Stripping for Success

“Suck it, slut,” Walsh demanded none too pleasantly. I didn’t want to and I sure wasn’t going to without permission. It was six months to my final exams and I didn’t want to spend them on the street. I glanced over at my boyfriend Rhys. He shrugged, but smiled encouragement. I noticed, too, that he was hard as stone in his jeans. I didn’t like this change in the schedule but I had to admit my socks were bulging with cash, so a quick mouth job on the wedding boy and then out of there. I’d kept my identity secret, coincidentally making enough in tips to see me through next semester. I’d actually be able to contribute to the household budget for a change.

It had all begun when Rhys had that fucking whine in his voice again. “What else can I do? I’ll have to resign from the faculty. My career is over.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” I admonished. I’d been putting up with this all morning since the stripper had cancelled. “Just ring and get another one.”

He exploded. “You don’t think I’ve already tried that? It’s Saturday for fuck’s sake. They’re all busy. And most of them don’t do gay. This same-sex wedding shit is all uncharted territory. Who knew there would be a demand for gay bachelor parties?”

“Some enterprising gay stud with more sense than money,” I said.

I hadn’t seen the trap coming. “Someone like you, Cal?”

In a way it was my fault. I was doing a major in Small Business at a medium-sized liberal arts university and I’d facetiously suggested as a subject for my end-of-year paper, emergent small business in the gay wedding industry. Not the catering, reception, photography, or all that pomp and paraphernalia that goes with any gender’s wedding, but small businesses that were intrinsically gay. Gay men catering to bachelor parties, for example.

I wasn’t surprised to discover a few of the local gay male sex workers had taken to advertising their services to this burgeoning field of endeavour: those of the get-rich-quick mind set, showing how little they knew about the inherently stingy nature of gay men when it came to sex. With the rush to gay marriage before the law could be overturned, there was a scarcity of the raw commodity – strippers. Considering the reputation that hetero buck’s nights had attained I was surprised any monogamous gay man would allow his partner the opportunity to indulge.

Rhys and I had been together almost eighteen months, all of them filled with constant whingeing when he didn’t get his way. I was trying to make our relationship work as best I could but I was green. This was my first of any duration, a weekend had been my previous longest, and at twenty-one, I suppose I was too young to put down roots. Plus, and I say this in all modesty, I’m quite a catch. In fact, Rhys couldn’t believe his luck when I said ‘yes’ to his offer of a place to live.

Truth be known, my agreement was to a place to live and that alone. It’s not much fun for a poor boy trying to get by on two part-time jobs and a scholarship so measly I had to borrow lube just to party. So when Rhys offered his spare room at a nominal rent and, I assumed, services rendered, I jumped at the opportunity. Rhys was pleasing on the eye and we had already been there, done that, enjoyed the experience. Now I could get it on a regular basis, ensuring I didn’t have to trawl the bars and waste my time and money, plus I had regular meals and a nice, warm apartment with my own room.

I may have seen us as fuck buddies, Rhys saw us as a lot more. He saw me as a boyfriend. I argued against it as best I could but the comfort I was experiencing as opposed to my hand-to-mouth existence prior to my move lulled me into a complacency that eventually saw Rhys move my belongings into his main bedroom. There I stayed, putting up with the odd shag and the incessant whingeing, ever since.

He was a youngish lecturer at the university, fifteen years my senior, madly seeking tenure so he was sucking up to every benefactor, every faculty member who could advance his career. I suspect that on the odd occasion Rhys had probably literally sucked, possibly even bending over and touching his toes for a few of the older gay gentlemen on the board. Rhys would not have considered this as being unfaithful to me: all was fair in the pursuit of his career. Not that I cared particularly - except for the hypocrisy, although I was expected to remain as monogamous as a monk despite the snotty-nosed faculty members groping me and suggesting clandestine assignations behind Rhys’s back.

At first I told him about them but his distress was obvious and he blamed me for encouraging them with the way I dressed or my supposed slutty behaviour. He was in major denial. His future mapped, he would do everything to make sure he fulfilled that dream, his every action motivated by that need. My needs, my wants were secondary, subordinated to his career advancement as well. That was a cause of friction in our relationship. That, and the fact I would not legally marry him. When he’d asked to legalise us I realised Rhys was not the person I wanted to spend the remainder of my life with. That had hit me hard and I’d begun experimenting behind his back.

