Karma

I was bored. And probably a tad irritable too. That could be put down to the lack of caffeine coursing around my veins as l lay in bed that Saturday, a week before my 30th birthday. But the boredom went deeper ... 

Coffee? Or masturbate? Decisions, decisions! I kicked off the duvet and looked down at my naked body and smiled. I have slept naked from a very early age and yet l still find it arousing even after all these years. My cock lay pointing at the window and stretched a little in appreciation of the warmth and freedom the sunlight brought. Erect, I wasn't huge, a pretty average 6", but l knew how to use those fat inches for sure!

I made a mental note in future only to give lovers their marching orders after the weekend and not before. That way, my early morning needs, be they breakfast in bed or blowjob in bed, or conceivably both, could be serviced as l was accustomed. But occasionally in life, one has to 'make do' and, today's absence of Mattias being one just one such occasion, my right hand clamped itself around my stalk and started to stroke. Gently. Unhurriedly. Thumb and forefinger formed a loose circle and gently coaxed me up. Once rock hard, I released my grip and instead licked from thumb to fingertip before returning to the job. The sensation became exquisite with the lubrcation the saliva provided.

I'd finally tired of Mattias and his fawning subservience. And his German accent. Or was it Austrian? Barely three months previously, he had started out as pleasant to look at and pleasant to fuck too but within a short while, I found his hair too blond, his bubble butt too lily-white ... and this regardless of whichever position l took him in. He became just annoying and therefore had to go. I'd actually done the decent thing and dumped him in a Thursday morning phone call but he'd repaid me by snivelling and bawling down the phone to such an extent that l really wish I'd done it by text. But at least that had prompted me to let the concierge know there and then that Mattias had joined the list of those no longer to be permitted entry to the exclusive apartment block where I lived in London's financial district.

Just as my left hand took over stroking and the right switched its attention to rubbing my hole in light circles, the apartment buzzer rang, making me jump. It was only to indicate mail had been put in my mail box, not Matty having returned, but it was enough to set me fantasizing about someone walking in on me now.

I'd learnt the lesson you see with his predecessor, the volatile Giovanni, whose response to being sent packing was a very loud, very operatic performance in the foyer at 6h00 one evening, much to the amusement of concierge and neighbours alike. Mind you, l'd had a brain-wave in the middle of the histrionics and had brought that scene to a successful climax with the whispered suggestion of some 'reconciliation sex' which had started with me fingering him in the lift and finished with his reed-like body bent over the dining room table as l gouged into his channel without mercy. I know it was satisfying for him too as l recall he sprayed over his designer jeans on the floor below the table. I don't usually recall if my bottoms cum or not, so the fact l did in his case meant it must have been good for him! But, as he left shortly afterwards, the lift hadn't reached the ground floor with him in it before I was on to the front desk to tell them to let him out but never back in. And to call Security if he ever tried to return. Which apparently he did. Once and only once. I have to admit that Security can be quite persuasive when required. Not terribly articulate but able to communicate nonetheless! 

You probably are not getting too positive an impression of me as you read this. Well, l don't honestly care. I had to learn, at a rather young and tender age, that you could only really rely on No 1. Nothing since in my life had convinced me otherwise either. 

My parents, and l use that term in its loosest possible sense, progenitors might be more accurate, had rarely, if ever, shown any interest in me let alone love and affection and, when interest was feigned, it was entirely due to there being an audience which required interest to be demonstrated. I do think that I used all my luck up in not ending up as clinical waste as I'm sure will have happened on the other occasions my 'mother' may inadvertently ended 'up the duff'! But one must not speak ill of the dead, even those whose deaths were a result of 'unusually high purity' mixed with 'unusually high levels of alcohol'. She must have had her own demons to fight. And lose to. 

And, it has to be said, the one gift she had given me, admittedly a totally unintentional one, had proved its worth time and time again. My mother had been gob-smackingly beautiful and believe me, I do not say that lightly about anyone. I distinctly remember my realization of just how stunning she was when I was 8 or 9. My parents were giving an evening reception at home and l had managed to secrete myself in the party room unnoticed --- easy to do as they cared little where I was at the best of times. She walked in wearing a simple, utterly understated evening dress that revealed just enough and that entire room literally fell silent as heads turned to her and mouths fell open. Not a few men had to adjust themselves immediately and the daggered looks she received from the overdressed and out-manoeuvred women told me everything l needed to know about how much easier life can be for the beautiful but canny. And indeed, the genes she passed to me have indeed been partly responsible for my very easy life. 

