Date: Tue, 19 Aug 2008 09:19:19 -0400
From: Bad Boy <badboy50040@hotmail.com>
Subject: Phelps in Beijing 4

This story is of course fiction and is not intended to imply anything about
the true sexuality of Michael Phelps, Jonathan Horton, Alexander "Sasha"
Artemev, Yang Wei or anyone else mentioned or any personal knowledge about
their private lives.

******************************************************************************

	Michael Phelps was rushing to leave the Olympic Aquatic Center in
order to head over to the Olympic Athletes Village.  It was now the fourth
full day of the Olympics in Beijing and he was on a winning roll.  The
morning session had just finished and not only had he won his 3rd gold
medal of these games in the 200m freestyle, but he had also qualified for
the 200m butterfly final which would be taking place tomorrow.  While he
was elated with his performance so far in the pool, it was his performance
outside the pool that was making him hurry at the present moment.

	While he knew better than anyone that these games required
self-control, strength and endurance on every athlete's part in order to
excel and win the coveted gold medal; his mind had been straying from the
task at hand and he could not help but let his mind wander to another
discipline that he had excelled at while at these games; fucking.

	It was just the previous night that he had been fucked up the ass
in what was his first gang bang ever, the French 4x100m freestyle relay
team, led by their stud anchor Alain Bernard, having the honors.  As the
Frenchmen had left to go clean themselves up, they had left Michael Phelps
alone in their room, lying on the bed covered in their warm seed, his ass
red and sore, yet still yearning, begging to be stuffed by male cock.  As
he had reluctantly had gotten up, cleaned himself off and dressed himself,
he could not help but neglect thinking of his events that he would have to
compete in in only a few hours, and instead was consumed with thoughts of
who his next sexual experience might be with.

	It did not take long for his mind to settle on a candidate however,
for it was no sooner than when he had closed the door to the French team's
suite that he had practically ran into one of the U.S. Gymnastics team
member, Jonathan Horton, in the hall.  Phelps was tall, as almost all
swimmers are, and stood 6'4".  Jonathan Horton on the other hand was short,
only an inch or two over 5', but when Phelps had run into him, it was as
though he was running into a brick wall.  While both Horton and Phelps was
almost pure muscle, Michael was lean, while Jonathan Horton's muscles were
strong and compact, years spent competing and training in such events as
the rings and pommel horse had developed his body to be cut and defined.
He was wearing a tight sleeveless t-shirt that clung to his skin.  His arms
and biceps were bulging with muscle and his strong pecs and washboard abs
were evident even through the thin material.

	Bouncing off the gymnasts amazingly toned body, Phelps could not
help but stare at Horton, letting his eyes take in all this young man's
body had to offer, his eyes wandering ever further down, finally coming to
rest on the bulge in the gymnasts shorts.

	"Sorry, I did not see you there." Horton began before he finally
recovered enough to notice who he had bumped into.  "Holy shit, you're
Michael Phelps.  I can not believe I am meeting Michael Phelps." Horton
exclaimed as a smile lit up his face.  Grabbing Michael's hand with his own
he began to pump Michael's arm vigorously in what could only be described
as an enthusiastic handshake.  Michael, still caught off guard by the
handsome figure that stood in front of him could only smile in response.
Horton had one hell of a grip Phelps thought to himself as he caught sight
of Horton's enormous bicep flexing as it shook his hand.

	"Oh my god, I hope I didn't hurt you." Horton said as he dropped
the handshake unexpectedly, a look of concern washing over his face.  "If I
was the one to derail you from all those gold medals you are going to win,
I'd think I would become America's public enemy number one!"

	Finally coming out of his stupor, Phelps peered into Horton's brown
eyes and remembered where he was.

	"Oh, not a problem, just an accident, no harm, no foul." Phelps
said.  Though he had only climaxed minutes before, just standing in the
presence of this stud was making him react, causing him to pray that Phelps
did not notice the sudden tent in his pants.

