he would not disclose what Tobey was doing for him. "That's great, George. I knew you'd be a good boy. Now I need to insert these into you. So bend over." This time George was not so quick to react. He hesitated and asked why.
"George, my friend … you have no pockets. Do you? You can't put them in your mouth. You'd choke on them." Tobey was trying not to smile since he was trying to maintain a serious tone for George. "And you can't hold them in your hands because your hands will be open as you pose. How are you going to reap the benefit? They have to be inside your ass. That's the only hiding place you have right now. So … unless you want your uncle fired and maybe even arrested, I suggest you bend over and do it quickly. Besides, do you really think I want to do THIS? Do you think I want to even touch a man's ass, let alone push my fingers up your shit chute? On second thought," Tobey paused to fake reconsideration, "let me go next door to fetch one of the secretaries. I'll make her shove these chrome balls up your ass. I'm sure you'd prefer a lady to do the dirty work."
George pleaded, "Oh, my, no, Mr. Tobey. Please don't do that. Can't you just place them in there yourself? Please? Please?" Tobey pretended to be uncomfortable doing it and frowned at George.
"Are you sure? You want ME to insert these up your ass? George? What you're asking me to do is weird and kind of disgusting, George." George begged Tobey more vigorously to help him and not involve anyone else. Tobey faked hesitation as he artfully lowered one hand to the front of his pants and adjusted his now full boner downward in his clothing so it would not be noticed. "Fuck! All right, George … you win. I'll do it, but no more arguments from you. OK?" George readily agreed. This was all part of Tobey's plan. He even bought an enema bag and placed it in the bathroom for George to clean out his ass. He ordered George to go and do that, which he did and returned 20 minutes later. "OK, now bend way over. Let's get this awful part finished. And, George … you owe me big time." George breathed a sigh of relief, bent over, and showed Tobey his beautiful silver bubble butt.
Tobey never let on that he was delighted to finger fuck George's asshole. He retrieved some lube from his bag and greased up the two eggs, letting his fingers get coated as well. Then he shoved in the first and then the other egg but did not immediately remove his two fingers. "George, you did a nice job of cleaning out your ass. Good boy. Now I need to ensure these balls are seated in you correctly." Tobey casually slid his slicked-up bare finger in and out, titillating his asshole, initiating his plan to get George more and more aroused. At the same time, he shoved the two strings fully inside to hide them. He heard a moan escape from George's lips as Tobey savored the erotic sensation of having his fingers wiggle around in this straight muscle man's pussy hole. With George facing away from him, Tobey allowed himself to smile wildly and rub his stiff dick through his pants, trapping it downward in his underwear. After a couple of minutes, Tobey noticed that George was starting to sport an erection as well and withdrew his fingers.
Tobey was pleased that he successfully manipulated George into taking Viagra periodically and got him to want two remote-controlled, vibrating eggs placed up his ass. And George was getting hard without the eggs even being turned on. But Tobey knew the Viagra dose had to be limited for safety reasons, so he devised another way to erotically stimulate George to maintain his firm erection. He shouted out as if he just noticed something. "Oh no! George! I see something here that will cause a problem for you very soon. Oh shit!"
Still bent over, George displaying his ass to Tobey, was startled to hear the outburst, and asked what was wrong. "George, George, you can't see this, but as you are bent over like this, I can see that the back of your ball sack is not painted, and I see why. Apparently, Paul noticed that you got a severe razor burn there; I guess when he shaved you. That's going to become itchy later. Fuck! We can't have you making little squirming movements." Of course, there was no such problem, but Tobey wanted a reason to need to fondle his balls and perhaps to "accidentally" touch his dick from behind while on display. "I know! George, you are in luck! I just remembered I have some medicated lotion in my bag. Oh, thank God! OK, you're saved. Stay bent over for a minute." Tobey took out a small bottle and squeezed a little ordinary hand cream. "Spread your legs apart more, George, so I can fix this for you." George complied and thanked him for doing this, and for the first time, he was showing some embarrassment at being naked and "handled" by a young teenager.
