Groom Service

OMG! OMG! OMG! My boyfriend proposed to me tonight. How fabulous is that? Right there in the restaurant over a champagne dinner that was just perfect, Brad got down on his knee in front of all his jock friends at the table, including arch homophobe Brett who I thought was gonna puke, and asked me to be his husband. I’m afraid I giggled. I’m not really husband material, but you could hardly call me “bride” material either. I have a pretty substantial dick dangling between my legs; the thing is, I rarely use it on other guys. I prefer to play bottom. I love a good hard cock wedged in my ass pounding the juice out of me.

And Brad pounds me better than anybody else. When he looks at me, my ass pussy twitches. I can’t get enough of him; that’s why he thinks I’m insatiable. I’m not. At least I don’t think I am. I mean, a good hard fuck with Brad and I’m usually asleep in minutes, then I wake up horny and we go at it again. If it’s early enough we go at it a third time. Sometimes, I visit him during his lunch break and we do it over his desk or in the men’s bathroom. On really rare occasions, I’ll meet him after work at our favorite bar and he’ll either do me in one of the booths in the darkened corners while I sit on his lap or we’ll take it to a cubicle in the men’s room. Okay, not all that rare. But that hardly makes me insatiable. Besides, Brad loves that my ass is open to him whenever wherever.

Brett screwed up his face as if I was shit on the sole of his boot and asked, “Why him?” Brad told everyone at the table, “Because his ass is hot as lava, tight as a drum, and available to me 24/7. And I’m the only man for him. What else can a guy ask for?”

Sure, I was a bit disappointed that Brad didn’t use the “love” word, but in the end, what did it matter? He asked me to marry him now that gay marriage was legal in the state. I squealed like a teenage girl, bobbing up and down on the chair like I had a butt plug wedged in my ass. In fact, I did, because Brad had warned me this was not one of those occasions where we should disappear for a quickie. I noticed the shocked look on the faces of some of Brad’s jock mates. They’d had a hard enough time coming to terms with the fact their football captain was gay. They couldn’t get their tiny minds around the fact that the best captain of the best team ever in the history of Thornwhistle U was a ‘fag’. Maybe they could have forgiven him if I’d been a jock but, nah, my major was interior design – how clichéd is that?

We’d met at a party thrown by my good friend Roger Green, and that’s exactly what color his complexion was when I walked away with the trophy jock he’d invited to the party in hopes of nabbing him for himself. Let’s face it; I’m much more gorgeous than Roger. He’s fat and forty. Over forty. I saw his driver’s license once. I’m twenty-three, and even though I’m no jock, I have a six-pack that’s the envy of many a gym junkie. It’s all genetics. Sure, I get a regular workout, but it’s from my career choice, lugging bolts of fabric and wallpaper, lifting furniture, that sort of natural activity that gives you abs, pecs, and all those other one-syllable muscle groups. But my piece de resistance is my butt: I have buns of steel and a snug little asshole that holds a hard cock inside like a mouse trap.

Brad didn’t stint on the details of why he wanted to marry me, and if most of it revolved around the flexibility of my ass, the cavernous recesses of my mouth and throat, and the lascivious nature of my personality, my embarrassment was a small price to pay to hear my man talk about me in such glowing terms. It also delighted me to watch his jock buddies squirm in their seats. What was the matter with them? Did they think it was just a phase Brad was going through and that he’d suddenly turn back to being straight again? Not that he ever was. He admitted to me that he used to fantasize about his teammates while he bored it up one of the cheerleaders.

Everyone at the table – everyone in the restaurant, in fact – was staring at me. I realized I hadn’t given my answer.

“Of course, you silly bastard. Of course, I’ll marry you.”

He stood up, pulling me out of my seat, to pash me in front of everyone, sticking his long thick tongue into my mouth, rubbing his crotch against me so I could feel how excited he was.

Woody, his vice-captain, showed his displeasure. “Ew, get a room.”

Brett was even more poisonous. “When are you going to take him home to meet your dad?”

There was dead silence around the table. This was a make-or-break moment. Brad’s dad was Mr. Homophobe of the previous ten years. He had no competition; he was in a class of his own. Arthur was as badass as they come. As a former football great, he was often asked his opinion on the state of play and other hot topics; he was never without an opinion and it was usually full of hot air. His views on gay marriage were as antagonistic as any fundamentalist preacher and just this side of attracting the attention of the law. Everyone at the table knew that.

