My First Bukkake Party

OMG! I couldn’t believe I was surrounded by two dozen hot men beating their meat and spooging all over the hairy muscle stud on the workout bench. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

My name is Colt, and yes, you could call me a cowboy. I grew up on a small ranch on the outskirts of Nowhere, Nebraska. As you can imagine, there weren’t lots of opportunities for a gay teenager in a rural area to explore and learn about his sexuality. So, when I graduated from high school, I got the hell out of there and went straight…uh…directly… to San Francisco, the gay capital of the world. San Francisco State University, to be exact. I had earned excellent grades in high school, so I could have gone to any of the most prestigious schools on either coast, but I wanted to go where I could experience the full range of what it means to be gay. I was looking for a different kind of education, and man, did I get it.

Josh and I met at freshman orientation and become fast friends—“fast” having a couple of different meanings here. We are so much alike. We had both played sports in high school and were ripped: both 5’10”, 42” chest and 30” waist. Brown eyes and brown hair, though his is a little lighter than mine.

Like me, Josh had come from a small town (in a remote corner of Outhouse County, Oklahoma) and was also eager to explore his sexuality. We began by exploring each other, and we branched out from there. We are both versatile—for now at least. Josh tends to lean more to the bottom, and I’m more of a top, but we decided to experience both sides until we had learned everything we could.

Both of our cocks are just over 6”, a little bit more than the average but still within the “normal” range. Actually, I’m quite sure that my cock is just a tad bigger than Josh’s, and we argued often about this issue. Those arguments usually led to wrestling matches, which led to rough sex. The rule was that whoever won the wrestling match got to fuck the shit out of the other one. Of course, I always won the wrestling matches…except on those rare occasions when I would let Josh think he had won because I was in one of my rare moods to feel a hard dick up my ass.

Just after Josh and I got settled into our dorm, we immediately logged onto our favorite hook-up sites and a few more we had never heard of before, and from there, we arranged one-night hookups, got invitations to bate parties, and found out which gay bars were best for cruising and which ones had dark corners and back rooms.

We especially liked the leather bars, sports bars, and country-western bars, and we never failed to score at any of them—often two or three times a night—sometimes back in our dorm room or at the other guys’ places but just as often right there in the bars. I can thank those bars for giving me the opportunity to experience sex on a pool table for the first time—but definitely not the last.

At the country-western bars, we didn’t have to pretend to be cowboys. We were cowboys, and we had the well-worn boots, Wrangler jeans, leather belts with large silver buckles, plaid shirts, and Stetsons to prove it.

When we went to sports bars, I would wear a San Francisco Giants baseball cap, a skin tight tank top, and 49ers gym shorts or sweat pants. Most of the time, I went commando—not only because it was comfortable and more revealing, but also for the ease of access (wink, wink). Sometimes, though, I would borrow some of Josh’s designer underwear, the kind with a built-in cock ring to lift my junk and push my dick forward. Not that I really needed the help, but the extra advertising certainly didn’t hurt.

At the leather bars, of course I wore leather, but not the biker kind that you usually see in such places. My leather gear consisted of cowboy leather: brown chaps, gambler’s vest, and suede jacket.

To experience a long fetish itch, we once sneaked into the athlete’s gym at San Jose State University and fucked on a mattress of jock straps that we had swiped from the lockers. Most of the jocks smelled like they hadn’t been washed all semester. The stench was awful, but that was the whole point. We didn’t want the kind of proper, sanitized sex tolerated—if not always practiced—by Presbyterians back in Nebraska and Oklahoma. We wanted sex that was raunchy, stinking, vulgar, raw…and real.

To be fair, not all of the jocks were rancid. A few were actually fresh. Those were the ones we used to wipe up the cum we spewed everywhere. Josh and I both walked away with personal souvenirs.

From going to the bath houses in Oakland and San Jose, we learned that we are both voyeurs and exhibitionists. We like to watch, and we especially love being watched. We even got spit roasted in the middle of Folsom Street during the annual festival.