In comparison, my father was average in looks but most definitely NOT average in brains. Or ruthlessness. And that was where his equally valuable contribution to my genetic makeup lay. Whereas he regularly brought companies and banks down, the money he left me me has meant that thus far I've been able to confine my acid tongue to cutting upstart lovers down to size. Whereas he could digest an annual report and accounts in minutes, I could size up people equally rapidly, working out if and how they might be of use or of interest to me, sexually speaking normally. 

All of which brings me to my hard dick now. Renewing the coating of saliva on my fingers brings me closer ... now do I edge out the self-pleasuring a while longer? Or just go for it??? The pressing need for caffeine takes the decision for me so I cup my balls with my left hand and jerk faster, allowing foreskin to cover my glans and then pull back, again and again until l reach that point of no return and my dick,  ballsack and anus contract and push out wodge after wodge of cum onto my flat stomach! Such a nice start to the day!!!

The trouble with wanking, however, is the practicalities of dealing with the mess afterwards. So much easier when it's deposited in a Mattias or a Giovanni! Instead, l had to stand up and worry about not not dripping on the carpet. I've never been able to bring myself to eat my own cum, still less anyone else's!! As to sucking someone, this is only permissible during the preliminaries to fuck number one. Once bedded, if l had chosen well, which was usually the case, then from fuck number two onwards, they could be dominated sufficiently enough to ensure l was always suckee and they were fuckee. I do not bottom. Ever.  Otherwise, there simply was no second bedding! 

I managed to get to the shower without leaving any spots on the shagpile, you'll be pleased to know! Five mins later, l had put the coffee on and decided to go collect the mail, which unfortunately meant wrapping a bathrobe around me. I would have been quite happy to collect it starkers but the complaining old bat in no 27 had already survived one stroke so there was always the possibility she could survive a second. 

'Morning Donovan!'

'Mornin' Mr Pierce! Anuvver gorgeous day for ducks, I'm afraid, Sir!' 

The start of a conversation never deviated from the weather with Donovan but unusually I still liked him. He was a burly West Indian Brit, smiley and, despite being up near retirement, not one to mess with at over 1m83 and 100kg l would guess. Married, with kids and grandkids too, he knew l was gay. And pretty promiscuous. But he never gave the impression that he judged. In fact, on more than one occasion when l came back a little worse for wear with some handsome young guy in tow, he would grin and shake his head, before calling out: 

'Y'all be careful now! Doan be doin' nuttin' Donovan wunt be doin' now, you hear!' 

And then he'd laugh into his chest, grinning away like some indulgent uncle remembering the naughtiness of his youth. 

I wandered over to the letter boxes, punched in my combination and retrieved two letters and two flyers; funeral planning and domestic cleaning. The flyers were both stuffed into no 27's box ... well, might be doing the old biddy a favour, you never know!

I opened the first letter waiting for the lift: automatic car insurance renewal so no action required there. Great! When the lift pinged its arrival, l stood back and no 27's zimmer started to shuffle slowly out. An evil smile appeared on my face. My forefinger hovered over the 'close door' button but against my better judgement, l resisted and amazingly instead pressed the other button to actually keep it open. Whilst in the long term I'd be doing the world a favour, an out of service lift is a terrible inconvenience! It was as l turned around inside and raised my arm to take leave of Donovan, that my robe fell open and he had a perfect view of chest, abdomen and flaccid cock. He merely shook his head and laughed: 

'Doan you be gettin' nuttin' unfortunate caught in them doors when dey close, Mr Pierce!' 

The second letter, an invitation to the alumni association annual 'catch up' for my old school, the King George Academy, found itself flung onto the table while l busied myself with getting caffeine into my veins at long last. Toast and raspberry jam followed, improving my mood yet further. Daytime TV did not, however, and in the utter boredom it induced  l picked up the letter from the school association and surprised myself by bothering to scan it again. They'd picked my birthday for the catch-up 'n all!! How fuckin' sweet!!! 

'Thomas Minchington wishes to announce his engagement to Felicity Duncan'. A slight feeling of pity for her was soon replaced with the realization that in fact Felicity had to be a girl after my own heart! I remembered his acute embarrassment in the showers and how I'd re-christened him Inchington! The only possible reason for Miss Duncan marrying Thomas was the size of his chequebook and not the size of anything else! 

