Joaquin 2.0

Joaquin 2.0

Part 3

Copyright © 2023 by Stimle. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

---

There are two of me. One does the right thing, one cannot see.

Standing back-to-back, who is the strong one in the last act?

Every path I take, roads I go down, choices I make, take me right between patches of light and darkness in me.

‘Shadows’ by Amy Grant

---

“You like that, Truck Boy?”

“Mmm… unnhhh,” I nod as my cheek and chin caress the stranger’s hard cock through the fabric of his underwear.

Fingers tighten in my hair. “You want this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I moan, my nose rubbing the thick smear of pre-cum that’s seeping through the thin cotton.

“You need this.”

I nod again and the hand on the back of my head draws me in closer, the heady aroma of sex and sweat filling my nostrils as I begin to mouth the length of his shaft.

At the same time my own briefs are tugged down and my erection, hard and slick and finally free of its confines, slaps against my abs.

Strong hands cup my ass and part my cheeks. The blunt pad of a thumb strokes over my hole and I shiver, groaning as the calloused skin teases the rim before pushing in. I begin to cum.

“Unh!”

I woke with a gasp, momentarily confused as to where I was, even as the now-all-too-familiar feeling in my briefs told me I’d just had a wet dream.

I sat up and blinked away the mental cobwebs. I was in my old bedroom in New Mexico. It was winter break, only three days until Christmas.

“Fuck,” I mumbled – completely unaware that the swear just slipped out – and lifted the blanket to survey the ‘damage.’ How many was this now? Four? No, five. Five?! I hadn’t been home two weeks yet and I’d already had five wet dreams!

I reached over and tapped the screen of my phone, squinting to see the time; definitely too early for anybody else to be up. I slipped out of bed and went to my closet. I slid the door open and dug through my travel duffel until I found the four-pack of briefs I’d bought yesterday and stashed there. I tore the pack open. The way I was going through underwear these days was ridiculous. I’d already done my own laundry twice since I’d been home because I didn’t want my mom to see the evidence.

I stepped into the hall to go to the bathroom and bumped into my dad. “Easy there, Sport,” he said with a chuckle as he put his hands on my shoulders. He sniffed once and glanced down at my still-tented briefs. He raised an eyebrow and gave me a conspiratorial wink, “Don’t let mom see that.”

“Dad!” I whispered, mortified, my head whipping around, half-expecting to see her standing behind me.

“Ah, she’s still sleeping,” he said as I fled to the bathroom and locked the door. “I’m going in early today to wrap up a few things before Christmas. But don’t worry – your secret’s safe with me.”

I could hear his good-natured laughter follow him down the hall as I peeled down my soiled underwear and wiped myself down. I rinsed them out, washed my hands, and slipped on the clean briefs. Back in my room, I tossed the underwear into my hamper and crawled back into bed. Settling under the covers, I thought back on the previous semester.

Ever since school started back up, I’d been having strange dreams. Well, it was just one dream really, always the same: I’m on my knees in front of a stranger, getting him hard with my mouth. Once he’s fully erect, he pulls his dick out and slides it into my waiting mouth and fucks my face while another stranger takes me from behind.

For months I’d apparently repressed the memories of what happened that day in the truck this time last year, and it wasn’t until that afternoon with Luc and his roommates – when they showed me the video – that I finally remembered, and now the memories were overloading my senses.

Most of the time, I woke up before anything happened, but on a few occasions, I’d had wet dreams. Not many, thankfully, because there were so many things at school – class, swim meets, swim practice, Bible study, discipleship – to keep me accountable and my mind pure, but enough that it was embarrassing. Luckily, I got up earlier than my roommates, so they didn’t know what was going on, because if they did, the teasing would’ve been merciless.

But now? Here back home, I didn’t have the discipline and structure I did at school, so the stray thoughts and that dang dream had taken up free residence in my head.

I realized I was hard again, and as I slipped my hand down the front of my briefs and grabbed my hard on, I wondered what it all meant. 

# # # # #       

My girlfriend Danielle met me at the restaurant when my shift ended. Having worked there the previous summer, she knew most of the staff, and I found her sitting at the bar talking to the owner, Dillon, along with the bartender and a couple of servers.

“Hey you,” I said as I clocked out on the bar register.

“I see Pride’s in full swing,” she commented, gesturing toward the crowds of people passing by outside. Many were dressed in all colors of the rainbow, some even wearing flamboyant costumes.

We don’t have a ‘gay’ part of town, per se, but the historic district where the restaurant is located has always been gay friendly, and over the years December has become an unofficial celebration of gay rights. The festival had started two nights earlier and would run until Christmas Eve.

“Yeah, it’s been crazy,” I said. “Lots of tourists.”

“How have the tips been?”

I shrugged. “I’m doing okay.”

“He’s doing more than okay,” Dillon said as he eyed my snug-fitting chinos and playfully swatted my butt.

Danielle laughed. “What does that mean?”

“It means your boy is cleaning up,” Chad, one of the servers, said as he clapped me on the back. He was a good-looking blond gym bro with tousled sandy blond hair and green eyes.

The previous summer, Dillon and I had worked out most days. He was the one who’d hired me and despite our age difference – he was in his mid-thirties – and took me under his wing when he saw that I was becoming more serious with my workouts. I joined the gym he went to, and we started working out together most days. He was a total beast and easily the most fit guy at the gym. He really helped me up my fitness game as well as my diet, and I’d even been sending him selfies over the last semester so we could chart my progress. When Chad started at the restaurant in August, he joined our workouts. He was a couple years older than me, brash, but a nice guy for the most part. He and Dillon were regular workout partners now.

“Hey, you haven’t been doing too bad yourself,” I said. “I saw that wad of cash in your pocket last night.”

“That wasn’t a wad of cash,” he said with a leering grin as he loaded his serving tray with cocktails. I blushed. He turned to Danielle, “There were two dudes in earlier and I’m pretty sure they wanted him to have their babies.”

“Oh my gosh,” Danielle laughed.

“And I think you sent that one guy to the hospital with a heart attack when you bent over to pick up his fork!” one of the busboys, Trent, put in.

“Stop it, guys,” I said, my face red. “I was just being nice.”

Dillon put his hands on my shoulders and gave a playful squeeze. “Well, there’s being nice, Joaquin, and then there’s being a shameless flirt—”

“Shut up,” I said, and he laughed good-naturedly as I ducked out from under his grasp. “I wasn’t flirting! I can’t help what I look like.”

That brought a round of moans from the group.

“So, what are you two lovebirds up to tonight?” Dillon asked, thankfully letting the subject drop.

“Christmas party,” Danielle replied. “You guys want to come?”

“Nah, thanks though. Chad and I are gonna get in a workout and then I’ve got a late date.”

Chad turned to me. “You’re missing the gym?” he said in faux shock as he added garnishes and straws to the drinks on his tray.

“I know,” I laughed. “But one time isn’t going to kill me.”

“I dunno, man,” he eyed me. “You’re looking pretty weak.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.” I turned to Trent, who was clearing off a two-top a few tables away, “You’re coming, right?”

“Heck yeah! I’ll be there as soon as I’m off.”

 

We said our goodbyes and walked to get my Jeep. Rundy’s truck was in the shop so we stopped by to pick him up, and I took the opportunity to change into jeans and a different shirt. He hopped into the back but leaned forward between the front seats the entire drive to the party, his left arm draped over my shoulder as he talked non-stop.

He’s always animated when he talks, and his hands waved this way and that as he chattered on, his breath warm on my neck. Several times his fingertips idly brushed over my pec, and I found my nipples hardening into pebbled nubs. What the heck?!

Rundy must’ve felt it, too, because he leaned in, gently took my nipple between his thumb and index finger, and, in his best Austin Powers voice, said, “Do I make you horny?”

“Don’t you dare,” I hissed.

He huffed a warm breath into my ear and pinched my nipple. “Do I make you randy, baby? Yeah, do I?”

“Stop it,” I squealed, my voice jumping an octave.

“What’re you guys doing?” Danielle asked, looking from me to Rundy and back again.

“Giving your boyfriend a titty twister,” Rundy replied matter-of-factly as he leaned in and licked the shell of my ear. A shiver ran through me and I giggled.

“You guys are such children.”

Rundy blew Danielle a raspberry and grabbed my nipple again. I had a massive boner now and it was straining at the confines of my briefs, pressing awkwardly against my zipper. I had to distract myself from thinking about it or I’d be adjusting it. I hated my best friend right now.

Relief came when the GPS on my phone told me to turn onto Ash Street. I looked down at the screen and realized we were only a couple of blocks from Cedar Street where Luc, Jesse, and TJ lived. I’d been tempted more than a few times to drive by their house since I got back from school but had resisted so far. Now it felt like fate was intervening.

I missed the turn onto Ash on purpose. Danielle patted my arm. “Hey, you were supposed to turn back there,” she said just as Siri loudly voiced her disapproval from my phone.

“Shoot, I’m sorry. Let me turn around up here.” I made a left onto Cedar and guided the Jeep up the street to where the guys lived. The house was dark, and for some reason, that made me sad. I pulled into their driveway and turned around, and we were back on our way to the party.

 # # # # #

 Thankfully, my briefs were bone dry when I woke the next morning. However, I had the mother of all boners and it was currently pressing against my best friend’s butt! Rundy’s been sleeping over since we were kids and we’ve always shared a bed, but this was the first time I can remember waking up spooning him and I was mortified.

As I lay there trying not to move while willing my morning wood to go down, I remembered that Rundy could sleep through Armageddon – heck, he’d once fallen asleep in school and slept through a fire drill! I gently lifted the arm that was curled around him and, true to form, he never stirred. The same can’t be said for my boner, though.

“I don’t have clean underwear,” Rundy groused when he came back from the shower an hour later (the sleepover hadn’t been planned), his towel slung low on his hips, yesterday’s undies balled up in one hand.

“You need some briefs?” I asked as I made the bed.

He scrunched up his face. “Not used ones, dude. That’s gross.”

“You’re such a doofus,” I said. I reached into my duffel and tossed him a fresh pair. “Here, these are new.”

He looked at the briefs and cocked an eyebrow, “Calvin Klein? I see you’ve finally stepped up in the world. I’m impressed.”

“Only the best for my boys,” I laughed as I cupped myself through my pajama bottoms, aware that I was blushing. I tried to ignore the tingling in my belly.

He huffed another laugh and rolled his eyes. I turned away when he dropped his towel but caught his reflection in the mirror and couldn’t help staring as he stepped into the briefs. He noticed me watching as he pulled them up his long legs. “Okay perv, show’s over,” he laughed as he reached for his jeans.

I took a deep breath and sat down at my desk. It was now or never. “Rundy? Hey. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He’d been about to put his jeans on but stopped when he saw the look on my face. “Whoa, what’s going on?”

I took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. “How do you know if something is… well, maybe not necessarily a sin… but how do you know if it’s wrong?”

“First of all,” he said, as he crossed the room to where I was sitting, “what are you talking about?”

“I can’t really say. Not at this time.”

He sat down on the bed. “Is this about you?”

“No,” I lied, not meeting his eyes, “it’s one of the guys on the team.” I had a feeling he didn’t believe me, although he didn’t call me out.

He changed tack. “Is what he’s doing or thinking about doing a sin?”