	"Ok, that's good." Horton replied, his voice trailing off.  As the
two men stood in the hall, a sort of lull had settled over their
conversation, neither sure of what to say to the other.

	Horton finally broke the silence. "Well, we can't stay here all
night, I know we both have finals tomorrow, but since I ran into you, if
you need a break from all this, why don't you come over to my room
tomorrow.  We are having a little party celebrating what we hope will be a
gold in the team competition.  Having someone like you stop by would only
make it that much better."

	"Sure sounds great, I wouldn't miss it for the world." Phelps
responded quickly and enthusiastically, hopeful that it did not seem too
eager.

	"Great, I'll see you tomorrow, good luck with the swim." Horton
said as he rushed off, leaving Phelps alone in the hall.

	That had happened last night and now Michael was in the locker room
putting on his warm-up suit, not bothering to take off his wet Speedo
briefs, but instead putting his warm-up suit right over it.  Rushing out of
the venue, avoiding the media, Phelps overhead that the U.S. men's
gymnastics team had won bronze in the team competition from a conversation
he had overheard between two members of the press.  While he knew that they
had not been favored to win the gold, he knew personally how much a let
down a bronze can be when you're aiming for gold, and hoped he would not
arrive at Jonathan Horton's room to find a sullen and despondent gymnast.
If his plans were to come to fruition, he wanted to find a jubilant
Jonathan Horton who would be eager to celebrate their accomplishments in a
relative unorthodox manner.

	Unsure of what he would find, Phelps made his way over to the
Village and finally found Horton's room, knocking on the door and hearing
Horton's voice coming from inside, telling him to come in.

	Opening the door, Michael was pleasantly surprised at the situation
he found.  There sitting on the bed was Jonathan Horton, wearing only his
gymnastic shorts, and sitting next to him was his teammate, Alexander
Artemev, or "Sasha" as he was known to his friends, sitting in a pair of
skimpy gymnast shorts that were identical to Horton's.  However, before
them was kneeling another figure that Phelps did not recognize.  His back
was turned to Phelps, who drank in the sight of a muscular back which
tapered down to a slim waist.  The mystery figure was wearing shorts that
were much the same cut as Horton and Artemev, but just a little different.
Adjusting to the sight, Phelps discovered that the figure kneeling before
the two U.S. gymnasts was doing more than just resting, he was licking the
feet and sucking the toes of the two bronze medalists, and both seemed to
enjoy it.

	Sensing that Phelps was a little thrown by the whole tableau he had
encountered upon entering the room, Horton finally spoke up.

	"Come on in, and shut the door behind you.  May I introduce you to
Yang Wei, Chinese gymnast and member of their gold medal squad" Horton said
as he motioned towards the subservient man before him, who was busy
caressing the American's feet with his hands, while trying to fit in as
many toes into his mouth as he could.

	"He seems to have a bit of a foot fetish." Artemev interjected, as
he watched the Chinese man bathe his teammate's foot with his tongue.

	"You could say that again" Horton replied with a chuckle, "but it
doesn't matter.  He came up to Sasha at the end of our program and from
what we could understand, he seems to be a great admirer of our culture and
wanted to know if he could come with us to see how we celebrate.  Who were
we to say no?"

	"No sooner did we get up here, he took off his shirt and motioned
for us to do the same.  Next thing we know he was all over us, licking our
bodies and worshiping our muscles, finally getting to our feet.  We figured
we'd let him have his fun while we waited for you, but now that you're here
the real fun can begin" Artemev chimed in, Horton too engrossed in watching
the muscled gymnast before him sucking his toes to respond.

	Phelps, doing his best to play dumb, gave them a quizzical look.
"What do you mean "fun"?  I have no idea what you're talking about."

	"Cut the crap Phelps, don't think you're reputation of being one of
the best bottoms on the Olympic team is a secret.  And after seeing how
your cock responded last night after our accidental meeting, I knew you
would be a prime candidate to join in our fun." Horton responded.