'Ahmed Al-Waziri has much pleasure in announcing his marriage to Fatima Al-Manzari.' Now, Ahmed on the other hand had had no reason to be at all shy in the locker-room. An early developer, Ahmed was both very hairy and very well-endowed from his early teens. But whilst l doubted the future Mrs Al-Waziri was going to have any complaints in the bedroom, equally stimulating conversation in the kitchen over breakfast was unlikely in the extreme! Ahmed was as dull as he was hairy. 

Other names from my year, Dominic Green, David Kennedy, or the year above, Simon Okello, or below, Simon's bother Robert, all popped out from the print but not the two names I sought. Not the two people I would actually have been mildly interested in finding out what had happened to them in the ten years since we'd left boarding school. 

Joseph Velan had been the opposite of me. He was the 'blond, fresh-faced boy next door' type whereas my good looks were the dark and broody kind. He had a good two inches on my 5' 11" but God was he built! Rugby, rowing and wrestling were all excelled at as shield after cup after trophy presented at prize-giving had testified to annually. And all in front of his proud parents beaming away supportively of course. And he was popular. Decent. Genuine. Upright. Modest. And he showed absolutely no interest in a friendship with me. Gallingly. 

And I made Danny Lim pay twice over for that snubbed friendship. Danny was the stereotypical cute, geeky Asian. Small. Slim. A shock of jet-black straight hair which he never cut sufficiently often enough. The last in the year to hit puberty and so very easy to intimidate physically though that was rarely necessary. Repeated humiliation in public and private was usually enough. The fact that, conveniently enough, I seemed to be exactly his type meant he was almost willing to be dominated and, eager to oblige, l abused him royally as a result. Whilst he didn't give me my first hand-job, he was given the honour of being the first to suck my dick and, just a week later, of taking one for Taiwan up the arse. And regularly thereafter too. The teachers' nickname for him was Late Lim because he was so often late for classes. Had they been bothered enough to investigate, they would as often as not have found me yanking his head back and forth as I skull-fucked him in the bathrooms! The mop of too long hair aided my grip nicely and allowed me to wipe my dick afterwards too! He must've enjoyed it and if he didn't, I certainly didn't know, much less care .... though now I think of it, I can't recall him cumming but he might have I suppose ... no matter!

My little trip down memory lane was brought to an abrupt end when my mobile rang. It was Peter Ng, whom I'd been lining up as a replacement for the Austrian ... I stuffed both the letter and the car insurance renewal absent-mindedly into my rucksack and clicked on 'accept'. I wanted to arrange my birthday fuckathon with Peter ...

 *** 

I was past bored. Way past irritated too. Well into 'seriously fucked off' territory if the truth be known. But it wouldn't be. To the waiters in my favourite chic restaurant, I was my usual unflappable, über-controlled self, a little risque, perhaps a tad more flirty than on previous visits but they would never have suspected how Peter Ng's arse would have suffered afterwards. Had he turned up. Which he didn't. 

Instead, after thirty nine minutes of waiting in vain,  I found myself going through the crap collected in the bottom of my rucksack. Tidying is therapeutic supposedly. The hell it is! But when I came across the now crumpled invite to the alumni catch-up and saw it was a mere two stops away by Tube, I decided to go. The alternative was me being alone today of all days and taking my anger out on myself rather than on Peter's rosebud. If my hard dick wasn't able to do that, then the next best substitute was my sharp tongue making old classmates feel worthless instead! 

I paid and left a generous tip, as I always did. I turned right once out of the restaurant, avoiding narrowly two idiots who had yet to master the art of walking in a crowded city, and strode, seemingly purposefully, towards the Tube station some 100 metres further on. I was desperately trying to hold on to my anger, to nurse it back up to seething point but the truth was that the moment was gone, replaced by that wretched feeling of emptiness which had been stalking me for a while. l carried on past the entrance to the Underground, kicking litter for no reason other than it was there, pissing off the throng hurrying to get past me and into the station. 

I certainly hadn't felt this down even when I was told my mother was dead. If anyone ever asked about her, I said she'd been killed by 'her best friends 'the Two Bs' which was what I termed 'an unwise combo of brandy and barbi' --- though in fact it was mainly but not exclusively cognac and barbiturates. A sudden thought pushed to the front of my mind as I bumped into the fifth person on this fucking pavement ... perhaps I was being given a glimpse into my mother's lonely world. An introduction to one of her demons. What were my two Bs then? 'Bitchiness and Buggery'? 'Butt-fucking and Being a Bastard'? The contrast between me and the annoying people around me was stark. They had somewhere to go, someone to meet. But here was my big three oh and I was alone. Despite all my planning, the uncharitable might say manipulating, l was in London on my Jack Jones. But, that was precisely where I'd been all my life so what was new?