I thought about my answer for a few seconds. “From a certain point of view—”

“No,” he cut me off, “don’t go all Obi-wan on me. Is it a sin or not? Yes or no?”

I paused. If I was to believe the teachings of the New Testament – that Jesus was the fulfillment of the Law – then no, gay sex wasn’t a sin. I shook my head. “No,” I said slowly, “it’s not a sin.”

“But it’s against the school’s code of conduct,” he surmised correctly.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“So, this guy… your friend—”

“Teammate.”

He looked at me and I knew he didn’t believe me. “Teammate. Whatever. This guy. He’s being, what, tempted?”

“Yes! That’s it! That’s it exactly! He’s being tempted!” It was so obvious, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it earlier. The dream, the thoughts I’d been having… it’d been right in front of me the whole time! It was Jesus being tempted by the Devil in the Wilderness! The realization was an epiphany, and I felt a palpable sense of relief wash over me.

Rundy was still talking, and I quickly tuned back in, “And whatever he’s being tempted by isn’t a sin.”

“No.”

“But it’s against the school’s rules or their code.”

I nodded. I picked my next words carefully. “Yes. But he says his choices aren’t hurting anybody. So, if nobody’s being hurt, how is it wrong? Why does it even matter?”

“You tell me; you’re the theologian.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said defensively.

“It means you’re the one going to the Christian college, Joaquin,” he sighed. “Don’t you take all kinds of Bible classes? Don’t you have chapel like three times a week?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m an expert,” I snapped.

“And I am?” he shot back, but then the line of his shoulders relaxed, and he gave me a small smile. “Look, you want my advice?”

I nodded.

“Sometimes you just have to get stuff out of your system.”

“That’s it?” I asked. “That’s your advice?”

He shrugged. “Hey, it works.”

“It works? What do you mean, it works?” I was confused. “What’re you talking about.”

He sighed heavily and flopped onto his back, arms splayed out over his head, hazel eyes squeezed shut, and I suddenly found it hard to keep from looking at his long, lean body sprawled out on my bed. The chiseled pecs, the tufts of hair under his arms, the bulge in his briefs…

Oh my gosh! Why was I staring at my best friend like this? This was a test, wasn’t it? Did Jesus ever have it this bad when he was being tempted by Satan?

I needed to look away before Rundy caught me staring, but it was like I was in some kind of tractor beam or gravitational pull.

He lifted his head but didn’t meet my eyes and I could see he was biting the inside of his cheek. I don’t know how it happened, but what had started out being about me had suddenly become about Rundy.

“Dude.” I leaned forward and put my hand on his knee. “Rundy. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

He didn’t move or say anything for a long time, and I didn’t remove my hand.

“Okay,” he said finally, rubbing his eyes before running both hands through his short blonde hair. “I should’ve talked to you about this at the time, but you weren’t here, you know?”

“That’s bull,” I said, pulling my hand back and crossing my arms. “I don’t have to physically be here for you to talk to me.”

“I know that dummy,” he said. “That’s not what I meant, though. You were here… but you weren’t.”

“You’re not making sense. I was here but I wasn’t?”

He sat up on his elbows and let his head fall back for a second before looking at me. “The end of August. I wanted to talk to you before you went back to school, but all of a sudden you were all super-focused on the Lord and, well” – he smiled self-consciously and shrugged one shoulder – “I wasn’t. I was afraid you’d think less of me.”

The end of August. Time stopped and my mind went back to the afternoon with Luc, Jesse, and TJ…

I must’ve had some kind of look on my face because Rundy flopped back down and groaned. “Oh man, I knew you were gonna get like that.”

“Like what?” I protested. “I didn’t say anything.”

He was quiet for several long seconds before he finally sat up. “You know how we made that pact at Bible camp the summer before freshman year?”

I thought back. “Yeah, we pledged we weren’t going to smoke or drink or do drugs —wait, what’s going on?”

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and glanced up at me. He had a bleak look on his face. “Okay, don’t be mad.”

“Don’t be mad? Of course I won’t be mad—”

“You gotta swear.”

“Come on, it’s me.” He looked at me and I held my hands up again. “Okay, okay, I swear.”

He held my gaze for several long seconds. “I had sex.”

That was the last thing I expected to hear. “What?! When?”

“You said you weren’t going to be mad.”
“I’m not mad!”

“Then why are you shouting?”

“I’m not—” I stopped and took a deep breath, let it out, and looked at him. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad. But you had sex? When?”

“Pinner’s wedding. His girlfriend’s friend, well, she’s his wife now. Not the friend, his girlfriend. Wait, you know what I mean, right?”

I nodded and gestured for him to continue.

“We were both in the wedding party and, I dunno, I let her – Gina’s her name – I let her give me a blow job.”

A firestorm of emotions ran through me when he said that. I felt betrayed, let down, hurt. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, especially since Rundy and I had made that pact. I wanted to read him the riot act, but I didn’t have any moral high ground to stand on.

“But then I felt guilty about it,” Rundy continued.

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “At the time. Well, and for a while after, too, I guess. I mean, I was never going to see her again and I always thought the only person I was ever going to have sex with was my wife, and then not until our wedding night.”

“What made you change your mind?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. All the stuff on TV and movies. The media. You know how they say a blow job isn’t really sex. I guess I started to believe all that crap. Started to think like you – your teammate, I mean. You know, nobody got hurt so what’s the big deal, right?”

I winced and contemplated coming clean, telling him what had happened a year ago and then what had happened at the end of August. Telling him about the dream I’d been having and the overwhelming desires I was being tempted with. Maybe he was right. Maybe I needed to get it out of my system.

I steeled myself and opened my mouth to confess, but what tumbled out before I could stop it was, “What was it like?”

“Oh dude,” Rundy said. His voice had a dreamy quality to it and his eyes were wide as he began. “There was one of those party busses for after the rehearsal dinner. Gina had really big boobs and was wearing a low-cut shirt and they were practically popping out. The bus was dark, and the music was pumping. She’d been drinking some – they all were, except me – and she started rubbing her tits against my arm, and it was, really, wow. Her hand was on my thigh, and I didn’t even realize she’d been moving it higher until she was squeezing my boner through my pants. Damn but I was hard. She started kissing on my neck and… I dunno, the next thing I know, my pants and briefs are at my knees, and my dick’s harder than it’s ever been, and then it’s in her mouth and my hands are in her hair pushing her head down and…”

“Yeah? And?”

He leaned toward me and whispered, “And I think I saw God!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, and it seemed to break some of the tension. He smiled back at me and shrugged. Neither of us said anything for a long time.

Rundy’s description of his blow job had me worked up and I thought back to the afternoon in the back of the truck with Jack. How he had taken my dick in his hand and then slid the whole thing in his mouth. I still remember him looking up at me when he pulled off that first time, making slurping noises like a kid sucking on a popsicle, and how he never broke eye contact when he started to lick up and down it. I remembered literally shaking as he tongued me, how it was like nothing I’d ever felt before, and how I asked him to continue: “Please sir, more.” How, with those three little words, I gave myself to him – body, mind, and spirit – surrendering completely to the sins of the flesh. But funny thing, it didn’t feel like sin; it felt like pleasure, and I wanted more. And if I was being honest with myself, I’d been wanting more ever since that day.

I realized I was hard and casually reached for one of the bed pillows to cover my lap. I glanced up and saw that Rundy’s briefs were tented, too, but he didn’t seem to be aware.

“Anyway,” he muttered as he grabbed his jeans and got to his feet, “if you ever need a wingman or a partner in crime, let me know because it really sucks to go through… stuff… by yourself.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Maybe we need a new pact, or maybe just update the old one. You know, maybe instead of not doing those things, we agree to do them together. To get them out of our system together.”

His brief-covered crotch was a foot away from my face and suddenly thoughts of sucking and slobbering my way up and down the length of his shaft began to play on a loop in my head. My mouth was parched, drier than the Chihuahuan Desert.

“But I’m not giving you a blow job,” he said, oblivious to my distress as he pulled on his jeans and adjusted himself before buttoning and zipping. “Maybe a squeezer, but not a blowie.”

I made a squeaking noise and my jaw dropped.

“Boys! Breakfast in five minutes!” Mom called as she walked by my door, giving it a sharp rap.

I jumped up, still holding the pillow over my crotch, and fled toward the door. “I need to take a shower!”

# # # # # 

Rundy and I hung out for most of the day, even helping my mom make Christmas cookies. She was elated having ‘both my boys’ home, and any earlier tension or awkwardness between Rundy and me had been long forgotten.

When I dropped him off at his house later, I went inside to say hello to his parents and sisters. Twenty minutes later he walked me out to my Jeep and surprised me by pulling me into a big hug.

“I meant what I said before,” he told me, arms wrapped tightly around me.

I smiled. “What, that you’ll give me a squeezer?”

“Ass.” 

# # # # # 

The dinner rush was over, and I was working in the lounge with Chad, when two men came in. I recognized them right away because they’d been in a few nights already this week, twice in my section.           

They looked to be in their early forties, right around my dad’s age, and were both ruggedly handsome. I could tell they were cowboys, probably ranchers. Van was a couple of inches taller than me and had close-cropped brown hair, brown eyes, and a salt-and-pepper, short boxed beard. Ross was my height with blond hair streaked with silver, and bright blue eyes. He had a couple days-worth of stubble.

Apparently they’d taken some kind of interest in me, because I’d noticed them looking my way several times throughout the week, which made me wonder if they were gay. Maybe they were a couple.

They were in my section again tonight, and something told me it would be a nice gesture to buy them a round of drinks. I saw that Dillon was tending bar, so I grabbed a serving tray and walked over.

“Hey Joaquin,” he greeted me warmly. He was wiping down the back bar and I leaned against one of the high-back stools and waited for him to finish. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and I couldn’t help but stare at the tattoos that covered his right arm.

I don’t have any tattoos and would never get one, but for some reason I liked how they looked on Dillon. Sometimes when we were working out, I found myself staring at them and at how they seemed to almost come to life whenever he flexed.

He saw me looking and smiled. “What can I do ya for?” he asked as he tossed the rag into the sink.

I tilted my head in the direction of my section and slid my wallet from my pocket. “If it’s okay, I’d like to buy a round for the guys at table eight.”

He looked over my shoulder and grinned. “Oh, Van and Ross. That’s nice of you.”

I handed him my credit card and gave him the drink order. “They’ve been good customers. I think they’ve been in every night this week.”

“They have,” he confirmed. He waved my card away and prepared the drinks. “They come for Pride every year. They’re great guys.”

That answered that question. “They seem like it,” I agreed. I put the cocktails onto the tray along with a couple of napkins and coasters and headed back to my section.

So, they were gay. And, from the way there were huddled together intently watching something on one of their phones, most likely a couple. They didn’t notice my approach, and I was about to lean in and set the drinks down, when one of them said, “It’s Truck Boy, trust me.”

I stopped dead. Truck Boy? What the heck?! I squinted at the screen and, sure enough, it was me and that dang video!

I wasn’t sure if I should be ticked off or what, but then I had another epiphany: Could this be fate? The words to the old Michael W. Smith song, ‘Hand of Providence’ began to play in my head – ‘Oh, the Hand of Providence is guiding us through choices that we make. Oh, the Hand of Providence is reaching out to help us on our way.’ – and I knew this was meant to be.

