100

I can feel the thump-thump-thump of the music on the soles of my feet. There is a party happening downstairs on the first floor beneath me. I am in a second-floor bedroom. More specifically, the Prince Harry room. I do one final look-see in the full-length mirror in the corner of my room. I look spiffy. Hot. If I do say so myself. All my blonde locks are in the right place. But with my shaggy do, I do look somewhat rebellious. (I am.) Presentable. For a thirty-three-year-old man about to enter the fray. I am ready.

“Time to go.” I say under my breathe.

My hand grasp hold of the golden knob. And turns it.

I walk out of the room. The music can be heard clearly now as it wafts up from the bottom of the staircase. My room is next to the winding staircase, as are all the rooms. I do not recognize the song. But I like it. I catch myself tapping my foot on the polished wooden floor.

“Hi!”

It is my neighbor in the adjoining room. He is in the Prince William. I recognize the deep baritone voice from the noises I have heard emanating through the thin wall between our two rooms. His voice is intoxicating. I have liked it from the moment when I checked in and caught a glimpse of him and before I got settled into my room.

He is quite handsome. A head chock full of wavy brown hair. A day or two of rough stubble on his rugged face. Much like myself. He stands about 5’ 10”. I know because I tower over him at over 6 foot. He is compact. Muscular. He is arrayed in the same recognizable fashion as me.

“Hello!” I answer. As he approaches me. Getting closer with each stride.

“You have been quiet in your room. I did not know if someone was even in there. I see I was wrong.” He says as he looks me over. I believe he is sizing me up. “You goin’ downstairs?”

“Yeah.” I answer. “That’s where everyone is and where we need to be. I reckon.”

“You look nice. Really nice.” He says. “And that is a nice cock you got there. Too. By-the-way. You should be proud.”

“I am.” I say. Matter-of-factly. And I am not even hard.

It is as if the booming music as magically faded away as the two of us converse in front of my room. It only seems to be us in some weird sorta way.

My neighbor reaches out and runs his husky fingers through my ample chest hair. Making an undiscernible pattern among the thicket of my pectoral fur. From there he goes down to my somewhat limp cock, finding his way among my dense bushy pubes, an fondles me. His hands are calloused and coarse. Rough. I grow hard at his masculine touch. I like it.

“Now you are at your 100 percent.” He tells me. “Or more. And it is quite impressive.”

My neighbor is already hard. His hand tightly gripped on my cock. And I respond accordingly.

“I am sure I would have risen to the occasion once I got downstairs.” I tell him. “Among the others.”

“When I see something, I want. I get it. And I want you.” He tells me. His hand still grasping my cock like I am some prize-winning bull.

“And when something is wanted.” I add. “It is best to sample the wares of the one who wants it, too.”

I smile at his rather forward suggestion. And respond accordingly.

I grab his cock. While my cock is still in his bulky fingers. He introduces himself. Tells me his name. But I do not hear it. Only the jumble of mumbled words gets to my ears over the loud booming music. Instead. I name him. Mr. One-Hundred. In my head. I will remember him better with the name I have assigned him.

“I am Nosh.” I tell the man as he releases my cock into the freedom of the music-filled air. It points slightly upward at attention, like a dutiful soldier would be before someone of a higher rank.

“You are no small bite.” Mr. One-Hundred says. “You are quite the full meal. And I want your spread in my bedroom later.”

“Why limit it to the bedroom. Share.” I say. “Let all witness the fun.”

With that. Both of us walk side-by-side down the stairwell of this faux British-styled manor located among the pines and into what I know is a frenzied fray. I would have liked to see how our asses look as we bump from step-to-step in synchronized step down these stairs. I am sure it is quite a divine sight.

When we get to the end of the stairs. The music is now glaring. And the party is in full swing. Until.

“Dinner is served.” Is bellowed out as the music suddenly goes dead throughout the house. And the voices of the other men are heard among those bustling their way to the adjoining dining room.

On the table is a full buffet spread. The chairs line the walls as the cocks of the men swing like pendulums between each of our legs as we stand milling about. Waiting.

“Get fueled up, everyone.” Our host, Tim says. “I am sure y’all will all need it for energy for the night.”

Across the room, clad in only a sodden jockstrap. And wearing a pair of nerdish black framed spectacles. His fiery-hued pubes are sneaking out from underneath the band of his white elastic strap which is luring my eyes to his mesh packaged bulge. The only one among the many in the room with a stitch of clothing on, he is the youngest of everyone in attendance. A boy of eighteen named Tait. The kids’ eyes dart about to everyone, laser focused, soaking up all the various stages of masculinity parading about him.

