A Long, Hard Life

I need you tonight
'Cause I'm not sleepin'
There's somethin' about you, girl
That makes me sweat

How do you feel? I'm lonely
What do you think? Can't think at all
What you gonna do? Gonna live my life

So slide over here and give me a moment
Your moves are so raw, I've got to let you know
I've got to let you know
You're one of my kind

– "I Need You Tonight" by INXS 
 

***

The Midsumma Gay Pride Parade in Melbourne, Australia marched forward promptly at 11:00 AM local time. The three of us walked, our nearly naked bodies glistening with suntan oil as the Southern Hemisphere sun beat down with the furor of Vulcan's forge. Wispy clouds cowered at the far vault of the sky, abandoning us to relentless light.

Anton and Emil Asta-Owainsen, scions of the Kingdom of Denmark glowed in their radiant blonde glory, skin kissed tan, hanging by the thread of legality wearing twin rainbow g-strings and bondage harnesses. Parade officials frantically talked them down from wearing jockstraps as, apparently, parents felt better knowing a thin strip of cloth in back protected impressionable eyes from the evils of the dreaded butthole.

The drama struck me as comical. Nobody seemed to care that their groin pouches looked fit to burst with a sneeze. In the meantime, I looked doggedly ahead in order to avoid erecting a "wardrobe malfunction" of my own.

Anton put his foot down about my holding their leashes. Apparently, letting me hold them was a lark for Halloween. Otherwise, I wore the sub's collar and they held the leashes. As their designated "sub" I wore only a chain link body harness with slave bracelets on both hands. Two leashes dangled from D-rings on my dog collar. They held the leashes jointly, signaling to all who knew the language that I was their property and not to touch me without their permission.

The chain harness was a decorative affair with many fine lengths of metal draped across my pecs. I jingled and shimmered as I walked, imagining that I was a masculine version of Princess Leia on Jabba's sail barge, a five-foot-four barbarian prince held captive by his conquerors.

I enjoyed showing off all 130 pounds of my athletic body with my black mane pinned back in a high flowing tail. My Indigenous skin gleamed coppery bronze in the light. Rainbow striped beach sandals adorned my feet. I looked masculine but hella gay, which was the point. I felt pretty too, which fed the deeply starving side of me that was intersex. I walked behind and between my princes, giving me ample opportunity to admire their scrumptious backsides.

The eldest brother at 25, Anton stood six feet, four inches tall with a cut, defined physique honed by military service. His muscles were huge but practical, bulging with the power and grace of a jungle cat. Emil, younger by one year, stood nearly as tall as his brother at six-two with a slender, youthful physique packed with lean, taut muscle. Both personified the Golden Ratio with broad shoulders tapering to trim waists and long legs. They struck me as near to human physical perfection as nature allowed.

I wondered if the Danish royals dabbled in Eugenics and genetic engineering to manage such beauty. Anton and Emil were simply too good to be true. They proved it by strutting along the parade route without a care, boldly accentuating their most attractive assets for the world to admire.

We strutted our stuff alongside the parade float advertising the new gay resort the princes and their business partners built in Australia, so technically we were working.  We passed out flyers and directed the curious to a tent where more scantily clad lads explained details and took reservations. I liked this kind of employment. I saw myself happily retiring after 20 years of this. 

I enjoyed playing with kids who ran up to us. To them we were dressed to go swimming. One adorable little tyke walked beside me with a head full of blonde curls.

"Are you a mermaid?" He asked with big, wide eyes.

"Mermaids have tails. Do you see a tail?" I wiggled my butt cutely.

"Duh! Mermaids get legs when they walk on land!"

I laughed, "What makes you think I'm a mermaid?"

"You're pretty and shiny." He touched my chains just as an earnest parent snagged him by the wrist, dragging him back with profuse apologies.

"No worries, you have quite a little charmer there. He's going to be dangerous in a few years."

"A few years? HAH! I wish!" Mom dragged Little Cutie behind the line. Anton fell back to walk at my side. I shivered under his intense blue gaze.

"He's right, you know. You are very pretty."

"Stop!" I bumped him gently, dropping my gaze in embarrassment. I smiled despite it.