I had to admire my boyfriend; he stood his ground. “As a matter of fact, I rang Dad last night. I fully intended, if Danny said ‘yes’ today, to head home to visit Dad this coming weekend.”

That  knocked me for a loop because it was only three days away. I’d need at least a month to get my wardrobe coordinated, my small talk down to scratch, and to psych myself for the inevitable clash of personalities. What was Brad thinking? Obviously, he wasn’t. Brett had corralled him into a corner, and he was ad-libbing as he went along. Brett had a look of triumph etched all over his face.

“I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes,” Woody said, shaking his head as if I was headed to an execution chamber.

“Guys, guys,” Brad interrupted. “Dad has mellowed over the years. He’s nowhere near as bad as he used to be. And I am his only son.”

“Yeah,” Brett sneered. “He’s gone from calling for all fags to be dumped at sea in chaff bags to asking simply that they be castrated.”

“Come on, guys,” Brad pleaded. “How bad can it be?”

That, Dear Diary, will be answered on another day. Meanwhile back at the restaurant…

My ass was twitching and it wasn’t because the butt plug was slipping or uncomfortable, it had more to do with the fact it was pressing against my prostate making me horny as fuck. I thought our dinner would have been over and done with ages ago and that Brad and I would be back at his apartment and his delicious cock would be embedded where the metal implant now resided. I would have to take myself in hand – only be a short-term remedy at best – before I made a fool of myself and embarrassed Brad in front of all his mates.

I excused myself, explaining I had an appointment with the powder room. “Brad not enough for you, Danny? You have to go looking for others to scratch that itch in your insatiable boy cunt?” Brett sneered.

I gave him my most withering look, turning in a manner I hoped would make Joan Crawford proud, then made my way through the other tables toward the restrooms at the back of the establishment. But not before I heard Brad say proudly, “He is insatiable, you know. That ass of his is so addictive and so hot, it will be the death of me. I don’t know if I can satisfy him all on my own.”

The guys around the table laughed and high-fived Brad as if he’d won the jackpot. “Wow, sounds like you got yourself a Grade-A slut,” Woody said.

I slowed my pace to listen for Brad’s rebuttal, but all I heard was his raucous laugh as if in agreement. “You lucky bastard,” Luis sighed. “Get a load of that ass. I could almost turn gay for something like that.” There were a couple of “Ewwws” to that but many more voices in agreement.

So they liked my ass, eh? I put a bit more bump and grind into it as I headed for the men’s room, my blood throbbing that they liked my booty but saddened that Brad did not stand up for me. Slut? I don’t think so. Since meeting Brad, I’d been one hundred per cent faithful – if you exclude my right hand, oh, and my Fleshlight. Still, I’d heard the shades of envy to Brad’s mates’ voices and it gave me a tingle; unfortunately, in all the wrong places. My ass ached. If the night didn’t end soon I’d probably attack Brad and insist he fuck me on the table at the restaurant in full view of paying customers.

Shit, why did that idea turn me on? Now my cock was hard. I adjusted it as best I could without drawing attention to myself. I didn’t want to scare anyone in the toilet. I was wearing my tight trousers – they show off my butt to perfection – so my cock looks threatening if it gets excited. Plus, it leaves a nasty wet spot near the head because I ooze prodigiously when I’m excited. I tried to control myself by thinking of my meeting with Brad’s father, not something I was looking forward to with any great anticipation. Sure, the guy had retained his looks and his body from his college jock days, but his mind was poison. Come too close and he could cut a fag down to size with just his mouth. What spewed out was of such nastiness it would have reduced Mother Teresa to a whimpering wimple.

Thinking about him wasn’t doing the trick. My cock knew something that I would never admit to myself, let alone out loud: Arthur was hotter than lava. I’d used him as fantasy fodder on more than one occasion when my old feller wasn’t responding, and it did the trick every time. I’d only ever seen photos of Arthur; I’d never met the jerk face to face. Okay, so I used Arthur a lot to feed my libido. If I was honest, half of what attracted me to Brad was that I saw the father in the son. So sue me.

