The Debut
The wife was, as usually, seated in front of the tv with a glass of something, one eye on Love Island, the other scanning her phone.
“Out with the boys again?” she asked, gaze fixed on one of the screens.
He murmured an affirmative and headed for the door.
Twenty years of marriage, of kids, had clipped their communication skills.
That conversation? She wanted alone time, he wanted alone time, they both got alone time.
Only his alone time was a little less socially acceptable.
The house was full as usual. Naked bodies walking from room to room. Mostly white, mostly in the thirties and forties, but a few older and younger here and there. And everyone of them was wearing a mask. His was a lion in all blue, and it was affixed firmly around his head with two elastic straps. Here, who you were didn’t matter, just your body, your performance, and your vibe. And here, he was powerful.
Decades of manual labour had left his body solid, coiled with muscles, thighs thick with tension, a meaty arse, and pectorals covered in black and, increasingly, grey hair. His cock swung heavy, soft right now, the foreskin hanging loosely over his purple head. Below them, a set of close hanging balls, big but never pendulous like some of the guys.
He passed the living room, where a woman was taking a younger man into her mouth, her upper face obscured by a gazelle mask with strangely pleasing horns that curved upwards. The boy, for he looked to be only 20 or so, was already writhing under her ministrations. He watched for a moment, cock filling with a little blood, as a man in a bull mask jerked a curved cock in the adjacent seat. Her husband, most likely. That was common.
The sounds of men grunting and a woman moaning in low tones began to fill his ears, and he followed the sound. In the main bedroom a mass of bodies, both standing and not, filled the space. Heat, sweat, and the smell of precum and pussy juice hit his nostrils. His heart quickened and his manhood lengthened. He felt his balls tighten.
There were two women on the bed, both on their backs, both with their legs wrapped around the waists of their anonymous partners. And around them stood a ring of men, masked, cocks hard or half way, the sound of slick skin rolling up and down glistening glands a dull background noise to the fucking.
One of the men fucking was a black dude, tall, hung, with balls that swung and slapped with such force you could hear them. He was impaling her, his ass muscles clenching deeply.
The other man was young. Skin unblemished, body toned in that way only lads recently out of adolescence could boast. His body was dusted in a light ginger hair, his ass round and pert, was hypnotising as he plowed the cunt beneath him. One look at the lads mask confirmed he was new. A green monkey mask. He’d not seen that before.
He was pounding her now, but not like his neighbour. He would thrust fast, then slow, grind, and swivel his hips. That was usually his move.
“New lads got game,” a familiar voice said beside him, their voice low.
He smirked. Of course he was here.
“Looks like it.”
“Gonna put him in his place?”
“We always do,” he answered back, and turned to take in his friend.
Billy was wearing an Elephant mask, though he didn’t quite have the goods to back it up. He was one of the few people here he actually knew, and vice versa. They’d been school mates, then each others best men, and now partners in crime as they fucked, swung, and cheated together.
How many events had they fucked side by side? How many times had their cocks competed in some random cunts, trying to outlast and outdo the other? How many times had each seen the others dong’s vanish and reappear between pussy lips that weren’t their wives?
He had no idea. This was as much their ritual as attending family functions. They were just bros who fucked. One time he’d even sprayed the poor fucker with his load, a bit of an overshoot. They’d laughed about it later.
Now they watched, pricks solid, balls tight, waiting their turns. The girls would be good for a few, it was why they were there afterall, and he knew at least one of them, the one in the swan mask, was voracious.
The black bull began to grunt, his voice deep, as his body began to shake and convulse, and everyone knew he was flooding her with his seed. He withdrew, his long schlong snaking out of her gaping hole, spunk flowing down her lips and onto the stained duvet.
Billy was next, but he gestured for him to take his place. Not one to say no, he mounted the bed on his knees, the lad next to him still fucking away, and she gestured him forward with her fingers, her legs spread wide. He looked down at the cummy messy, and his cock, heavy and fat, jerked. He was going to tag her, use the mans load to glide in, then replace him with his own nut.
As his cock began to vanish into her, the man beside him turned, and looked down, watching, his hips still slamming. He said something, muffled by the mask, and then raised a hand. He wanted to high five? Really? This was a place to compete, to prove yourself as a man, and this nymph of a fucker was what, bonding?
He bottomed out, and she closed around him, the heat of the previous dudes' load coating his foreskin and fat, blunt head. He let out a sigh, and returned the man's high five.
He began to fuck, thrust, felt her loosen around him, felt himself turn to steel within her. The lad next door was keeping pace, but still watching, eyes focussed on his cock, his technique as much as he was his own partner. Then, suddenly, the lad pulled out, revealing a dense bush of copper hair above a long, pale cock topped with an angry red head. He arched his back, and a truly epic load of cum flew across the woman beneath him, whose mask and tits suddenly shone under the slick deposit the boy was still unleashing.
