Azhar's tongue shoved deeper into my mouth, our lips grinding in that forced, sloppy makeout, his stubble scraping my chin raw. The crowd's roars pounded in my ears, my cock throbbing hard against the thin blue striped briefs, brushing his through the fabric. I hated it—hated the way my body betrayed me, hips twitching involuntarily as his lean hands gripped my ass cheeks, squeezing under the host's whispered threats. Sweat slicked our bare torsos, shirts long forgotten, flapping uselessly around our waists.
Then I felt him—the host—sliding up behind me, his hot breath on my neck. His lips latched onto my skin, sucking hard, teeth nipping as his hands yanked at my briefs' waistband. 'Keep kissing,' he growled low, fingers dipping in to shove the fabric down my thighs, my thick cock springing free, heavy and semi-hard in the stage lights. I groaned into Azhar's mouth, trying to pull back, but the host's grip tightened on my shaft, his fist wrapping tight and pumping rough. Up and down, skin slapping skin, his thumb smearing pre-cum over my swelling head as he jerked me off onstage, the crowd howling louder. My balls tightened, cock thickening in his relentless strokes, veins bulging as it hardened fully—eight inches of unwilling erection pulsing in his hand. Azhar's eyes widened over my shoulder, his own dick tenting his briefs, but he kept the kiss going, tongue thrusting desperate to end this nightmare. The host chuckled, breath hot on my ear, then tugged my briefs back up, the elastic snapping over my base, but my fat cockhead stayed poked out the top, slick and red, bobbing with every heartbeat.
'Gentlemen!' the host boomed, stepping back with a smug grin, mic in hand. 'The night's young, and we've got cocktails flowing. Our boys Ben and Azhar will serve you all, working hard for tips to boost this charity. Listen up: £50, the boy sits on your lap and kisses you deep for two full minutes. £100, you get that kiss plus free rein to grope whatever you want—cocks, asses, the works. £500? He sucks your dick right there for five minutes. If you cum, he swallows every drop and moves on. No cum? Try again next round. Just stuff the tip down their briefs—no pockets on these sluts. And after two hours, whoever raises the most cash gets a sweet advantage in the next game. Enjoy, boys—it's for a good cause.' Horror slammed through me, my exposed cockhead twitching as I broke the kiss, face burning. 'What the fuck? No way—we're not doing that shit!' I snarled, yanking at my briefs to cover up, but the head stayed out, mocking me. Azhar spat to the side, his lean chest heaving, dark eyes furious. 'This is insane—you can't make us—' The host leaned in close, voice a venomous whisper only we heard. 'Oh, I can. Those videos hit the net in seconds if you stop. Your families, friends—everyone sees you two begging like whores. Now serve, or else.' His eyes bored into us, that manipulative smirk twisting. Defeated, we nodded, stepping offstage, my cockhead still peeking, Azhar's briefs tented hard from the earlier grope-fest.
Cocktails round exploded into a bidding frenzy, every table turning into a warzone of leering faces and waving cash, bidders shouting over each other like rabid dogs fighting for scraps. I dodged hands at my first table, tray wobbling as a sharp-dressed bidder slapped down £50, yanking me onto his lap—his stiff cock grinding up my ass crack through the briefs, lips smashing mine in a wet, forceful kiss, tongue jabbing deep like he owned me. I hated the whiskey burn in my throat, the way his fingers dug into my thighs, squeezing bruises as two agonizing minutes dragged on, my stomach churning with disgust, bile rising as his bulge poked my hole. He shoved the bill into my waistband, fingers lingering to tug my briefs lower, exposing half my shaft before I slapped his hand away and yanked them up, cock throbbing from the unwanted friction, the cash scratching my pubes like sandpaper.
Next bidder upped it to £100, bidding against another guy who snarled 'Mine!'—they shoved notes at me until the winner grabbed my arm, pulling me close for the kiss, his mouth devouring mine sloppy and rough, stubble burning my skin. His hands roamed free, one fist wrapping my cock through the fabric, jerking hard while the other probed my ass, finger shoving past the elastic to circle my hole dry. 'Fuck, this muscle boy's packing,' he groaned into my mouth, stroking faster, pre-cum soaking the briefs as I gagged on his tongue, hating every second of the violation, my body heating against my will, fists clenching to stop from punching him. He crammed the cash down the front, bills scratching my sensitive skin, then yanked the briefs down to my knees in a quick tug, my full cock bobbing free before I scrambled to pull them back up, face flaming as the table laughed, the money now bulging awkwardly inside.