These thoughts put me out of sorts, so by the time I entered the men’s room, I was in a bit of a temper, my cock still throbbing in my snug pants. The place was empty so I chose the middle stall, slamming the door shut with a little too much force before fastening the bolt. I was in a mood and I knew the only way to relieve my funk was to relieve the ache in either my cock or my ass: preferably both.

I peeled my trousers down, my cock springing free because I’d gone commando (reminder to self: never ever go commando when in public again), and sat on the plastic seat after wiping it down with a wad of toilet paper – a precaution I always took even though these toilets were kept pristine.

I palmed my cock, rubbing the oozing pre-cum around the head with my thumb. It would take about ten minutes for me to calm down, and I knew Brad and his cronies were more interested in chugging beers than my whereabouts so I could take my time. I was so fuckin’ horny. I had supposed that we’d be home to celebrate – probably all night – by this time. No such luck. My ass was twitching for his cock. Maybe I was a slut just like Woody said.

I milked my prick slowly, making it last, while my other hand wormed its way to my ass to extract the butt plug, then push it back and forth to stimulate my prostate. When I blew, it would be like Vesuvius.

I was really getting into it, groaning like a whore in a porno, when I heard the door open. Shit, I’d have to bring myself off silently, something I hated doing. Or I could wait until the newcomer did his business and left.

Instead of going to the urinal, he came into the cubicle to the left of me. Damn. I had one fist wrapped around my hard-on and the other hand was manipulating the butt plug in and out of my ass. I slowed down my action without stopping, controlling my groans of pleasure that way without losing the feeling altogether.

Not long after, someone else entered the men’s room. It was becoming as congested as Grand Central Station. To make matters worse, the newcomer entered the stall on the right. What happened to the old adage of piss and go? I couldn’t stop now; my body was tingling unlike any feeling I’d ever had before. All my nerve endings were alert, my ass throbbed, my cock wanted to shoot its load. What the fuck?

I was shocked when I saw a huge hard cock poke through a hole in the cubicle wall. Call me naïve, call me in love-struck, but I simply hadn’t noticed the neatly drilled hole when I entered the stall, I’d been concentrating so hard on my own pleasure. Once upon a time, BB – Before Brad – I would have been craving the excitement of dangerous, anonymous toilet sex, but I was so in love the glory holes hadn’t even registered. They did now. I say ‘they’ because there was one on the other side as well and it was also filling with a mighty pleasant-looking cock. That hole was so enlarged the mystery exhibitionist also managed to squeeze his balls through.

Now, I love to lick and suck a man’s juicy nuts although my conscience forbade me from indulging. I was in ‘lurve.’ I told myself Brad and I both believed in fidelity. That, and I had received a marriage proposal tonight. But the tug of temptation began to sway the argument. We weren’t married yet. Both cocks were bigger than Brad’s. Once we were married, I’d give up this sort of activity. Besides, what Brad didn’t know wouldn’t affect the relationship. It’s not like giving a blow job is really being unfaithful. Oh, what the hell…

I slipped to my knees, my tongue probing the hairy ball sac of the second guy. I licked sucked and slobbered over those testes like a man starving. I had my fist wrapped at an awkward angle around the cock behind me. It must have been enough, because he was thrusting as if attempting to get more leverage. Impatient bastard. What to do? Which one to lick? Which one to…God, don’t go there. My ass twitched. It wanted its share of the goodies on display. Anal would be considered infidelity. If you didn’t know who he was and he didn’t know you then, meh, it wasn’t really cheating. Neither of us was likely to be a whistleblower. Besides, it would be an hour or more before Brad and I got home to do the dirty, and I was craving it right now! It was Brad’s fault he’d let me get this horny. Selfish pig.

Okay, now I had the justification plus the person to blame. In my mind, none of it reflected badly on me.

Letting go of the second cock, I pushed my hand between my butt cheeks to extract the metal dildo, placing it carefully on the rim of the toilet for later re-insertion. My boy cunt was still well lubricated, so I stood, bent over and, pulling my butt cheeks apart, eased myself back toward the cock.

“Here, this will make it easier,” a voice whispered as I felt his thumb against my entrance.

I felt something cold against my sphincter before it was pushed  into my ass. Maybe it was a new form of frozen lubrication that melted in body warmth making an ass easier to slip into. His cock soon replaced his finger and once again I lined up my butt hole, sinking backwards until I was totally impaled. I sighed in satisfaction. This was exactly what I needed.