"Nobody notices me when you are around." I risked a look at the gorgeous man who only a short while ago crushed me in his strong arms and kissed me. I shivered again, my flimsy g-string growing tight.

Anton tugged my leash until his lips brushed my ear. He sounded disappointed. "Chonay, you just blew off my compliment."

I spluttered with dismay. "I'm sorry, I don't know how to take compliments!"

"Yes, you do," he challenged with an incredulous tone. "I've seen you at your art shows taking compliments gracefully. What's different about this time?"

"Do we have to talk about this here?" I dared to meet his gaze.

"Yes."

Damn him! I looked around at who might be listening. Emil walked a few feet ahead, waggling his eyebrows knowingly. I put on a fake smile and waved at people as we passed.

"You change," Anton picked up. "You pull in on yourself and look upset. Talk to me, Chonay. I want to understand. Do my words offend you?"

"NO!" I blurted loudly, drawing a few stares. I lowered my voice. "Just the opposite. I like it; it's just – I'm performing for an audience when I'm at a gallery showing. With you it's personal, it's real, it's special. I feel awkward. I pinch myself because I still don't know what you see in me."

"You don't see it, that's what makes you beautiful." Anton rested his free hand at the small of my back. "These people are looking at you as much as us, Chonay. Little kids aren't running up to play with me and Emil. They don't want to touch us. That's all you."

He gave me a peck on the lips and walked forward again, leaving me with my conflicted thoughts.

The Middumma parade wrapped up with the crowd filing into nearby venues to cool off and celebrate. I traded in my chains for a logo tee shirt. I kept the g-string but put on a pair of scandalous logo shorts. My companions followed suit only opting for island print button down shirts, worn open in lieu of covering their ripped torsos.

We rested up and ate at Mollie's, a companion restaurant upstairs from the gay nightclub Sircuit. Both were open to the general public during the day while the festival lasted. Guests and regulars assured us things picked up after 9:00 PM. We decided to go back to the hotel and sleep until late afternoon. We enjoyed a steamy three-way shower, threw on our clubbing gear, and hit Mollie's for a carb-packed dinner. From there we stepped down to Sircuit for their 9:00 PM dance party. After an hour of cutting loose on the dance floor we felt primed for the main event of the night.

Wet was reputedly Melbourne's premiere gay bath house and sauna. I had never been to such a place. It was beautiful and spacious with Romanesque decor,  plush leather furniture, artfully placed plants, and subdued lighting. I saw paintings by local artists on nearly every wall of the common area. The boys knew what they were doing so I followed like a duckling, watching avidly as they introduced me to the world of public mansex.

"We don't do this very often." Anton explained as we stopped at a wall of lockers to deposit our clothing and valuables. He handed me a small towel and a small plastic bottle. I sniffed the contents and recoiled from a strong chemical odor.

"Poppers," Emil offered helpfully. You inhale once in each nostril before sex. It is incredible."

"Like huffing glue." I wrinkled my nose. They gave me a lost look. "Never mind."

Anton repeated as they led me down a hall. "We don't do this much."

"Your family?" I guessed and they gave me that lost look again. I elaborated. "The royal family objects?"

They burst out laughing. Emil shook his head, "Americans…."

"We in Europe have more open minds about certain things but no, it has nothing to do with our family."

We stopped off at our rented room before pressing on. I asked Anton to get to the point when he pushed into a shower room. My words tumbled past my lips in a spill of random Alphabet letters when I took in my surroundings.

Gorgeous men of every size, shape, and color mingled in a large open room. Porcelain tile covered the walls while shower heads filled the area with moist steam. Some men washed, many stood in clusters talking, still others engaged in sex for all to see. I watched as one by one the occupants took in the new arrivals. Soon everyone stared at us and the room lapsed into eerie quiet.

"This is why," Emil threw wide his arms in a mighty stretch to accentuate his athletic physique, only stopping to scratch his balls which hung low, proportioned perfectly to his nearly foot long  cock. Loki as I nicknamed his organ swelled with life until it jutted boldly from his loins, ready to take all comers. Onlookers drank in the sight of his legendary length with lip-licking anticipation. Anton stepped to his side, slapping his rock hard penis, Jormungandr against the brickwork of his abs. He stood equal in length and considerably thicker in girth to his brother, easily as thick as a beer can.