 I remembered how Jesus had prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane the night he was arrested. He’d conquered the flesh through earnest prayer and intense, willful submission to God’s plan – ‘My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.’ – but prayer hadn’t been working too well for me these days. 

This cup…

Unless I drink it…

Rundy’s words echoed in my head like a thunderclap – ‘Sometimes you just have to get stuff out of your system.’ – and I knew exactly what I needed to do.

I couldn’t believe the solution was right in front of me. If I played my cards right, this could turn into an opportunity to get all these thoughts and urges out of my system once and for all! I decided to go for it.

I cleared my throat and stepped around the table, a big smile fixed on my face. “Good evening. Welcome back.”

It was obvious that I shocked them, because they both jumped about a foot. Ross dropped the phone and cursed as it clattered on the table. He grabbed it and slid it into his pocket as Van reached for his menu. They stumbled over their words as they greeted me, and it was clear they were wondering how much, if anything, I’d seen or heard.

“It’s nice to see you again,” I said pleasantly as I set the drinks onto the table. Ross put his hand on my arm. “We didn’t order these.”

“They’re on the house,” I said. “Tanqueray and tonic with two limes for Van, and Jameson and Ginger for you, Ross. Is that right?”

His smile stretched from ear to ear. “Yes, thank you… um, it’s Joaquin, right?”

I returned his smile. “Yes. And you’re welcome. Are you ready to order or should I come back in a couple of minutes?”

They placed their orders and because it was slow, I was able to stop by and chat a few times while they ate. I talked about school and Danielle and church, and it turned out that I was right about them being ranchers.

“I had a feeling you were cowboys,” I said as I set down the check and began to clear away their dishes.

“Why’s that?” Van asked as he pulled several bills from his wallet.

“You look rugged.”

“You like rugged, huh?”

I blushed sheepishly.

“Are you working late?” Ross asked.

I looked at my watch. “No, I’m off in about half an hour.”

“We’re going to the festival if you’d like to join us. That is, if you don’t have any other plans.”

I thought about it for a few seconds. This was going better than I had expected. It had to be providence! “Sure,” I said. “I don’t have anything going on tonight, and I’ve never been. Could be fun.”

“Could be,” Van agreed, grinning.

“If you like, we can wait until you’re off and walk over together,” Ross offered.

“Oh, um, I need to run home and change,” I said.

“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”

“N-n-nothing really,” I stammered. “These pants are just a little, um, tight.”

Van leaned back in his chair and looked me up and down. “They look fine from where I’m sitting.”

“Thanks.” I blushed, “but I think I’ll be more comfortable if I changed clothes. I can meet you over there in an hour if that’s not too late?”

“Not at all,” Ross said. “Why don’t we meet at the main pavilion? It’s smack in the center of the park. You can’t miss it.”

“And after, we can go back to our hotel,” Van added.

“Sounds good.” I realized what I said and my cheeks reddened. 

# # # # # 

I might have broken a few traffic laws getting home. Because it was my last night at the restaurant until summer, Dillon and the staff that were working had thrown me an impromptu going away celebration and I didn’t get out of there until thirty minutes after I’d intended.

“We’ll see you in a bit,” Ross had called out when he and Van left, which earned me a quirked brow from Dillon.

“What’s that about?” he asked.

“Oh, um, they’re going to show me the Pride Festival since I’ve never been,” I stammered.

“I have a feeling you’ll like it,” he said with a wink.

Back home, I showered, pulled on clean briefs, and then stood in front of my open closet trying to figure out what to wear. Was this happening? More importantly, did I want this to happen?

I tried not thinking about it because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer, but that just made me think about it more. Dillon’s comment – “I have a feeling you’ll like it” – kept rolling around in my head and I wondered if he meant anything by it.

I don’t know why the thought of getting this out of my system had me so aroused, but suddenly my briefs felt a size too small and when I looked down at them, I was shocked to see how much they were bulging. I had a full-on boner jutting up and to the left and it was leaking! What the heck? Maybe if I jerked off real fast…

No! I refused to give in to that desire. It was one thing to have a wet dream – those I couldn’t control – but it was a whole other thing to masturbate. That was a choice, and I was better than that.

While running into Van and Ross was providence, I had a feeling divine intervention was needed for my current predicament. I knelt next to my bed and said a quick prayer.

I crossed myself when I finished and climbed to my feet. I didn’t want to go out with damp, sticky underwear, so I put on a fresh pair. I decided on distressed black skinny jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and my favorite Thursday Boots.

I was slipping into my brown denim jacket when my phone dinged with a text. It was Danielle. ‘Do you want to come over?’

‘Can’t. Something came up that I need to take care of,’ I typed back. I put my phone on ‘do not disturb’ and slid it into my pocket. 

# # # # # 

I parked in an underground lot and walked the three blocks to the Pride festival. I felt a little self-conscious, a straight guy at a gay festival, but everybody seemed nice and normal, a far cry from the perverts and sodomites I’d been warned about growing up.

“What’ll you have?” Ross asked when I found them at the main pavilion. “They have a full bar.”

“Oh, I don’t drink,” I said.

“You don’t? Really?” He glanced at Ross and then they both looked at me like I had three heads.

I laughed. “Yes, really. I’m a Christian—“

“So, drinking’s a sin?” Ross asked.

“No, but—”

“You’re twenty-one, aren’t you?”

“Yes—”

“Then let’s celebrate.” He nodded at the bar.

I eyed the array of bottles for several seconds. Van gave an exasperated-sounding huff. He reached into his pocket. “How about an edible instead?

“A what? Oh, gosh no, I don’t do drugs.”

He laughed. “It’s legal and one isn’t going to do anything. If anything, it’ll help you relax.”

“Relax?”

“Yeah,” Ross elbowed me. “You need to loosen up!”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Come on, live a little.” Van took my hand and pressed what looked like a smushed gum drop into my palm.

I looked down at the candy in my hand. It WAS legal, and would one really hurt? I mean, it was so small. What could it do? I shrugged and tossed it into my mouth. “Go big or go home,” I mumbled.

We walked through the festival, stopping at various booths along the way. Boy, there were a lot of sex toys! I had no idea what most of them were, but just looking at some of them sent a tingle right to my crotch.

Ross bought churros and hot chocolate. I took a sip and tasted cinnamon. I raised my eyebrows.

“Fireball,” he said.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Is it working?”

I took another drink.

 

By the time I finished my cocoa I was feeling floaty. Buzzed. It was actually kind of freeing. Was this really happening?

“Our hotel’s just across the street,” Van said, nudging my arm and pulling me out of my fog. “Do you want to come up?

I tossed my empty cup into a trash bin. “Sure.”

They were staying in one of the small boutique hotels that were popular in this part of town. Ross and Van greeted the two men at the front desk by name when we crossed the small lobby to the elevator. They returned the greeting and I saw them fist-bump as the elevator door slid shut.

“This is it,” Van announced when he opened the door to their room and flipped on the lights. “Come on in.”

Their room was on the second floor and boasted floor-to-ceiling windows and a balcony that overlooked the park. French doors on the left revealed the bedroom and bathroom.

“How about another drink?” Van asked, nodding to a bottle of Jameson whiskey on the counter.

“Do you have poppers?” I blurted.

“Oh shit,” Van spluttered, a look of surprise splashed across his face as he filled a glass. “What was that?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” I looked from him to Ross. “Isn’t that why I’m here right now? I saw you watching that video, so you know I’m Truck Boy.”

“Damn, I knew he saw us!” Van said as he gulped his whiskey.

“Hold on,” Ross said, shooting Van a disapproving look. He sat down next to me. “If you’re a Christian and you have a girlfriend, why are you here?”

I stared at my clasped hands. “I think I’ll take that drink now.”

Ross raised his hand. “Make that two.”

A few minutes later we were settled on the comfortable sofa with drinks. My first Jameson and Ginger had gone down easy. The second was going down even easier.

“Whoa there,” Ross cautioned, putting his hand on my arm. “You should pace yourself.”
“I don’t remember that video,” I rushed out. “Well, I didn’t, not at first. Remember it, that is. But now… It happened a year ago.” I was rambling so I stopped. I took a deep breath, finished my drink, and told them what I remembered of that day.

“Shit,” Ross said, draining his glass. I shrugged.

I told them about Luc, TJ, and Jesse – the alcohol had loosened my tongue – and they looked stunned. Ross’s eyes were wide, and Van’s jaw had dropped open.

“And now I’ve been having dreams.”

“Dreams?” Van asked. “What kind dreams?”

“Um…” I bit my lower lip. “Weird dreams?”

“Sex dreams?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah, well, mostly just one.” I told them about my recurring dream of being down on my knees, my face buried in an anonymous man’s crotch, licking and sucking, being fingered, then…

“Holy fucking shit,” Van said slowly.

“Yeah, and I keep thinking about it,” I said. “The dream, the video, the stuff that happened…”

“And?”

“I dunno,” I shrugged. “Look, I’m not gay, but like I said, it happened and now I can’t stop thinking about it, and I don’t know if it’s because I want more? And so, I thought that maybe if I tried more… stuff, then maybe I can get it out of my system.”

“Get it out of your system?”

“Yeah, I was talking to Rundy this morning – that’s my best friend – and that’s what he said. He said sometimes you just have to get stuff out of your system.”

“Wait,” Ross said, “your best friend told you that you should what, go out and have a gay threesome?”

“I wanna meet this friend!” Van interjected. “You think he’d join us?”

“No!” I exclaimed. “He doesn’t know what happened or that I’m even here. But I think what he said makes a lot of sense.”

“That sometimes you just have to get stuff out of your system?” Ross said.

“Yeah.”

“And what, you think we can help?”

I turned and looked at him and then at Van, took another deep breath, and nodded. “Yeah. I mean, you’re gay aren’t you?”

“Yes, we’re gay,” Van confirmed.

“Wait a second,” Ross said. “You think that by us fucking you – that IS what you’re talking about – that you’re going to get it out of your system.”

It was a statement, not a question. Even so, I nodded. “But I think I probably need to be drunk first.”

Ross looked at Van and nodded. Van went to the fridge and took out a bottle of Gatorade. He poured some in my glass.

“What’s this for?” I asked.

“If you’re going to be drinking, you need to stay hydrated,” he explained.

“Only this much? I usually have a whole bottle when I work out.”

“This is more than enough,” he said. “Trust me.”

I downed the Gatorade in one long swallow.

“Oh, and Joaquin?” Ross said with a wink. “Yeah, we have poppers.”

           

I zipped up, flushed the toilet, and washed my hands before stumbling back into the living room. “Is it hot in here?” I asked, pulling at the neck of my t-shirt as I flopped onto the couch. “It feels hot.”

Ross laughed. “Why don’t you take your jacket off?”

“Oh, yeah. Duh.” I tried to shrug out of my jacket but couldn’t get it off while sitting. I stood but must’ve got up too fast because I was suddenly dizzy and the floor seemed to shift and tilt.

“Whoa, easy there,” Van said, grabbing hold of me so I didn’t overbalance. He helped me out of my jacket.

The alcohol had definitely kicked in because I felt lightheaded, and my thoughts seemed to float and spin. “Am I drunk, Van?” I asked, suddenly feeling very chatty, “because I think I might be drunk.”

“Oh, you’re something,” he said as he draped the jacket over the back of a chair. “Is this better?”

“A little.”