Tobey applied the cream to George's balls and, at the same time, lightly touched his silver dick. Thankfully, the hand cream did not remove any of the silver paint. Tobey was trying hard not to make any laughing sounds and had to pretend to clear his throat to cover up his few audible giggles. "Just stay still. I'm almost done. This special medicated cream takes time to work into your skin, but it will take care of your getting itchy back here."
"OK, that should do it for now. The bottle says to apply periodically for itching and rashes, as needed. So … I guess … you'll… want me to apply this cream … once every 30 minutes? Is that what you're asking me to do? Is that right? George? And George nodded and thanked him for taking so much care and time to help him pose successfully. "Well … if that's what you want, I can sneak behind you in that dim lighting, pretend I am just a visitor, and rub more cream on your balls without anyone noticing. God George! The things you want me to do for you!" Tobey was walking on air. He even manipulated George into believing he would go to jail if he did not sell himself as a real statue. He was as giddy as a schoolgirl to secretly, periodically, fondle the backside of this hunk while his front side was being viewed by a small crowd of visitors at a time. With George's hands "‘stuck” to his head in the required pose, Tobey had unobstructed access to George’s ass and balls to freely tickle-tease him to the fullest erection as needed.
Greek Art Exhibit
Part 2 of 2
As Tobey was fondling George’s big bull balls, pretending to apply medicating cream, he felt George’s stiffy pointing nicely outward. Tobey felt sure it would be pointing fully upward as soon as the Viagra kicked in, and he remotely activated the vibrating balls he stuck up George’s ass. Tobey tricked George by calling them a Muscle Relaxation Device, MRD for short, which would prevent muscle cramps. In reality, they, along with Viagra, would hopefully give George a continuous erection, just like the statue had.
“George, stand up, and let’s try the exact pose, just like you were rehearsing with Paul. Also, I will activate the MRDs, those chrome balls you wanted me to shove up your ass. Tell me what you think.”
George interrupted him before Tobey could turn on the remote, “A … a … Sir? … I think I must be feeling embarrassed or something. I’m getting a little woody.” If George’s face was not painted silver, he’d be turning shades of red. And if Tobey were free to speak, he’d tell him there was nothing “little” about his “wood.” Tobey acted nonchalantly and spoke uncaringly about George’s huge erection as if it were unimportant and unexpected.
“Oh … you mean your dick is … a … hard? I didn’t notice. But … that’s fine. It does match the poster photo like that, so it’s not a problem. I guess you get a little … a ... wood ... when you get embarrassed? Well, we’ll keep that between us, guys. It does not matter if it’s hard or soft, so just let whatever happens happen.” Tobey lied to George as he was trying to hide his giggling amusement by covering his mouth to fake a yawn.
He calmed his inner self down and put on a serious face, “George, get back into your pose. I will turn on your ass devices now and see how relaxed they make you feel.” He pulled the remote from his pocket and set in on the low setting. As he did, George jerked his body in surprise. “Good, now you know not to be alarmed when you notice that I turn it on. You’ll need to ignore the little jolt you’ll get. Don’t worry; it’s just the high-frequency relaxation waves you feel, so you won’t get any cramps. You might feel a little warm; that happens too. It means everything is working fine.”
George was posing himself precisely as instructed, his hands at the sides of his head, his back hunched over just a little as his abs tightened, and his boner proudly thrusting fully toward the ceiling. Tobey had succeeded beautifully. As we all discussed, the plan was to have Tobey buy and adhere an anatomically correct rubber dildo to George. Unbeknownst to me and the others involved, Tobey was more erotically creative than that and devised several ways to stimulate George to keep him NATURALLY erect while on display, … and no dildo was used or needed. Just then, the door opened, and I walked in unexpectedly. Tobey quickly flipped the remote off as he hid it in his pocket. “Wow! Tobey, Man, oh man! You did great; George looks all real and natural. How in the world did you find a dil…”
Tobey interrupted me, pulling me over to the side and whispering, “George is a little self-conscious about the fake dick I glued on him, so it’s best not to mention it. Just let him pose. He’ll be fine. Oh, and George made me promise to stay near him while he’s on display. I’ll pretend I’m a visitor. So that frees you up to oversee the entire workings of the plan.” I was pleasantly surprised at the level of maturity and seriousness the 14-year-old showed toward George and was very grateful they formed some workable bond. I did wonder how Tobey got such a realistic dick-shaped dildo glued to George. Fuck! Did that look real? God! Tobey is a genius!