I was there. Outside The Royal Connaught Hotel. Already. Oh well, fuck it! I can always leave. There's always Grindr. I painted on my most self-assured smile like the professional bastard I am and sauntered in. When l asked the maternal-looking receptionist, who was as wide as she was tall, where the St George Academy reception was, she merely raised her hand and pointed at an easel set up in a corner of the overly plush foyer. It indicated the 'St George Academy' event was to be in 'the India suite' on the first floor and so up l went, dimly aware l was not, as usual, charging up the middle of the wide staircase but instead was almost hiding to one side. I was more surprised at me charitably putting the receptionist's poor manner down to her having'an endocrine problem' rather than her just being 'a fat cow' which is how I normally would have described such poor customer service. 

As I arrived outside the reception room, a young, very cute West Indian or African Brit of a waiter asked me what I would like to drink. His hair was in plaits and tied back to reveal the most delicate of facial features and the most sensual of lips. The name tag said Kelvin.

'Champagne, please, Kelvin.' 

Things really were looking up!! Especially as he made sure to hold my gaze as our fingers touched for just a tad too long when he passed me the champagne flûte. 

'Do come to me if there's anything else I can do for you Sir!' 

'I will be sure to think of something, Kelvin!' 

I stepped into the room and I was mildly surprised I suppose to see the India Suite had about 20 to 30 people who had turned up, mostly old boys, a few accompanied by wives or partners. There was no more opportunity to check the room out more thoroughly as all of a sudden, a huge arm enveloped my shoulders and a voice bellowed: 

'Pierce, you bastard! Well, I never thought!' 

I had just time to recover and turn my head to see Minchington beaming at me strangely, like he was genuinely happy to see me, before l was propelled towards a nearby group that was already in fits of hysterical laughter at some joke or banter. 

'Ahmed! Dom! Pierce has turned up!!' 

Cue more back-slapping and smiles and introductions to Felicity (a bit 'mumsy' but nice enough); Fatima (very self-confident anaesthetist, clearly besotted with Ahmed); and Kevin (unbelievably camp hairdresser who was Dom's partner --- never saw THAT coming, Pierce, did you!?). 

'Felicity, Pierce was the one who christened me Inchington!' 

Felicity waited for the laughter to die down and then retorted in the exact tone of Sybil Faulty:

'Well, yes, dear, he may need to get his eyes checked because I'd say that's far too optimistic!' '

'Cow! Anyone here a lawyer?' 

And that was the tone of the next 30 mins. Not a minute went by without some insult or story producing gales of laughter and I have to say it was Ahmed who dominated the group with countless hysterical anecdotes from 'life in the fast-lane of accountancy' as Fatima put it!

Already nonplussed by being greeted so warmly by those whom I had consistently treated abominably at school, fate then delivered her Double Whammy. Joseph Velan arrived. The years had been unbelievably kind. He was even more drop-dead gorgeous than I remembered. As broad as before but perhaps even more muscular than when we left school. Blond hair, just a little too long and swept back in a man-bun. A man-bun for fuck's sake! I HATE man-buns but it was absolutely perfect for him. As was the designer stubble! As were the slightly distressed jeans coupled with the impeccably cut black jacket and the expensive light-blue shirt which just served to accentuate the ice-blue of his eyes and once you noticed them, you were caught. Fuck! 

I picked up my jaw and hid behind Kevin who, looking directly at Joseph, said with a perfectly straight face 'Dom, you can go home now!' 

It was a genuinely funny remark delivered with spot-on timing but the laughter his comment prompted was tinged throughout the group with the rueful jealousy that comes when you know you've been bested. We all watched as Joseph halted in the doorway and then took one step back to hurry along whoever was in the corridor behind accompanying him. 

Fate then delivered her 'coup de grâce' in the form of his companion. It was Danny Lim who appeared and grabbed Joseph's hand in the same way you grab your £2,500 designer coat despite it being an emergency evacuation. Possession is nine tenths' of the law after all! He received a peck on the cheek from Joseph as a reward, or perhaps as confirmation, and the King and King of the evening walked in to grace their adoring courtiers. Double-fuck! 