Not with any of the faculty who would take great delight in reporting my sexual misdemeanours, nor with any of the students he favoured in his lectures. I wasn’t what I would call promiscuous, although I was on heat most of the time because Rhys’s sexual exploits with me were perfunctory and infrequent once he’d moved me into his bedroom. I was a trophy just like his academic qualifications and his athletic prizes.

Problem was, I kept getting hit on everywhere I went. Not my fault I’m cute as fuck and I keep my body in good shape. I’m young, what do you expect? I’m a trim, taut and terrific 5’10” with dark brown hair, cool hazel eyes and skin smooth as a billiard ball. My body looks like I work out but it’s natural: the biceps from years of manual labor as a teenager in the foster home where I grew up and from which I was forcibly expelled when it was discovered I was gay, the six-pack from crunches I do every night before bed, and the dimple in my chin that gives me a cheeky look and draws attention to my cocksucking lips is courtesy of my mum and dad – whoever they are.

Oh, did I mention I have the bubbliest butt this side of the Pecos and a cock that simply won’t rest. It’s always hard and easily triggered. It’s a nice mouthful at seven inches.

So you can see I’m quite a package. But modest to go with it. J And still too young not to be easily manipulated. I hate confrontation. But I hate whining even more.

“Do this for me, Cal. There’s a lot riding on it.”

“And there will be a lot of strange men riding me if I do what you ask,” I said.

Rhys laughed. “You’re kidding me? Is that what you think? Hell, if I’d known that I could have put your mind at rest straight away. Professor Walsh is the height of respectability, there won’t be any shit like that at his buck’s night. His career couldn’t stand the scandal. More importantly, his boyfriend would kill him.”

I didn’t doubt that for a minute. Walsh’s partner, José, was noted for his possessiveness, his razor sharp tongue and the razor sharp stiletto he supposedly carried in his waist band should anyone get too close to his beloved.

“So why have the party?” I thought it was a reasonable question.

“Look. It’s my attempt to get in good with the old professor. He holds the strings for my tenure and I thought...”

“You suck up to the old geezer, but you want me to suck him off.” Professor Walsh, my Business Studies professor, was one of the bastards who felt me up surreptitiously, suggesting extracurricular activity if I wanted better pass marks. My pass marks were good enough thanks very much without his kind of help but I always turned him down politely in case he felt inclined to take his rejection out on my essays. It was one of the times it came in handy saying that I had a boyfriend. He seemed to accept it in good grace.

Not so, Professor Brooke, my English Lit professor who simply would not take no for an answer and began to mark down my assignment work in proportion to my reluctance to accept his invitations. Eventually, I had to go to arbitration which meant my artificially low marks were elevated - much to his chagrin. He hated me now.

“Look, if it will make you feel better I’ll ring Keith, you know Keith, who’s organising the bash and ask him what’s expected of the...um...entertainment.”

That seemed reasonable enough. It also seemed my resolve was wavering.

Rhys made the call while I listened on the extension. “Hi, Keith. Rhys Llewelyn here. I’m just making last minute arrangements for tonight with the stripper. So, can you just confirm what’s expected of him, he wants to come prepared.”

Keith laughed at the double entendre. “Nothing like that Rhys. This is a reputable crowd. It may get a little raunchy but all he’s called on to do is a few bumps and grinds, flash a bit of dick and ass, and treat the Professor Walsh to a special show.”

“What does that entail exactly?”

“Let the old guy touch him up a bit, I suppose. Maybe slap his dick across the old guy’s face.”

“But no sex?

“God, no. The old boy would probably keel over. Or José would put a blade through his heart.”

Keith and Rhys laughed.

“What was the fee you negotiated?” Keith asked.

“A thousand dollars,” Rhys replied. Fortunately they didn’t hear my sharp intake of breath. If I’d been vacillating before the phone conversation, the price tipped me over. “Plus tips if anyone wants to put cash in his jock strap or his socks.”

“If he’s that good, they might.” Keith was beginning to pant.

“Oh, he’s that good all right.” Rhys winked at me. “He’ll be wearing a mask, hope that’s all right.”