“Holy shit, you’re tight,” the voice cursed from the next stall.

The cubicles were quite narrow, and in my current position I could lean forward and engulf the other cock in my ravenous mouth. I was kebabed – and I loved it. All thoughts of Brad and his marriage proposal were nothing more than irritating pinpricks in my conscience. The pricks I was concentrating on right at that moment were thick gristle that stuffed me to overflowing.

Whatever he’d pushed into my butt before his cock had plugged me was sending waves of heat through my entire body. My ass cunt was on fire, generating ripples of desire that I knew one cock would not quench. I would need both these beauties inside me, and even then, I realized I’d want more. Oh, well, there was always Brad once we got home. I wasn’t sure what he’d think of my hole full of spunk once he tried to slip into me, but I’d worry about that when the time came. Right now, I had better things to think about.

I clenched my sphincter muscles around the cock pounding my ass and smiled when I heard him gasp and pant, his voice scarcely able to verbalize that my hole was better than he ever could have imagined. Meanwhile, my oral technique was having a similar effect on the cock jutting from the stall on the other side. It was large and long, but I opened my throat to take it down to his balls with only a small amount of gagging. He, too, whispered his appreciation of my skills. I pulled away a little, lapping at the slick head, running my tongue along the underside of the shaft, hoping to keep his ejaculation at bay – I wanted him in my ass later as well.

It was almost suffocating me to have to keep my moans of satisfaction to myself because while we three fucked deliriously in the cubicles, a steady stream of men made use of the urinals. They would have to have been clueless not to have suspected what was going on behind them as the amount of squelching my ass was making and the familiar sounds of cock down throat must have been obvious to anybody who’d ever received a blow job.

The guy in my ass had amazing staying power, but he must have been saving it for when the men’s room was empty because, once we heard the last guy leave, he let fly with his spunk and a string of obscenities that turned me on even more. I love dirty talk when I’m being fucked, and Brad has one of the worst potty mouths I’ve ever heard. This guy rivaled him and I felt his cum rocket inside me. A few final thrusts and a grunt and he was spent. He remained inside me for a short while longer until his shudders subsided and then pulled out slowly while I attempted to retain as much of his warm spooge inside me as possible. I could hear him panting to get his breath as he pulled up his trousers, the tell-tale sound of a belt buckle the last I heard before he opened the door and was gone.

I turned my attention to the remaining cock, repositioning myself so that I could sink back onto it, another sigh of satisfaction escaping me. His body bucked against the partition separating us as my ass cunt lips swallowed the head of his cock. “Sweet Jesus, he wasn’t kidding about your ass. Fuck.” He rammed his prick into me with little finesse and, even as lubricated as I was, I felt every inch of it sear my entrance muscle. But what’s pleasure without a little pain?

It had been a long time since I’d enjoyed having a cock in my ass as much as these two. Does that sound disloyal to Brad? His cock filled me in ways others couldn’t, but there’s still room for a good hard fuck with no strings attached. It didn’t mean anything. Except that I’d be going home with Brad, my anal canal lined with other men’s spooge. Funnily, the more the stranger’s cock pounded my ass, the more cock I wanted stuffed inside me. My mouth, too, was crying out for the taste of man cream. What the fuck was wrong with me?

Once this dude blew his load, I’d grab Brad and we’d head home for a night of passion. He’d keep me satisfied even if the itch in my ass seemed to be demanding more and more attention. My fucker poured on the aggression, my ass taking a pounding that almost toppled me into the toilet bowl. It was too good to last for long, and soon I heard his strangulated sounds as he pumped what felt like gallons of cum inside me. He pulled out abruptly, and before I’d even had a chance to wipe the excess from my butt, he fled back into the restaurant.

I pulled my trousers up, making myself respectable at the mirror. I removed any obvious traces of my perfidy, nothing worse than a slight flush to my face. I splashed a little cold water in an attempt to cool my ardor and headed back to our table, hoping no one had noticed my lengthy absence.

Our dining table was now occupied by a new group. My heart sank. Had Brad discovered what I’d been up to in the men’s room and left in a huff? Then I heard my name called. It seems that as we’d finished our meal and the table was needed for other patrons, so our group had moved to a semi-circular booth in a dark corner of the bar. It looked as if I’d have a difficult task dragging Brad away from his drinking companions. A few of them looked up as I approached, Brett among them, and I thought I read knowing smirks on their faces, but I must have been mistaken.