Late Lim might still not be on time but he most certainly was no longer the geek of his teenage years. He was every bit a worthy counterpart to the blond god that was Joseph. The haircut was the height of fashion, short at the sides and with the fringe pulled back and gelled in place. It suited his face one hundred percent. His utterly gorgeous Asian eyes merely drew attention to cheekbones that you could hang a washing line on. Unsmiling, mouth, nose and chin looked as if sculpted from stone but when he did smile, the eyes danced. His jacket was black but with a shimmering emerald green thread through it that caught the light and served to draw attention to both the shoulders and slim waist of a swimmer ... as if extra attention were needed! The effect was enchanting and Joseph clearly was utterly enchanted too. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! 

Of all the people I'd secretly hoped to see here, they were the two. But I certainly did not expect or want to see them as a couple? I wanted away, I wanted out but was caught on the opposite side of the room's only exit. The next twenty minutes turned into a game of cat and mouse. They moved left to 9 o'clock and I prepared to make a dash for it by switching right to 3 o'clock. And they moved to speak to someone at 1 o'clock which pushed me further away to 7. I eventually got to within a hair's breadth of being able to sneak out when Danny spotted me. After what appeared a fleeting look of anger, the mouth slowly broke into a smile, but strangely, or perhaps not, the eyes didn't smile. Almost straight away, he leaned in to whisper to Joseph who responded with an almost imperceptible nod and a glance in my direction. They separated and moved in, the chase all but over. Short of actually running out of the room very publically there and then I had no chance of avoiding them. My instinct of self-preservation was screaming 'Danger, danger!' but I kept telling myself l could do it, that l would blag myself out of trouble, just like every time before. However, the difference was that previously, there had been no nagging voice echoing behind my bravado. Unlike today.

Both arms of the pincer caught me at the same time but it was Danny who spoke first: 

'Michael Pierce, we've been hoping for the past five years that you would come! At last!' 

The mouth immediately switched on a gorgeous smile and equally unexpectedly,he leaned in to give me a gentle kiss on my left cheek, putting his right hand on my left shoulder as he did so. All l was conscious of was that l could smell lssey Miyake aftershave. The hand stayed there a fraction too long and my heart felt like a fly might feel at the first twang in the web whose owner was approaching. My head was shouting that I should not be feeling like the prey. I was the hunter. Joseph just bearhugged me and grinned his most disarming grin. 

'Still as handsome as ever, eh?' 

I actually blushed at that first compliment coming from him and basically turned to putty there and then. Over the rest of the evening, they flattered me ... but not too much. Complimented me ... but not excessively. I was teased but not cruelly so. My capitulation became total when they learned it was actually my birthday and they insisted on a photograph with everybody grouped around me and them on either side. I have to admit, the pic is a brilliant reminder of the fun side of the evening. What you can't see in the crush is Danny's left hand was under my shirt, caressing my bare skin, with a finger even slipping under the waistband of my Calvins. Joseph's was literally all over my arse and between my buttocks, seeking out my hole and none too gently either!

Fellow guests started to drift away after the pic but not without first taking leave from the stars of the evening. Or pleasingly, without wishing me a final 'Happy Birthday!' I had indeed had a great time and turned, intending to say a rare, genuinely sincere thanks to Danny and Joseph. It was then that Danny baited the trap. 

'But Joe, we can't let Birthday Boy go without giving him his present, can we now?' 

Danny motioned to Kelvin, the cute waiter who had locked eyes repeatedly with me throughout the evening: 

'Have a bottle of champagne put on ice in our room, please.' 

Kevin averted his eyes quickly and his smile disappeared. 

'Yes, Mr Lim,' 

*** 

Their room was large. In keeping with the rest of the Royal Connaught Hotel, rather too plushly decorated to be in good taste but I was supposed to be taking an evening off from being Bitch of the Year! 

The bed was a four-poster, oddly positioned slap opposite the door and hung with emerald tassels and cream brocade, vaguely attempting to emulate a maharaja's bedroom in the days of the Raj perhaps. 

Joe turned to open the champagne sat in a silver ice bucket on the ornate antique chest, placed to the right of the door. 

'Dan, you need to do your 'Happy Birthday Mr President' thing! Go on!' 

Joe looked at me, 'It's fucking hilarious!' 

The speed which which Danny propelled me to the ottoman at the end of the bed whilst actually saying 'No, I couldn't possibly!' was indeed hilarious though I was looking forward more to the fucking bit! 