"This is why," Anton repeated, looking back over his shoulder with a knowing smirk as first individuals, then groups closed to touch, to taste, to worship at the altar of penile perfection.

"Creator," I muttered under my breath as so many hot men closed around my lovers that I lost sight of them.

I pried through the wall of muscle to find the princes leaning back against a shower wall, their legs spread wide, feeding cock to three mouths at a time. One guy stood between the princes kissing each in turn. He twisted their inward nipples while a pair of guys flanked, kissing lips and sucking outward nipples. A clever pair of enthusiasts sat below to suck on the royal balls.

Anton and Emil rolled their heads into their kisses, their eyes closed, enjoying the attention. I had no idea how they knew but both held their hands out, beckoning to me. They cleared a spot and pulled me back against the wall between them. They laced their fingers with mine and took turns between kissing me and hot men.

I did not garner the drooling ardor of the crowd so I felt keenly awkward sharing their space. Emil looked down at me with a lust-fogged smile.

"This always happens. We never get past the first room before they crowd us."

"It's a feeding frenzy of scorching hot, lusty piranhas!" I laughed.

A beefy, bearded brunette with tattoos across his chest and arms took my tumescent five inches in hand. I gasped with surprise and instinctively rose onto my tiptoes when he popped me gleefully into his mouth.

"Aw yeah, this is crackin'," he slurped off to admire his prize. He addressed the princes before chowing down on my Indigenous bone. "You hung blokes are great but give me a perfect mouthful like this little guy any day."

"He's our Pocket Bottom." Anton and Emil chuckled fondly, threading their fingers in my hair, taking possession of me, owning me before the ruggedly handsome crowd.

Tatted Hotness glommed twin handfuls of my assflesh. This granted an opening that allowed him to tap my rectum with a finger. All of my strength bled out with a moan. I collapsed onto his hand, suspended by my hair, deactivated as if a kitten in its mother's mouth, suddenly trembling, hot, and ready for breeding. The transformation shocked me but delighted others.

"Oh, yeah, he's got a sweet little ass on 'im. I wouldn't mind poppin' this bubble. He takes you gents?" Tatted Hotness looked up with incredulous eyes.

"Both," Anton grinned savagely.

"At once," Emil finished, pulling my hair until we met in a scorching kiss.

"This I've gotta see!" Tatted Hotness crowed excitedly. 

"Maybe," Anton hedged to my relief. "You can fuck him if you can get us to a sling."

"Bang on it, mate!" Tatted Hotness cleared a path through the press of bodies, leading us out of the shower room back into the darkened corridors.

I felt strangely aroused at how they spoke about me and not to me, as if I was a thing to be used for their sexual gratification. My brain argued with my balls about blatant sexual objectification but as with all arguments of a sexual nature, my balls won. I walked holding hands with my princes until we reached our destination downstairs.

We entered a plain, dimly lit room big enough to accommodate a dozen comfortably. In the center of the room, set diagonally to the corners stood a pair of bare steel frames, each about on par with a full size bed.

A leather seat hung from chains affixed to each frame. More chains dangled with sturdy leather cuffs and manacles. Two were meant to lay on their backs, suspended at waist height, facing opposite corners with their limbs bound, ass up and helpless to anyone who chose to have their way.

"You want to try it?" Anton nibbled my earlobe. A spear of fright shot through me mixed with lust and curiosity. I considered it as they strapped a gleeful Emil into the opposite sling. His happiness infected me and I nodded. Soon I hung suspended from chains, my ankles cuffed high to spread my legs as wide as possible. I lay back at an angle, perfect for penetration. I watched with growing alarm as admirers from the shower room plus others following rumors filtered into the room until it was packed. Out of nowhere everything went black.

"It's alright," Anton fitted a mask over my eyes. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

I heard the smoky voice of Tatted Hotness. "Hell no, if it hurts I'm na doin' it right."