“OK, George, you can stand up straight now, and let’s get you in place in the exhibit room in the same place that the real statue was yesterday. You’ll be ‘displayed’ behind a rope stand a couple of feet in front of you, so no one should get too close,” I said, wishing everybody good luck. We walked George to the hall where the Greek exhibit was and placed him in his exact spot amidst all the other gods and ancient artifacts.
As soon as we heard the echoes of the visitors beginning to enter the building’s main lobby, we dimmed the lights, and George assumed the hunched-over, muscle-taut pose, with his hands on his head and his erection firmly pointing nicely upward.
From this point on, I'll let Tobey tell you how this continues to play out, since he is the only one who will remain at George's side to attend to his needs.
A crowd swarmed into our room, most making a beeline to the well-advertised, specially commissioned statue of the Greek God Hermes. Camera flashes were lighting up the otherwise dimly lit room. People asked me (Tobey) to step away from their camera shot, but I stayed where I needed to be, about 2 feet to the right of George, who kept his eyes closed, as ordered. I was impressed at how well George held his position without much movement. Only I noticed his shallow breathing because I was looking for it.
The flashes of camera light caused me to notice something else I was hoping not to see for a while: George’s dick was losing a bit of firmness. “I guess that’s nature, even for a ‘god,’ ” I chuckled to myself. There was no way to know ahead of time how long he would maintain a stiff erection without additional stimulation, but it appeared to be only about 10 minutes. I had my arsenal of supplies in my coat pockets: the remote control for the two vibrating eggs up his ass, extra batteries, the lotion that George thinks is a medicated cream for the rash HE THINKS he has on his balls, and the Viagra for … for … ah … boner stamina.
I already knew I would have to be creative in “managing” George throughout the day. My plan was to rotate different methods of arousal, so he would not be able to anticipate any sensations I gave him. I can tell you this, it was going to be a very, very long day for George and like a fucking fantastic, all-day pass to Disneyland for me.
I fished out the remote control, pretending it was some kind of iPod or something. The remote had switches for on/off as well as for the level of intensity. I set the mode to “Slow Pulse” and the intensity to “High” and waited for most people to move away from George. When they did, I pressed the on/off button once. George thrust his hips ever so slightly and made a low-sounding moan, but no one else noticed. As if by magic, his dick came to maximum erection again to resume its proper, proud stance. Perfect! I left the vibrator on for about a minute, which I soon realized was too long a period because I saw precum starting to string from George’s dick. Aw, fuck! I had to think fast.
I acted quickly and immediately moved my body in front of George’s to block the viewers' view and intentionally dropped a pen on the floor at his feet. As I bent over to pick it up, it allowed me to rub my coat gently over the tip of George’s dick to wipe off the leaky ooze. It worked, so I moved to the side again. “OK, Tobey,” I said to myself humorously, “Let’s not over-boner George. Better try it on the low setting next time.”
Most visitors saw exactly what they expected to see. Some who may not have seen the advertising posters were shocked at the blatant erotic details of the “statue,” some parents quickly pushed their kids to other artifacts in the room. It was so cool. Everything was working as planned. It was fucking awesome! As I stood behind George, looking droolingly at his luscious, silver-mounted ass, I guess the devilish little kid in me busted out. I just had to see if I could get away with it.
I reflected on how I shoved those vibrating eggs up that ass and how warm, wet, and smooth it felt when I slid my fingers up into it. I mean, he couldn’t protest or even move, not the slightest bit. He was a fucking frozen statue. He was thinking he’d fuck up the entire works and everyone will get fired. We all, especially little ole me, had intimidated him into believing he would be arrested for his part in this hoax. God! I loved having him by the balls … literally!
So … I stepped close to George’s back, very close, and I took out my tiny bottle of lotion, coated the index finger on my right hand, and put the bottle back in my pocket. Then I turned sideways to George, so my right hand was very near his asshole. Then I pretended to look up at the ornately tiled ceiling as I touched and rubbed George’s ass lips with my greasy finger. I heard George moan, only because I was so close to him. Then I slipped my finger slowly inside his asshole, and I felt him clinch my finger. That was so hot!