“As long as his body is smooth and muscular and his cock on the biggish side, it’s perfect. He’s not one of the students is he? Because it could be dangerous if he is.”

“No, not a student,” Rhys lied. “But well known in the town and –”

“I understand.”

That clinched it.

“Oh,” Keith hastened to add. “If he’s going to come masked you might try to persuade him to come as a superhero. The old prof is a mad keen comic book collector.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rhys said before hanging up the phone.

The best Rhys could do was not much. The town’s major costume hire store was just about all out of superheroes. There was a moth-eaten Spiderman which would scarcely have allowed me to breathe let alone reveal my salient points, and a Batman mask made of a plastic so brittle I cut my hand on the pointed ears. Hmm, on reflection they both had their attractions.

“We do have another costume out the back but it’s not very popular with the guys around here,” the shop assistant said.

“May we have a look?” Rhys asked.

When he brought it out, it smelled of mothballs and reeked of ‘gay.’ It was the costume worn by one of the most popular cult superheroes of the past twenty years: Buck Naked. Popular with teenage geeks and horny gay men. His superpower was his genitalia. He could fuck anything male, female or alien into submission. And if that didn’t work his asshole would milk them to the point of exhaustion. Yep, Buck Naked’s superpower was Superslutdom.

“Um...I think that will give totally the wrong impression,” I said, backing away from a costume that was as dangerous as if it were riddled with kryptonite.

Rhys sighed, a sure sign another whinge was coming up. “We don’t have a choice. The other two costumes are totally unsuitable. This is the only one even approaching what we need. So, it’s either this or–”

“Call the whole thing off.”

“And go and live the rest of miserable lives in Outer Siberia.”

I sighed loudly. “Wrap it up, we’ll take it,” I told the salesman. Rhys beamed his satisfaction.

• * * *

I was secreted in the exotically tiled Balinese-style kitchen of Professor Walsh’s luxury apartment, attempting to swat away Kevin’s unwanted fondling of my ass as we waited for the signal to start the bachelor party entertainment. I blamed the costume which consisted of little more than a half mask that covered my eyes and the top of my nose in a deep shade of maroon, a matching pair of flared suede thigh boots that looked like the fins on luxury cars from the 1950s, a pair of the tightest burgundy shorts known to man and from which the seat had been removed so that my ass was open to the breeze and the aforementioned Kevin’s digital maneuverings, and finally, a tight waistcoat that showed off my chest and biceps and was emblazoned with a coat of arms, two crossed penises, with the letters BN.

“Here, you’ll need some of this,” Kevin said, bending me forward. Before I could argue he’d lathered my asshole with some sort of gel, inserting his fingers between my sphincter muscles. It felt cool as his fingers probed deep inside me. It was hard not to react to his attention and I guess I groaned a little as my cock began to harden.

“Why do I need that?” I enquired.

“Lubrication,” he said as he smeared more around my asshole as well as internally. “It’s a relaxant as well as a stimulant. And it will help numb the pain. And with an ass as hot as yours you’re going to need it.”

There was a loud roar from the living room. Over the pumping up of the party music I’d chosen for my act, I shouted, “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

As Kevin shoved me through the door into the living room for my performance I heard his reply: “So, sue me.”

I was angry as fuck, wondering whether Rhys was part of the lie. Then I realized he couldn’t be – not with his rigid demand for fidelity. On the other hand, he’d do anything for promotion. But did that include pimping out his boyfriend?

The whistling and slow handclapping from the partygoers brought me back to the moment. I was standing as near to naked as legally permissible among a group that included my uni professors, my boyfriend, various faculty members, and students who were eager for me to go beyond the ‘legal’ requirement. At least one of them was expecting a little intimate contact. I’d admitted to Rhys that I would allow Walsh to feel me up, creepy as that might be, but secretly I was prepared to blow the ugly old bastard for the hefty fee I was receiving but I wasn’t prepared to let his prick into my ass. And anyone else who had ideas of taking such a liberty had likewise better forget it.

