Jamil

If you want someone hurt, call Jamil. An accomplished martial artist, he is as adept with a Sig Sauer as he is with his hands. A disciplined individualist, (mercenary would be a better term) he offers his varied services to the highest bidder. Jamil more often than not finds his clients among the demimonde and is regularly hired by the Giambi syndicate for various contracts - enforcement, intimidation, blackmail, pain - and pleasure. Jamil's intensity and thoroughness are well known and among his partners, his deep passions are highly sought.

Jamil's lovemaking is demanding - depending on the situation, it can be seen as either as a game of brinkmanship or a brutal punishment just shy of rape. His strong, handsome face and muscular torso hold an almost Svengali-like fascination to men and he uses this talent to its fullest. His favorite position is to have his buddy bent over some hard surface - be it a table, a desk, a sawhorse or even a construction beam - and to thrust his tool in as deeply and as quickly as possible. He will often establish a rhythm of slamming quickly in and out and derives a great sense of pleasure as his partner cries and screams for mercy (or more!, as the case may be) and keeps this rhythm up until he explodes inside his victim.

Regardless of whether it is an assignment or a personal matter, there has never been anyone who has not wanted to be used and abused by this darkling soldier of fortune over and over again. Sometimes though, his reputation surprises even him. In one instance, a prominent businessman refused to send protection money to the syndicate operation. Jamil trailed the man and confronted him in a side alley. He pushed him against the wall, drew his pistol and held it under the man's jaw.

"Robert, you've been a naughty boy ... Mr. Giambi doesn't like it when you're late with your payments."

"How was I going to see you again if I paid on time?" Tears began to well in his eyes.

Jamil blinked - this was completely unexpected. Robert Evans had been one arrogant son-of-a-bitch before. He lowered the gun and loosened his grip on Robert. The businessman continued in a rush.

"I ... I... want to be with you again, Jamil. I haven't been able to stop thinking of you."

With that statement, Robert lowered his head and began to openly weep. What the hell was going here? The mercenary let go of the man and tucked the gun back into his waistband. Robert tentatively put his arms around the handsome enforcer and when he encountered no resistance, buried his sobbing face in Jamil's shoulder. Jamil was at a complete loss - not knowing how to proceed, he returned the gesture and held the man in his strong arms. Warm tears tickled his neck and dampened his shirt. He gently stroked the back of the businessman's head.


"Bobby, you're going to be limping for a week when I get through with you. You really want me to fuck you bowlegged again?"

The man continued to cry soundlessly into Jamil's shoulder. He held onto the enforcer even tighter. He nodded.
 
These mask personas definitely are taking on lives of their own! First there was Dash, then Lucio and now, Jamil. It's really amazing to me when I put a mask on and look at myself in a mirror how I can actually develop a complete history for the person looking back at me. How this person thinks, what he feels, how he acts. This mask is called the "Jim" and is actually a darker version of the "Arnold" mask. There was a very noticeable brutal vibe with this mask and damn if it didn't feel good!

Brendan

Ever since he was a child, Brendan wanted to be a fireman. Perhaps it was the handsome lieutenant that showed up during one particular career day at school, but he always imagined himself in big rubber boots and wrestling a huge fire hose. Brendan was a star player in high school football - he was agile (as well as tall and muscular) and worked exceptionally well as part of the team. He enjoyed the camaraderie on the field as well as in the locker room. Most particularly with the tight ends. After graduation, he applied to the city's Fire Academy and became a probationary firefighter - or as more commonly known, a "proby".

His day started at 6:45am with weight training and a 5-mile run. After that, there was the parade drills in bunker gear. Thank God the turnout pants were thick and loose - he was always in a state of near-painful arousal after being in close physical proximity to the other chiseled probys in the weight room and then inhaling the scents of sweat, Nomex and rubber of firefighting gear. There were, of course, other recruits with similar interests and Brendan's nights were usually occupied using his own "fire hose" one way or another with his buddies.

Thirteen weeks passed with amazing speed and as he was dressing for his graduation from the academy, he marveled at how his physique had improved - he was in good shape when he entered fire training, but now he was superb. His pecs were now like two slabs of iron and his abs had popped into an breathtaking 6-pack. He had gained 4" on his chest and lost 3" on his waist. His arms had swelled to 21" cannons and every muscle was pumped and ready for action. What little hair he had on his chest and pits he shaved off - better to accentuate the muscular development. If only he didn't have a 9 o'clock shadow - no matter how close he shaved, his dark beard stubble would make an unwelcome appearance within a few hours.

A number of the probys already had tats - he was seriously thinking of getting dragons running down both of his arms. Or maybe a full sleeve with designs stretching across one side of his chest and onto his shoulder blade.