Dan took up position in the middle of the floor in front of me and started to sing 'Happy Birthday' in a passable imitation of Ms Monroe's breathy rendition. What was different was that he did it to a striptease, but with none of the actions in time and with the positioning all wrong. The belt, instead of being yanked off in dramatic flourish, got stuck in a loop. The jacket was supposed to slide seductively off his shoulders to the floor but refused to go past his wrists and so, in true Charlie Chaplin fashion, required Joe to rescue him. There followed a huge show of being unable to undo his shirt buttons which was only achieved with my assistance. I was also then needed to provide similar help with his trouser buttons, which allowed a close up appreciation of a perfect set of abs and the most nibbleable of seductively chocolate brown nipples. 

Naked from the waist up now and with his trouser flap open to half-reveal purple briefs below, he stepped away from me and bent over to best show off his bubble butt. 'Happy Birthday' had long since ceased but I noticed little and cared less. Switching his weight from right to left so his butt jiggled enticingly, Dan's hands went to each hip and started inching his pants down slowly. The briefs had the back cut out entirely, revealing his perfectly smooth and soft cheeks and, as he well knew it would, the angle he was bent over at meant I could pick out his entrance surrounded by the merest trace of jet black fuzz! 

I could stand it no more and undid my zip to allow my dick the freedom it was straining for. Only now did I notice Joseph's gorgeous cock was already poking through his flies and he was stroking away in appreciation too.

Completely and magnificently naked now, Dan kicked his briefs off at Joe and winked at him. He poured three glasses but before handing them out, his hands disappeared into a small holdall that had been plonked casually to the side of the dresser. Out came a feathery black mask, which he discarded, a leather chest harness, which he threw at Joe to put on, sets of handcuffs and a riding whip!! He looked at me, grinning. And, by way of explanation, then said:

'Joseph sometimes requires disciplining!'

I had subsided somewhat and the thought of what was awaiting prompted my hand to start rubbing my dick unconsciously. I had automatically assigned Danny the role of bottom and the thought of fucking Joe's meaty butt was more than exciting me. But those assumptions were not the only ones to end up shattered tonight. '

Ah, yes!' came Dan's response to my momentary lapse. 'I've got something to help with that! It's gonna be a loooooong night ahead for you! I can go for hours, you know!' The devilish grin on his handsome features left no doubt in my mind that he could! 

Not two seconds later, l was handed a glass of bubbly, finally, and both Joseph and I were invited to take one of three small blue pills proferred in Danny's open left palm. 

'If it's going to be ALL night, I guess we'll need extra vitamins then!' I replied, almost salivating at the thought of the fucking which awaited. I popped mine with a slug of champagne and just caught a knowing look which passed between them before Danny picked up the riding crop, and, with a wicked glint in his eyes, said: 

'Strip!' 

The whip was brought down with a crack on the silk coverlet, producing a giggle from Joe: 

'Yes, Master!' 

He was bollock naked in seconds and I stopped removing my clothes to gawp. He was indeed muscular but not with the pumped-up, artificial definition that came from hours in a gym with wall to ceiling mirrors. His were broad, powerful shoulders. Chunky biceps and forearms matched by round, firm calves and thighs. And he was utterly hairless, baby-smooth from armpits to chest to groin. His cock was flaccid once more too and hung down, covered by an a long foreskin which completely enveloped his mushroom and ended in a slanted tip, reminding me uncannily of an elephant's trunk.

Exceptionally for me, my mind filled with thoughts of how nice it was going to be to suck him off. Thoughts that were shattered by Danny cracking the whip against my butt. Enough to sting! 

'Faster! The rising crop was jerked in Joseph's direction 

'You. Help him! Before I get really angry!'

Entering into the role-play, or so l thought, I babbled a 'Yes, Master!' chuckling away. Joe just grabbed the side seams of my shirt and gave them a yank sideways. My expensive designer shirt tore straight down the back, with the front buttons pinging off into all corners of the room! Rarely have I laughed so hysterically! Or undressed so rapidly! 

'You must be punished for being so slow!' 

The whip was slowly, and menacingly, caressing my butt before being used to push up my thickening cock. 

'Joe, you know the drill!' 

The whip was again  cracked down swiftly, fortunately on the bed and not my sensitive parts! 

'Yes, Master!' said Joe, giggling again in the most disarming of manners. 