My body’s natural rhythm took over. I bumped and grinded my way among the guests who hooted and hollered their appreciation, expressing it with their fingers and hands, copping a feel or squeezing their fingers into my bubble butt. Their faces lit up like a Christmas tree as they made contact with the lube, sliding in easily, their expectations rising as rapidly as their cock. It also lubricated their appreciation of my performance which they began to show in a mercenary manner by slipping cash into the bands of my shorts or in the tops of my boots.

Reluctantly, I had to admit I was getting turned on by all the attention. All those hands caressing my body, rubbing my six-pack and squeezing my ass, fumbling attempts to prise my ever hardening cock from my shorts. I slithered over to Rhys who was sitting a little apart from the others, and perched on his knees giving him his very personal lap dance. I leaned in to his ear. “Hope you’re enjoying watching your boyfriend make a slut of himself.” I knew he was, his cock twitched beneath my butt. I ground down extra hard. “Just wait until I get you home alone tonight.” He groaned in expectation.

Truth be told I was super turned on. Exhibitionism came easy to me now that I was no longer the tubby little butterball of my teen years. Those dreaded years in which I desperately hated to share the showers after sport because I was ridiculed and reviled, every glance in the mirror a constant reminder of my lack of desirability. Those years were indelibly etched in my memory. As was my sudden sprouting at 16 and my appreciation of physical contact and my pursuit of the body trim, taut and terrific – mine as well as others. It now looked as if it had paid off and I was reaping the benefits - financially.

In the two sweeps around the guests in the room I had avoided Professor Walsh in order to peak his interest and also, hopefully, to get him so turned on a quick hand job or the briefest of blow jobs would have him squirting followed by my quick exit. I slithered toward him meeting his eyes. I didn’t like what I saw. Here was a man used to power, used to dominating, and all I saw reflected back was myself as prey. Let’s get this over with, I told myself lowering my ass against his bulging Armani trousers. I ran my hands over his chest and was surprised by the hardness of his musculature. Where I expected soft and flabby, he was taut and toned. I undid the buttons to his shirt to reveal pecs that would have done a man proud half his age. A small smattering of hair, turning slightly silver, meant the old prof must have been quite a stud, and quite a catch, in his day. This wasn’t going to be as bad as I had expected.

Leaning in I washed his nipple with my tongue and I felt the sexual electricity zap straight to his cock which twitched angrily beneath my butt. I used my teeth to annoy the nipple I had left alone and Walsh sucked air through his teeth. Bingo! I bit down slightly harder, a barely audible groan escaping his lips. The balance of power was ever so subtly changing. Given time I could control him, therefore controlling the situation.

My face was so close I could taste his breath. He looked me in the eye, flinty and questioning, whispering, “Where have you been hiding yourself all this time, my lovely?” before grabbing my hair and pulling my face to his mouth. His tongue stabbed between my lips as he overwhelmed me. I went with it, mostly in fear that a clump of hair would be yanked out by the roots if I did not. If the skirmish was brutal the execution was finesse itself. This man knew how to seduce with a kiss and I melted into him, lowering my defences. His tongue gently but firmly explored my mouth as my tongue parried. He allowed me into the warmth of his mouth, sucking on my tongue with just enough force to trap it there without pain.

Cupping my sheathed cock and balls, moaning his approval, he ran his hands lightly across my stomach and chest, hesitating briefly to pinch each nipple, before rubbing down my back to my ass. He pushed a finger between my cheeks and, feeling no resistance, he explored further, slipping two fingers inside me. I saw an eyebrow raise in surprise but not wanting him to get the wrong idea I slapped his hand away gently and whispered, “Naughty.”

The catcalls and obscenities from those watching increased volubly as I rose from his lap. I pulled down the zip of his trousers, extracting his impressive, steely hard cock as I kneeled in front of the head of the department, in both senses of the expression. There was a whoop of delight. Walsh made himself more comfortable by pulling his balls out of his trousers which made his cock even more impressive. I wrapped my hand around the loaded weapon, stroking it gently, tickling the head with my thumb. Walsh relaxed into the chair, his breath ragged. At this rate my performance would all be over in a matter of minutes. I increased my pace. That was when he uttered the words that would change everything.

“Suck it, slut.”