Brendan's initial assignment was to Engine Company 69 -- he handled his first fire with some trepidation, but with complete success. The adrenaline rush from the imminent danger and the lingering scents of rubber and smoke had an unexpected effect on him once he returned to the station house, removed his gear and entered the showers - he was unexpectedly, uncontrollably, and unimaginably aroused. He closed his eyes and spread the liquid soap over taut skin and rock-hard muscles and savored the feel of his hands gliding around and down his body.

"Ahhh, a man after my own heart ... I liked you right from the start, Bren - now I know why!"

Brendan's eyes flew open. Captain Carlo Battali stepped into the showers next to him and as the new firefighter saw, he too, was responding to the recent fire in the same manner. The captain let the hot water stream down his face, his chest and turned around to let it sluice down his broad back and strong legs. He lathered up and Brendan grew even more excited the more he looked at his commander through the steamy air. At 32, Carlo was the youngest captain in the Fire Department and was known for his innovative tactics.

"Bren, after we get cleaned up, stop by my office - I've got some new gear I'd like you to help me try out, OK?"

Carlo moved closer to Brendan and wrapped his muscular arm around the younger man's trim waist. He gave Brendan a feather-light kiss on his full lips and slid his hand down to linger on the new fireman's butt.

As he left the showers and wrapped a towel around himself, Carlo gave him a wink and a smile.

"See you in a few."

Brendan jumped out of the shower and quickly toweled himself dry. He stuffed his still-raging erection into a jock, pulled on a pair of shorts and t-shirt and hurried to the captains office. "Good choice.", he thought. "He's wearing the same as me ... Damn, what a fucking stud..." Carlo looked up and gave the new recruit a huge grin.

"Thanks for coming up so quickly, Bren. We've gotten a pair of military-grade silicone heat bodysuits to test out. They're guaranteed to withstand up to 1500 degrees for up to an hour. I think these could save a lot of lives provided they deliver on their promise. I was wondering if you'd help me put them through their paces?"

"Sure, captain. I'd love to."

"Bren, we're all family here. Call me Carlo. C'mon"

The two firefighters padded around the corner and into one of the equipment rooms. Carlo took a box off a shelf, opened it up and removed two slick black bodysuits. The captain picked one up and shook it out - it was a one-piece with feet, gloves, ball sack, penile sheath and a back zip. A hood dangled from the neck.

"I'll help you into one of these, then you can do the same for me. I want to try out the communications and heat resistance claims first."

Brendan was amazed at the suit in Carlo's hands. "OK, what do I do first?"

"First, you take off that shirt and step out of those shorts!" Carlo laughed as he fished around in the box and retrieved some lube. Quickly, before he had a chance to think, Brendan pulled the t-shirt over his head and dropped the shorts. The jock could barely contain his enormous erection.

Carlo whistled. "Jock too, kiddo .... Hmmmm seems like I picked right!" He smiled as he began squirting some lube into the sheath.

"Sit down and we'll get your feet in."

Brendan began pulling the soft silicone over his feet and pulled the suit up over his calves. As he stood up, the captain was right there, lending a hand. The bulge in his shorts was even larger than the young fireman's. "Pull steady, but be careful not to rip it." His strong arms were around Brendan, stroking and caressing him and pulling the suit up around him. Soon the suit was up over his hips and he found Carlo's hand inside the suit and around his stiff cock!

"OK, buddy, just ease him in ------ there, great fit!" Carlo said as he pulled out his hand covered in lube. His cock had popped into the well-slicked tube and the sliding, grabbing sensation was a overwhelming turn on. As Brendan concentrated on making a few adjustments, Carlo reached behind him and wiped his hand off across his ass. As the captain added a few squirts of lube down Brendan's crack, the young fireman turned, trying to see what was going on.

"Going to need that, stud, to get the ass sheath in place."

"Ass sheath! Hell, I don't know about that,...." Before he could resist, a rubber tube was pushed into place with one of Carlo's fingers. "I'll adjust that later Bren, let's get the rest of this suit on."
The commander worked the suit up Brendan's chest and helped him get his arms through the tight sleeves, and into the gloves. As the zip was pulled up, he felt himself changing, developing a new mental image of myself, and a painful, raging hard-on. He could feel a steady drip of pre-cum oozing out of his cock and into the sheath.

"Nice fit buddy, this suit was made for you! Now let's put on that hood?" Brendan looked down at the anatomically sculpted silicone hood dangling from the neck of the suit.

"Sure!"

Carlo carefully pulled open the hood and lifted it up and over the younger man's head. As he pulled it down, the young firefighter's mouth discovered a small opening. Slightly firmer silicone plugs slipped into his nostrils and provided a steady stream of rubbery-smelling air. Lightly smoked lenses covered his eyes - he didn't know what they were made of, but they were as clear as glass and as flexible as the rest of the suit. As a last step, Battali attached four small, flat metallic devices to the hood - one at either side of the mouth opening and one in back of each sculpted ear. They were finished to blend invisibly with the rest of the suit.