“Let’s go outside,” Ross suggested. “It’s cooler.”

It was a nice night, but a little cold, so they lit the gas patio heaters and in a couple of minutes it was perfect. I was feeling relaxed, energized, and euphoric all at the same time.

Their room overlooked the park and had views worthy of a postcard. You could see all the way to the historic district, and I was able to pick out the restaurant. The Pride festival was in full swing, and below us, a line of people streamed past, going to and from the festivities.

Ross stood behind me and rested his chin on my shoulder. “Nice, huh?” he said. His lips were next to my ear and his breath was warm on my neck. He ran one hand down my arm and let it rest on my hip for a few seconds before he slid it under my shirt and began to softly caress my belly. His touch felt nice, like warm sun on my skin, and I leaned back against his solid frame, sighing as he continued to rub my flat stomach with his big hand.

“Does this feel good?” he asked, and the sensation of stubbled whiskers on my neck and cheek caused me to shiver. I nodded, too blissed out to talk.

Van joined us and put a glass to my mouth. I mumbled thanks and took a drink. The bubbles from the ginger ale tickled my nose and I giggled. But the drink was cold and refreshing and I drank deeply as Van tilted my head back and made sure I finished the entire glass. A few drops spilled over my lips, and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

Both of Ross’s hands were under my shirt now, roaming freely up my abs to my chest as he pushed the shirt up under my armpits. He cupped my pecs with his hands and began to play with my nipples, strumming his thumbs over them and teasing them into hard points.

My skin felt electric. I let my head fall back onto his shoulder with a deep sigh as a feeling of well-being coursed through me. It was like the first time an ocean wave had crashed over me, and I felt awash in contentment. I could feel his touches through every cell in my body, and I moaned again, dimly aware of my mounting arousal.

I heard a noise, a low, persistent murmuring, and I opened my eyes to see that a small crowd had formed on the sidewalk below the balcony and were looking up at us.

Ross tugged my shirt up and I automatically lifted my arms to let him pull it off as an excited cry of ‘Woo hoo! Strip him!’ rang out from the crowd below.

He pinched one nipple and then the other, alternating back and forth. “Ohhhh,” I moaned lowly, pushing my chest out to meet his fingers as the memory of another time when my nipples had been played with drifted into my thoughts. I wondered what Ross’s mouth on them would feel like.

His other hand dipped below the waist of my jeans and I felt him play with the elastic band of my underwear. His fingernails brushed delicately over the tip of my dick that was straining against my briefs. I should’ve been freaking out; instead, it was as if a spell had been cast on me and I relaxed even more.

As the crowd continued their encouragement, he got more adventurous and aggressive and began to squeeze my erection through my jeans. It felt incredible.

Then he cupped me and stroked his thumb up and down my shaft. I gasped and thrust into his touch, and that, along with the crowd’s urging chants, seemed to embolden him even further. He grasped the tab of my zipper and began to toy with it, playfully inching it down and then tugging it back up. Down and then up, down and then up, lower and lower with each pass, until I was fully unzipped and my fly was gaping open, revealing my gleaming white briefs that were stretched tautly over the prominent ridge of my erection.

The crowd clapped and cheered, but they really went wild when he slid his hand through my open fly. “Oh fuck,” I gasped as he cupped my balls.

More cries of, ‘Strip him! Strip him!’ sounded from below. I trembled when his whiskers grazed the delicate skin of my neck as he whispered, “Should we give them what they want?”

Without waiting for me to answer, he unbuttoned my jeans and spread the flaps open, exposing my briefs – my obscenely tented briefs – to the crowd below. They began to applaud and whistle, and I basked in the adulation.

He pushed my jeans down slowly, one inch at a time, and the crowd sounded like they were going wild. He stopped mid-thigh to cup my balls again and stroke me. Once again, I thrust into his touch, hungry for more. Craving his touch.

He ran his hands over the front of my briefs, his fingers lightly feathering my erection through the tightly stretched cotton until my cock was practically dancing.

“Oh,” I moaned as I thrust up into that light tough, my throbbing boner needing a more solid connection. He nuzzled his whiskered chin into to crook of my neck and I shuddered.

“Yeah, you like this, huh,” he whispered as his jaw rubbed against my cheek. His voice was a husky rasp, low, like a cat’s purr, and it rolled through me, making my dick take notice. “Are you sure you want to get this all out of your system?” he asked, circling the head of my dick with the nail of his thumb. “Good looking guy like you? Hot body… fuck… you could have this all the time.”

I groaned and lolled my head against his shoulder. My balls were tingling and I could feel pre-cum leaking from my slit. He gently squeezed the tip of my dick before going back to playing with my nipples, plucking and rolling them between rough fingertips.

I whimpered, loving the sensation of the cool night air on my nipples, his strong but gentle hand on my cock, the way he took control. “Good boy,” he whispered before gently nipping at my ear lobe, eliciting a giggle from me.

I was so swept away on the tide of pleasure that I didn’t realize that Van had been easing my jeans down even further and had now taken them all the way off – along with my boots and socks – exposing me nearly completely to the approving crowd below.

 

I don’t know how long I stood on the balcony before the crowd of cheering (and filming) bystanders, in just my underwear, letting two men I barely knew have their way with me.

When I finally realized what was happening, a part of me recognized that I should be embarrassed being exposed like this in a public setting and that I should cover up.

But a larger part of me didn’t care.

I didn’t care that I was moaning and grunting as both Ross and Van’s calloused thumbs rubbed over my nipples, dipped into my belly button, and scrubbed over the tip of my erection.

I didn’t care that I was leaking pre-cum so copiously now that the thin white cotton of my briefs was nearly transparent where the flared tip of my dick jutted against it.

And I didn’t care when my hard dick was fished out of my briefs and exposed to the crowd below.

“More! More! More!” the crowd chanted. “More! More! More!”       

The noise roused me from my stupor and I looked down to see Ross stroking my dick. My waistband had been tucked under my balls and I was now fully on display.

“Take them off,” Van said. When I flashed him a confused look, he pointed to my briefs. “Your underwear. Take them off.” He turned to the crowd and began to whip his arms in large circles.

“Take them off!” the crowd began to chant. “Take them off!”

My eyes went wide and I looked from Van to Ross.

“Do it!” Ross encouraged, snapping the elastic before playfully pinching my butt.

 I giggled and slapped his hand away.

“Take them off! Take them off!”

I bit my bottom lip and then smiled. Turning toward the crowd, I stripped my briefs off and held them up like they were some kind of prize, basking in the cheers and whistles.

“Now toss ‘em,” Van said, indicating the throng of people gathered below. I flung my briefs into the crowd and watched as several guys scrambled for them. It was like throwing Mardi Gras beads, except my underwear was the beads and… I was also the one flashing… Wait, how did— 

The clapping, hooting crowd jarred me out of my thoughts and I looked down to see that Van had wrapped his hand around my dick and was jerking me off to wild shrieks of encouragement. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I mumbled, the words spilling out as he pumped me steadily. I stared at him, dumbfounded, my head spinning. Nobody had ever touched me like this before. I was so slick I thought he was using a lubricant, but it was my pre-cum!

When he roiled the palm of his hand over the head of my cock, I lost it. My eyes rolled back, my back arched, and I began to cum.

“Oh fuck!” The first shot flew high, arcing gracefully through the air before landing in the bushes dividing the hotel property from the sidewalk. The second and third streams reached nearly the same distance. I was panting hard as Van continued to stroke my cock, milking out any remaining cum.

“We’d better get you inside before you make any more of a scene,” Ross advised. He wrapped his hand around my still semi-hard dick and together, he and Van led me back into the living room. The crowd voiced their disapproval when they realized the show was over.

We were barely back inside when there was a knock on the door. Ross answered it and then laughed loudly. He opened the door wider and two guys entered the room. One looked to be a few years older than me, about my height, but with more mass. He had light brown hair buzzed short, brown eyes, and was wearing a sleeveless black t-shirt and tight tan shorts. His arms were covered with tattoos. The other guy looked like he was still in high school. He was a few inches shorter than me and had dyed black hair and brown eyes. He was wearing make-up and looked more pretty than handsome.

“Is there a special prize for catching these?” he asked as he twirled a pair of white briefs – my briefs – around his index fingers.

“Are you here to fuck me?” I asked, still feeling like I was on a cloud. I turned to Van, “Are they here to fuck me?”

“Well, I’m a bottom,” the shorter guy informed me, hand on hips, as he looked me up and down. He was dressed in a purple sequined t-shirt and high-cut cut-off jean shorts. “I’m Billy, and like I said, I’m a bottom, but if you want to get fucked, Trevor here” – he indicated the guy he’d come with – “will take care of you.”

“Sorry guys, but this ass is spoken for,” Van intercepted, giving my butt a playful slap.

“They’re not going to fuck me?”

“No, they’re not going to fuck you. But how about you give them a blow job?”

I looked at him blankly. “A blow job?”

“Sure, why not?” I must not have seemed convinced. “Look,” he said in my ear, “think of it as something else to get out of your system.”

His logic seemed solid, and I nodded in agreement. I turned to Billy and Trevor, “You guys want a blowie?”

“A blowie?” Billy giggled. “You’re rolling on Molly, aren’t you?”

“My girlfriend’s name is Danielle, not Molly,” I said, confused. “And I don’t roll on her. Why would I roll on her? Why would I do that?”

“O… M… G!!” Billy squealed. “Does your girlfriend know she has a gay boyfriend?”

“She doesn—wait, what? No, I’m her boyfriend but I’m not gay.” I turned to Van and Ross. “Tell him I’m not gay!”

Ross put his hand up to forestall any further discussion. He took my underwear from Billy and handed them to me. “Put these on so you don’t drip all over the carpet,” he instructed. “You’re leaking like a faucet, and I don’t want to get charged extra to clean this carpet.”

I took the briefs and leaned against Van to steady myself as I stepped into them. “Thanks for bringing these back,” I said to Billy. “My mom bought them so—No, wait, I bought these,” I corrected, fingering the waistband. “She only buys the cheap ones from Target and Walmart. These are from Dillard’s.”

“OMG!” Billy trilled again, putting both hands over his mouth to stifle his giggle. “Your mommy still buys your underwear!”

Before I could protest, Van and Ross got on either side of me and eased me to my knees. Billy unzipped his cut-off jean shorts and spread the flaps. He was wearing rainbow striped low-rise briefs with the name Andrew Christian on the waistband. He had a huge bulge. I licked my lips, leaned in, and began nuzzling it.

“Oh fuck, that’s it!” he said as he ran his fingers through my hair and then pulled me against him. He smelled musky and sweaty, like he’d been out in the sun all day. With one hand, he eased my head back a few inches and reached into his briefs. He pulled out his cock and slapped my cheeks with it. “Is this what you want?”

I leaned back to get a better look. It was about six inches long, and thin. I glanced up at him and then back down at his dick. It was just inches from my face. I opened my mouth, leaned forward, and took it all in.

Billy cooed and ooh’d and ah’d as he slid his shaft in and out of my mouth while tangling his fingers in my hair. His felt different than Jesse’s had, TJ’s too. Not as big around and not as long either.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Trevor – Billy’s friend – had unzipped his shorts and pushed them down, along with his bright red trucks. His dick, which was way bigger than Billy’s, sprang out, and I watched in fascination as he took it in his hand and began to stroke it.

