The venue for Michael’s party was an industrial estate a couple of miles from the flat; Michael drove in his battered Vauxhall Nova that shuddered as he roughly changed gear and swung the twenty-year-old vehicle into twisting bends in London’s suburbia.
The black and gold tracksuit he lent me, was shiny and had a plastic feel to it; the sportswear logo dominated the jacket front while white stripes lined the trousers that came down to the white socks and borrowed trainers.
I was commando; the smooth fabric rubbed against my exposed cock and I slipped in the torn seats of my new friend’s vehicle. He was dressed in a matt navy tracksuit bottoms with a white singlet that left much of his muscular body on view.
We heard the feint noise of the music before we arrived at the club; the deserted estate was almost eerily quiet as the car roared and spluttered down the main thoroughfare.
I must admit I was nervous; for all my fun and games with Michael and other men, I still thought of myself as more straight than gay. I loved my wife more than I loved Bryn and I adored feasting on cunt. But for the first time I was going to “gay” party. Although Michael was bisexual, as was I. He guessed that while there would be wall-to-wall sucking and fucking, most of the participants would be returning home to a girlfriend or wife.
In truth, I didn’t care too much about that: I was fairly secure in my sexuality and no amount of rampant buggery was going to turn me off the delights of the female form. However, all my interactions had been with small groups of people, or even one-on-one, and I had never been to a sex party before. It was daunting. I was pensive and quiet while Michael found a small parking spot for his tiny boneshaker.
He gave my cock a squeeze as the engine flicked off. “Shall we go have some fun?”
I smiled, feeling his cool hand slip into the waistband of my trousers and stroke my cock. I sighed as his grip tightened around my shaft and his eyes twinkled. Beautiful, mischievous brown eyes that captivated my attention as he gently stroked me. A warm smile as he watched, letting me sink into his seats with my cock sizzling with arousal.
“Later,” he teased, withdrawing his hand as I neared my climax; my erect cock tented the loaned tracksuit which felt wet in the crotch.
The bouncers on the door nodded respectfully as Michael approached; he passed them a ticket and they said nothing as he opened the windowless green door, stepping into a poorly furnished reception area.
The music hummed behind a half-naked man, sat behind a desk with a sheet of names in front of him. He looked at Michael and sized me up before passing me a clipboard to fill in. Temporary Member.
It was standard stuff: name, address, next of kin, date of birth, and Michael made idle chatter with the receptionist as my pen scrawled across the page. “Enjoy yourself,” we were told after they accepted my registration and we had paid the £10 for me to enter as Michael’s guest. My first thoughts were that it was expensive: my first look at the main room changed my mind.
A giant hot-tub filled the first room as heaters blazed overhead. It was warm, and dozens of men were naked in the water, kissing and touching as others milled about in tracksuits and football kits, singlets and boxing outfits.
Others were naked with big cocks flopping as they walked. I admired the hairy chests and the smooth chests; I ogled at the swinging balls and muscular thighs. I smiled at the firm buttocks and cute smiles. My eyes took in the delightful feast of male sexuality and I was briefly overwhelmed as my hard cock responded to the smorgasbord of gorgeous masculinity.
A couple in the corner were fucking; I’d have guessed the top was still a student, ramming this youthful cock into an older gentleman, probably old enough to be his grandfather. They grunted and cried together, the submissive bottom squealing with every thrust in his butt. It was erotic; I wanted to join in. My cock was desperate for it, watching the student drive his prick underneath his football shirt into the jockstrap-clad aged man.
“Come here,” Michael demanded. We walked past the entrance to the showers and into the lounge area. Gay pornography played on the screen, while an array of soft drinks were lined up on a table in the corner.
Two dozen men were congregated on sofas chatting and talking; many kept glancing up at the giant television, filling the room with the sounds of desperate fucking. A couple of guys were playing on the far settee, cocks buried into mouths as the two men sucked each off simultaneously.
Their passionate grunts and squeals beguiled my lust addled mind. The feverish motions of the hips from the naked gentleman on top, thrusting his cock deep into the throat of the tracksuited lad underneath him, was enthralling.
I stared at the bare buttocks; so smooth and pale. So enticing. I envisaged the fun we could have; my imagination was desperate, bringing anne seks hikayeleri erotic mirages to my eyeballs. I wanted to run my hands over the young man’s posterior as he face-fucked the man underneath, sliding my fingers over his crack and pushing against the knot of his sanctum.