“I think we should go,” I said to Brad.

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Brett said. “We’re celebrating your happy engagement.”

“I need to take a piss,” Brad slurred.

Just how much had he guzzled while I was missing? He stood, but swayed alarmingly. I was about to insist we leave before he got any worse when Brett took it out of my hands by taking Brad’s arm to steer him toward the men’s room I’d recently vacated. “Here, mate. Let me help you.”

 Brad turned around and in a voice thick with liquor, said, “Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.”

Once he’d gone, I glared at Brad’s buddies. “Look guys. This is a time for Brad and me to celebrate. I want to get him home so we can—”

“So he can fuck your brains out?” Woody sniggered.

Everyone at the table laughed raucously as if it was the greatest joke they’d ever heard.

I was indignant. “As a matter of fact, yes. And in the state he’s in, it looks as if I’m not gonna get much fun tonight.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Craig, another of Brad’s jock mates, smirked. “Come and join us.”

The booth was pretty crowded, the guys so bunched up that if I added my body to the mix they’d be very uncomfortable.

“Come and sit here next to me,” Woody said.

I didn’t want to seem inhospitable to my future husband’s friends and team buddies, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to do as he said.

“Um, how am I going to get in there?” I asked as no one made an effort to move.

“Crawl under the table,” some bright spark suggested.

Okay, so this was some sort of test – or torment – so I’d be a good sport. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled under the laminated table. It was cramped down there, made even more so by the strong masculine jock legs that I knocked against as I made my way to the back. The scent of rampant masculinity made my head spin; my ass twitched, my cock hardened, and my mouth dried. I was hot and horny.

That’s when I noticed one of the guys at the table had his cock out of his trousers and was stroking it quite openly for my benefit, his balls nestled in the open fly. I was mesmerized by the thick shaft and the glistening head. I was hungry for cock. Scrub that, I was ravenous for cock. I wanted cock in my mouth, my ass, my hands. I wanted cocks rubbing my pecs, blowing their loads all over my body. 

I crawled closer, my conscience fighting with my cravings. When I heard a muffled voice from the guy above me, “Go on, we know you want it,” the battle was over.

I poked my nose against his balls and sniffed as if that scent of sweat and spunk was a drug. Running my tongue up the slick shaft, I put my lips around the fleshy head and sucked. He bucked, forcing his cock deeper into my mouth. Praying that Brad’s jock mates could keep a secret, otherwise my prospective marriage was over on the night of the proposal, I put all my skill into bringing the guy off. There was an extra frisson of excitement in not knowing who I was blowing, plus the fact it was one of Brad’s teammates. Strangers in toilet cubicles had their own excitement, but this was downright dangerous. My body tingled, my head about to burst at the mere thought of the humiliation I was going through.

I felt a boot nudge my ass. I rubbed back against it, wishing it could penetrate my aching hole. If I’d stopped to think about it, I would have realized my behavior, even by my standards, was out of character. Sure, I love sex, but this was putting my relationship in jeopardy. That thought was still not enough to get me to stop. In my fantasy, all the men at the table had their cocks out, slowly milking them until I had a chance to drain their balls with my mouth.

The cock was deep enough it nudged my throat. I pulled back, took a deep breath, and plunged straight down again until the prick was wedged deep in my gullet, gagging me slightly. “Hot damn,” a voice said. “He fuckin’ deep throats.” I heard a murmur of appreciation, which I hoped meant some of the others might want to test my skills later.

My head hit the underside of the table resulting in more laughter as I turned all my attention to pleasuring the hot, hard weapon between my lips. I was cramped and uncomfortable, but I was not about to let this beauty go without showing it a good time. I licked, I slurped, I gently squeezed the balls, until I felt them clutch, which was the signal for me to take the cock deep. I plugged my throat, praying for my gag reflex to behave. The guy held my head down as he thrust his cock savagely into my face. I felt the pulse in his shaft as his spunk blew down my throat. God, it was so fine.

He finally released me so I could breathe again. I licked off the last vestiges of cum that pooled around his slit, cleaning his shaft with my lips and tongue. I adjusted my own cock before I bobbed my head up from under the table. Woody helped me up. I looked around to see who my benefactor was and noticed Luis slumped against the vinyl booth seat. Wow, he was one hot fucker. I glanced around at the others, unable to read their reaction.