I was so enthralled by the steady rhythm of his masturbating, the way his meaty fist moved up and down his vein-etched shaft, that I wasn’t even aware that I’d stopped sucking Billy’s dick and had tilted my head Trevor’s way.

“Hey, focus,” Billy said, gently turning my head and thrusting into my slack mouth. “It’s my turn.”

I snapped back to the task at hand and refocused my efforts on Billy. His slow slides eventually turned into thrusts, and as he bucked his hips, Van got down his knees behind me. He squeezed my shoulders and then ran his hands down my back to my butt. He gave my cheeks a few pats and squeezes through my briefs and then reached between my legs to stroke a finger back and forth along the spot between my balls and my hole.

“Mmmm,” I moaned at his firm, yet gentle touch. When the tip of his finger began to brush over my hole, I tensed and clenched my butt cheeks.

But as his fingertips continued to feather across the thin strip of cloth, I gradually relaxed into his touch. I was so caught up in the sensations that it wasn’t until the bright light of a camera flash snapped me from my reverie that I realized Trevor had slid his dick into my mouth alongside Billy’s!

“Holy shit!” Billy squeaked, his camera phone clicking away. “He’s taking us both!”

            I don’t know how I’d managed to open my mouth so wide, but I had, and now jarred from my state of bliss, I began to struggle with my breathing. Panic quickly set in and I pulled back instinctively, only to find Ross and Van holding me in place, trying to calm me while at the same time encouraging me to open even wider.

            “Hey, it’s okay,” Van said, his finger still stroking over my hole. “Just breathe through your nose.”

            I gave a quick nod of my head and tried to focus on my breathing.

            “Easy now. You got this,” he coaxed. “That’s it. Wider now.”

“Maybe these will help,” Ross said, and I smelled the poppers before they were even under my nose.

I don’t know how I was able to keep both dicks in my mouth and inhale at the same time, but I did. “Fu…” I moaned around them as they seemed to push even deeper into my throat.

I slumped forward but their strong hands held me in place, Van whispering something about getting it out of my system while Ross held the poppers to my nose.

My head fogged, and when it cleared, the only thing that seemed to matter was the two dicks in my mouth. I found myself quickly taking a renewed interest and soon Billy and Trevor were face-fucking me with abandon.

“Damn,” Ross said after about a minute, “you’re leaking up a storm.”

I felt how sloppy my briefs had gotten and realized I needed to cum again. However, when I reached down to stroke myself, Van took hold of my wrist and held it up. “Uh-uh,” he admonished. “Hands off.”

Ross cupped me and I moaned as he gently hefted my sack in his palm. “Your balls are nice and full,” he observed. “Like a cow’s udder.”

“Maybe we should hook you up to one of our milking machines,” Van quipped.

“Ohhh,” I moaned at the thought and that set Billy off into another fit of giggles.

“Did he just moo?”

Everybody laughed.

Billy and Trevor continued, and after a while the muscles in my jaw started to get sore, and I began to fidget and squirm. As if that’s what they’d been waiting for, Trevor pulled out of my mouth just as Billy began to cum.

I’d never swallowed before – not even in the dream – and I didn’t know what to do as cum quickly filled my mouth and dribbled through my lips that were still wrapped around his spurting shaft.

“Swallow, Joaquin,” Ross instructed as Billy continued to pump his load into my mouth. “That’s it. Swallow it all down.” He stroked my throat. “That’s a good boy.”

Billy slipped his cock from my mouth, and I was just catching my breath when Trevor stepped in front of me and lifted my chin. He was stroking his cock with his other hand, and I opened my mouth to take him back in. However, instead of sliding his dick into my mouth as I expected, he began to ejaculate.

The first blast hit me square between the eyes and I flinched, turning my head. He grabbed a handful of my hair and held my head in place as he continued to shoot, moving his dick back and forth, coating my entire face with cum.

“Oh fuck that’s hot,” Van murmured.

When Trevor finally stepped back, I fell forward onto all fours, breathing heavily as cum dripped from my face.

“Damn, that was impressive,” Ross said, rubbing my lower back. “You really did it.”

I smiled as they helped me to my feet. I looked down at my crotch and saw that I’d leaked so much that my erect dick was partially visible through the damp cotton.

“Oh shit,” Billy giggled, “did you shoot from getting face-fucked?”

 

I was sitting at the kitchenette table sipping a glass of water when Billy and Trevor left.

“I bet it feels good to get that out of your system,” Van said as he sat next to me. He handed me the bottle of Gatorade. “Drink up. You’re going to want to be good and hydrated for what’s coming next.”

“You mean…?”

“Yes, Joaquin. You’re going to get fucked.”

I smiled widely, so pleased with myself, excited that it was finally going to happen. The decision to get this all out of my system was turning out to be the smartest thing I’d ever done. I couldn’t wait to put this all behind me and get on with living my best life. I thought of Danielle and the little velvet box at the bottom of my travel duffel and smiled again.

 

Ten minutes later, I stumbled into the bedroom ahead of Ross and Van, giggling as I tumbled headlong onto the bed. I rolled onto my back, and I swear the room was spinning. I felt like I had when I was out on the balcony earlier: like I was floating, flying, disconnected from reality.

“Look at you,” Ross remarked, “on your back like a good bitch.”

“Don’t tell anybody, but I think I like being drunk!” I blurted through my giggles.

“So eager to get this all out of your system, aren’t you?”

“Not too soon, I hope,” Van said, as he looked down at me. “I have a feeling it’s going to take a few times before you get it all out.”

I felt my grin get even bigger.

Van pulled me to a sitting position. He swiped his finger over the tip of my dick, scooping up a pearl of the pre-cum that had formed there, and stuck it in my mouth. I began to suck on it.

“Shit, these lips were made for sucking,” he said as he slid the finger in and out. I blushed as I suckled.

“That’s right,” he encouraged as a second finger joined the first and I continued to suck, “get that tongue in there. Oh yeah…”

            “Mmm,” I moaned around the fingers sawing in and out of my mouth, my tongue swirling around them, drool and slobber dribbling from the corner of my mouth.

            “So, I assume you and your girlfriend haven’t slept together yet?” Ross asked as he sat next to me.

            I nodded as I continued to suck on Van’s fingers.

            “Except you've been fucked by how many guys now?”

            I furrowed my brows and turned my head to look at him, but a gentle tweak to my nipple brought me back front and center. “And you sucked how many cocks?” he continued.  

            Another head turn. Another titty twister.

            I wanted to pull off Van’s fingers to ask Ross what he was trying to say, but he put the bottle of poppers to my nose and as if I was on autopilot, I inhaled.

The bottle was moved to the other nostril and I sniffed again. Two more hits on each side and I was flying so high I didn’t even realize Van had eased me down onto a stack of pillows until he was straddling my chest, the ropey, corded muscles of his thighs pinning my arms to my upper body.

He was naked now, they both were, and his cock was pointed straight at my face. The head, big and round and smooth as glass, was slick with precum. I looked into his eyes and parted my lips. Gazes locked, he slowly leaned forward and slid it in, inch by inch. When it hit the back of my throat, it was as if the spell broke, and I blinked, suddenly aware of my need to breathe.

I pulled back but Van was holding me in place, his hand cupping the back of my head. Even feeling as floaty as I was, I began to panic again.

            “No, no,” he said, voice soft but firm as I tried to jerk free. He searched my eyes. “Look at me. That’s right. Easy now.”

             I nodded and tried to relax. Finally, when I didn’t think I could take any more, he released me and I pulled off, gasping and taking in deep lungs full of air as I wiped my split-slicked lips on my shoulder.

             The poppers were put back to my nose and I inhaled once again, even more deeply. When the bottle was pulled away, Van shoved his dick back into my mouth and this time I took it down to the root.

             He held my head with both hands and began to fuck my face, his dick pumping in and out of my mouth as I gagged and slurped, pre-cum and drool spilling over my lips to run down my chin.

             “Getting it all out of your system?”

             I nodded and he continued his assault on my mouth.

The bed dipped as Ross shifted his position. With Van still straddling me, I couldn’t see what he was doing.

             “Knees up,” Ross ordered, nudging my legs. I obeyed and flinched slightly when he took my dick in one of his hands, the lubricant on his palm cool on my hot flesh.

             He began to slowly stroke my dick with one hand as he gently pushed my knees apart. His other hand slipped between my spread legs and I flinched again when a lube-coated finger slid over my taint toward my hole.

             “Mn fuhh…” I moaned around Van’s dick as Ross tickled the knot of my anus with a blunt fingertip.

             “You like?”

             I nodded. “Yuh phn.”

             He began to trace slow circles around my hole, pressing the center every few seconds. As Van continued fucking my mouth, Ross played with my hole, teasing the spasming knot. He slicked his finger once again but this time when he pressed the center, he kept up the pressure until it slid deep inside my clenching channel.

             I spluttered and gasped around Van’s cock. 

             Before I knew what happened, Ross has two fingers inside me, twisting and scissoring, stretching me, opening me up. I moaned at the gentle torture.

“That should do it,” Ross said after a while. He withdrew his fingers, grabbed my ankles, and pulled my legs up into a wide vee formation. At the same time, Van pulled his cock out of my mouth and slid off me. 

             Ross ran the slicked-up head of his cock over my taint and I felt my pucker flutter just as he shoved into me.

“Fuck!” I screamed as he pierced me. Although he’d stretched me out, it was still a shock to be penetrated so forcefully and completely. He pulled out slowly and then slammed back in, causing me to cry out again. He did this a few more times and suddenly I found myself grinding back onto his cock.

“That’s right,” he said through gritted teeth. “That’s it.”

My dick was fully erect and bobbed up and down, slapping against my eight-pack with every thrust of his cock, spattering my chest, neck, and chin with pre-cum.

“That’s right,” he grunted, “you know what to do.”

His thrusts were quick, powerful, and deep, and my fingers clawed at the sheets as his balls slapped my ass. I don’t know how long this went on when he suddenly stopped, his cock buried to the hilt in my ass. I moaned my displeasure.

 “I bet up until now you’ve just been fucked fast and hard,” he said as he leaned over me, spreading my legs even further apart, so his body was almost pressed against mine. “Well, you’ve been missing out.”

And then he was fucking me again. This time, though, instead of the hard, punishing thrusts I was anticipating, he moved in long, leisurely strokes, as if he had all the time in the world.

At one point, he eased all the way back into me in a long, smooth stroke, until I felt his pubic hair against my butt. He rotated his hips or something and started to pull back out, just as slowly, until the head of his cock was just inside of me. Then he pushed my legs further back until they were almost resting on my shoulders before he sank back into me and began a slow and steady pump.

The sensation was mind blowing and more than once I opened my mouth to cry out, but nothing came out.

He fucked me slowly like that for several long minutes. When he changed the angle of his thrusts, I pushed back into him, surprised by the guttural, almost animal sounds I made.

“Yeah, when you were in the back of that truck you knew what to do to,” Van said as he slid two fingers in my mouth.

I shook my head in negation as I began to suck his fingers.

“Sure, you can claim you were drugged or drunk or whatever,” he continued, “but everybody saw your ass grinding back on that trucker’s dick like it was second nature to you.”

“No,” I moaned around Van’s fingers as they pumped in and out of my mouth.