I wanted to run my tongue over his sweaty flesh, relishing the dirty, filthy taste of the muscular top. I wanted to listen to him groan as my tongue rimmed the puckering anus. I wanted him to push his butt further into my face, burying my tongue further and further into his arsehole before sliding forwards to ram his cock into the sub underneath.
I imagined all of this as I watched, almost open-mouthed at the amazing sight a few metres from me. I smelt the sexual tension in the air, barely noticing Michael shake hands with a small group of men on the sofa.
“He’s away with the fairies,” Michael said loudly.
“Aren’t we all!” One of the men quipped and I turned to face them; suddenly aware I was the butt of their jokes. I was standing not sitting; staring and ogling the sight of rampant debauchery, while tenting my shiny tracksuit bottoms
“It’s seeing a blowie!” Michael replied. “It gets him all hot.” His eyes met mine and he stood up, grabbing hold of the back of my neck and thrusting me face first into the lap of his friend, a naked man. Gasping, I felt the softness of his warm cock land on my face. “Suck him!” Michael demanded, holding the back of my neck and pushing my face into his hairless crotch.
They laughed; not cruel laughter but a relaxed bawdiness that was enjoying my humiliation. I tasted his sweat, feeling his cock over my mouth, I licked at his shaft, sucking gently on the smooth skin.
He grunted. “Faggot’s sucking me!” He said, and Michael released the grip on my neck, stepping back as I withdrew my face to stare at the ripples of muscles that adorned the well-built man. He leant back on the fabric sofa and stretched his legs out, winking at me as I admired his manhood.
“Had a waitress bouncing off that last night, a housewife the day before and some sissy called Jason the night before that. Fucking gorgeous piece of cock that is. Fucked half of the sluts in London.”
His mates sniggered as he boasted; his hands tucked behind his head as my open mouth fell forward onto the slick glans of his prick. He tasted faintly of arousal; more of piss that sizzled nastily on my senses as I gently swept my tongue underneath his foreskin and savoured his manly scent.
I stared up at him as my mouth explored his balls; my gaze travelled over his firm prick and admirable muscles. His expression changed, his breathing became faster and shallower.
But I loved sucking on his prick and I returned my lips to his meat. My hand gripped his sizeable shaft while other fingers gently stroked his hairless balls underneath the erect cock I was gleefully sucking.
And I was adoring it; my senses exploding with arousal as his cock filled my mouth and slid over my tongue. Roughly, he bucked with his hips, desperate for me to deep throat the big dick from the cocky young man.
He held the back of my head; snarling as his cock quivered and his muscles tensed firmly. He grunted as his prick spilt his cum into my mouth.
He took a few deep breaths, letting go of my head as his cock slipped from my mouth. “Fine cocksucking slut you’ve found there,” he teased, saying nothing as I shyly sat on the sofa. “Best BJ I’ve had all week.” My eyes met his for a moment. “You fags give the best blowjobs.”
“Fags?” I asked quizzically. “Surely …”
“I’m straight,” he replied. “But you boys do love to suck a cock. Not all birds do.”
“I’m …” My voice paused for a moment as I thought. “… well I’m bi.” He snorted. “I like sex with men and women.”
“I’m definitely straight. I like sex with women, I just fuck men or let them suck me. I’ve never had a cock in my mouth.” I let that comment slide, and with the taste of cum lining my tastebuds, I was a happy “cocksucking slut.”
Carl, the personal trainer, dominated the conversation and a few minutes later I was glad when Michael opted to move on. The couple in the corner were still sucking each other, the pace sliding to the gentlest of crawls. They were edging each other, and it was hard to walk past them without wanting to join in, but Michael led me to the back of the room and into a small corridor that twisted into darkness. We reached a dimly lit room.
A handful of double beds with shiny duvets filled the space, with a swing to the side, and a handful of doors leading from the back of the room.
And everywhere men were fucking, sucking and kissing. Dozens of them; on the floor and on the beds. In the swing, against the wall; the sounds of grunting men occupied the air as the smells of their lustful exertions lingered on the nose like a fine wine.
“Two bowls of condoms and lube sachets were on the wall and bin for used condoms was near to overflowing; my feelings of heterosexuality were banished for the night as my eyes took in the rampant debauchery and decadence. I wanted to join in. I wanted to prise open the dirty costumes of the scally wannabes and plunge my face into erect cocks, or glistening buttholes. I wanted to savour the feeling of submission as men took me; took all of me in every orifice to take the rampant feelings of pleasure and leave me with the delicate enjoyment of debauched submission.