Rhys didn’t call ‘time out’ so I got down on my hands and knees, doggy style. A sting and a rush of blood to my butt as a couple of guys swatted my naked tanned ass indicated some of the party guests were coming closer to watch the action. Okay, I’d give them something to talk about. I ran my tongue slowly along Walsh’s cock from his balls to the glistening head, then licked the pearl of precum and swallowed. “Nasty,” he said. “I like it.” I teased the knob with my tongue and a slight biting action with my teeth before placing my lips over the large head. He grunted as I slid my warm wet mouth down the shaft. It tasted spicy. As I neared his balls, I gave him tongue action that made him buck in his chair, slurping up and down his pole for about five minutes as the rest of the party just watched in awe.

“Fuck, son. You have great technique. You’re a real professional. That mouth, whoa boy, it was born to suck cock.”

I hesitated for a moment, remembering I’d been assured everyone would keep their cock in their pants. I’d never expected to enjoy sucking Walsh’s cock. I had been hoping I wouldn’t have to. But it was harmless enough I guessed, and I was earning big bucks. More importantly, Rhys had given his consent. Or I’d interpreted his behaviour as such.

What worried me was that I was getting off on what I was doing. I was enjoying the attention, hell, I was even enjoying chowing down on the professor’s dick. He grabbed the back of my head and pushed my mouth right down to the base then thrust brutally into my throat.

He moaned. “That’s some throat you’ve got there, son. Only a slut could take me like that without gagging.”

He allowed me up for air giving me an opportunity to glance quickly at Rhys. He had his cock out, stroking it, his eyes glazed over with expectation. “Are you a total slut, son?” Walsh asked.

“Yes, sir. I’m a total slut.” I was only giving him the answer he expected.

Big mistake. Uttering those words was like giving everyone at the party the green light.

By kneeling, I’d left my ass vulnerable. That was fine while the party was strictly hands off but after foolishly admitting I was a total slut, some of the more adventurous revellers decided I was easy meat. I wasn’t. I was play acting. Maybe a bit more convincingly than I’d intended if the sound of descending zippers was anything to go by.

I felt hands on my ass cheeks, then a finger exploring my hole. I tried to swat them away but Walsh grabbed my hands and held them. I looked over to Rhys for help. Surely he didn’t want to watch his boyfriend abused in front of him. His smile revealed his satisfaction with the way things were progressing. As did the action of his wrist.

Someone began seriously tonguing my hole. His technique was superb. A+ or higher. I relaxed and the prof let go of my arms. A little anal tonguing couldn’t hurt. I’d have to draw the line shortly but I consoled myself with the belief that at least the guys were getting their money’s worth.

I put it down as research for my paper.

The tongue vanished, then I felt probing back at my asshole. I tensed, flexing my sphincter shut but I was so slicked with spit and lube the finger slid straight in. Then a second. Whoever was behind me was opening me up. That couldn’t be good.

I turned, appealing silently to Josh for help. He just shrugged as if I were on my own, getting my just desserts. “Look, this wasn’t part of the deal,” I tried to squirm out of the vice-like grip of the guy behind me.

“Just add it to the bill,” Walsh said. Before I could complain any further I felt a cock pressed against my ass. A pair of strong hands gripped my waist, a grunt, an almighty thrust and I felt a cock sink into my guts. I let out a roar as the pain seared my butthole and the sting of illegal entry burst in my brain.

It was one motherfucker of a cock I had wedged in me. This guy was hung. He not only plunged his weapon deep into my bowels but he rotated his cock so it entered from a slightly different angle each plunge. He pulled his cock right out then slammed it the full length in again, pushing my head down on Walsh’s so it sank deep into my throat. A few bobs up and down as I attempted to suck in air then my head was held fast and the prof spewed his cum into my gullet. ‘Good slut, swallow it all,’ he said before extracting his still oozing prick to wipe his stringing cum along my cheek. He leaned down to kiss my cum-soaked mouth, sucking his slimy residue off my tongue, exploring the inside of my mouth searching for more. His cock stayed hard and before I knew it he’d leaned over me to claim his bachelor party right. “My turn at the slut’s ass.”