“And look at you just a few minutes ago,” Ross said as he quickened his pace. “You took both those cocks like a champ. You can’t get enough. Even now you’re pushing your sweet ass back onto my dick, fucking yourself.”

I shook my head again. I wanted to tell him he was wrong. That just because it felt good it didn’t mean I wanted it. I mean if gay sex didn’t feel good, gay guys wouldn’t be doing it, right? All I was doing was getting it out of my system. This was it for me: one and done.

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly that, but his cock hit my prostate and I swear I saw the glory of the Lord – the Shekinah glory – flash before my very eyes.

“Oh!” I cried out in a mix of pain, pleasure, and surprise as my dick began to leak a thin stream of pre-cum. He nailed me there on his next three strokes and I felt as if I’d been transported to heaven.

When I came back to earth, I tried to tell him again, but once more he rang that bell and what came out of my mouth instead was, “Oh fuck yeah, right there!”

He gave a quick snap of his hips. “Right there?”

“Yeah,” I grunted with a nod, my voice a rasp. “Do it again.”

He thrust again and suddenly there were sparks behind my eyes.

“Oh God,” I whined. “Again! Fuck me!”

“I see you know what that is,” Van said, his brow arched.

“My bitch button,” I panted.

“Your bitch button,” Ross laughed. “Somebody’s educated your hole.”

“Please…”

Ross pushed into me again, fast-fast-fast, and then slow. “Fuuuuccckkk…” My voice was a plaintive wail and I felt more drool spill over lips and dribble down my chin. “What’re you doing to me?”

He continued the slow fucking, his cock sliding in and out of my well-used hole in long, languorous strokes. Each time it dragged across my prostate, sparks skittered up and down my spine. As the pleasurable sensations coursed through my body, I realized I was crying out in pleasure. It started out as a low, keening sob, but soon crescendoed into moans of pure ecstasy.

“Oh Christ! Oh Christ! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh God, I need it harder! Fuck me!”

Van put the poppers to my nose and I immediately snorted, willingly and deeply as he moved the bottle from one nostril to the other. I lost count of how many hits I took as Ross continued his slow, steady thrusts in and out. I was flying high when Van began to speak.

“You talked all night about how you just need to get this out of your system,” he said, “and here you are, on your back with your legs up, surrendering your ass.”

He had my briefs in one hand and was dousing them with poppers. He looked down at me as he covered my nose and mouth with my popper-soaked underwear, cupped in his hand like they were a gas mask, and held them in place for several seconds. The smell of the chemical mixed with my semen and sweat was a potent combination and I found myself inhaling even more deeply.

“More,” I moaned, as my hand found his and covered it, keeping the briefs over my nose. “Mmmm…”

“Is this getting it out of your system, Joaquin?” he asked, lifting the briefs. “Is this how you Christian boys pray away the gay?”

I shook my head no and when I opened my mouth to protest, Ross hit that magic spot once again.

“Oh fuck me,” I cried out. “Fuck me, please!”

“Or,” Van continued, pressing my briefs over my nose and mouth again, “is this embracing who you really are?”

Suddenly I was ejaculating. “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” I cried as my cum fountained upwards, arcing in the air, and coming down in hot sticky pools all over my abs and chest.

“Fuck yeah, that’s hot,” a voice said, cutting through my muddled haze. I dragged my eyes open. Did I know that voice?

“Hey, how long have you been there?” Ross said as he pulled out of me and grabbed his pants. He sounded amused.

“Long enough,” the voice replied. Recognition flared and I whipped my head around to see Dillon leaning against the doorway, arms folded across his chest, a bottle of beer in his hand, and a big smile on his face. He’d changed into a tight black t-shirt, faded jeans that looked painted on, and black lace-up motorcycle boots. “Hey there. Truck Boy.”

Truck Boy. Oh. Fuck.

             He must’ve seen something in my eyes because he smirked as he pushed off the jamb and walked towards me, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yeah, they showed me the video earlier this week. So, it really is you, isn’t it.” My cock twitched and I felt my cheeks redden in a blush. I gulped.

             “Glad you could make it,” Van said.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” His grin morphed into a leer as he looked down at me. He set his beer down and continued. “I could hear you from the park,” he chuckled, and I watched, open-mouthed, as he casually stripped off his t-shirt, revealing the full-sleeve tattoo on his arm as well as one of a large bird of prey on his shoulder. When he opened his pants and pushed them down, my eyes were drawn to the huge bulge in his black briefs.

             He pulled me into a sitting position, my eyes never moving from his crotch. “You want this?” he asked teasingly as he stepped between my legs and pulled my face into his crotch. My nose bumped his erection and I sniffed. He cupped my chin and tilted my head back so I was looking straight up into his eyes. He put the bottle of beer to my mouth and began pouring. I gulped to swallow it all down, careful not to spill, and when it was empty, he gently slid the neck of the bottle into my mouth.

             “Holy shit,” he said with a smile when my lips wrapped around it. He began to fuck the bottle in and out of my mouth in slow, steady strokes. My eyes stayed fixed on his, but I couldn’t read his expression.

             When he removed the bottle and released his hold, my gaze moved immediately back down to that wide expanse of black cotton pulled tautly across his jutting erection. He gripped his shaft and I watched, eyes riveted, for several long seconds as he lewdly squeezed his hard dick. My mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

             He laughed again and then peeled the briefs down. His dick sprang out and hovered just inches from my face. I’d seen it before, at the gym, but never up close. And certainly never like this. It was longer than my eight inches, thick, and curved with a big fat helmet of a head. His nut sack hung down between his muscular thighs and I could see that he trimmed his pubic hairs – manscaping, I think Rundy calls it. He smelled like sweat and musk, like he’d been at the gym but hadn’t showered afterward, and I inhaled deeply.

             He shoved his briefs and pants down and I stared at his dick and balls swinging free as he untied his boots and slipped them off. He stepped out of his jeans and underwear and then bent over and rummaged through his pockets, coming up moments later holding a condom and flashing a brilliant smile.

             I continued to stare, mesmerized, as he gave his dick a couple of long strokes. I licked my lips and he laughed. “Eager, aren’t you?”

             He rolled the condom onto his long, thick dick and then slicked it up with a lubricant. He stepped between my legs again and I opened my mouth in anticipation, but he placed a calloused palm against my chest and pushed me back onto the mattress. I yelped when he grabbed my ankles and dragged my butt to the edge of the bed, but I didn’t resist, nor did I struggle as he manhandled me like I was a rag doll. He lifted my legs so high my ass popped off the mattress, exposing my hole. Then, without ceremony or additional prep, he shoved into me.

“Oh fuck!” I cried out as his balls slapped against my ass. He pulled out quickly only to thrust in again, harder. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screamed. My voice cracked and changed to a cry.

“Oh yeah,” he grunted, and I tensed against him as the force of a third, even more fierce thrust drove deep into me, burying itself completely. “Even after all that, you’re so tight,” he marveled. And then, dispensing with any further pleasantries, he began to fuck me. 

“Oh Christ! Oh God! Oh fuck!” I ground out as he slammed into me, my eyes locked onto his face as he pummeled my ass mercilessly.

“Such language,” he said, his tone mocking. “What happened to that good Christian boy I hired? The one who’s always inviting me to church?” He bent over me, so close our chests were nearly touching, and said into my ear, “I’ve wanted to tap this since the first day you showed up in those tight pants. Hell, if I’d known you were this easy, I’d have gone with you every Sunday.”

He stood, hitched my legs higher, and burrowed in even deeper.

“Aww… FUCK!” I wailed, dragging the swear out into five or six syllables and clutching the sheets as the fat head of his dick raked over my prostate. “Oh God… oh… oh… OHHH!!”

“You love this don’t you?” he snarled as he found his rhythm, his hips thrusting like pistons. I nodded as I choked back a sob and begged for more. Begged him to go harder and deeper. Begged him to never stop.

On and on it went. In and out, in and out, in and out. Every time he pulled back, I’d clench down and every time he pushed back in, I’d cry out when he hit my bitch button. My eyes were crossed, and I was drooling as I arched my back, pushed my ass back, and ground onto him.

“Yeah, come on,” he coaxed, nudging my gland yet again, starting another chain reaction of shivers and shudders that ran up from my hole to the base of my neck and back. “They haven’t heard you on the other side of the park yet.”

Only then did I realize that the slider to the balcony was wide open and even though we were far enough in the room that nobody could see us, apparently everybody in a three-block radius was getting an earful.

Dillon lowered my legs slightly and, frightened he was going to pull out, I reached wildly for him, arms flailing as I tried to wrap my legs around his body. He laughed and hitched me up again, lifting me off the bed, spun around and barreled into the wall, knocking the wind out of me.

             My arms reached for him as I caught my breath. He carried me back to the bed and drove back into me.

             “Don’t stop,” I gasped as he found his rhythm again, hips pumping away, “don’t stop!”

             After a few minutes a wicked smile spread across his face and his gleaming eyes met mine. “You know what would be really hot? A threesome.” My eyes widened and he continued. “No, not with Danielle. With that buddy of yours. Rundy.”

I groaned at the mention of Rundy’s name and felt my cock twitch.

“He’s a Christian too, right?” He flashed a conspiratorial wink and gripped my flanks. “I wonder if his ass is as sweet as yours. Or as tight.” I moaned again and he leaned forward. He took my wrist and placed it on my dick. I groaned and wrapped it around my shaft and began to stroke.

“Is that it?” he said as he thrust into me. “Me fucking you and Rundy – that gets you off?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and stroked faster. He laughed. “Or maybe just the idea of me fucking Rundy turns you on?”

I was jacking off furiously now, and although I’d cum not that long ago, I felt another orgasm build and crest, reaching for the surface.

“No, that’s not it,” he said slowly, as if the pieces of a puzzle were finally falling into place. “You want him to fuck you, don’t you? You want Rundy to—”

And suddenly I was cumming again, ejaculating all over my face. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”

Dillon laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. After what seemed like forever, my dick stopped shooting and he pulled out. I whimpered at the sudden feeling of emptiness as my load dripped down my face.

Van stepped into view and leaned over me. He wiped my face with my cum-soaked briefs, smearing it more than anything. He said something to Dillon that I didn’t catch. Dillon’s eyes went wide as he and Van whispered back and forth for a few more seconds.

Dillon looked down at me. “You need to – what did you say, Van – get it out of your system? Is that it?”

I gulped.

“Well, fuck if you’re not a greedy whore.” He grabbed my hips and flipped me roughly onto my stomach. “I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before,” he said his voice a low rumble as he leaned in close and grabbed my hair, pulling my head back. “I’m going to fuck you like you need to be fucked. Like you want to be fucked.”

I scrambled up to my hands and knees and yelped when he shoved into me. He grabbed my wrists and I faceplanted onto the mattress, butt still in the air, nose burrowed into the rumpled bedsheets. Then, still holding my wrists, he pulled my arms tautly behind me and roughly entered me.

“Oh God! Oh God! Oh… GOD!!” I cried as he jackhammered into me. It was a hard and brutal fuck… and it was the most incredible feeling I’ve ever experienced.

It wasn’t gentle and I continued to moan and wail as he pounded my ass, fucking me harder than I’ve ever been fucked before.

“Is this what you want?” he bit out between bruising strokes. I nodded. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes…” I moaned.

“What’s that?”