I found myself pushed to kneel, legs forced apart, on the ottoman facing the head of the bed, my ass constantly being caressed by the riding crop, which l expected to leave a stinging welt on my bare butt at any moment. Instead, the two of them stood up on the bed and, in between nibbling each other's nipples and indulging in a fair bit of frotting and chuckling too, they each hoiked one of my arms up above me so that, with the aid of the handcuffs, I was securely attached to the pole running between the end posts of the heavy oak bed. I joined in with 'Oh no Master, please don't punish me!' as l thought my 'rôle' demanded. All of which just produced more laughter and knowing looks from the two of them. Watching Joe hold Danny upside down in his powerful arms and proceed to rim him just inches from my face would have been massively arousing anyway but as the viagra had started to kick in, l became harder and harder, rock hard in fact. Not being able to stroke my cock myself, or have one of them rub it, just made me want to cum even more. 

The rim-job turned into a blow-job with Dan standing side on to me and Joe on his knees. Dan's olive skin betrayed no tan lines whatsoever, his cock, a shade or two darker than the rest of him, nestled in a small but thick forest of black pubes. He really was stunning naked. Sat on his haunches, Joe was expertly switching between deep-throating Danny's slim, elegant todger and toying with the spongy rim of its mushroom and the delicate frenulum below. All to Danny's evident, and vocal, enjoyment. And mine! If this standard was to follow for me, bring it on!!! I was leaking prodigiously too and longed for this pre-cum to be used to lubricate my rod. 

Danny took over the kneeling position and Joe rose to his feet, bracing himself by holding on to the long poles running above the length of the bed. It meant my face was now treated to being inches away from Joe's fat 6" stalk. Danny was concentrating solely on the low-hanging sack, sucking first one ball, then the other into his mouth to the evident satisfaction of Joseph, for sure! They were so concentrated on pleasuring each other it was if I wasn't there!!! My cock was so hard, it was now painful! 

"Dan, suck me too! Please! I'm so horny for it!' 

No reaction whatsoever from either! The first misgivings reared themselves in my head ... 

'Guys! PLEASE! My balls hurt, they're so full!'

A grin appeared on Danny's face and I breathed a sigh of relief when he jumped off the bed, thinking my equipment was about to enjoy some attention. He however merely grabbed my torn shirt off the floor, which puzzled me a tad, clambered back on and, seizing my head roughly, pinched my nostrils closed, thereby forcing me to open my mouth in order to breathe. 

'Ney! Nhot nar nou noing?' was all I managed to get out before the shirt was stuffed unceremoniously into my open mouth. One sleeve being used to gag me, the other being adjusted specifically to hang down and flick against my dick as I writhed, ineffectually, in a vain effort to free myself. The more I struggled, the more arousing the effect of the material touching my viagra-hardened rod. 

I could do nothing now but watch as Danny resumed sucking Joe's stalk, bobbing up and down, his hand manipulating Joe's sack or rubbing along his taint. When Joe eventually climaxed, it was copious and Danny's face was covered with rope after rope of Joe's man juice. I looked down at the bedspread below to see an impressively large, dark patch of pre-cum which had dripped from my aching cock. 

But the torture session had not yet played itself out!! Joseph was put on all fours on the bed and, kneeling behind those most beautiful of buns, Danny slowly and carefully rubbed his own erect cock over his companion's shaven hole. The level of moaning increased. 

'I need you in me, Dan!' 

'Ha! Ha! I need to be in you!' 

Lubricated by saliva, Dan pressed his cockhead against Joe's pucker and entered him, slowly. A couple of pauses later, once Joe was sufficiently open and comfortable, Danny started pistoning away. And forcefully too. In every possible position! He switched from kneeling to balancing on both feet to one knee down and one up. Now fast, now slow. The fuck was relentless. For me too as throughout, I could see Joe's hole attempting to hold on to Danny's hard cock as he withdrew only to be re-pierced shortly afterwards. Utterly oblivious to my presence, both were moaning in pleasure, moans which changed note whenever Dan varied the pace or position in some way. Their fucking was a perfect union of two beautiful, beautiful bodies. Eventually, Danny slipped out completely and I had a perfect view as his first eruption shot out over Joe's hole and crack! I felt as if my own balls were going to explode so badly did I want to cum as he immediately thrust back inside Joe, grunting each time a further eruption was pulled from him! But aroused as I had never been before in my life, there was no relief for my aching balls! None, whatsoever! 

But at least the show was over! They had to let me go now for fuck's sake!! Surely? 

Err, no! I was ignored for another good while as they lay on the bed in front of me and kissed and caressed each other, seemingly unaware of the naked, erect bloke strapped opposite them. Eventually, however, Dan hopped off the bed and went over to his bag on the floor. He looked at me coldly.

'Revenge is best served cold is my motto!' was all l was given by way of explanation for what happened next. 