We checked out every exhibit at the festival and volunteered for every demonstration we could. We sampled bondage, flogging, gangbanging, E-stim, fisting, edging, rimming, water sports, and all kinds of toys and gear—from both the giving and receiving ends.

Not all of it really appealed to us, but we figured we’d never know until we tried it, and man, we tried everything. Or at least, I thought I had tried everything until Josh burst into our dorm room one day exclaiming, “Colt, you won’t believe what I found.”

Waving his smart phone at me as he plopped his ass down next to me, he practically yelled, “Look!”

It was a link from one of our favorite fuck apps, a link that led to party announcements. We had both been to sex parties that freshman year—separately and together—but this one was different. “What’s a bukkake party?” I asked.

“Scroll through the screens,” he pressed.

As I did, I found pictures of a bunch of guys circling around another guy and jizzing all over him. “Fucking hot!” I gushed.

“It’s this weekend,” blubbered Josh. “Apparently, these two guys in Sausalito host a party about once a month, and the next one is this Saturday.”

Josh went on to explain that participation was limited to 20 men, and we had to apply by sending our E-mail address. We had both set up extra accounts with aliases, so we used those to sign up. Fortunately, we got in before everyone else beat us to it.

Josh and I both were super hyped and super horny all week just daydreaming about the adventure ahead. We jerked off and screwed even more than usual those last few days.

As we drove up to the house at the address we were given, we could tell right away that the inhabitants had money. The place was a fucking mansion. A valet dressed (or undressed) like a Chippendale dancer met us under the porte cochere and directed us to the front door, where we were met by an ultra-sexy blond-haired, blue-eyed hunk in his early 30s. His entire wardrobe consisted of nothing but a cock ring, which bolstered his already considerable assets.

“Welcome, men. I’m Scott,” he said, extending a firm, masculine hand. “Come on in and get comfortable,” which really meant, “Get naked.”

Directly in front of us, several men were removing their clothes and putting them in brown paper bags, on which they wrote their names (real or fake) with a black marker. We followed their lead and drew flattering gawks and whistles from some of the guys. Josh and I were used to that because we were both handsome, muscular, and approachable (i.e., slutty).

From that room, French doors led to the patio, where we found more guys—ranging from our age to 70 or more. Neither Josh nor I had ever expressed a particular interest in older men, but we were quite surprised at how hot some of the older men looked. Most of the men were completely naked, and some had even started warming up before the main event, though the first hour was supposed to be just for socializing. I guess it all depends on your definition of “socializing.”

There were men of all types. Tall, short, and in between. White, black, Asian, and mixed. Blonds, brunettes, and gingers. Average-looking guys, muscle jocks, pretty boys, and gorgeous hunks who looked like underwear models. Most of the guys had dicks that looked to be average, though most were not yet sporting full erections. Once they did, we found that some even exceeded 9 inches.

Some of the men retained their underwear, though none left much to the imagination. Several were dressed in leather, though some of those wore chaps that exposed their junk or their asses.

Several coolers lined the edge of the pool. These contained various drinks ranging from bottled water to sodas to an array of beers. Josh and I each took a beer and began to mingle. As we did, most of the guys took the opportunity to lay hands on us, squeezing our biceps, ass cheeks, or dicks, placing their arms around our shoulders or hugging us so tightly that our cocks rubbed against each other. One guy, a beefy bear, walked up to me and, without a word, assaulted my mouth as if he were trying to tongue-fuck my tonsils. Some guys might have been put off by such aggressiveness, but I ate it up, and Josh loved watching me succumb.

I don’t know about Josh, but I had learned that I am not really either a dom or a sub, a master or a slave, but I can lean either way up to a point. I learned that you don’t have to go all the way in either direction, and you don’t always have to stay in one role. You can just do what feels right under the circumstances.