“Good huh?” Michael called out as we surveyed the scene; men fucked in front of us, two burly tracksuited guys pushed past the two voyeurs taking in every nugget of debauchery. Every grunt and groan. Every thrust and every slap of flesh.
“You two going to join in or admire the view?” The question was passive-aggressive, but the tone of voice was jovial and bashful. I blushed and looked towards the two young men in the corner of the room. Michael pulled at my hand as we walked passed the vociferous fucking that adorned the shiny mattresses.
Michael greeted the shorter of the guys warmly, thrusting his arms around the topless youth and kissing him on the cheek. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” He smiled; his gentle muscle definition reflecting the lighting in the room, illuminating the colourful tattoos on his arm. He nodded towards me, catching my gaze with a lustful look, but said nothing.
My ginger-haired guide turned to the other man, dressed in a light blue singlet and dark blue shorts. “How’s the course?”
The shorter man nodded. “Good. Who’s your friend?”
“Peter,” Michael introduced me. “He’s a married cuckold. And he’s bi. And this is Peter and Reuben. And they love getting blown by filthy older men like you.” He licked his lips and I gulped, motionless as the crudeness of his words smacked my brain and I processed them.
An older man! I was in my early thirties and I’d never been called an older man before, but compared to the two guys in sports wear I was. They were in their early twenties or late teens and their youthful lust for hedonism ran through their expressions.
“Married cuckold, eh? Like Gaz. He said he’d be here. His wife wants some action.” Reuben chuckled as he adjusted his boxing shorts. “Let’s see how ‘bi’ you are?” I studied the star tattoos on his arm and read the obscene message in a flamboyant script emblazoned across his forearm. He pulled his partner’s flimsy white sports shorts to his knees and exposed a black and yellow jockstrap.
My eyes tore into the rugged bumps across his muscular body and at the burgeoning pouch of the meek youth, standing head and shoulders taller than his partner. He was unmoved and statuesque. The sights and sounds of rampant fucking faded into a backdrop. I was transfixed; waiting for the next move.
Michael’s hand squeezed my buttocks through the slippery tracksuit, pushing me gently forward and towards the shapely adonis. I shivered as Reuben tugged at his partner’s jockstrap, pulling the black waistband forward to tantalisingly flash the manhood within.
At that moment, all I wanted was to see his cock. To feel it and smell it. To taste it. To feel the firm erection grow in my hands and my mouth, and to run my tongue over the bulbous head and shaft. I wanted to bury my face into his crotch, suck on his balls and savour his sexy sweatiness. I wanted to feel his arousal and hear his groaning as I brought him towards happiness.
I wanted to be a cocksucker, on my knees in the shiny tracksuit with my erect cock dampening the bottoms as my lips provided oral servitude to the imposing teenager.
I slipped forward, kneeling onto the cold stone floor as my hands trembled in front of me. I was about to partake in more sexual acts in a gay club and it felt scarily wonderful. I longed for the bulging present to be unwrapped and my shaking hands gripped the waistband of the young gay man.
“Wait,” Reuben called. “Kiss his butt first. Show him you want it.”
I glared up at him and he stood confidently, grinning as he looked at Michael. Peter slowly turned, his fullsome buttocks free from clothing. My lips touched his smooth buttocks, gently planting a warm kiss on the centre of his left cheek.
The men laughed. I probably looked ridiculous but my cock was painfully erect as my lips glided over the young man’s pert rear, tasting the manliness of his skin. I pressed my tongue into his crack, the first time I had ever done that to another man. He pressed his hips back, opening up his buttcheeks for me.
His butt crack was musty and earthy; his butthole hairless and textured as my tongue flicked his opening and my hands rubbed against his muscular thighs.
I felt like a hundred eyes were on me; everyone watching the married father debasing himself at the feet of a young man and worshipping the buttocks. I felt as if I would be publicly ridiculed and if I was being humiliated: degraded and broken.
But as my cock boiled with untouched lust and my body writhed with desperation, I was in heaven. I wanted that feeling to last forever: the grunting and groaning Peter squirming as my lips drew heavenly sparks from his butt.