He was still fucking, admittedly impressed with the newcomers performance, but his eyes were drawn to something besides the lads spasming cock. A small tattoo, no bigger than a thumb. In black line work, was a small tattoo of Daffy Duck.
He almost fell off the bed. No one noticed, too distracted by the new bull next to him, whose load had finally dropped off to a flow of final spurts.
He stayed still, cock lodged inside, as he realised in shock who the boy was. Billy replaced the boy, and as he slid in, Robert remained unmoving.
“Come on, man,” his friend said, and slapped him on the bare arse, “We’ve got pussy to fill!”
The Revelation
“Are you absolutely sure it’s him? I mean, when was the last time you even saw him naked?”
“I’m sure,” he said for the twentieth time.
They were in a pub now, huddled in a corner over fresh pints. Billy was astonished. He wondered if his face looked the same.
“That fucking tattoo. I grounded him for it. Got it when he turned 17. Lucy went ballistic. He always was a cocky bastard.”
“I’ll say,” Billy muttered into his pint.
Robert glared at him, head tilted in question.
“What! He definitely inherited your genes, mate. Did you see that thing go off?”
Robert recoiled.
“Thats my son you’re talking about!”
“Sorry mate but you gotta admit he's not a little boy anymore, he’s what, 19 now?”
“20.”
“Exactly, and how fucking horny were we at that age?”
He stewed on that last sentence, refusing to engage. He knew full well his lad was a man now. He’d known that ever since he found the lads used condoms in the trash 4 years earlier and hidden them from his wife as fast as he could.
But this? This was different.
“What are we going to do?” he asked in earnest.
“We?”
“He’s your Godson!”
“And as his God father I think he’s doing wonderful work,” Billy laughed.
“You wouldn’t be saying that if it were your lad,” Robert bit back, annoyed.
“Erm, my lads gay. And I’m pretty sure he’s probably had more hole than either of us. I’m under no fucking illusions, mate.”
“Do I say something?”
“Fuck no!”
“Do we stop going?”
Billy raised an eyebrow at that.
“Do I stop going?”
“Mate, what the fuck you gonna do? Shag your missus?”
Robert’s face scrunched up in annoyance. He had him there.
“Look, way I see it, the lads just a bit wild, like his old man. He’s doing no harm. You know every lass there is on the pill. He doesn’t know it's you. So long as you’re careful, he doesn’t need to know it's you. Besides, he might get bored in a month.”
“But he won’t, will he? He’s got too much of me in him, clearly.”
“Isn’t that what you’re trying to avoid?” Billy joked, but Rob wasn’t in the mood and gave him a slap upside the head.
“Knock it off!”
Billy raised his hands in surrender.
“Sorry! Sorry! Just trying to lighten the mood a bit.”
“Well don’t!”
“If you want my opinion, seriously, then I think you’re just going to have to get over it, mate. Its that or confront him, and do you really want him knowing he high fived his old man whilst watching him fuck someone who isn’t your wife?”
Rob went red, the sudden realisaiton that his son had seen him not only naked, but hard, fucking, and cheating, hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt exposed, vulnerable, like he was being watched. His stomach lurched, and he leant backwards.
“Oh God,” he said, and rested his head in his hands.
The Dilemma
The next few days were a blur. He was off his game at work, absent minded, distracted. He’d been distant at home, too, tense whenever Conrad came home from work, his body literally tensing up whenever the lad came near.
Their chats had become stilted to the point that even Lucy had noticed, asking him what was wrong. He’d palmed it off, excused it as him being under the weather, but the truth was he now saw his son differently. The lad was, he had to admit, a man now. He’d definitely inherited his impressive tool. And like his old man he’d also clearly inherited his love of exhibitionism, and getting his dick wet as often as he could.
But he was also a major fucking threat. He was in his world now. His world. His literal fucking world. How had he even scored an invite? Did someone know about Robert? Where they trying to fuck him up? That thought had sent him on a spiral that hadn’t stopped for days.
No, that was a stupid idea. But he couldn’t completely rule it out. Afterall, he was so afraid precisely because he was a danger. If Conrad realised who the man behind the lion mask was, if he found the fucking thing, then it was all be over. His marriage, their house, maybe even his relationship with his son.
Over the next week he committed a dozen times to never going back to the circuit. Twice he threw the mask away. Twice he rescued it out of the bin before collection day.
Because as much as it was a risk, he needed the place. Lucy and him were on fumes. Nothing had happened exactly, they just stayed out of inertia. Separate lives, separate priorities, and, he was sure, separate beds if Conrad ever moved out. There he was sexy, a fucking stallion. They didn’t know him, know his name, his life. There he was just the lion, the fucking stud who spread pussy and dumped loads and made women cum whilst a dozen men admired him and envied him in equal measure.