Nearly all of the men were complete strangers to us, but we did recognize two familiar faces at the other end of the patio. One was Josh’s chemistry professor, whom I dubbed Dr. Beast. He was ruggedly handsome, giving the appearance more of a construction worker than a university professor. I made a mental note to log onto the registrar’s Website as soon as we got back to our dorm and pre-register for his fall class. I had not really been looking forward to taking chemistry—not really my bag—but this was a man I was definitely eager to exchange test tubes with.

The other familiar face was a guy from my American history class my first semester. I almost didn’t recognize him without his nerdy reading glasses and frumpy sweaters. Many people are quite surprised to learn how cold the air coming off the ocean and the bay can make San Francisco feel. Mark Twain once said that the coldest winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. Being from Nebraska, I was used to the cold, but this kid was from southern Arizona and bundled up every day for our early morning class.

I say “kid” because he looked younger than his age. Being no more than 5’6” no doubt contributed to that impression, but so did his really cute baby face. He had a nice bod, though—a swimmer’s build, lean but with strong legs, arms, and shoulders. And to top it all off, he had the most delectable ass I had ever seen. I could just imagine his sphincter muscles milking my dick and balls dry.

Dr. Beast and Chip (we later learned was his name) crossed the patio to greet us, and by the time they reached us, my dick was as stiff as a board, and Josh’s was gaining on me rapidly. We reached out to shake their hands, and they extended theirs in return, but they did not take our hands. They grabbed our boners and took a couple of lustful tugs. Dr. Beast even pumped his dick in tandem with mine with his big, husky hand. Damn, this was going to be a really fun party.

Suddenly, the rock music that had been blaring from patio speakers ceased, and Scott, the blond cock-ring-wearing guy, though he was one of the tallest men there, stepped up onto a weight bench to draw everyone’s attention. An extremely handsome dark-haired and furry middle-aged man offered his shoulder to brace Scott as he ascended. Though the second man was totally naked, I imagined him as one of the actors in a porn flick, the ones that feature middle-aged executives in Brooks Brothers suits pounding away at the coffee boy. Uhhh, cream and sugar, sir?

“For the benefit of the first-timers,” said Scott, “let’s go over the rules. Most of you know my partner Chuck,” the man whose shoulder he leaned on. “As tonight’s guest of honor,” he continued, “Chuck will take the throne,” which was actually the adjustable weight bench that Scott was standing on. The choice of “furniture” was not really surprising since Scott and Chuck both looked like they had spent lots of time in the gym.

“There’s really just one rule,” said Scott: “all the cum belongs to the guest of honor. All of it gets dumped on Chuck. You can fuck his mouth or even his ass, you can ride his cock” (which was already hard and sticking straight up), “you can even play with each other however you wish, but when you’re ready to come, you must shoot it onto Chuck. If you find yourself exploding uncontrollably into a condom or another guy’s mouth, you must transfer the baby batter onto Chuck’s face or into his mouth.” Though I had seen what Scott was talking about in the videos that Josh and I had watched, I was really turned on by the way that Scott explained it. Hell, I was turned on by everything Scott did. He and Chuck were both fucking hot.

“Since no one has signed up to be the clean-up man this month, I will assume that role,” Scott continued. I was not sure what that meant at first, but it soon became pretty obvious.

With the preliminaries out of the way, Scott hopped down from the bench, which he then adjusted to a 45-degree angle, a comfortable level for most of our cocks to reach Chuck’s mouth easily.

The beefy bear who had accosted me was the first to shove his big cock down Chuck’s throat. Chuck gagged, but his eyes revealed that he really wanted that cock. As Mr. Bear fucked Chuck’s mouth, the rest of us played with our dicks as we worked up a good load in anticipation of our turn. Some of the guys stroked their own dicks, and some pumped others’. Some made out, and some sucked each other up to a fever pitch.