I notice the slight patch of ginger lawn in the center of his massively muscled chest.

He is a true kid in a candy store as ever there were one. He has everyone’s attention. Mine included. And the tent in his jockstrap proves he is at attention too.

His locks are wavy curls of rolling ginger. He is no puppet named Howdy. You would be in awe if you saw him like I do. He is heavily freckled on his deeply ridged chest and his face which makes him even the more alluring in the light of the many lit candles on the dining room table. The room is cast in glowing orange shadows. Otherwise. His muscles are bulging from his years on the high school wrestling team. I overheard him bragging to one of the other men as he was being gently caressed by that man as he stripped off his tee shirt in the smoking room upon his entrance. He then undressed down to this jockstrap in that same room among the men gathered there. All the men’s eyes bulged, along with other parts of their anatomy when he made his entrance.

The boy of eighteen turns in my direction. I am automatically drawn to the black rims of his glasses. Our eyes meet like attracting magnets. His hand goes to his clothed-held cock while mine does the same in equal reaction with no obstruction to block my moving hand. My pulsating hard-on throbs loudly in my ears. He licks his lips savoring in my spectacle. I stroke myself harder to show him what he can have. And what I will gladly give him.

“I think he has noticed you.” Mr. One-Hundred says as leans in and whispers in my ear.

“I’ve noticed him too.”

“I can see that.” Mr. One-Hundred says as he reaches over and strokes my cock. His hand joins mine as we stroke my cock in unison.

I also notice the other men gathered about in the small dining room have noticed the interaction between me and the glasses-wearing, red-haired and solely jockstrap-wearing former wrestler too.

He is the only meal I wish to partake of now. Forget the damned food. I can eat later. I say to myself. I will need the protein on the dinner table to replenish me after the night’s activities.

I walk towards him. Lured like a fish to some dangling piece of live bait.

“Hey, stud.” I say realizing how out-of-date my words sound after I have already said them. But they are said, anyway.

But he does not say anything. Only his eyes do as they go to my hard-on between my legs.

“Nice cock.” He says. “Really nice cock.”

I do not say anything.

I grab his swelled cock through his jock and lead him out of the dining room and into the adjacent room where it is less crowded. And only us. For the moment. And push him close into the side of the pool table. I reach behind him and find his exposed hole. He is blessed with fur there to between these accessible ass-cheeks.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” The young man sighs as I poke him roughly with my finger. It slides in with some reluctance. But it does go in. Nothing stiff has ever been there before, I can only presume.

“Your first time here?” I ask as I continue to ram my finger into his hole. And run my other hand across the small, patch of red fur on his chest. While my cock jabs into his well-muscled leg.

“Uh-huh!” He mumbles as I finger-fuck his squeamish hole.

I can hear the quietness in the room from the men who have followed us like willful sheep while I prod the boy with my extended finger. Mr. One-Hundred is surprisingly close to me as I carry out my prolonged prodding. All their eyes are upon us.

“Having a good time?” I ask.

“I am now.” He answers. “I am now.” As he huffs under the jabs of lone digit.

No one had been bold enough to command this young twink to do their bidding. They only gawked at him. Admired him. And only caressed him with their eyes. None daring to get close enough to him to make a move. Except for the singular man who tried but Tait whisked his hand away when he had ventured to far. He did not do that with me. I go after what I want too like Mr. One-Hundred said he does. But I do not wait. Unlike him.

“I like red-heads.” I whisper into his ear. “They get my fires a-blazing.”

“Me too.” He says. I think he says this automatically. Not realizing. As I continue to jab him with my sharp finger. “You want more than my finger, doncha?”

“Uh-huh.” He mumbles. Almost like he has been hypnotized under my prodding. “I do.”

“Turn around.”

He does.

He presents me with his pale, freckled and speckled fur-lined ass. I wonder if his cherry has ever been popped. If not. It will be. Soon.

“You ever been fucked, boy?” I gruffly ask.

He mumbles what sounds like a straightforward, ‘no.’ He thrusts out his ass. Offering it up wholly to me. I sink to my knees and take his ass into my mouth. My days-old beard growth rakes roughly across this pale tender ass. The sweet fragrance of youth fills my nose. Untouched. Unspoiled. Untarnished. And undoubtedly unblemished. I suspect.

I wonder if the boy knows what is about to be in store for him. If not. He best be ready for it, regardless.

I can feel the heat from the men who are now gathered about us as my tongue dives lustfully into the boy’s ass. I can hear the rumblings of some that are gathered about. I overhear one say.