       "So why don't you come over here, and let us show you how the
members of the U.S. gymnastics squad have some fun." Horton said as he
stuck a hand down his shorts, grabbing hold of his cock.

       Phelps did not have the time or the patience to play coy with these
three men.  He knew what he wanted, and what he wanted right now was to
have some fun with these three buff gymnasts sitting in front of him.  As
he crossed the room to get to Horton, he removed his warm-up suit, leaving
him only in a pair of Speedo briefs.

       Pulling his foot from Yang Wei's mouth, Horton motioned for Phelps
to kneel in front of him.  While Wei was disappointed at having the
American's foot removed, he soon found a consolation prize in Artemev, and
went to work worshiping the other American's muscles.

       Falling to his knees in front of Horton, Michael took hold of the
Olympic gymnast's shorts and began to pull them down; however, Horton
stopped him before he had even begun.

	"Not so fast, if you want to get to the real prize, you're going to
have to work for it first." Horton grinned as he lifted his arms and
flexed.  Every muscle became as defined and large as possible.  Starting at
Horton's chest, Phelps could not help but admire the mounds of muscle that
formed Horton's pectorals, each one crowned by quarter-sized nipples which
stood proud and erect, begging to be pinched, twisted and licked.  Horton's
arms were almost obscenely large, each bicep a solid mass of muscle which
defied explanation.  Underneath his arms Phelps could make out dark pits,
both of them warm and moist caverns which Phelps craved to explore.

	Continuing down, Phelps was confronted with an amazingly developed
abdominal region.  Each ab was clearly defined, separated by a ridge,
creating a washboard stomach which Phelps yearned to rub his body over.
The center ridge bisected his abs and continued downward, through his belly
button and continuing even further south to his tapered waist.  There it
was swallowed by the shorts which Horton still wore, barely able to contain
Horton's trapped python.  A quick glimpse over in Artemev's direction
showed Phelps that he was no less diligent in taking care of his body as
Horton was; his muscles no less perfect and defined.

	Overcome with a need to worship this body, Phelps began to lick and
explore every inch that he could.  While he had never thought of himself as
someone much into muscle worship, as usually the lean and lanky look of a
swimmer's body such as his was enough to make him horny, the sight of this
Olympic body before him, each muscle perfectly sculpted and shaped, changed
his perspective, as he began to bathe Horton with his tongue.

	Beginning at Horton's biceps, he licked them, only to be even more
turned on when Horton flexed them even further, forcing Phelps to bathe the
impossible larger muscles even more.  Licking his pits, he could taste and
smell the sweat which always conjured up images of masculinity in his mind.
Stopping at Horton's pecs, he toyed with each nipple with his tongue before
gently biting them.  Finally, he arrived at Horton's abs, tracing each one
with his tongue, amazed at how deep and defined they were, darting his
tongue in and out of Horton's bellybutton.

	Turned on by Phelps' tongue work, Horton took hold of Phelps' head
and pulled him into a kiss.  Forcing his tongue into Michael's mouth,
Horton kissed Phelps deeply and passionately, the two tongues intertwining
as they sucked face.  Phelps could not help but be turned on.  Here he was,
a tall Olympic swimmer totally being controlled by a man over a foot
shorter than him.  But Horton and Artemev exuded confidence and
masculinity, visible through their exquisite bodies, and Phelps knew he was
going to be putty in their hands.

	Breaking the kiss, Horton forced Phelps back onto his knees and
pushed the swimmer's head right into his groin, still covered by his
shorts, a mere thin layer of fabric.  Grinding Phelps' face into his lap,
Michael could feel the hard cock rubbing against his face, his tongue
coming out to try and bathe Horton's cock through the material.

	"You want this, huh?  You want this prick?  You want us to show you
what it feels like to be fucked by two American gymnasts?" Horton teased as
Phelps slobbered all over the gymnast's still confined cock.