In no time at all, Mr. Bear had filled his balls with man juice. He pulled out of Chuck’s mouth and held it open as he aimed his spew into the hunk’s mouth. Some of the shots hit their target, some landed on Chuck’s face, and some dripped off his chin onto his hairy chest. Scott immediately sprang into action as the clean-up man, licking up the cum that had missed Chuck’s mouth and feeding it to him. They snowballed and then kissed, passing the nectar between them. I thought it was the hottest fucking thing I had ever seen in my life. I wasn’t sure who I envied more, the guest of honor or the clean-up man.

As each man neared his climax, he approached Chuck and drenched him in cum. At times, two or even three guys unloaded at once, and Scott dutifully performed his clean-up duties. A couple of guys swapped their loads with Scott before depositing them into Chuck’s eager mouth.

While Chuck was getting his face lathered, some of the guys played with his nipples or his dick. Some rode his stiff cock, and others fucked his ass with their fingers or dicks. Chuck was getting worshipped from every angle and in every way possible. God, I envied him.

I wasn’t ready to shoot yet, and I desperately wanted Chuck’s big cock, so when one guy rose off of it, I grabbed my chance. I positioned myself at the foot of the bench and bent over to swallow Chuck’s manhood. As I began to suck, I felt someone’s feet between mine, spreading them farther apart. Then, I felt two strong hands spreading my ass cheeks. I thought for sure I was about to get shafted, and I was eager for the opportunity, but instead of a cock against my ass, I felt a wet tongue. Some guy was eating me out, and he was doing a hell of a job at it. I thought I was going to come just from the fantastic rim job.

It was useless to look back to see who this tongue master was since his face was buried in my ass, but then he stopped, rose up, and positioned his dick against my opening. Before he entered, though, he spit on his cock several times to lube it. The feral nature of his approach turned me on big time. With his cock and my hole both wet from his saliva, he entered me, slowly at first, and then with one hard thrust after another. He worked up a rhythm and picked up speed, and in no time he was pounding my ass and nailing my prostate like a jack hammer. It was rough. And glorious.

Sensing that Chuck was getting close and not wanting him to shoot just yet, I withdrew my mouth from his dick, which caused him to gurgle through a mouth full of cum, “No! No! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” But I had a different plan and apparently so did the man with his cock in my ass. When he withdrew as well, I looked back to discover that he was none other than Dr. Beast.

The construction worker masquerading as a chemistry professor threw his strong arms around my chest, lifted me up into the air, and set me back down on Chuck’s raging cock, which I proceeded to ride like a wild stallion needing to be broken. Despite having two cocks in his mouth and cum spraying all over him, Chuck maintained enough concentration to buck back, pounding my ass balls deep. I thought he was going to tear me apart, and I couldn’t think of a better way to go.

With each smack, my own dick flopped against the treasure trail adorning his lower belly. That action alone was enough to bring me to the verge of a climax. Without even touching my cock, I shot volley after volley, the first one flying right over Chuck’s head and landing on the cock of a man standing over him. The next two hit him in the face, and the rest trailed down his hirsute chest and abs.

Nearly exhausted, I started to dismount my stud, but Dr. Beast quickly intervened, pushing me back down onto Chuck’s still-hard cock. Then, he really shocked me by shoving me face to face with Chuck. I felt the cum I had just unloaded squishing between my body and Chuck’s, between my cheek and his. As the Beast held my head down next to Chuck’s, he slid his cock alongside Chuck’s in my tight asshole. Yes, with Chuck’s dick and Dr. Beast’s cock both inside of me now, I was getting double-fucked for the first time in my life. Meanwhile, guys continued to jizz all over not only Chuck’s face, but now also over mine.  

My sphincter muscles and Dr. Beast’s cock both felt the pulsations in Chuck’s dick and knew that he was about to burst, so the Beast quickly pulled out of my ass and lifted me off of Chuck’s missile just as Chuck began to explode. Once Chuck’s juices had completely soaked his body and face, the professor again pressed my body over Chuck’s and my face against his. Chuck and I swam in the warm sauces we shared.