A very feminine, bright fluorescent-pink lace thong was whipped out of the holdall and, despite my wriggling madly in an effort to stop it happening, and without Dan even accidentally brushing my cock, it was then slipped over my legs and buttocks. Next, a tartan miniskirt of the typical 'schoolgirl porn' type appeared and was wrapped around my waist and adjusted and re-adjusted so that as much of my genitals as possible were visible. Lastly, and most humiliatingly of all, the thong covering my hole was pushed aside and a butt-plug in the form of a puppy-dog tail was inserted. Laughing in satisfaction at my total humiliation, mobile phones were then produced for photos at every conceivable angle to be taken and shown to me too. 

'Time to shower?' Joe looked at Dan 'You wanna give Gina a call?' 

While Joe grabbed their clothes from the floor, Dan picked up the phone by the bed. 

'Gii,  hun, it's Dan. Mr Pierce would like a little assistance here if possible? Thank you as always, darling!' 

With no further ado or explanation, they disappeared into the ensuite bathroom and I was left wondering what the next stage in the revenge-humiliation was to be. At least my still erect prick wasn't aching quite so much! 

The door banging open, followed by a massive fit of giggles announced the arrival of Gina, who turned out to be the receptionist of earlier. 

'Well, well, well! Someone got demselves stitched up well and good here, didn't dey? Hee hee! De best I seen in a looooooong while!' 

She waddled round to view my predicament from all angles, smiling sympathetically however and with not the slightest trace of embarrassment. I had enough of that for both of us!

'Now, sweetee, ya can see dere's no way Gina can get up dere to rescue you!' She motioned first at the bed and then at her considerable bulk, laughing. 

'So our Kelvin's gonna be here in jus' an instan', doan you be worryin'! Ya poor ting!' 

I was warming to Gina, whilst willing her to at least pull the gag out. But that idea didn't seem to cross her mind and instead she stuck her head a bit closer to my still engorged cock for a better view: 

'Dat look mighty uncomfortable! Hee hee!' The head switched to looking at my arse. 'Min' ya, dat not a lot betta, neida!' The double chins shook once more. 

'Where dat boy?' 

Hardly had she uttered the words and the young waiter from before arrived. 

'Mom, I sort it. He doan need you make it worse!' 

Gina looked up at me sympathetically and tapped me gently on the side of my knee. 'I doan know wat all dat was about ... doan wanna know neider!!! But, jus' put it down to experience, eh?' 

With that, she waddled over to the door and called over her shoulder: 'Kelvin! NO misbehavin', you hear now!' and Gina was gone. 

Within seconds, the lad was on the bed, the gag had been pulled from my mouth at long last and he had set about freeing my arms. I could sense him looking at my face but there was no way I could look him in the eye. I kept my eyes on his feet, willing the bed to rise up and swallow me. I rubbed my newly freed wrists and heard him say: 

'I'll just look this way while you tackle the rest, shall l?' 

He jumped down and stood facing the door as I pulled on the puppy tail. It came out with an audible 'Pop!' and, as if more humiliation was required, was followed by a long noisy fart! He, thankfully, gave no sign of having heard. The miniskirt and thong soon joined the butt-plug on the bed and, butt naked, I looked around for my boxers. 

'Under the ottoman, towards the right! I saw them as l came in!' 

I muttered a quick 'Thanks!' as I scooped them up and tucked away my thankfully now more or less fully subsided cock. Trousers, socks and shoes followed in record time, which brought me to the issue of my torn and tattered shirt.

'Can l turn around?' he asked in the most gentle of tones. 

'Er, ok.' was all I muttered. 

He immediately saw the issue and straight away, before I could summon words to protest, long elegant fingers were undoing the buttons on his shirt. They revealed a lean, hairless but utterly gorgeous, ebony chest. His washboard abs connected a slim waist with a broad chest and shoulders and stringy, yet muscled arms. 

'I can't ... I mean .. the shirt off your back ...?' my words died in my mouth. 

'It's fine. You can't go home like that and besides, I have plenty up in my room here!' 

In normal circumstances, I would have tried to see his room and him in it, naked under me, but the only thing on my mind now was just to get home. 

'Thank you! For helping. And for not making it more humiliating than it is already.' 

He handed me my jacket. 'You can take me for a drink. When you return my shirt.' 

At long last, I dared look up at him. He was grinning at me knowing he'd won. Smug at having trapped me into what you could see he hoped would be a 'yes!'. 

I heard myself say 'Yeah, ok!' and the voice in my head screamed 'Now, don't fuck it up, this time!'