“Does he know you are not supposed to fuck anyone in here.” As he continues leering at us. He strokes his cock or has it stroked for him by another of the many admirers.

But I have fucked in here. More than once. And in front of the owners too. And with the owner too. If you must know.

“Fuck him!” Someone shouts out. “Fuck that boy’s sweet little hole!”

I raise my head from between his ass cheeks and replace my mouth with my cock at the entrance to his now spit-lubed hole.

I whisk my shaft across his crack like a paint brush. Cum escaping from my shaft and leaving its painted trail on his freckled round ass. I am rock-hard. Throbbing. And pulsating.

“You want it, boy?”

“Uh-huh! Uh-huh!” He answers. The excitement clearly visible in his utterings.

My cock parts him like the biblical Red Sea.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” The boy says as I slide my cock all the way in. Deeper and deeper. He bucks his hips. Causing me to ram myself harder into him.

“You feel so good.” I say as his ass grabs ahold of my cock like a snake swallowing down its squirming prey.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” He continues to gasp as my inches slide ever deeper inside him. Disappearing.

“You can take it boy. C’mon! C’mon! You can do it!”

And he does. Inch by inch of my cock disappears deep into him. Soon my blonde hairy pubes are intermingling among the fine ginger hairs inside his fur-lined ass-crack.

I want to cum so I can fuck him harder and longer later. But I do not.

“Hey Nosh!” Is said as I pound my cock like a jackhammer into Tait’s hole.

It is a voice I recognize from the many years of hearing it. It is one of the owners of this establishment and the organizer of this little get-together. I wonder what he has to say.

“Why doncha you two get atop the pool table and fuck, so everyone can get a good look at the two of you and especially of this sweet-assed boy.”

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” A mixed chorus of voices agrees with his suggestion.

We climb atop the pool table. Me first. And Tait follows. Those gathered around are offered a spectacular view of both of our asses as we arrange ourselves atop the table.

There are murmurings among the men as they gaze upon our magnificent male splendor. Many of the men gathered about are busy with their hands on their cocks varying in the intensities of their stroking. I get even more turned on by those watching us.

I lay, plank-like, like a sacrifice, atop the green felt of the pool table. We are the offering for this raunchy same-sex crowd. I liked to be watched as I fuck. Performing for an audience has been a fetish of mine since I was a teen in the high school boy’s locker room. I would often shameless jack-off in the locker-room before my next class.

My cock points upward, bent slightly at an inward angle towards my naval. It affords me a particular reach inside a man’s hole that has raised a man’s voice an octave or two when I am fucking them. Tait only got a sample of it as I fucked him against the side of the pool table. The reach is different when I am on my back. When I am ridden like a galloping steed.

“Get on his cock, boy!” Someone yells out forcefully. “Get atop him.”

Tait straddles me. I can see his ginger fur lined hole as he looms above me.

“You ready for it, boy?” I say. “Are you ready?”

“Uh-huh!” He mumbles. “Uh-huh!”

But is he?

Why does the ‘fuckee’ always get monosyllabic when they know they are about to be impaled with another man’s beefy cock. Fear? Reluctance? Or the quiet joy as they anticipate that approaching moment? And the ‘fucker’ get so ramrod hard they are near explosive before it commences?

“Nosh. Don’t you go light on that there boy. You sure as fuck didn’t when you fucked me.” Says one of the men standing about, obviously I had fucked him before but for the life of me I cannot recall who it was. Or his name. Or when. He is just a number etched onto my memory. And a recipient of my bountiful seed.

“He fucked you too?” Says another voice among the men gathered. There is jealousy in his voice towards another recipient of my offering.

“Yeah.” Says the prior man. “He sure as fuck did. You too?”

The other man nods his head in agreement to the question.

I do not recognize either. But I do not usually remember their faces. I only care about their asses and the man-cream I dump into them when I do it.

I never repeat a mistake unless I have enjoyed myself.

It is a rule I live by. Born out of experience. And need.

Tait faces me as he lowers himself onto my stiff tool. He had to use his hand and maneuver my cock into its proper position to enter his hole. It is one of the things that the men must do to accommodate the angle of my cock. But once I am inside. It rakes the soft tender interior of any man’s hole. And this gets the squeals out of the men as I ram away at them.

“Take your cock out of that jock, boy, so we can all see it.” Another bystander says as Tait bounces on my cock frantically like a gangly armed puppet.