Dr. Beast’s resolve evaporated also as he shot his wad over my lower back. Momentarily, I felt a tongue lapping up those juices, followed by a hand grabbing the hair on the back of my head and pulling me upright again. I assumed, naturally, that it was the Beast, but it turned out to be Josh, who had been standing nearby, delighting in my public and thrilling humiliation. I expected him to snowball the Beast’s love nectar into my mouth, but instead he spit it onto my face.

Before I could even conceptualize what had just happened, Josh grabbed one of my arms, practically dragged me to the other end of the bench, and laid my head next to Chuck’s. He pulled on my jaw, forcing my mouth open. At the same time, Dr. Beast positioned Scott in the same fashion. With three receptacles now, Dr. Beast and Josh jerked off, shooting their streams across our three orifices. Before Scott and I could reposition, more guys lined up for target practice, showering us with sperm from all directions.

As the three of us tried frantically to keep up with the pace of the jizz blasting our mouths and faces, a very tall black man straddled Chuck’s chest, fucking the cleavage between Chuck’s well-developed pecs and then impaling his mouth with his monster cock. Though Chuck tried desperately to take the entire 9 inches, he just could not manage, so the black man laid one hand behind my head and one behind Scott’s and pulled us together to lick and suck the base of his massive cock while Chuck sucked on the rest of it. Scott wrapped his lips around one side of the man’s tool, and I worked on the other. When the man ultimately pulled out and splashed his juices all over Chuck’s face, the three of us—Chuck, Scott, and I—launched into a three-way cum kiss.

For most of the guys, that was just the end of round one. Everyone came at least twice (even the older men), and some even came three or four times.

Pleasantly drained, men began to trip all over themselves trying to put their pants back on and stumble out of the house sometime after midnight. Josh and I exchanged phone numbers with most of them. “Hope to see you again next month,” said several of them as we kissed goodnight. “Definitely,” we assured them.

As Josh and I gathered up our clothes, Scott caught us by surprise. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Well, we thought the party was—”

“Fuck it,” Chuck exclaimed from the doorway. “Spend the night,” he added. “My belly is full, but so are my balls. Scott and I have gotten off only once tonight. We’ve had loads of cum, but now we could use some ass. We’re up for it if you are.”

Josh and I both gushed as we tried to contain our enthusiasm.

As our hosts led us to their bedroom, we passed several guys sprawled out on couches and some even on the floors. “They’re either too exhausted or too drunk to drive home,” explained Scott. “We’d rather they crash here than try to make it home.”

“Besides,” smirked Chuck, “who knows which ones might be ready for another round tomorrow morning?”

We ended up spending the entire weekend with Scott and Chuck, in and out of bed, and as it turned out, bukkake was not our only first-time experience. Josh and I had sandwiched before, but never in a four-man chain and never rotating through all the positions.

I had just experienced double penetration for the first time, but Josh had not, so Scott, Chuck, and I set out to rectify that deficiency. As Josh sat on my shaft, Scott and Chuck took turns tag-teaming his ass. I had loved having two big dicks in my ass at the same time, but now I got to experience the exhilaration of Scott and Chuck’s dicks rubbing against mine as we took turns double-fucking Josh.

“Fuck! We’ll never be able to top this weekend,” I lamented as Scott and Chuck walked us back to our car Monday morning.

“Sure you will,” Scott assured us. “Next month, you’re going to be the guest of honor.”

“Me?” I squeaked.

“You and Josh both,” replied Chuck. “You can share the honor.”

“We’d love to,” Josh gushed.

“But only if you’ll play clean-up, Chuck,” I added.

“It’s a deal,” the hunk replied. “And maybe we can get that cute little friend of yours (Chip) to assist me.”

Josh and I remained on a testosterone high for the next four weeks. Could there possibly be any sexual act that we had not yet experienced? “Colt, you’ll never believe what I’ve found now,” shouted Josh, bursting into our dorm room just a few days before the next bukkake party.