“There’s more where that came from,” Woody whispered in my ear as I squeezed in beside him.

“I’m so bloody horny,” I admitted.

“Might have something to do with the pellet of ice we shoved up your ass earlier. Makes chicks insatiable so we thought we try it on you.”

“You don’t mean ice that you’d find in a cold drink, do you?”

“Fuck no, we mean meth.”

No wonder I was insatiable. Next thing I’d be ripping my clothes off, begging to be taken in the middle of the restaurant.

“You want a drink?” Craig asked.

“What’s on offer?” I asked.

“There’s beer, beer, beer, and beer.”

“Nothing else?”

A devious smile curled Craig’s lip. “For you, there’s the Thornwhistle U Special.”

“What’s that?”

“Cum, with a beer chaser.”

They were all watching me closely for my reaction. My cock was stiff as a rod as I imagined drinking their combined spunk out of a wine glass. How piss elegant. Forget the fuckin’ beer.

“Yeah, I think I’d like me one of those.”

“Fuck me,” Woody exclaimed. “I think I’m gonna like old Brad settling down with a red hot slut like Danny.” He dragged me closer, if that was possible, and crushed me against his hard, muscular chest.

“Here’s the beer chaser,” Craig said, tapping the glass at the other end of the table.

“Can’t you slide it over?” I asked.

Woody laughed. “I love it when he begs.”

Craig was a mean bastard. “Lean over and get it yourself. I’m not your slave.”

I stood to reach across the table. The guys on either side grabbed my arms to hold me down. I felt Woody rub his hands across my ass. “Oh, God. That’s so firm. Brad’s a lucky fucker.”

I thought they were playing a pretty nasty joke on me. I looked back to see what Woody was doing, tensing when I noticed he had a flick knife. I knew these guys, for all their banter, were homophobic assholes, but surely even they drew the line at carving my dick off and ramming it down my throat. I felt the blade against the seat of my trousers. Before my mind could conjure up even more terrifying images of torture, I felt the blade plunge into the fabric of my pants, cutting away the seam.

“Hey, guys. Our little slut here goes commando.”

Craig looked superior. “Told ya.”

I was about to object to the slut reference, but Woody pushed two fingers into my ass and distracted me.

“Hot and sticky,” Woody announced. “At least a couple of loads in here, and recent if I had a guess.”

“I wonder, does Brad know?” Luis asked.

“I doubt it,” Craig said.

Woody was curious. “Anyone gonna tell him?”

I held my breath.

Craig spoke for all of them. “Nah, not when we got such a cute ass on tap.”

“What do you mean?” I whimpered, suspecting I knew perfectly well what they were getting at. Plus I had Woody’s fingers doing a tap dance on my prostate.

“Don’t get all coy, mate,” Luis said. “We know you love sex. Brad told us. We just want to make sure you get what you want.”

“Here he comes, guys,” Craig warned.

Woody pulled his fingers out of my hole; I grabbed my beer and sat down. On his return, Brad looked a little better though his speech was still slurred. “Not much room,” he said.

Woody had a solution. “Move over, guys.” We all shuffled along, but there was still just enough space for Brad to sit down. Brett was without a seat.

“I know,” he said. “Who’s the lightest? He can sit on someone’s knee.”

Everyone, including Brad who had obviously not thought it through, agreed.

Brett smiled. “Looks like it’s you, Danny.”

Before I could say anything, Woody lifted me up by the waist and deposited me on his lap. I squirmed to get comfortable, feeling his cock thicken under my ass maneuvers. I put my hand down to squeeze and it twitched in my grip. Fuck; hidden by the overhang of the table, he’d unzipped while we’d all been making room, hoisting his briefs down under his balls. The feel of his warm skin against my palm made me want him bad. Maybe I was a slut.

“What’s everyone want to drink?” Luis asked. He was met with a chorus of “Beer” from just about everyone around the table.

“How about a soda for Brad,” I suggested. “He looks like he’s had enough.”

Brad burped loudly. “Maybe I have.”

“You gonna let your future bride tell you what to do, dude?” Brett heckled. “Grow some balls, man.”