Standing beside him, I waited for museum visitors to leave his display area. Then I very softly whispered to George, “Relax your ass. Sorry, I have to check to see if those vibrating metal balls up your ass are still in the correct position.” I lied. I wanted to laugh aloud. George’s ass muscles relaxed completely, and let my finger in. Since visitors could only see the front of him, and with light dim for effect, no one could see my hand behind “the statue,” fingering his asshole. He was my big stud statue-robot. I wondered if he was again a boner-leaking God, but I’d take care of that in a minute. Right now, I am busy. “George,” I whispered as I pointed my mouth toward George's ear, “Keep your hole relaxed and open.”
The echoed sounds of the many people walking around on the tiled floor really made my words only audible to George. “I'm sticking my fingers up your asshole to try to tap on those vibrating balls you wanted me to shove up there. That vibration prevents muscle cramps as you hold this statue-like pose.” He believed me, of course. And everything I did to poor George was just to tease him into a stiffer and harder boner.
I was in no hurry; I was in heaven. My naked, silver-painted, muscle-bound stud, which was displayed in the center of a museum exhibit room, was locked in a bonerized pose amid a flow of what would be thousands of visitors. He had to remain absolutely motionless to pull off this hoax and save his uncle from being arrested. All this was because his uncle broke the real silver statue of the God Hermes and needed an immediate replacement for the exhibit's last day. That statue had a boner pointing upward, and I was going to make damn sure George's boner stayed erect and pointed upward. Shit, it was my assigned job to ... er ... help the poor stud bastard.
Of course, George believed I was doing all I could to help him, but I was really using him as my stud puppet to amuse myself and create an erotic hell for him. Just think, me, a skinny, powerless, 14-year-old gay guy who had put up with all the fucking faggot name-calling at my high school, was getting to totally control his own personal silver, naked God. George is a lightweight boxer who must have been hit in the head too many times. He didn't have a clue about my horny, devilish teenage tricks. If he could speak to me, he’d say something like, “Oh, thank you, Mr. Tobey. Thank you, Sir, for helping me out.”
At that moment, some 20 visitors stood about four feet directly in front of George, all gawking at my stud spectacle and taking photos. As I wiggled one finger in George's wet man hole, I added a second one. George was making some slight grunting sounds, which I assumed was our prearranged signal to have me clear the room. He most likely wanted me to immediately remove my fingers and cease any further erotic stimulation. Absolutely, that's what he wanted. I'm not stupid.
So again, in my lowest voice, I said, “George, just give me another couple of minutes back here. I have your ass balls almost in the correct position.” I loved my control of big, strong, muscle-bound George. I did ease up a bit because I didn't want him to shoot his fuck snot all over the nice patrons of this fine museum. So although I did not remove my fingers from his fuck hole, I did stop wiggling them and just held them still.
When that group moved on to the next statue, and no one else was near, I withdrew my fingers and stepped in front of George.
Just then, I saw he was just starting to ooze a string of fuck ooze slowly seeping from his piss hole. Apparently, the last group didn't notice it. With no one, at this moment, in hearing range, I felt comfortable jerking George around; I mean ... a horny boy has to have some fun with his slave stud statue, right? “George! What the shit are you doing pumping out your fuck slime all over the floor?” I was yelling in my softest whisper.
“God, George, I go through all this effort to help you out so your fucking family doesn't get thrown in jail for this hoax, and all you want to do is turn this into a silly sex game and dump your cunt snot all over the place. George, if you get found out that you are not the real Greek statue, you and your uncle could end up in jail for fraud … and what about your kids? You'd better fucking not move, and ... and ... try to control your cunt fuck pole, OK?” In the process, I pretended to lash out angrily, belittling macho George and stifling how I laughed my gut inside out.