Azhar was getting mobbed across the room, his lean body twisting away from a cluster of bidders fighting over him—£50 went to a fat guy who dragged him down, briefs grinding the bidder's bulge as lips locked on, tongue raping Azhar's mouth deep and relentless for the full two minutes, Azhar's fists clenching in futile rage, muffled curses lost in the kiss, his face twisted in pure loathing. The guy stuffed the bill in roughly, fingers hooking the waistband to pull Azhar's briefs low, exposing his long dick swinging before Azhar batted him off and hiked them up, spitting curses, the cash folding wet against his skin from sweat.
Bidding war escalated—two guys at £100 each, shouting offers until one won, yanking Azhar into a brutal kiss, hands everywhere: one palming his balls, squeezing hard enough to make him wince, the other jerking his shaft out the side of the briefs, pumping rough while biting his neck. 'Tight little swimmer slut,' the winner growled, shoving cash down the front, the bills bulging as he tugged the briefs down further, Azhar's cock fully out and hardening unwillingly before he yanked them back, veins popping in his neck from the hate, his eyes screaming murder as more money scratched his balls.
My rounds blurred into hell—another £100 grope-kiss turned into a tag-team bid, two bidders pooling cash to outbid a third, winner pulling me onto his lap for the tongue-fuck kiss, his buddy joining to grope my ass, fingers dipping in to finger-bang my hole while the first stroked my cock raw, pre-cum dripping down my thighs. I loathed the stretch, the burn, shoving at their chests but taking the stuffed bills that scratched my balls, briefs yanked low twice—once to expose me fully, the crowd whistling as I pulled them up red-faced, then again when they crammed more cash in, my ass cheeks spread for a slap before I hiked them up, hating the cool air on my hole.
Then my first £500: a bidding war of three execs, notes flying until one won, unzipping to shove his thick dick in my face. Shock hit me like a gut punch—me, on my knees sucking some stranger's cock in front of everyone? My heart hammered, bile rising as I stared at the veiny shaft twitching inches away, mind reeling at the degrading filth of it all, the reality crashing down that I had to wrap my lips around this throbbing meat, but the host's threats echoed, so I knelt under the table, briefs tugged to my ankles, lips wrapping his throbbing head tight, tongue pressing flat against the salty underside as I bobbed slow, cheeks hollowing on the suction, spit drooling down my chin onto my heaving chest, swirling the ridge with urgent flicks while his pre-cum coated my tongue bitter and thick, the shock twisting my gut every time his cock pulsed deeper into my mouth, gagging me as the head battered my throat raw. He gripped my blonde hair, forcing deeper thrusts that stretched my jaw aching, the head slamming past my tonsils with wet gags echoing, my nose buried in his sweaty pubes, balls slapping my chin sloppy and heavy as I sucked frantic, tongue lashing the veiny length relentlessly, the invading girth filling my mouth completely in humiliating fullness. He groaned loud, hips bucking erratic, then yanked out roaring—hot ropes of cum blasting across my face, thick strands splattering my cheeks, forehead, and lips sticky white, more spurts hitting my broad shoulders, muscular pecs, and dripping down my abs in warm trails, additional blasts coating my neck and chest thick before shoving the cash in as he yanked my briefs back up over my ass, but not before slapping it hard, the bills now a thick wad pressing against my spent cock, cum cooling on my face and body like a humiliating glaze, stinging my eyes as I wiped futilely, the shock lingering in my churning stomach from the forced deep-throat violation.
Azhar hit a £500 peak amid chaos—a group bidding frenzy, four guys yelling prices until the highest dragged him under the table, cock out and thrusting into Azhar's mouth. Azhar gagged loud, lips stretching wide around the girth, tongue lapping the underside veins sloppy as he bobbed deep, throat convulsing on each push, saliva bubbling from the corners of his mouth and trailing down his lean abs, his dark eyes watering in fury, cheeks bulging with every suck, his lean jaw working the shaft hard with wet slurps and gags echoing under the table, tongue flicking the slit urgently to swirl pre-cum while the bidder's balls smacked his chin wet, the cockhead battering his tonsils raw in deep, choking thrusts that left his throat burning. The bidder groaned but held off cumming, yanking Azhar up to stuff the bill down his briefs, fingers pulling the fabric low to expose Azhar's hard cock, stroking it a few times before Azhar slapped him away and hiked them up, eyes blazing with fury, the cash overflowing and peeking from the top.