“Yes!” I screamed as his cock hit my prostate and a shockwave rippled through me.

“What is it you want?”

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Harder!!!”

My body was bouncing off the mattress with each punishing thrust and I began to moan loudly as I pushed back into him, the muscles of my ass contracting around his thick, pulsing shaft.

The bed was jerking so hard that the wood floor squeaked loudly beneath it and the shade on the bedside lamp bobbed back and forth, causing shadows to bounce wildly off the walls.

I turned my head to the side and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror that covered one of the closet doors, watching in detached disbelief as his sheathed cock flashed in and out of my ass, moving faster and faster, his strokes harder and harder. I was mesmerized.

At that moment Ross stepped into view. He had my wadded-up briefs in one hand and a bottle of poppers in the other. The still-wet semen on the underwear glistened under the glow of the lamp light, and it looked as if somebody had dumped more loads of cum onto them. Ross poured some of the poppers onto the soiled white cotton and slowly brought them to my face. “That’s right,” he said as he pressed them to my nose, ruffling my hair as I took deep breaths, “get it all out of your system.”

“Oh fuck, I don’t know if that’s disgusting or hot,” Dillon said as Ross held the bottle to his nose so he could take a hit. Then Ross wedged the briefs between my face and the mattress. The cooling cum was slick on my face, but I didn’t care because poppers smelled like happy.

I don’t know how long Dillon fucked me. His stamina was unbelievable, though, and although my ass and arms were sore, I wanted more.

             When he finally came, his roar reverberated throughout the room, and I felt the condom swell as his pulsing cock emptied into it. The shudders of his body rippled through me, and I cried out as well.

             He let go of my arms and I collapsed onto my side, my chest heaving. He pulled out with a grunt. “Next?”

             My eyes shot open – NEXT?!

 

             I was only semi-coherent as Van pulled me to my feet and herded me into the living room where, after two shots of Jameson, I was fucked over the course of the next couple of hours by what seemed like a never-ending parade of men. I thought I recognized a couple of them, but my head was spinning from the poppers and everything I’d had to drink, that they could’ve been Santa Claus and his elves, and I wouldn’t have known the difference.

             A handsome forty-something Hispanic man bent me over the arm of the couch and shoved into me. He looked familiar but I didn’t get a good look at him because my face was buried in the couch cushions as he drilled me.

             He fucked me senseless for at least ten minutes and I moaned and drooled deliriously the entire time, grinding back on him while he rambled on and on about how nice and tight my ass was.

             He eventually climaxed, collapsing on top of me in a shaking, sweaty heap, his cock still buried deep inside. When he finally collected himself and pulled out, he gave my butt a gentle caress and a soft kiss.

             I was still gathering my wits when a hand fisted my hair and yanked my head up. I gasped, surprised to see it was Chad. He looked drunk or high, holding a half-empty bottle of beer, and had a sly smirk on his face. “I always pegged you for a homo,” he said as he knelt on the cushion facing me.

             “I’m not gay,” I protested.

             “Save it.” He drained the bottle and dropped it on the floor. With one hand still gripping my hair, he undid his pants with the other and pushed them down over his butt. Then he hauled his erection from his bulging briefs and waved it in front of my face. It was at least eight inches long – not quite as big as Dillon’s – and thick around as a can of Red Bull. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

             I flinched when he placed it against my lips, shaking my head. “Chad, no, wait—”

             “You know,” he cut me off as he shoved it into my mouth, “if I’d known you liked dick, I’d have gone to all those Bible studies you invited me to last summer.”

             I choked on his shaft as he roughly fucked my face, my mouth forced into a large “O” as my lips struggled to wrap around his girth. It took me a minute to match his frantic pace, but eventually I was slurping and sucking in earnest.

             “I see you’ve done this before,” he commented. I flicked my eyes up and he shrugged. “I’m not a fag either, but a mouth is a mouth and fuck if yours ain’t sweet!”

             “If you think his mouth is sweet,” Ross said from behind me, “you should try his ass.”

             He ran his hands over my butt, parted my cheeks, and pierced me. I arched my back and tried to cry out, but Chad’s hand, still fisted in my hair, held me in place.

             “Mmmpphh,” I grunted around Chad’s pistoning shaft as Ross began to pump in and out of me. “MMMMPPHH!!”

             “We didn’t get to finish what we started earlier,” Ross said, stroking my hips and flanks. He slowed his pace to meet Chad’s and soon they settled into a rhythm, their thrusts perfectly synchronized.

             “Shit, look at you, visting the Eiffel Tower, Joaquin,” Chad laughed. I didn’t know what he meant but clearly Ross did, because he broke out in a hearty bellow and high-fived Chad.

             Chad spotted the poppers on the coffee table and when he leaned over to pick up the small bottle, his cock slipped from my lips. “What’re these?” he asked Ross.

             “Poppers,” Ross replied. “You sniff them.”

             “Yeah?” He shrugged, uncapped the bottle, and held it to his nostril, his facing scrunching at the smell. “Whoa… shit!” he said when the fumes hit. He shook his head a couple of times as if to clear it, and then fumbled the cap back onto the bottle. “That stuff’s… whoa… fuck!”

             “Joaquin really likes them,” Ross said.

             “Really?” He put the poppers under my nose and I took a couple of whiffs in each nostril. Then he rubbed the head of his circumcised cock across my lips and I opened my mouth and took him back in, licking and sucking as he pushed deep into my throat, not caring about the derogatory comments he directed my way.

             Moments later, I felt his body shudder and he began to cum, a deluge that filled my mouth to overflowing and dribbled down my chin.

             He pulled his dick from my mouth and tucked it back into his briefs before he hopped off the couch. “Fuck it’s hot in here,” he complained as he stripped off his shirt. “You got anything else to drink?”

             “Fridge,” Ross grunted in reply.

             Chad looked down at me as he zipped up his jeans. He ran a finger over my chin and scooped up some cum that had settled there. He brought it to my lips, “You missed some.”

             Our eyes met and I sucked his finger clean. He smirked again. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to Danielle.”

 

             I watched Chad walk away, tucking his shirt in his back pocket as he went, and then collapsed onto the cushions, burying my face in my folded arms. “Ohhhh,” I moaned as Ross continued to fuck me, his long, thick cock seeming to go deeper and deeper with each successive thrust. I pushed back and ground my crotch into the cushion, aware of the mewling sounds I was making as my cock leaked all over the fabric. I needed to cum but when I reached under me to take my swollen cock in hand, Ross slapped my arm.

             “Hands where they are,” he said sternly.

             “But I need to cum,” I whined, hearing how needy I sounded.

             “You’ll ever get it out of your system if you keep cumming.”

             I nodded as if it all made perfect sense. But after another minute or so, I felt the tide rise again. “I gotta—”

             My protests were muffled when he shoved my briefs, freshly doused with poppers, over my nose and mouth.

             “Mmmpph…” My head swam as the fumes wrapped around my alcohol-soaked brain and I let myself get lost in the staccato beat of his balls slapping against my butt.

             “Well now,” he drawled a couple of minutes later, his pace slowing, “somebody’s night is about to get a lot more interesting.”

             I lifted my head to see what he was talking about, but all I saw was Chad standing next to the fridge drinking Gatorade and laughing with Van.

             “Oh yeah,” Ross muttered, as Van looked our way and winked, “this is gonna be fun.”

 

             When Ross came a few minutes later, it was with a long, gravelly-sounding rumble. His hands were gripping my hips so tightly I knew there would be marks come morning. As he disposed of the condom, I pushed myself to my feet, grabbed my underwear, and staggered to the bathroom.

             I finished peeing and was pulling my briefs on when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I was shocked at what I saw: hair sticking up all over, lips red and swollen, eyes glassy and bleary. My face was shiny and looked wet, and when I touched it, my fingers came away tacky from the drying semen.

             There was a sharp rap on the door and Dillon poked his head in. “You’re not jacking off, are you?”

             “Huh?” I dragged my gaze from the mirror and looked at him.

             “Here, drink this,” he said as he pressed a glass in my hand. “To wash down all that cum.”

             I took the glass and drank. It was a Jameson and Ginger and it felt good on my tender throat as it went down. I finished the drink and handed the glass back to him. 

             “What’re you wearing those for?” he asked, nodding down at my briefs.

             “I was naked.”

             “Well, you can’t get fucked if you’re wearing them.”

             “I can’t?”

             “No, Joaquin,” he said as he took my arm and led me to the bed. “If you want to get fucked, you have to take those off.”

             I tugged my underwear down and tripped over my feet when I tried to step out of them. I tumbled onto the bed and Dillon rolled me onto my back. He lifted my legs, and I giggled when I saw my briefs dangling from my right foot.

             “Hold your legs up,” he ordered as he spread them wide. “Don’t make me do all the work.”

             I did as he instructed and put my hands behind my bent knees, pulling my legs back and apart. I watched him roll on a condom and step between my legs. He lined up his cock with my hole and let the blunt head of his sheathed cock rest against the puckered knot of my anus. “Damn, but if that isn’t a sight to behold,” he said before he leaned forward and let gravity breach me.

             “Fuck!” I cried as he barreled past the muscle of my sphincter and bottomed out in me.

             “Still tight as a virgin even after all that pounding you’ve taken tonight,” he grunted. “Must be all those squats you do.” He pulled out slightly and then began to rock back and forth into me.

             “Oh God,” I moaned, my eyes rolling back, as he hit my prostate again and again, waves of pure pleasure washing over me as he drilled into me.

 

             I don’t know if I blacked out or what, but Dillon was gone when I opened my eyes. As I blinked up at the ceiling, I realized I didn’t remember him pulling out, let alone cumming. All I knew was I was tired. Tired and drunk and fucked to within an inch of my life. I closed my eyes again and was just drifting off when I was yanked – literally – back to the present by Van who pulled me to my feet and led me into the living room.

             I must’ve been sleepwalking or hallucinating because I swear I saw Chad down on his knees next to the fridge. He was still shirtless, but now his pants were open and pushed down to mid-thigh, and his briefs were tented with his erection. The Hispanic man who had fucked me earlier was back and there was a younger man with him. They were dressed similarly in dark suits and ties, and once again I had the feeling I’d seen them before. The older man was fucking Chad's mouth while the other guy held the poppers under Chad’s nose.

             I looked at Van. “Don’t worry about him,” he said as he pressed me against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Dillon’ll make sure he gets home.”

             He turned me so I was facing the window and then gently pushed me back against it. He took my hands and held them over my head, stepped in close, and entered me.

             “Uh,” he grunted as his pubic bone hit my butt and I heard myself squeak. My nipples, pressed against the cool glass, hardened into diamond points. “I’ve been waiting all night for my turn. I was afraid you were going to be all loose and sloppy, but fuck… this was worth the wait.”

             He fucked me with a fervor and I threw my head back onto his shoulder, luxuriating in the incredible feeling of his cock sliding so effortlessly in and out of me.

             He reached around me and worked the hard nub of my nipple with one hand while the thumb of his other hand rasped over the thick crown of my cock. “Fuuuccckkk…” I moaned, as I thrust wildly into his hand, seeking more friction, needing release.

             "Leave your hands where they are," he ordered in a low growl when I reached down to bat his hand away, the sensation too much to bear. "Don't you fucking move them, do you understand me?”