"How does it feel?"

Brendan ran his hands down his now-smooth bald head, his face, his chest, his stomach and fondled his huge ebon-covered cock. The material was sculpted to protect and accentuate every muscle and curve on his body. His pecs were larger and more defined; his 6-pack was now an incredible roadmap of raised mesas and deep rifts; his arms and wrists had an unimaginable muscularity; even his cock was larger and wider. The tactile sensitivity was amazing. The eye lenses brought everything into a sharp, crystal-clear focus.

"Carlo, it feels INCREDIBLE!"

"I'm sure the bunker gear will feel a lot better with this under it, too! OK, bud - so far so good. Help me into mine now."

Brendan followed the same procedure and nearly lost control when he positioned the captain's huge member into the sheath and placed a finger into Carlo's tight pucker as he inserted the anal protector. In a few moments, two living midnight-black statues faced each other.

"Bren, let's test out the communications. Go down to the end of the hall and wait there."

The young firefighter left the room and proceeded down the long hallway. He stopped at the end and as an afterthought, opened the heavy steel door to the HVAC room and closed it behind him.

"Carlo, I'm in the vent room."

"Really?" his commander's voice sounded in his ears as if he was right next to him. "Wow, this gear is great! I can hear your perfectly!"
"So can I. Well, we've got a few more tests to run. Come on back to the office."

Brendan returned to the office to see Carlo leaning against the doorjamb. His massively muscled arms were crossed and his huge black member was sticking straight out from his magnificent body. His mouth was curved into a sly grin, and even though he couldn't see them through the dark lenses, Brendan knew that smile traveled all the way up to his captain's bright green eyes.

"Got to fix that anal sheath Bren. Here, could you bend over a bit? Lean over the desk for me?"

To his amazement, Carlo was rubbing some lube on his ebon-sheathed member. "Told ya, guy, that sheath needed adjustment, and there is only one good way to do it." Carlo pulled their bodies together. His prick, slick with lube, searched for Brendan's crack. As he worked his tool into the younger man's quivering ass, he reached around and grabbed the young fireman's cock.

"How's the fit Bren, OK?" the commander said as he pressed their bodies together and began to stroke. The lube around Brendan's cock was warm and began to do the trick as Carlo's strokes began to intensify. Battali's cock was now fully into his ass and he was pumping furiously. Soon they were both cumming, Brendan shooting a hot load into the tube, feeling it jet around his cock, and running down his leg, and Battali, pumping his sheath full, the heat searing the young fireman's ass. After lingering together for a while, Carlo finally pulled out and turned him around to look into the eye ports of Brendan's mask. The captain grabbed his head and gave the new firefighter a brutal kiss. He snagged the lube off the table and put it into the young fireman's hand.

"Hey lover, I need my sheath adjusted too..."

I just couldn't stop this story at the point of the shower scene. Somehow, the concept of a latex catsuit on a fireman just grabbed hold of my imagination and wouldn't let go. The Clarke mask - part of the "Brend" line - does need a bit more padding than any of my Derls - it requires a regular 8" filler in the mask plus a 1/2" deep and 4" diameter filler inside of the UnderArmor skullcap. I had already laid out the scenarios I wanted -- Brendan working out, getting into gear and then posing -- but the catsuit concept just took on a life of its own. Since these are two things my partner likes best - firemen and catsuits - I wanted to see if I could combine the two. And I think I did a pretty damn good job!

Lucio

Lucio had a normal childhood. That is, if you consider being the only son of the largest syndicate boss in the city normal. From an early age, Lucio displayed a level of brilliance and strategic thinking which pleased his father immensely. Paul Giambi had big plans for his son. Ivy League schools. A new structure. A new and unstoppable power in the City. Lucio as the head of the syndicate.

He killed his first man at fifteen.

He had his first male lover at sixteen. Of course, that milestone wasn't something he was going to tell his father. He had seen how Paul handled "problems" and didn't want to become one himself. He was skillful at reading men's hearts and while he could be ruthless when needed, he was often moved more to pity than to scorn. Franco, his father's top lieutenant and Lucio's mentor, protector and bodyguard, called this talent "navigating between the pillars of Might and Mercy" and had commented that he had never seen anyone so adept - including Lucio's father. Enemies became loyal soldiers; loyal soldiers would sacrifice anything for him without a second thought.