"Oh, fuck, yes!" I heard Emil hitch his breath in excitement. I forgot my trepidation and grinned from ear to ear.

"Is Baby Boy full?" I asked him.

"So! Fucking! Full!"

I laughed, "Are you happy?"

"So! Fucking! Happy!" He grunted after that and I lost track of him. I assumed Tatted Hotness ran his big, strong hands inside my thighs.

"Aw, yeah, that's a right pretty ass there, mate."

Warm flesh like a thick finger traced the crease of my inner thighs eliciting unconscious shivers from me. I changed my impression a moment later when a cool, wet trail dawned on my awareness, leading to what I understood now to be a glans touching me. It drew a circle around the periphery of my rosebud, then probed at the center insistently.

"Inhale," Anton commanded as the chemical odor returned. I took a deep breath once in each nostril and everything went white.

The circumstances of birth blessed me in some ways. I possessed hypersensitive nerve endings. I felt pain more keenly but pleasure likewise. No one informed me until later but poppers, Amyl Nitrate, increased blood flow and sensitivity, making sex more pleasurable. Two forces afflicted my system with euphoric sensory overload.

I lapsed into a fog where my cries of "MORE!" and "HARDER!" sounded distant while every cock appeared to pierce my soul. I sensed every vein and artery that brushed past my rectum. I knew they belonged to different men as each load they deposited possessed a unique character. I became a connoisseur of come by sensation alone. I experienced prostate orgasms easily and now my pleasure gland wept with relentless, unabating ecstasy until an ominous lull pulled me down into consciousness. I listened as voices caught my attention.

One voice cracked forth as if from the heart of a mountain. I heard a bass sound so rich and smooth as to spontaneously conjure daddy fantasies. The second was Anton's sultry baritone. They seemed to be concerned about something.

"I'm Dennis and this," Bass Daddy introduced himself. He patted something heavy, like his arm. "Is 'Menace'."

"You're American," Anton observed.

"Yeah, I'm here for the party like you. So, you think he can take me?"

"He can handle two of these at once, he can take you." I heard a fleshy slap that made the itching in my core ache.

"If you're sure, I don't want to hurt him. He's a pretty little thing."

"He's beautiful."

"I want him to see me."

The light hurt but my vision cleared enough to take in the features of a Nubian titan. He stood half a head taller than Anton and looked equally as broad. He possessed tree trunk arms and a thick gut, all solid muscle. His bald head shone in the light. His jaw was chiseled, his brow was smooth, he had narrow black eyes, a broad flat nose, and a smile that lit the room. He looked down on me with an expression of boundless kindness.

"Hey there, you pretty little thing. You just tell me if this hurts too much."

I peered up at him with an insouciant grin. I wanted to climb into his arms and listen to bedtime stories until I got a look at what he aimed at me.

My smile fell at a sight that at once terrified me and lit my core in desperate need. Dennis' cock jutted only seven inches or so from his loins but I estimated a base on par with a quart-size beer bottle. A twin-lobed glans pulsed at me like a beast straining at its leash. The prepuce or foreskin hugged the spongy head like a wrinkly cowl. Veins and arteries shot through the skin like lightning bolts charging this leviathan with unnatural life. I lay stunned, speechless that such a cock existed. I did not register where it was going until it butted against my sphincter. I sucked in my breath, ironically opening my hole like a welcoming flower. Menace seized the opportunity and made himself at home.

"ANTON!" I wailed and the ass shoved poppers under my nose again. Suddenly I felt just peachy about titans fucking me with tree trunks.

I tossed my head back in a silent scream as Dennis dominated my core with masterful, rutting plunges of his beast. His monstrous member filled me to the brink of madness. I came with every collision with my prostate. The stimulus quickly proved too much for my frail mortal consciousness to bear and without warning, all went black. This time it was not a mask.

***

Author Note: I write in a fantasy world where sexually transmitted diseases do not exist but in the real world, PrEP before you play and glove it before you love it. Carry on gentlemen!

* After careful consideration I decided to make Chonay a couple inches shorter at 5'4". His weight reflects regular exercise plus hobbies like parkour and rock climbing. All previous references were edited for consistency.