	Looking over at Artemev, Horton asked if he thought they should let
this swimmer slut have a sample of their cocks.  Artemev could only groan
in approval as Wei had already pulled his shorts down and had begun sucking
the American gymnast's 7" cock.  While the Chinese gymnast was busy
slurping down Artemev's cock, his own had was busy masturbating his own
dick, his hand a blur as it stroked his 6" cock.

	"Well, looks like that's a yes" Horton said as he lifted his ass
off the bed and removed his shorts, letting his 8" cock spring free and
slap against his abs, already erect from the work Phelps had put in.

	Sucking it into his mouth, Phelps began to go to work, bobbing his
head up and down, working the shaft and head with his tongue.  Horton could
only moan approvingly, watching the swimming stud before him work his cock
like a pro.  Horton eventually reached down and took hold of Phelps head,
removing his cock from the swimmer's mouth.  Taking his own cock at the
root in his hand, he began to playfully slap it against Phelps' mouth, lips
and cheeks, Horton amused at how Phelps' tongue would still come out and
try to get a taste of the 8" snake, the swimmer looking more like a dog
hungry for a treat than an Olympic medalist.

	Meanwhile, Artemev decided to take advantage of the athleticism of
the Chinese gymnast sucking his own cock, and picked Wei off the floor.
Through a series of motions and gestures to the Chinese gymnast, Artemev
was able to get Wei in a precarious position.  Artemev soon had Wei doing a
handstand on the floor while his legs were doing a split.  The whole
position made him look like a letter "T", his hands and body forming the
trunk of the letter, while his two splayed legs formed the perpendicular
line at the top.  Artemev supported Wei's thighs, and allowed the gymnast
to maintain the stance.

 	With Wei's mouth upside down, Artemev offered his cock to the
balancing gymnast, who in spite of his unique pose, was all too eager to
continue to suck off his American rival.  However, with both his legs
spread wide open, the Chinese male's asshole was on clear display.  While
Wei was practically hairless on the rest of his body, his crack was
surprisingly dark, dark hairs surrounding the tight rosebud nestled between
his buttocks.  With Wei busy sucking his dong, Artemev delved between those
two delicious mounds of Wei's and began playing with the exposed hole with
his tongue.

	This continued for quite some time, Phelps on his knees gobbling
down Horton's cock, playing with his balls, toying with his slit, while
Artemev was supporting a precariously balanced Yang Wei, all the while
feasting on his sweet ass.

	Ready to take it to the next step, Horton pulled Phelps off his
engorged cock and scooted back onto the bed on which he was seated, laying
down, his knees bent at the end of the bed, his feet resting on the ground.
Taking his cock in his hand, he pointed it straight up, squeezing it,
rubbing it, masturbating it, making it ever more engorged with blood.
Looking at Phelps, he took hold of his cock and tempted Phelps with it.

	"Ready to take it for a ride?  Think your tight little ass can
handle my donkey dick?" Horton sneered as he slapped his cock against his
abs.  Phelps did not have to think twice as peeled off his swim briefs and
let his own 7" cock flap to life.  Turning around so that his back was to
Horton's face, Phelps backed up, while Horton lined his missile up with
Phelps' asshole.  Feeling the familiar touch of cock head to asshole,
Phelps pushed, his ass opening up and allowing Horton's prick to slip past
his anal defenses.  Both men moaned as 4" of Horton's cock settled into
Phelps' ass, his chute a tight sheath for Horton's sword like dick.

	Meanwhile, Artemev was eager to take Wei to the next level.  After
thoroughly loosening the Chinese gymnast's ass with his talented tongue,
Artemev helped Wei get down from his handstand and onto the bed.  Wei was
exhausted, his arms were on fire and his legs were tired, the only part of
him that felt good was his asshole.  He had never been rimmed before, as
his coaches had always kept tight control over himself and his teammates.
It had been a night of firsts for him, and would continue to be so.  He had
never been fucked up the ass before, but he intended for that to change.