More action piled on: a £100 bidder for Azhar bent him over the table, kissing his ass cheeks while fingering deep, another stuffing cash in and tugging briefs down to mid-thigh, Azhar's balls swinging free till he pulled them up, cursing the exposure, his hole clenching in disgust as bills rustled against his skin.
The wars intensified—another table for me erupted in shouts, five bidders waving £100s, outbidding each other until the victor claimed his grope-kiss, slamming me against the table edge, lips bruising mine as hands mauled my cock and ass, yanking briefs down three times in the frenzy—once to stuff a wad of bills that scratched my shaft raw, exposing my full length to whistles; again to probe my hole with two fingers, the burn making me grit my teeth in hate; and a third time as his buddy joined, pulling them to my socks before I wrestled them up, money bulging like a tumor in the front, my cock leaking unwillingly from the constant tugs. I seethed, the humiliation boiling—every pull down felt like stripping my dignity, the air hitting my skin a cold slap of shame, only for the elastic to snap back painfully.
Then another £500 slammed me—a burly bidder winning the war, unzipping fast to ram his cock down my throat under the table. Shock froze me again, my mind reeling at the degrading reality of wrapping my lips around another stranger's dick, the veiny length invading my mouth hot and pulsing, the sheer filth of it hitting me like a wave as I parted my lips, sealing tight around the base as I sucked hard, tongue lashing the pulsing veins with desperate swirls, bobbing frantic with gags choking out wetly, his balls smacking my chin sloppy till he pulled out roaring, cum erupting across my face and body—thick ropes hitting my eyes, nose, and open mouth salty, more blasting my neck, chest, and thighs in heavy, dripping strands, additional spurts coating my arms and back sticky white—before the cash got shoved in, briefs hiked up over the fresh mess, my skin slick and reeking, the crowd's laughs echoing my inner rage. The shock lingered, bile churning as I tasted the remnants in my mouth, hating how my throat burned from the forced deep sucks, the girth stretching me wider with each thrust.
Azhar faced a savage £50 to £100 escalation at his next cluster, bidders piling cash high, the winner dragging him into a lap grind-kiss, tongue invading deep while hands yanked his briefs repeatedly—down to expose his ass for a hard slap and cash stuff that wedged between his cheeks, up as he fought; down again to jerk his cock out, bills crammed along the shaft, pre-cum soaking the notes; up with a snarl from Azhar, his lean frame shaking with rage, hating the way the money shifted and poked his sensitive spots with every step.
A £500 war followed for him, three suits battling with shouts, winner unzipping for Azhar's mouth—lips parting wide, sucking the head deep with a wet slurp, tongue flicking the slit and swirling the underside as he bobbed urgent, throat bulging on rough thrusts, gagging harshly with spit flying till the bidder yanked free, unloading ropes of cum over Azhar's face and toned chest—hot spurts hitting his cheeks, lips, and abs, dripping down his swimmer's build in sticky trails, more strands splattering his shoulders and thighs white, extra blasts coating his neck and arms thick—Azhar wiping furiously as cash got stuffed in, briefs pulled up over the glistening mess, his rage boiling hotter, his mouth raw from the intense sucking, cheeks still flushed from the deep bobs and gags, the cock's veiny texture burned into his tongue from the relentless lashing. Midway, I felt a hand snatch at my waistband during a serve—bills rustling out as I poured drinks. 'Hey, my money!' I snarled, spinning to a smirking bidder who'd palmed a wad. 'Keep a better eye on it, boy,' he laughed, waving the cash before shoving it back down roughly, his fingers grazing my cockhead and tugging the briefs low one more time, exposing me to the table's jeers before I hiked them up, seething at the theft tease, the way it made me check my bulging briefs constantly, money shifting with every grope, a constant reminder of our degradation.