Tait frees his cock from the cotton-mesh confinement. The boy is hard as he flings his young sap from the piss-slit of his cock onto me and himself and those crowded close around the pool table with their mouths agape.

“The boy is uncut.” Someone says at the sight of the boy’s pointed straight upwards cock and the fold of skin clearly visible from his erection.

I have seen few uncut pieces of man-meat in my life. And his ass swallows me better than most have done before.

“You. Uncut, boy?” I ask Tait as he wires away on my cock like a wild feral animal.

“Uh-huh!” Tait mumbles as his eyes rolls back in their sockets as he plunges himself down on my stiff member.

The men continue to stroke their respective cocks as we go on like mad dogs atop the pool table faux ‘stage.’

“FUCK HIM, NOSH!” A loud voice says from the gathered crowd. “FUCK HIM! FUCK HIM! FUCK THE HELL OF HIS ASS!”

Others join in chorus with him repeating the words.

And like the days of old around the crowded coliseum I am cheered on like a victorious gladiator. But instead of arms lifted to the heavens as a victory it is the hard erections of the men gathered around a pool table that reach to the heavens.

Tait moves himself up and down on my cock like a jackhammer ramming into solid concrete. He squeals and moans like a man possessed. And I guess he is. By my lengthy thick and hard cock does not falter.

“Ride’em boy! Ride that man’s cock!” Another voice in the crowd shouts. I do not recognize it either.

I can see the length of my shaft disappear into the boy’s deep wet hole. My hairs and the boys’ hairs are moist from these continued exertions.

The room is filled with moans and groans as each man watches us. Others are sucking on the cock next to them. In a corner, a man is being fucked in rhythm to me and Tait. But we are the center of attention.

“Uhhhhhhh-huhhhh!” Tait loudly exhales as he sprays me down with his seed. Some lands on my face. Some on my chest. Each erupting spurt from his wagging hard cock hits me on my chest and a few scattered dabs spot me across my face.

His eruptions gets loud whoops from the men crowded into this room.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” It is my turn as I deliver my load deep into Tait’s ass.

I can feel my cum-lava soak down the young man’s insides.

I feel a tongue lap at my balls. It is Mr. One-Hundred. He is licking the cum leaking out of Tait’s ass onto my yellow furred balls. And there is a lot of it to clean up.

***

“Nosh! Nosh! Nosh!” I hear my name called out as I walk towards my car on this sunshiny day. It is Mr. One-Hundred’s deep baritone voice I hear.

“Hey, Mr. One-Hundred. I didn’t see you when I said my ‘good-bye’ to everyone.” I say. But I use his real name and not the moniker I have tagged on this delightfully masculine man.

“I was up in my room with one of the other guys.” He says. “As you can guess.”

“Yeah, we heard you.” I tell Mr. One-Hundred.

“You mean. You and Tait?” He says.

“Yeah. It was him.” I say.

“Sorry we did not get a chance for a hook-up. I would have wanted you to fuck me too. But you were busy.” He says. “But so was I.”

“Yes.” I say.

“Yeah. You were with Tait.” Mr. One-Hundred says. “Can I get your number? Give you a call sometime. Find out when you are going to be coming back here.”

“Sure.”

We walk to my car. Mr. One-Hundred is still nude. I am clad in only a pair of flimsy and loose cotton gray shorts along with one of my ragged and ripped tees. And my old worn pair of Jesus sandals. And nothing else. My overnight bag slung over my shoulder which is full of my sex toy goodies and little else besides a few clothes. A toothbrush. And toothpaste.

“I have a pen and paper in my car.” I say. It is where my cell phone is too. I always leave it outside and away from the eyes of the men gathered inside the bed and breakfast.

I scribble my number on a piece of paper and hand it to him.

“Here.”

“Thanks.” Mr. One-Hundred says. “I meant what I said about getting what I want.”

“I know you did.” I tell him. “And I meant when I said I want the same in return. Just ask Tait. He can tell you.”

“I’ll call you.” He says.

“I know you will.” I tell him. I expected no less from him. I am surprised he did not barge in during the night and interrupt Tait and me.

“Can I get myself a taste before you leave?” Mr. One-Hundred asks.

I do not answer but give him a smile. He grabs the sides of my shorts and yanks them down to the dirt.

“Ouch!” I say as my bare ass hits the side panel of my sun-heated car.

Mr. One-Hundred swallows my cock all the way down to my root. He can swallow a load before I drive the hour back home to my wife and kids.

Some of the dialogue and events are actual true-life retellings of true incidents. But I will let you ponder over what is truth and what is fictionalized.