	Though he was tired, Wei was still one horny fucker as he looked
over at Michael Phelps riding Jonathan Horton's cock.  While it had taken a
few minutes for Phelps to adjust to Horton's cock, soon enough he felt the
familiar feeling of pubes against his ass and he knew he had taken all of
Horton.  Placing his long arms on the bed, he began to use them and his
legs to ride Horton's dick for all it was worth , bouncing up and down,
alternating between having the entirety of Horton's cock in his ass and
having only the tip resting in his clutching chute.  Horton could only lean
back and place his hands behind his arms, thrusting his pelvis up to meet
Phelps' ass, enjoying the sensations Phelps' masterful ass was performing
on his throbbing dick.  Watching Michael bounce up and down, seeing his own
cock swallowed by the swimmer stud's insatiable ass, Horton could only
think how good it felt to have an Olympic legend like Michael Phelps
whoring himself atop his cock.  As Michael continued to ride Horton, he
began to pant, absolutely adoring the feeling of his tight gripping ass
riding this gymnast's dick, his pecs rising and falling along with the rest
of his body, his hand reaching down to cup and play with Horton's balls.

	Wei was mesmerized by what he saw.  He watched Phelps' own dick
bounce in unison with the rest of his body, and wanted a taste of the
Olympian for himself.  Forcing himself off the bed, Wei fell in front of
Michael Phelps and took the 7" cock of the American swimmer into his mouth.

	As Michael's pleasure centers were already firing on all cylinders
from Horton's masterful fucking of his ass, Phelps was pushed even further
when he felt Wei wrap his greedy lips around his cock.  Because Phelps was
riding Horton so vigorously, Wei hardly had to move his head at all, as
Michael's cock naturally went in and out of his mouth and throat as he
continued to ride Horton.  Wei was nearly deepthroating Phelps' own cock,
and the way his tongue was dancing along the underside of Phelps' dick was
near orgasm inducing.  Phelps could do nothing but rub his hand through his
short hair, and pinch his own nipples, relishing the sensations these two
hunks were making him feel as he continued to ride the bucking gymnast
beneath him.

	Artemev was not going to be denied the ultimate goal he craved for
himself, that of popping Wei's anal cherry.  Reaching down on the floor, he
took hold of Wei's muscular haunches and pulled him up, so that his ass was
now at the level of a squatting Artemev's cock.  Placing two fingers
between Wei's hairy buttocks, Artemev could feel the erotic heat radiating
from this sexually repressed gymnast.  Placing his cock at the never before
breached entrance, Artemev pushed, only to have the virgin hole deny him
entrance as his cock slipped up Wei's crack.  Taking a firm hold of his
prick, he thrust once again, and this time hit pay dirt, his cock head
slipping in past the Chinese defenses and gaining entrance.

	Wei's head shot up, letting Phelps' cock slip from his lips as he
let out a yell that could be only described as sheer sexual delight.
Phelps however had grown accustomed to having the Chinese mouth around his
prick and quickly took hold of Wei's head, forcing him once more to consume
his cock.  Soon Artemev was fucking Wei with full force, laying into the
Chinese male, defiling his no longer virgin ass.  Wei however kept his
mouth on Phelps' cock like it was a magnet, never letting Phelps' cock slip
from his lips even while getting rocked by Artemev from behind.

	The fucking went on for quite some time, Phelps amazed by the
endurance and stamina these gymnasts possessed.  As Phelps continued to
ride Horton, his body undulated, moving like it did when he was swimming
underwater, pushing for his gold, but here he was pushing for sexual
satisfaction.  When Horton would began an especially hard round of pounding
Phelps' ass, the swimmer would cry out, ask for it harder, faster, deeper,
but the other three men were stoic, their faces and bodies frozen in
concentration, giving their sexual appetites their undivided attention.
Horton would grab onto Phelps' waist and pull the swimmer down hard onto
his cock, other times he would reach up and feel the strong deltoids,
flexing in order to give the best possible fuck to Horton.  Phelps was
amazed at how the gymnasts bodies were able to handle the workout this
marathon fuck session was giving them, amazed at how Horton and Artemev had
the staying power to plunder both his and Wei's clenching assholes with
such expertise and power.