“Turn around,” Reuben ordered and I leant back on my haunches while the butt was replaced by a bulging jockstrap pouch, inches from my face. The owner of the cock said nothing as my fingers pressed against the black waistband and jerked the underwear downwards, watching as his prick bounced upwards.
My lips moistened, my throat went dry; he was long and thin and the circumsized head of the appetising manhood glistened with pre-cum.
My fingers rolled over his scrotum, my lips slipped over his cock head as I watched his eyes wilt with relief. He smiled at me, leaning against the playroom wall as my right hand jerked his shaft and my lips made sweet love to his young thin cock.
He squirmed and he whimpered; his mewing voice carrying over all the grunting and screaming behind me. My left hand pressed against his perineum as my fingers and mouth worked in perfect harmony to bring the tattoo-clad man towards his grunting climax.
He panted; gasping as his cock quivered and his perineum tightened. I felt a flush of pride wash over me as his first spurt splashed against my tongue; the second splattered my face and dribbled onto the black tracksuit.
I looked around to see Michael standing alongside another man; my height, age and weight, and wearing a white singlet with grey tracksuit bottoms. “Nice load Peter,” he said, glancing at me with cum on my face. “Gareth,” he introduced himself.
“He’s a married cuckold too,” Reuben explained. “He’s here while his missus is somewhere else.”
Gareth smiled. His face lit up as he doubtlessly saw images of his wife with another man. “Ahh, the life of a cuck. While the wife’s fucking bulls, we get to suck cocks and fucked like whores. Suppose you want one too!”
His fingers danced against Michael’s thighs, slowly pressing against his crotch. I watched, saying nothing as my fellow cuckold moved towards Michael and kissed him.
Their lips twirled against each other: their bodies, both adorned by white singlets, pressed against their well-defined torsos. Gareth slid down the muscular body of Michael, dragging his navy tracksuit bottoms to the floor and exposing the cock that I had made cum earlier that evening.
Reuben grabbed my hair, jerking it towards him with an expectant, domineering look in his eyes. My resistance melted, my cock surged, as his sweaty crotch was thrust into my face.
His drawstring slapped against my nose as he grunted, grinding his groin into my face with fervid lust. I smelt his manliness, feeling his powerful control as he snarled. Dominant, aggressive. Fucking sexy.
My hands scrabbled to free his shorts, I felt his large cock through his flimsy material and pushed the hem of his light blue singlet over the fuzz of pubic hair.
He was huge; at least eleven inches long and desperately thick. He stood confidently, knowing the crazy arousal I was feeling as I studied his veined dick: a prominent organ of porn-star proportions.
It was my first “big dick.” I stretched my mouth open wide, sliding my mouth over the top of his uncircumsized cock and sucking his glans.
He tasted filthily naughty; of wild taboo as I panted, sliding over the first three inches of his cock only as my hands gripped his shaft to jerk him.
He laughed; perhaps the sight of the married man fellating him was funny, or perhaps he was used to slutty cocksuckers struggling to savour his monster cock while delighting in trying.
I was delighting; my cock desperately hard as it pressed against the smooth insides of the tracksuit. My skin felt dirty; I was covered in sweat as the hot room made me perspire, but cared not as the huge dick slid over my lips.
Reuben taunted me briefly; I had barely taken half of his manhood into my mouth and what sort of a slut was I?
A happy one. I loved the smooth texture of his colossal prick filling me. It poked at my gag reflex and excited my senses with the filthy, sapid tastes of masculine sexuality, and the raunchy, sweet smells of his arousal.
His hands rustled through my hair, his hips swaying and bucking as his cock sank deeper and deeper into my mouth, sliding against my throat. I fought my gag reflex, savouring the hard prick in my mouth as he whimpered.
Panting and grunting, he withdrew slightly, cumming on my tongue with a snort and then despoiling my face and tracksuit with endless of spurts of cum over the disgusting cuckold.
I felt dirtier than ever, yet desperate for more. I felt happy; like a pig in shit, I was a filthy animal, rampantly unclean yet revoltingly happy.
My cock sparked as Michael came into Gareth’s mouth; the married man smiling as he swallowed the cum from my host. We were on our knees, both looking at each other, and unsure what to say.
“Care to get cleaned up?” He asked and we nodded towards the spent gentlemen, picking our way past the rutting orgy and into the eerily quiet changing room. “You’ve got cum all over your face,” he told me, gesturing towards a mirror. “The trick is to make them come in your mouth. Then you just swallow.”