During his last year at graduate school, Lucio invited his friend (and lover) Stephen home during the midwinter break. Both Lucio and Stephen were strong, muscular and devilishly handsome. However, where Lucio was dark - wavy brown hair, brown eyes and always a hint of shadow on his square jaw - Stephen was light - fine, white-blonde hair with pale green eyes the color of new leaves. It was during this break that his father surprised him and his partner. Shock, anger and sadness chased across his father's face as he caught the two together - as he saw Stephen's strong legs over his son's shoulders and his son thrusting into the pale young man moaning beneath him. Paul quickly turned around and slammed the bedroom door shut.

"Stephen, get dressed and leave. I have to talk to my dad right away. Frank will get you to the airport. I'll see you after the break."

"You never told him?"

Lucio shook his head. "I was afraid he would kill me. I don't want him to kill you."

Stephen felt the icy truth in that statement crawl down his spine. He knew what Lucio's father did for a living.

"But Lucio..."

"Not now. Hurry." He put his finger on his lover's lips and then gave him a quick kiss. Stephen felt the power of command in those three words. Lucio grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled a t-shirt over his head. He ran his fingers through his tousled brown hair for at least some semblance of order. He stepped out of the room and quickly walked to his father's study. He opened the door. His bare feet made no sound on the polished wooden floor.

"Papa?"

His father had been pacing. He looked up as his son entered the room. He grabbed him by the shoulders.

"How long?"

"Papa, I can explain ..."

"HOW LONG, LUCIO?" His father glared at him. He tightened his grip.

"Four years." he whispered. "Four years, Papa." So this was how it ends. Even if his father beat him to death, he wouldn't beg for mercy. He'd hurt him enough. Shamed him. Maybe he'd be lucky and he would kill him quickly.

He held his son vise-like and shook him. "Why the FUCK did you torture yourself, sneaking around, for four years? Huh? Why were you afraid to tell me? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Lucio looked up, shocked. His father's eye's were moist. He was terribly upset, not angry. Not angry at all.

A quiet knock and Frank entered the room. Frank took in the scene. Paul more distraught than he had ever seen him; Lucio frightened to death but trying desperately to be brave . "Everything OK, boss?"

Lucio's father released him and took a deep calming breath. "Oh yeah, Frank, everything is just great. Just hunky fucking-dory. My son has been reaming men up the ass for four years and he forgot to tell me!"


Frank was grinning. Lucio was completely bewildered. The lieutenant stepped between father and son and gave the syndicate boss a deep kiss. Lucio's father returned it with equal ardor. Paul had begun to compose himself. Frank turned to the future crime lord.

"Next time, kiddo, keep the moaning down. Be a little more discreet. Your dad wouldn't be where he is today if we weren't careful. And face it, you really are your father's son."

I had originally been thinking of the Meser mask as more of a con artiste - a very successful confidence man named "Alain". Great fit again - this particular line seems to be cut the tightest so far. (A little *too* tight as the seam down the back of the neck split. Nothing that a little Krazy-Glue and duct tape couldn't fix. ) However, when I was developing the Dash character, the crime boss seemed to take on a life of his own too. I tried the Meser mask on again and the character of Lucio just fell into place. Smart, necessarily ruthless, but slightly vulnerable. Almost, but not quite, a Sophoclean tragic flaw. (Whoops! Is my classical education showing??)

Perhaps it's the way that Greyland makes the masks, but most of the ones I own seem to promote the darker side of human nature - that Vlad Tepes/Elizabeth Bathory type of vibe. The only male masks I've seen that seem to be a bit on the happy-go-lucky side are the "Bob" series - which would make for a great televangelist!!

Ryan Redux

Normally, Saturday mornings are my "AE Time", but I guess Halloween in the middle of the week wore me out more than I thought. Six parties over the course of six days was a bit of a stretch. I was all set to take shots of Lucio, the crime boss -- however, after setting up all the photo equipment, I just didn't feel like being him. I wasn't in the right frame of mind to handle a criminal mastermind.

I had purchased a dreadlock wig to use with the B.Will mask and possibly the Bororo and/or Jim masks. I wanted to experiment to see how well (or how badly) this would work out.

I had read an interesting story on the Haircut Stories Site called "Mount Baldy Baldies". There's always a lot of construction going on in my area, and you do tend to see a majority of the workers with either shaved heads or buzz cuts (as well as a lot of well-developed, sweaty muscles) - but I wanted to give Ryan a try with hair - possibly before succumbing to peer pressure and getting shaved.

I got the wig from International Wig - great place: fast service and faster shipping. I don't want to sound condescending, but you really can't go wrong with an inexpensive afro or dreadlock wig - the $40 one looks just as good as the $100 one. The photo shoot turned out extraordinarily well - I like Ryan just as well with hair as without and I can definitely use the wig with my other AE's on tap ... I have plans for an enforcer (Bororo) and a ruthless businessman (Jim).