“You’re right,” Brad said loudly to the cheers of his buddies. “More beer.” He didn’t dare look at me.

“What about you, Danny?”

Woody chimed in. “He said earlier he wouldn’t mind trying the Thornwhistle U Special, isn’t that right?”

My voice was hoarse from the feel of Woody’s cock against my ass. He’d slipped it through the tear in my trousers, and I could feel it leaking slime against my butt cheek. “Yeah, I’d like to give it a go.”

Brad screwed up his face. “Don’t know what you see in that cocktail muck.”

“Don’t worry,” Woody said. “This cocktail will be right up Danny’s alley. He’ll love it.”

Brett headed off to get the drinks. Brad cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Look, guys. I want to say how much I appreciate your support this evening. I had no idea you’d be so supportive of my relationship, especially since you seem to have taken to Danny so well. He means a lot to me.”

“Danny means a lot to all of us, too. We hope to get to know him a whole lot better than we do already. Right, guys?” Woody asked.

There was a roar of agreement, and Brad got a bit misty-eyed.

Brett came back with the beers and an empty cocktail glass. “Here you go. Help yourselves.”

“What’s the glass for?” Brad asked.

“Oh, that’s for Danny’s cocktail. I brought it back by mistake. Seems they have to get the special ingredients for the cocktail from their…um…storeroom because they’re right out at the moment. Hey, Claus, want to come help me with the snacks.”

Claus, another of the football jocks, inched his way along the booth to join Brett. I noticed they headed toward the men’s room. “Grab me a beer, Danny,” Woody asked. “I can’t move with you on my lap.” I stood and bent over the table to grab a jug and glasses but almost lost my balance. Woody held my butt to steady me, taking the opportunity to slip his finger in my ass. I gasped in surprise. Luis covered my faux pas by immediately launching into a spiel about the team’s next game. It was the perfect distraction.

As I sat down, Woody steadied me, saying, “Not too fast, you don’t want to do me an injury.” He grabbed his cock while Luis kept Brad distracted, holding it so that when I sat, I was lowering my ass straight onto his thick hot rod. It slid inside smoothly, a slight burn on entry, filling me with the most intense feelings.

Woody sighed. “Oh my God, that is so good.”

“Beer always does that to him,” Luis smirked.

Brett and Claus came back with the snacks, and I took the opportunity to reach across the table to grab a plate, rising off Woody’s cock and slamming myself back down on it as I sat. Woody decided he’d like to get his own food so he lifted me to my feet and bent over my back, squeezing his pelvis so his cock jammed my shit hole. I groaned.

Brad looked up. “You sure you’re comfortable like that?” he asked.

“Perfect,” I said.

“He’s no trouble at all,” Woody added.

“Maybe you should come and sit on my lap,” Brad suggested.

“Nah, he’s comfortable where he is,” Luis said. “Making him move would just disrupt the table.”

“I guess,” Brad replied, not looking at all convinced.

Woody slowly pumped his cock in and out of my ass as the conversation became animated about the team’s chances of a victory at the finals. I ground my butt down trying to get as much of his shaft inside me as possible, as well as angling myself so he hit my little sex button on each thrust. I must have looked like the most restless fag in existence.

One by one the group left the booth to go to the men’s room. There was no suspicion about their activity as they’d been guzzling beer all night. Once the last of the group came back, he whispered to say to Brett, “It’s all ready.”

“What’s all ready?” I asked.

Brett replied. “Your cocktail. I’ll go and get it.”

I could sense an air of expectation around the table so when Brett returned with the creamy mix, I was almost prepared.

“Oh, that looks gross,” Brad exclaimed. “You can’t drink that.”

“What’s in it?” I asked.

“The barman said there’s vodka.”

“What’s the creamy stuff?” Woody asked mischievously.

“That’s the secret ingredient. They won’t tell. But when the barman found out it was for Danny, he made sure to add something special of his own.”

“Why would he do that?” Brad asked.

Brett shrugged. “Seems Danny was extra nice to him earlier this evening, and he wanted to repay the favor.”

Oh, shit. One of those cocks through the glory hole belonged to the barman? Which one? I looked over, and the really cute macho one raised a glass to me. Wow, he could do me any time. I shrugged. “I’m nice to everybody.”

Brett laughed. “Don’t we know it, Danny boy. How about a toast?”