I shivered in anticipation of his strong hard cock in my hole. Plus, I was hoping to find out who the stud was with the great fucking technique behind me. Sure enough, they swapped places, he took the prof’s position and I glanced up just before he pulled my face toward his cock. I was suddenly sick to my stomach. I wanted out of there big time. That slimebag Brooke was now offering me his sleazy cock that had until a few moments before been in my guts. I hated the man. No way was I going to suck his greasy prick. I looked over toward Rhys who was grinning so totally I could almost hear him preparing a speech to accept tenure.

I struggled to put an end to the party games but Walsh forced his cock up my asshole while Brooke had already pulled my mouth down to his pubes. I tasted my ass funk on his slippery prick. I choked, gag slime spewing out of my mouth around his balls. He wasn’t going to let me go. I struggled as I was pinioned between the two insatiable cocks attempting to bury themselves as far inside my body as possible.

“You’re choking him,” one of the guys watching my impalement yelled.

Walsh grunted. “It’s the mask. It’s stopping him breathing.” Before I could stop him he’d grabbed the edge of my disguise and ripped it away. There was a gasp from the room.

Someone shouted. “Oh my god. It’s Freeman.”

Walsh and Brooke didn’t vary their rhythm until it slowly registered who they had skewered between them. “Holy fuck,” Brooke exclaimed just before his cock spat hot spunk into my mouth.

“Damn, Freeman,” Walsh hissed. “You’re even better in the flesh than the fantasy. Hot ass, Freeman. If only I’d known earlier what a slut you are.”

I wanted to scream that I wasn’t a slut, that it was all a terrible misunderstanding. I wanted Rhys to get me out of there. When Brooke finally let go of my head I spat his cum at him and it puddled on his stomach. “Don’t waste it boy,” he said, with a touch of steel to his voice. Walsh pushed my face in it while he viciously plugged my ass. He was hitting all the right spots forcing pre-cum to ooze from my shaft which had hardened under his relentless anal onslaught. Fuck, my body was enjoying it even if I wasn’t.

I heard the door open and a sudden hush fell over the room.

“I see you started without me,” José said without an ounce of jealousy in his voice.

Walsh was incredulous. “You knew about this?”

“Whose idea do you think it was?”

“Let me get this straight.” Walsh was still puzzled. “You deliberately hired young Freeman here for my bachelor party knowing I’d fuck him?”

“What? You don’t like him all of a sudden?” José had removed his clothes to get in on the action and was stroking his thick tan cock close to my mouth. “Of course I hired him. You’ve been obsessed ever since he joined your class. I have to admit, he gets my balls churning too. So,” he shrugged. “What better wedding present than we both share him.”

“And Rhys agreed?” Walsh asked the very question I was afraid of.

During the confab Brooke had reluctantly made way for the youthful José who shoved his cock between my lips. “Of course, he did. I didn’t even have to twist his arm. He practically begged me to take Freeman. The only proviso was that he wear a mask in front of the other guests. We could remove it later after the other guests had left. Looks as if that part of the deal is off. Oh shit, his mouth is so hot.”

My face was dripping manslime, being battered by José’s incredibly hard cock while I could feel Walsh hesitating with his cock embedded in my ass. “And young Freeman here knew nothing about all this bartering? He didn’t know Rhys had set it up?” he asked.

“Uh uh,” José grunted.

Walsh chuckled. “How delicious.” I think that made his cock all the harder and he showed me no mercy as he battered his prick into my sloppy ass. “And we get to keep him for the night?”

José grunted his reply because I was tonguing him with even more fervor attempting to smother my anger at Rhys’s betrayal. While I could appreciate his single-mindedness in pursuit of a career, I drew the line at lying to me on such a grand scale, and offering up my body for abuse. The law had words for such activity. Okay, I was prepared to enjoy my humiliation for the moment, the money made that worthwhile. I was being paid for a service I was supplying. Being serviced. I grinned at the thought, almost choking as José sank into my throat.

Brooke kept up a running commentary on what he wanted his friends to do to my body and it provided intense aural stimulation. I’ve always loved dirty talk. Rhys’s silent lovemaking inhibited me into holding back on moans of pleasure and gasps during my orgasms. My situation now was infinitely freer and I was taking advantage of it with guttural sounds from deep in my throat. I was also grinding my ass against the body that was expertly fucking me, my cock drooling its approval.

I heard Kevin’s voice nearby whispering to José and Walsh. “Um, some of the guys are wondering if it’s okay to...you know...”