	"Horton, up for switching asses?" Artemev suddenly said, his voice
loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the bed creaking and the moans
and gasps coming from Phelps' throat.

	"Yeah, I think I might be ready to sample some of the local
delicacies" Horton said with an evil grin.

	Pulling Wei off Phelps' cock, Artemev laid him on the bed next to
Horton, putting him in a doggy style position, making sure his ass was
sticking up in the air.  Horton pushed Phelps off his dong and put the
swimmer in the same exact position, right next to the Chinese gymnast.

	Standing behind Wei and Phelps, Horton and Artemev admired their
work, surveying the two hot asses that were sticking up in the air, ready
to get pounded.  Both of them looked like they had just had a good work
out, the holes winking, spassaming, almost crying out to get stuffed again.
As Horton took up position behind Wei and Artemev behind Phelps, the two
American gymnasts were amused to see Phelps and Wei making out, two bottoms
swapping spit, ready for their bung holes to get forcibly fucked.

	Smiling at each other, the two gymnasts took firm hold of their
bitch's waists, and forced their dicks up Wei and Phelps' asses.  This was
not going to be the marathon endurance fuck they had enjoyed earlier.
Before the night's fun had begun, Horton and Artemev had made a bet between
the two of them concerning who would be the first one of them to blow their
load in their slut bottom's ass.  This was now going to be a competition,
seeing who could be the first to breed their bottoms ass.

	Pushing their dicks past the worn holes of their partners, the
American gymnasts were soon buried balls deep into their conquered fellow
Olympians.  So insatiable were the two pig bottoms that they hardly
flinched while their chutes were stuffed with grade A American meat, the
two continuing to make out while Horton and Artemev began to long dick
their tired and sore asses.

	Hitting their rhythm, the two American gymnasts began railing their
bottoms as hard as they could.  Within a minutes the sounds of balls
slapping against ass, ass against pelvis were filling the room as both
American gymnasts were intent on winning the bet.  Every muscle on Horton
and Artemev was bulging as they laid into Phelps and Wei.  Wei, being the
novice bottom of the two was forced to break the deep kiss he was sharing
with Michael Phelps, and instead bury his face into the sheets of the bed,
crying out due to the intense pleasure Horton was giving him.

	Phelps however was no novice, and just as he knew what his body
could take when swimming in the pool, he knew what his ass could take when
being fucked.  Turning his head around and looking over his shoulders, he
made eye contact with Artemev, and began to taunt him.

	"This the best you...got?  Come on, I know...you can do better than
this.  Show me...how hard you can do...it, lay into me, show me what...you
got." Phelps uttered the words almost staccato due to the fact that the
intense fucking he was taking was forcing the air out of his lungs.

	 Artemev responded.  "This not hard enough for you slut, think you
can take it harder?  Well then get ready you little cum bucket because I'm
about to make your tight little ass bleed!"

	Artemev kicked into another gear that he did not even know he had.
His ass clenched tightly together as he power fucked Phelps deeper and
harder than the gymnast ever had before.  Pulling back on Phelps' body, he
forced his cock up deeper and deeper, plundering areas he had not yet
reached.  Phelps could only throw his head back and let out a howl, his
eyes rolling back in his head, loving the sensation of his tight ass
clenching this American gymnast's mighty cock.