They probably thought I hadn’t noticed, but I had. While Brad and everyone at the table was looking at me, Brett slipped a tablet into a schooner of beer, waiting for the fizz to die down before suggesting the toast. He passed the glass to Brad.

“To Brad and Danny,” Brett said.

We all raised our glasses, clinking with those closest. I noticed Brad looking prouder than I’d ever seen him before. He mouthed, “I love you, Danny,” to me and I mouthed back my love even while I had Woody’s cock firmly embedded in my seemingly insatiable butt. I’m such a hypocrite.

I put the cocktail to my lips, the pungent smell of spunk and alcohol almost choking me. I sipped, a string of slime slithering down my throat as I swallowed.

“Oh, fuck, that’s delicious,” I smiled, the alcohol short-circuiting my brain. I felt so sleazy and humiliated sucking Brad’s jock mates’ cum from a cocktail glass. The only thing that would have made it more humiliating was if Brad knew what I was doing but couldn’t intervene. Wasn’t gonna happen because Brad looked like he was almost totally out of it. He quaffed his beer and although he pulled a face at the taste, he finished it all off.

“Drink up, Danny,” Brett encouraged. “There’s plenty more where that came from. In fact, we might make you a pitcher full for the wedding reception. How’d you like that?”

“I’d love it,” I said, sucking more alcoholic slime onto my tongue. “The bigger the pitcher, the better.”

I was bouncing up and down on Woody’s cock in my excitement.

Brett turned to Brad with a devious look on his face. “Hey, Brad. Don’t you get jealous with your man squirming all over Woody’s crotch?”

“Nah,” Brad said, barely able to keep his head up. “Danny gave me his word he’d be faithful. That’s good enough for me. Woody’s as straight as they come. Besides”—he tapped his nose as if imparting some secret—“I bought Danny a metal butt plug to keep him happy and had our names engraved on the stem. I know he’s got it jammed up his ass right this very moment, so, you see, he can’t do anything other than squirm because it’s probably got him all hot and horny filling his tight little ass.”

OMG! I remembered I’d left the butt plug in the men’s room. I attempted to stand but Woody pulled me down. “I gotta go to the powder room,” I explained.

“You haven’t finished your cocktail,” Brett said.

“Here, take another sip and swirl it around in your mouth, Danny,” Woody insisted, holding the glass to my lips.

I took a large suck of the mucousy liquid.

“That’s so gross,” Brad said. “I don’t care if it is just coconut milk or some other shit, it looks like spunk.”

“Look, his lips are all shiny and sticky. Give him a kiss, Brad.”

I struggled to get loose.

“I don’t think so,” Brad replied, looking decidedly queasy.

“Go on, mate. You can’t have an engagement without an engagement kiss.”

It was a moot point in the end because after being cajoled by the group for a few minutes, Brad’s eyes went back in his head and he fell face down onto the table.

I glared at Brett. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

“Just a little sleeping tablet. He won’t remember a thing.”

Woody gave up all pretense and began to shove his cock into my ass ferociously. “Best piece of fag ass I’ve ever had. You guys are gonna love it.”

“Let me go, you bastards,” I screamed.

“Keep your voice down, faggot,” Luis spat.

“What do you want from me?” I pleaded.

“Your ass and your mouth for starters,” Brett said.

“On a regular basis,” Luis added.

Craig was next. “Any time we want it, day or night.”

“You’re gonna be our regular cum dump, Danny boy.” Woody hauled me to my feet, bent me over the table and held my head down on the cold laminate.

I could see Brett’s evil smile as Woody fucked me savagely. “This is just the beginning, Danny. By the time we’ve finished with you, you’ll wish you’d never met Brad. Here, finish your cocktail.” He poured the slime mixture in my mouth, but I couldn’t swallow fast enough. He rubbed my face in the thick viscous puddle on the tabletop. “Lick it all up, fag. Don’t waste a drop.”

As my tongue lapped at the spunk pool, I felt Woody shoot his load deep inside me. I knew he wouldn’t be the last, but I didn’t care. My ass needed this sort of attention and it needed it constantly. Brad might have been enough, but I began to doubt it. Still, was this what I wanted?

“By the way, Danny,” Brett said. “No need to go running to the men’s room. I found your little toy. It’s okay, I have it. I’ll keep it safe for you. That way I know you’ll do what we ask.”