Walsh panted. “That’s up to young Freeman here.”

My head was unpinioned. I nodded it enthusiastically without thinking. My mind and my common sense were prisoner to my body and its desires.

“What about Rhys?” Kevin whispered.

It was doubtful even Rhys expected it to go this far but, what the hell, he was responsible for it. I would probably find myself out on the street, my ass would be sore for days, and some of these guys I wouldn’t have looked at twice as sexual partners in the normal course of events, but... I had a shitload of cash that would see me through to final exams, I was more turned on than I ever had been in my life, and I absolutely loved being the centre of attention.

“Fuck Rhys,” I spat.

Kevin passed on my agreement to the whoops from the party guests although a few, whose relationship were not predicated on sharing extra-marital sex partners, quietly left whispering their farewells to a blithely unconcerned wedding couple, while others were content to watch the activity while remaining steadfastly clothed or else jerked off to the entertainment. The remainder opted for eager participation.

In no time flat, Kevin had shucked his clothes and, if I was honest with myself, I’d always fancied the stocky footballer. He wasn’t your usual jock boofhead, the man had brains, but he also had a body that was thick and bulky without being fat. He slid beneath me and wrapped his lips around my prick, slurping away the obvious signs of my excitement. In my peripheral vision I saw a number of men stripping of their clothes or just their trousers awaiting their turn at me by playing with their cock.

It has always surprised me how many good ideas occur at the most inopportune moments. Well, not inopportune exactly. Here I was kneeling on the floor being cocked fore and aft with my prick being expertly tongued when I decided on a short-term career change.

I called a halt to the proceedings. José was pissed that he hadn’t had a chance to blow his load. I stood and removed what little there was remaining of my costume, a costume I was determined to keep and which Rhys could bloody well pay for, and said to the horny fuckers, “Okay, tonight’s not been what any of us expected. I may have been conned but, you paid for a bachelor party, and a real bachelor party you shall have. So, take a seat guys and let’s get the real show on the road.” There was a scramble to grab the best vantage points in the living room by the dozen or so guys remaining as I grabbed Kevin by the hand and led him away to a barrage of the catcalls and whistles.

Once in the kitchen I thrust my mouth against his, sucking his tongue like it was his cock. Releasing him, I explained what I needed him to do, simple task of subdued lighting, cueing the music, making sure the guests of honor were seated appropriately and that I had a small area to strut my stuff. I asked him if he had any more of the gel he’d used when I first arrived and he smeared a good patina over my butthole before sliding three fingers inside me. He pushed gently to spread the lubrication, almost bringing me off in the process. This man had magic fingers. His mouth wasn’t bad either. I was eager to try his cock.

“Let’s see if I’m ready,” I said, a smirk on my face. I bent forward and he got the hint. He slid in with a minimum of effort but not without a small amount of pain, just the right amount to make it pleasurable.

He was breathless. “Holy fuck! You’re still so tight.” I squeezed his cock with my ass muscles to show my appreciation, then pulled away, much to his disappointment, because I wanted this whole show to be public, to be talked about. He returned to the living room to the salacious comments of his friends. The lights were lowered and I heard hard driving rock music pounding from the sound system.

I put my costume back on, gyrating my body in time to the music’s beat, then I pushed open the door to thunderous approval, grinding my way to the small area that Kevin had opened up for me. I teased, I bumped, I ground my ass against imaginary groins, I humped the floor like a horny groom on his wedding night, and I stripped off each item of my costume until I was buck naked.

I got down on all fours, crawling my way to the wedding boys. I impaled myself on José’s hard upright cock, grinding until his eyes opened in amazement as he shot in my gut. I hopped off, sucking his slimy cock clean before turning my attentions to Walsh. With my asshole dripping spunk down the back of my legs, I lowered my face into his groin and suctioned my lips along the length of his rock hard prick forcefully. I brought him off in a matter of minutes as he pig grunted as he shot his bolt.

Turning to the others in the room I opened my mouth to show my gob was full of slime that I rolled around on my tongue to the chant of ‘Swallow it! Swallow it!’ from the audience. Moving slowly toward Rhys, the cum dribbling down my chin, I faced him as I sat on his cock, mashing my open mouth over his. He bucked in an attempt to move his head away, he has always hated cum in his mouth, but I would not release him until I’d made him taste the slimy juice of his boss.