Another £500 hit Azhar mid-swarm—bidders yelling, winner thrusting into his mouth under the table, Azhar's cheeks hollowing deep on the suck, tongue working the shaft sloppy with spit flying, gagging till cum erupted on pull-out, blasting his dark hair, face, shoulders, and chest thick and white, heavy ropes dripping down his lean torso and abs, more hitting his thighs and back in sticky layers, cash crammed in amid the tugs, his body now a canvas of drying jizz layers, his throat aching from the relentless deep thrusts and suction, the bidder's balls slapping heavy against his chin with each bob.
Azhar got swarmed again, a £50 lap-kiss turning into multiple bidders piling on, hands pulling his briefs down repeatedly—exposing his ass, then his cock, yanking them back up each time as he fought, cash stuffed in haphazardly during the tugs, his lean muscles straining in disgust, bills scratching his hole and shaft as he cursed under his breath.
Endless rounds hammered us: I sucked another £500 cock, briefs yanked down to my socks five times in the bidding chaos—each pull exposing my ass or dick for slaps and probes, money crammed in wet and folded, the bidder yanking out to cum on my face, abs, and back, hot loads splattering my stubble, six-pack, and shoulders sticky in multiple blasts, additional ropes hitting my thighs and arms white and dripping, the shock hitting me fresh each time as his cock throbbed in my mouth, my tongue swirling unwillingly against the veiny underside while I gagged on the deep pushes, lips stretched taut around the base as I bobbed deep with choking slurps;
Azhar endured a double £100 grope, one bidder kissing him sloppy as the other pulled his briefs to his ankles four times, fingering his hole and stroking his shaft till pre-cum flew, Azhar yanking them up in rage each time, the cash now a heavy, sweat-soaked mass slapping his thighs, followed by a £500 where he bobbed deep, gagging on thrusts till cum hit his chest, thighs, and face in ropes, thick spurts coating his dark stubble, pecs, and legs glistening, more blasting his abs and shoulders heavy, his lips stretched tight around the girth, tongue lashing frantically as spit trailed down his chin, the shaft's pulse echoing in his raw throat.
One more £500 for me in the final frenzy—a lone bidder outbidding the pack, shoving his dick past my shocked lips under the table, my mind blanking at the invasion, the degrading heat of it shocking me anew as tongue involuntarily swirled as I sucked deep, bobbing with gags and slurps till he exploded across my entire upper body—cum ropes hitting my hair, face, neck, chest, and arms in a messy shower, dripping everywhere as cash got stuffed, my briefs overflowing, additional spurts coating my pecs and back thick, the repeated shocks of each blowjob fueling my seething hate, the veiny length battering my tonsils with every forced thrust. Azhar took one last £500, lips wrapping tight, sucking hard with tongue lashing till pull-out cum blasted his whole front—face, chest, abs, and thighs painted white and sticky, extra ropes hitting his neck and shoulders dripping, his cheeks bulging on the deep sucks, throat working the shaft with wet, urgent bobs that left him coughing spit, the girth stretching his jaw sore.
Money overflowed our briefs, bills peeking out the tops, coins jingling inside, scratching our skin with every step, the weight pulling the fabric low constantly, our bodies smeared with cum—faces crusty and layered, chests and abs painted thick white, thighs and backs streaked, the stench clinging heavy. We hated it all—the constant exposure, the forced sucks and facials, the rough hands owning our bodies, cocks aching from unwanted strokes, asses sore from probes, mouths raw from kisses and dicks, every tug and stuff-in a fresh wave of bile and fury. Two hours dragged in cum-soaked humiliation, our socks the only cover left. The host dragged us onstage, positioning us on either side, spotlights hot on our battered bodies.
'Boys, time to tally tips—drop those briefs so we can count.' My hands shook, hooking the waistband, shoving down—bills and coins rained out, clattering to the floor, my thick cock springing free, still half-hard. Azhar followed, briefs peeling off his lean hips, money spilling everywhere, his long dick swinging heavy between toned thighs. We stood naked except socks—navy on my feet, blue-red-brown on his—cocks exposed, asses bare, the crowd roaring at our public nudity. 'Why don't you kiss again while we count?' the host smirked, gesturing center stage. Defeated anger twisted Azhar's face, mirroring mine. We trudged to the middle, bodies colliding—lips crashing passionate despite the hate, tongues thrusting urgent as hands roamed unwillingly, my fingers gripping his firm ass, his palming my broad chest and dipping to stroke my cock. The audience went wild, whistles and cheers deafening, our naked forms grinding under the lights, erections pressing hot together.
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