	Within minutes, Artemev exploded inside Phelps, pumping the
swimmers gut full of warm semen.  Phelps could feel it fill his ass cavity,
already so stuffed by Artemev's ample prick.  True to his nature, Artemev
remained almost expressionless during his ejaculation, only a low, slow
series of grunts betraying that fact that he was spraying Phelps' insides
with his sticky spunk.  Even after his ejaculation subsided, Artemev
continued to pummel Phelps' ass, so high on sex was this American gymnast
that his cock remained hard, allowing him to continue to fuck Phelps.  As
he continued to ride the ass before him, he was thrusting so hard he was
forcing the cum he had just shot into Phelps to force its way out around
his thrusting dick, coating his cock and Phelps' ass with the oozing
substance.

	It took only a few more minutes for Horton to reach climax, filling
the now defiled and not-so-virgin ass of their Chinese rival with his seed,
slapping the ass of bottom as he shot his load.

	The four men collapsed on the bed, panting and sweating, curious
hands still roaming over each others bodies, loving the feel of hard muscle
and flesh.

	Crawling up to his cum slut, Artemev drew Phelps into a kiss,
before breaking it.

	"Thanks for what was undoubtedly the best lay of my life.  You are
one fucking amazing stud, and that talented ass of yours has won me my bet
with Horton." Artemev said breathless, still trying to recover from the
punishment his cock had just inflicted on Michael's ass.

	"Thanks, you weren't so bad yourself." Michael responded.  "But
what do you mean about a bet?"

	Artemev chuckled.  "Horton and I had a little wager going between
the two of us.  Whichever was the first to cum tonight would win and get to
be the first to pop Justin's cherry ass, and thanks to that talented ass of
yours, I get to do the honors."

	Phelps was confused as to who Artemev meant when he said Justin,
until his mind flashed back to watching the U.S. gymnastics team during one
of his few precious breaks, and remembered the tall, blond and handsome
figure of Justin Spring, a member of the squad.  Thinking about Artemev
fucking the virgin hole of that stud was enough to cause his hard cock to
twitch and spasm without even being touched.  Looking down at his rock hard
cock, Phelps had been so consumed with taking the pounding from Artemev
that he had forgot about his own need for release.

	Noticing the twitching of Phelps' cock, Artemev looked over to
Horton. "Hey Jonathan, what do you say we help out our new favorite cum
slut with his problem."

	Horton did not have to be asked twice, as the two American gymnasts
quickly descended on Phelps' cock, Artemev engulfing the head and shaft
with his mouth, while Horton began tonguing the heavy balls attached to the
prized Olympian cock.  Sucking in one ball, and then the other into his
mouth, Horton began swishing them around in his mouth, massaging them with
his tongue while Artemev was busy bobbing up and down on Phelps' cock,
making the swimmer curl his toes and grip the bed sheets with delight.  Wei
lay there, watching the Americans, stroking himself to climax as he watched
the gymnasts pleasure the swimming god.

	As Michael approached climax, his breathing became shorter and more
labored, tell tale signs of an impending climax for Horton and Artemev who
pulled off Phelps's cock, eager to receive the coming flood of cum from
Phelps' cock into their mouths.  With Horton continuing to masturbate
Phelps with one hand, Artemev kept the head of Phelps' dick in his mouth.

	Feeling his balls tighten, Phelps began firing volley after volley
from his cock, coating Artemev's gullet with warm spunk.  Getting his fill
of semen, Artemev pulled off, allowing Horton a chance to taste the load of
an Olympic legend.  So hungry were they for Phelps that even the small
amount which had escaped their lips and landed on Phelps' cut abs was
quickly lapped up by the two American gymnasts.

	Collapsing on the bed once again in a heap, Michael was happy he
had taken up Horton on his offer from the previous day.  With these
Olympics just beginning, there was no limit to the experiences Michael
might still have in store.

******************************************************************************

That is the end of part 4; I hope you enjoyed reading it.  I've been
getting great responses so far and I would love to keep this going even
after the Olympics as long as there is interest, so please keep the
feedback, comments and suggestions coming.  I am always more apt to keep
something going when I know people enjoy reading it.  Let me know what you
think and what you would like to see next at badboy50040@hotmail.com

Look forward to hearing from you!