Who was Conrad to threaten that? He was a man too, afterall. He must understand by now, right?
And so, nervously, he convinced himself to go to the next meet up. Billy was right, he just had to get over it.
The Lion and the Elephant
The house was less busy than normal. It was the summer holidays and many of the regulars were likely on parental duties, holidays, that sort of thing. So the crowd was a little older, more his age, than usual.
Billy had come as backup. Not a wingman this time, but support to get him through the night.
“Just remember who you are, man, and you’ll be fine. You’re the fucking lion, bro!” he’d muttered as they’d got naked and donned their masks in the prep room.
Now they were in the main room, Billy inside a newer lass with honey coloured skin. Robert leant over them, his cock being treated to the swirl of an eager tongue.
Billy was taking his time, rotating his hips, grinding his tanned cock deep inside her, as she held on to his muscled back with one arm, and groped at Roberts balls with the other.
He let out a sigh, and relaxed into the moment. Billy was right, he just needed to let go and be himself. Relax.
Then, as if on cue the monkey mask walked in. Tall, skinny, and toned, his lad stood there, cock long and heavy but not yet erect, watching the show. Robert tensed, suddenly hyper aware, his cock withdrawing slightly, but then he caught himself. Steadied himself.
Billy clocked the change, and turned mid thrust, seeing the source of his discomfort. Turning back to face him, their eyes met through the slits of their masks.
“You belong here, bro,” was the wordless message.
And he was right. He let the woman continue her job, as Billy began to grunt and sigh with his increased tempo.
But he couldn’t help but watch his son. He was jacking off slowly, watching the action unfold.
“Steady,” he thought.
As if reading his mind, Billy slapped him lightly on the hip and withdrew his dick.
“All yours,” he said.
The woman didn’t seem to mind, and gestured for Billy to take Robert's place, and began eagerly licking her own juices from his shaft.
He knew exactly what Billy was doing. He was forcing him to take the figurative plunge. If he could do this, he could stay. He could keep visiting and keep fucking and he wouldn’t have to worry anymore. The fucker was right, of course. He felt everyone’s eyes on his hefty cock as he positioned himself, and for the first time ever wished his son had been gay too, then he’d never have set foot in this place.
He pushed in, sinking inch by inch until all seven were buried in her welcoming tunnel. He closed his eyes and let the sensation overwhelm him. Her heat, the feel of her pussy walls, the sound of Billy’s cock in her mouth, the brush of her skin on his. He began to fuck. Not pound, not yet, just explore, get a sense of her, see how she responded to his intrusion. Once he established her weak spots, he began to target them. Jabbing over and over here, only to switch up and lunge forward there. Swivelling his hips for a minute, widening her out, only to jack rabbit for 30 seconds later. He felt his confidence swell alongside his cock. This was why he came. This was what he was for.
Billy was giving him a thumbs up, himself now doubled over in a telltale sign of coming spunk, but Robert kept going. He didn’t care, he’d seen Billy unload a hundred times. He moved deeper, hooking her legs on his shoulders, and knelt straight up, hammering her cunt for the crowd that now closed in tight to enjoy the show.
The monkey mask was to his right, cock at least half an inch bigger. Robert tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t help but stare now and then. He had to admit a grudging fatherly pride. Something deeply animalistic and masculine he couldn’t quite explain. But he was in the fuck now, and nothing was going to distract him.
Billy let out a deep, low growl, as he unloaded a flow of hot white cum over the girl's mask, face, and into her open mouth.
That was it for Robert. The sight of her facial sent him over, and he jolted forward, groaned, and grunted, feeling his cock expand and spasm as jets of baby batter flew from his dong and coated her insides. One, two, three. They kept going, and he kept humping, until he was utterly spent.
Sweaty, legs aching, he withdrew, his cock slick and shiny in the dim light of the room.
“Fucking awesome!” a familiar voice said, and held up a hand to high five him.
It was Conrad.
Reluctantly he met the offer, palms clapping.
Billy had been right. He could do it. He could keep his worlds apart.
His friend, equally out of breath, joined him at the side, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
“See, just like always. The lion and the elephant.”
He smirked under the mask.
Then, his son mounted the stranger, his bare cock entering the space he had just vacated, and he watched as cum, his cum, spilled out around the shaft and down the lad's balls.
His stomach fell sharper than on any roller coaster, and as his son began to fuck the girl in the cat mask, a fierce clarity stronger than any post-nut instance he could ever recall descended. His worlds, so carefully curated, so nicely maintained, so wonderfully distinct, had collided.
Robert turned to his friend and said with all the seriousness in the world, “Mate, I think I need to get a divorce.”
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