“I see people coming this way, George. Now ... I suppose you want me to clean your spunk juice off your boned-up cum cannon. Is that it?” In the faintest voice, and without moving his lips much at all, he said, “Please, Sir.” I moved to stand directly in front of him to block the view of those coming our way, and I took out my hanky and quickly wiped off the syrupy drip and then “accidentally” dropped the cloth on the floor, so when I stooped to pick it up, I could unnoticeably wipe up the small puddle there. Actually, I did not mind these “custodial” chores at all; I could do this all day long and clearly planned to. I chuckled as I finished my cleaning job and stood up.
Again I looked up at the ceiling as I whispered so only George could hear me, “God, you got me working for you like I'm your fucking slave.” Of course, he was the one who was my toy slave, and he was begging me to continue. “OK, George. Don't worry. I'm here for you. I suppose I should check to see if the remote control for your vibrating ass balls is still working, so you can avoid muscle cramps. I'll test it out again. But for God’s sake, don't start spewing your spooge lava everywhere.” I feigned frustration and cherished my day of power as I took out the iPod-looking device.
I waited until the next group of visitors was directly in front of George, marveling at the wonderful silver Greek “statue.” I adjusted the battery-controlled device to “Rapid Pulse” and pressed the ON button. With the cameras flashing sporadically, no one but me noticed the initial faint body twitches. I knew he'd be seeping fuck slop soon, so I turned it off for a few minutes and just became one of the many visiting admirers of his fantastic body.
It was an amazing experience for a skinny teen twink like me. I can tell you that we only had to clear the room three times and give George a rest break, and only twice that day did I give him an additional Viagra pill, telling him it was just a mind relaxer to help avoid tension. I activated the vibration balls in his ass to a low level to avoid over stimulation. My desire, of course, was to keep him aroused on an even keel throughout his time on display. But … that certainly was not my only desire. I guess I am more of an erotic sadist than I ever realized, and I enjoyed torturing my silver stud-puppet toy as much as I could possibly get away with.
What I enjoyed most, because it was actually me inside him, were the several times I stood close behind him and slid my lubed fingers up his asshole, pretending I was doing George a favor by checking on the placement of the anal balls. Did he ever wonder why I had to have my wiggly long digits up his shit chute for a full five minutes each time? I assume he was totally concentrating on posing without any movement and, of course, on doing everything in his power to avoid shooting his wad.
To be honest, I did cross the line a few times. One occasion was when a teenage girl, maybe 14, shockingly told her family, “Look! He's leaking fluid from his Johnson,” as she pointed to George’s erect and dripping dick. It was a moment when I just didn't see it in time to interfere. The dad, being one of those parents who have to come across as knowing everything, told her, “Amy, they have some sort of mechanical pump inside his hollow metal frame, so it can ... well ... to ... to ... enhance the human quality of this metal Greek sculpture. Clever, sort of ... but you can tell it's really just an aluminum statue. Come on, kids. Let's see what else is here.” And they moved on. I laughed, thinking it was a close call, and quickly wiped away the dangling wet string.
The two guards who were in on this hoax hurriedly ushered everyone out of the room and closed the doors at closing time. Finally, George could end his torturous day of humiliating posing and stretch widely in every way. I rushed him into the back room and told him he could wash up. “But first, let's get those ass balls out of you. Each of the two balls in his ass had a string attached for easy removal. I shoved those strings inside his ass when I inserted the balls up there. I could easily stick my two fingers in there, pinch the strings, and pull out the balls. But I did not. “George, the only way to get those balls out is for you to lie on this table on your back and bring your knees fully up to your chest and pull your ass cheeks apart with your hands.” He did not hesitate.
I knew he wanted this all to be over, so he obeyed me blindly. “That's it ... just stay like that. Now, as I reach in and grab them, I need to hold onto your dick with my other hand. Just relax.” I had my hands greased up already, so I inserted the fingers of my right hand into his asshole and immediately felt the strings to grab and pull out. But instead, I worked his dick like a piston but very, very slowly so he would not think it was intentionally sexual. “Just stay still, George.” And I wiggled my inserted fingers more and more as if trying to feel around for the strings. George’s hips were bouncing and rising off the table. When I pulled out the two chrome balls, he shot squirt after thick squirt over his head. His whole body shook, and he yelled like a roaring lion. I guess ... he needed that.
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