Triumphantly I turned to the crowd and with a mischievous grin followed by an enormous theatrical gulp swallowed the warm cum stew that was sticking in my throat. The cheers were deafening. My face still sticky with jizz, I licked the silvery traces from Rhys’s slick lips before leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Make the most of this sweetheart, it’s the last time you’ll ever fuck me. From now on my ass belongs to anyone who wants it.” I was exaggerating, of course, but it did me good to see the flash of panic in his eyes. It was payback time, although even as I said it, I knew part of it to be true. I would never go back to the relationship with Rhys.

I rode him like I’d wanted to for the past few lacklustre months of lovemaking, rode him like I had when we first met, before he began taking me for granted. I wanted him to regret what he’d lost. But, true to form, the only sign that he’d deposited a load in my ass was an inhalation of breath until his cock stopped twitching inside my ass, then a satisfied exhalation that was just as quiet.

I stood up, wiping my lips with the back of my hand, before hauling Kevin to the front of the room. He’d set up the coffee table for me, with cushions for my knees, and had ascertained that it would comfortably hold my weight. In front of the guests I kneeled and arched my back so my inviting asshole, dripping warm sperm, was vulnerable to any onlooker. Kevin took his place behind me like he belonged there. I moaned like a slut and beckoned Brooke, who had kept away from me since my unmasking, to my mouth. I opened up as he approached. The look of surprise said it all but he eagerly poked his prodigious cock between my lips.

The remaining guests, no longer reticent, eager to join the sexual fray, moved closer to fondle my body and join the queues for my willing cum dump holes. The frenzy ran for an hour or more until I was so sore I could not take another cock, and my throat was so coated with cock phlegm I thought I would choke. I had cum twice myself. Once while Kevin’s thick cock massaged my prostate and later when one of the guests decided I’d suffered enough and blew me while I had cock buried inside me.

Rhys had long since left the party.

It was the early hours of the morning by the time coffee and cognac were served. Don’t you just love the behaviour of the seriously cultured? José and Walsh continued to finger me even after I’d begged off spending the night because of soreness and willingly took a rain check. I did go back, a little over a week later, and learned they were sexual athletes who kept me on my back for almost six hours. Well, not always on my back, but usually on the end of one of their pricks. To my surprise, I also got to butt fuck José’s tight little asshole and had him begging.

They turned out to be considerate lovers, and very much in love with each other. I was lucky to share their joy and ended up being invited to their wedding. I’d moved in with Kevin who continued to plow my hole whenever the mood struck him, which was often, and he didn’t mind that I would occasionally feel the need for something special, like Brooke’s nasty pole jammed between my cheeks. For that I expected no classroom favors, and received none.

My reputation spread, as I had intended. I didn’t care for the ‘slut’ tag which Rhys, in his jealousy spread about, but the reputation as a bachelor party stripper, that was something else. I enjoyed the attention. I enjoyed the cocks. I enjoyed the fucking. Most of all, however, I enjoyed the cash benefits. I only did a buck’s night every now and then because I made so much money at it, I lived comfortably. So comfortably I considered it as a full-time profession.

I’d already discovered that the global economic downturn had killed any prospect of a well-paid career, especially in my degree subjects. But I also knew that my options for continuing to work at engagement parties was limited in a town the size of mine. I needed a larger population in which to strut my stuff.

Upon graduation, summa cum laude, I packed my new fuel efficient car, gave my ass up to my old fuck buddies, even gave Rhys a thank you blow job, plus a weekend of the best sex Kevin was ever likely to have in appreciation for his friendship. Under different circumstances I could have settled down with him, but for the moment, I was young and in demand. My reputation preceded me, and my asshole twitched at the prospect of that great big world of cock out there waiting for me.

I checked myself in the rear vision mirror. I was ready. I pulled away from the curb, honking my thanks to Kevin who waved until I turned the corner. I switched on the radio, singing along loudly, as I headed for the highway out of town, hoping for a life of adventure. I was young, I was cute, I was fuckable. All I needed was men. And the world is full of them. No wonder I was smiling.