             “Pleeeeaaase,” I whined, writhing under his ministrations as he continued to thrust into me, working my cock and teasing my tit. My balls were so full they hurt. “I need to cum.”

             “You’ll never get it out of your system if you keep cumming," he said as he took me right to the edge, pulling back just when I thought my dick was going to explode. I was breathing hard now, my head thrashing side to side as I moaned and begged, my voice pitch black with need. My harsh panting fogged the window and my dick smeared the glass with pre-cum. Still, he wouldn’t give me the release I needed.

             He brought me to the brink again and again, and just when I thought I was going to lose my mind, his body tensed, he grunted loudly, and he began to cum, driving into me one, two, three more times, as he emptied himself.

             He tied off the condom and dragged on his jeans. “Fuck,” he said as he looked around, “whatever it costs to clean this room will be worth it.”

             “Please,” I moaned, still leaning against the window where Van had left me, my dick fully erect, my balls so full. “I need to cum. Please.”

             At this point it was only me, Van, Ross, and Dillon in the room. Chad had passed out a while ago and was on the couch, tucked under a blanket. Somebody had wiped the cum from his face, but there was still some on his chest and neck, as well as in his hair.

            “Please,” I repeated to nobody in particular. My voice was thick and raspy and needy. My head was spinning and I felt like I could float. “Can I please cum? I want to cum.”

             “You wanna cum?” Dillon asked. I nodded. He was on the bed leaning against a stack of pillows, reclined against the headboard. He patted the spot next to him. “Come here.”

             He had his underwear on, but his dick was out and he was stroking it. It was so big.

             I pushed off the window and began to walk toward the bed, my hard on sticking straight out, leading the way.

             He held up his hand and I stopped. “How badly do you want to cum?”

             “Bad,” I said, my voice hoarse.

             “Show me,” he said. “Crawl.”

             I dropped to all fours and began to crawl toward the bed. It never once dawned on me that there was nothing stopping me from masturbating right then and there. That all I had to do was grab myself and jerk off. Instead, I was down on my hands and knees crawling across a hotel room. I climbed onto the bed and made my way up the mattress to where Dillon lay, still idly stroking himself. I sat back on my haunches and looked down at him. His eyes seemed to bore into me; his smile was wide.

             I glanced down at his erection, jutting up tall and proud, and then back into his eyes. I licked my lips, wrapped my hand around his shaft – it felt like velvet-covered rebar – and took him into my mouth.

             Because he was lying down, I had to bob my head up and down. It was a little awkward at first, but soon I was taking him all the way to the back of my throat.

             I had just settled into a rhythm when his hand slid into my hair and pulled me off with a loud, slurpy pop.

             "As good as this feels,” he said, “I want you to ride me."

             I didn't know what that meant – ride him? He must've seen the look of confusion on my face because he pointed to his dick, still in my grasp, and said, "I want that tight, pretty ass of yours on this. Now.”

             I felt my eyes go wide and I nodded, wincing because his hand was still fisting my hair. “D-d-do you have a condom?" 

             "That's right. Safe sex is important, Joaquin," he said as Ross handed me a strip of condoms.

             I clumsily tore open one of the foil-wrapped packets and delicately removed the condom. I took a long look at it. I'd never held a condom before and wasn’t sure how they worked. Did they slide on? Roll down? My parents had kept me home from school the day they taught sex education in junior high and didn’t explain the birds and bees to me until I was a sophomore in high school. But even then, nothing about condoms because sex before marriage is a sin and since I wasn’t going to have sex until I was married, there was no need for me to know how to use a one.

             I eyed the condom again. I thought Dillon had rolled his on earlier, but my head felt all muddled and I wasn’t sure.

             I must’ve had that puzzled look on my face again because Dillon took the condom from me and put it on himself. “You think with all the dick you had tonight, you’d’ve picked up a thing or two.”

             I blushed and felt my boner twitch.

             “Okay,” he said, gesturing to his erection, “get on.”

             I swung my leg over his so I was straddling him. I shuffled back and forth until I was in position and reached back and felt for his cock, grabbing it gently when I found it and scooching backwards until it was lined up with my hole. I took a deep breath and settled myself dead center onto the head of his shaft.

             “Unnnghhhh,” I ground out as I sank onto his cock. “Fuuuuucckkkk…”

             "Oh, Christ." His voice was deep and guttural as his hips thrust up, neatly impaling me with his massive cock. The slide was easy – my body was used to accommodating his by this point – as Ross and Van guided my body up and down until I started to ride Dillon on my own. I’d ridden a mechanical bull a few times at the fair but I liked this better.

             “That’s it,” Dillon said, patting my thighs.

             “Oh fuck,” I sighed as my body undulated and writhed, eyes fluttering up as helpless sounds of pleasure slipped over my lips.

             “I could listen to you swear all day,” Dillon said as he shifted his hips.

             I squeezed my eyes shut as he spoke, the color rising in my cheeks.

             “My good Christian boy has turned into such a dirty little slut, haven’t you?”

             I nodded, moaning and whimpering as my dick lurched.

             “It looks like he's getting turned out, not getting it out of his system,” Ross said as I clamped Dillon’s sides with my knees and ground down on his dick.

              I wanted to know what that meant – getting turned out – but at the moment I was so caught up in the thrill of bouncing up and down on Dillon's thick, rigid cock, that all I could do was moan with pleasure.

             "See what I mean?"

             “Hey Joaquin, Truck Boy, be a good boy and play with your titties," Ross said, stroking my thighs as Van held poppers to my nose.

             “Good boy,” I sighed as I sniffed.

             "Come on,” he coaxed again, “play with your titties."

             Normally, just hearing the word ‘titties’ would stain my face with shame. But now, I smiled and slid my hands up my abs to my chest and began to thumb my nipples.

“No, no,” Dillon admonished, his voice firm but gentle. “Pinch them, Joaquin. Get your fingers wet. Here, like this.” He took my hand and put my index finger and thumb into his mouth. When they were wet and slick, he let go of them. “Go on now, Truck Boy, play with your titties.”

             “Oh fuck,” I sighed as I rolled a nipple between my thumb and index finger. Truck Boy… My dick was painfully hard and I looked over at Ross.

             “Yes,” he nodded, as if reading my mind, and I grabbed my cock and began to stroke it.

             “Oh yeah,” Van laughed, “work that fucker. Come on, Truck Boy, get it all out."

             I licked my hand and began to masturbate in earnest, fisting the length of my hard dick as I pinched and plucked at my nipples.

             I couldn't believe how good this felt. I couldn't believe how free I felt.

             "Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" I cried in ecstasy as I bounced up and down on Dillon's cock, my back arched, head thrown back. Each time felt better than the last and a little part of me began to question if I really wanted this out of my system.

             “Look at him,” Ross said, interrupting my thoughts, “fucking himself like a whore.”

I soon became lost in the pleasure of fucking myself ‘like a whore’ on Dillon’s cock as I continued to jack off, my moans and cries filling the room as I rode him. Ross and Van had their phones out and were filming me. At times it felt like I was outside my body watching as I debased myself, reveling in the carnal pleasures of the flesh, but I knew I was finally getting everything out of my system and that come morning I’d be free from all these sinful thoughts and desires.

Climax came quickly to my over-sensitized body, and it was only a matter of seconds before my cock began to shoot jets of hot, sticky cum that spattered Dillon’s chest and shoulders, as well as the backboard and the wall behind the bed. A moment later, Dillon came and I felt a flood of wet heat fill me to overflowing.

I passed out. 

# # # # # 

It was dawn when I woke, rose-pink light just visible through the open windows. I sat up, unsure of where I was for several long moments.

One thing I was sure of though, I was naked and lying in a pool of cum.

The room was empty and I was alone in the bed. I turned my head and was surprised to see my underwear wadded up on the pillow next to me. They reeked of cum and… poppers? What the heck?!

I slid out of bed, aware of a sensation in my backside. It wasn’t pain, not really. In fact, it was the opposite: it was an almost pleasurable feeling. And then everything came rushing back in a kaleidoscope of images and sensations.

I remembered everything.

E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g

Ohhhh… fuck.

I leapt gingerly to my feet, grabbed my underwear, and stepped into them, wincing at the clammy feeling of still-drying cum. I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I pulled them the rest of the way up: the front of the briefs, once a bright and snowy white, was dominated by a huge, yellow-tinged spot. I brushed my fingertips over the stained area and lifted them to my nose. Ugh.

I stumbled into the living room. Ross and Van were on the balcony, drinking coffee and smoking. They didn’t see me as I stalked about searching for the rest of my clothes.

I found them in a pile next to the couch and dressed as quickly as I could. I was pulling on my jeans when it dawned on me that not all of the cum in my briefs was mine. I nearly gagged at the realization. This too shall pass, this too shall pass, I told myself as I buttoned my jeans and stepped into my boots.

I pulled on my t-shirt and jacket and looked around for my wallet and keys. They were on the counter where I’d left them, along with my phone, and I scooped them up quietly, pocketing them as I slipped out of the room.

I walked briskly through the hall to the elevator and as I pressed the button for the lobby, I noticed that my t-shirt was on inside-out and backwards. "Great," I mumbled as I stepped inside and pressed the button for the lobby. I was slipping my jacket off when the elevator dinged and the car lurched to a stop. The door slid open and I hurriedly stepped out into the lobby and walked smack dab into somebody.

"Sorry," I mumbled, looking up as I stepped back. An attractive forty-something Hispanic man stood in front of me. He wore a nametag and I realized he was a hotel employee.

"Looks like you were in a hurry, young man," he said as he tugged playfully at the tag of my inside-out, backward t-shirt. His voice sounded familiar and I suddenly realized why: he'd been in the room last night! Visions of being bent over the arm of the couch flashed before me. Oh no... he’d fucked me!

He was still talking, his features animated. “And what do we have here?” he said, his voice light and amused, "Tsk, tsk, tsk." I felt his hand on my crotch and looked down to see that my fly was open. He zipped it up and gave my crotch a gentle pat. "There, that's better," he said with a wink. "We can't have you exposing yourself to strangers now, can we?"

"Th-th-thanks," I stuttered as I stumbled around him and headed toward the exit, continuing my walk of shame.

"Good morning, Sir. Can I call a cab for you?" a man at the front desk inquired. I turned to politely decline and recognized him as the other dark-suited man from last night. I kept walking.

“No thank you,” I called over my shoulder as I exited through the sliding door, the brisk morning air cooling my crimson face. 

# # # # # 

It was quiet when I got home, but I knew it wouldn’t be like this for long. It was Christmas Eve day and that was always a long day in the Kangas household, my Mom being the pillar of the church she was.

Glad to not run into my dad again, I stripped out of my clothes and stuffed my dirty underwear between my mattress and box spring. I didn’t want to risk my mom coming in to do laundry and seeing them!

I showered and dressed, ignoring the bruising on my hips and flanks as well as the slight twitch in my half-hard dick when I pulled on clean briefs. I adjusted myself; typical morning wood, that’s all it was, I told myself, even as Ross’s words from the night before came back to me, “embracing who you really are.”

I dismissed the thought. Whatever. I’d beat this. I had survived my own personal night in the Garden, and despite what Ross had said, it was out of my system.

I reached into my travel duffel and found the small black velvet box I’d tucked into one of the small, zippered compartments. I opened it and looked at the engagement ring inside. Today was the day. I was ready to move on.