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My Pledging Assignment, Part 2
by Greg Scott


All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc.  In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it.  Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you.

For my regular readers, I want to point out that this story is not part of The Lavender Line series.


Jared and I, feeling refreshed from our cool showers, wrapped ourselves up in our towels to head to the second floor in search of our assigned rooms.  We had no idea about what we would find there, but we wanted to pause in my "research" assignment to just talk for a while, away from the sensory overload that we had experienced.

So far the night had not been exactly the worst night of my life, as I had expected it to be, but it was certainly the most surprising nights that I had endured.  Still, we had only explored the first of the three floors and only spent a little over an hour of my required three hours in the bathhouse.

The second floor was like a maze.  While the first floor seemingly spread across a couple of storefronts, the second floor occupied the spaces above at least four or five.  What had once been residential apartments and offices had been divided into scores of cubicles linked by interconnecting, dimly lit hallways.  The thin walls of each nearly reaching the tall ceiling.

The remodeling, if it could be called that, had been accomplished in a haphazard way, seemingly without a master plan of any kind.  Where there had once been apartment bathrooms, each fixture remained in place, labeled as "out of order."  Shoved into each of these small spaces were vending machines, with the coin slot closed off with tape.  Apparently the snacks and drinks were complimentary; part of the price of admission.

We found our rooms just off the main corridor.  The doors faced each other on a short hallway with just four other rooms.  Each of the other doors was closed.

We first opened number seventeen, peeked in and saw that there were two chairs that looked as if they were from the 1950s, which would have been the era when the building was first erected.  In addition, there was a platform bed.  The mattress was about waist height and was adorned with a crisp, apparently clean sheet.

Across the hall, number eighteen was a mirror image of the first room we had seen.  We noticed that the bed of each was visible from the other, and I wondered if that was on purpose or an oversight.

During the course of our search for our assigned rooms, Jared and I had passed several other rooms that had open doors.  I don't know if Jared looked or not, but I gave each a passing glance, although I kept walking as I did so.

The first such room contained a man, probably in his forties, lying on the bed on his side stroking his semi-erect cock, while another guy stood outside watching.  

The next two were identical to each other in terms of the action.  In each, one man was on the bed while another was squatting or kneeling while he administered a blow job to the reclining man.  In one of those cases, the man applying his oral talents was stroking his own rather small penis, while in the other the guy wasn't pleasuring himself at all, aside from whatever gratification he received from his oral ministration.

In the fourth open door room, a man was on his back, towel wrapping his waist as he snored softly.  It must have been time for him to take a break from his tiring activities of the night.

The last one that we encountered before locating our own hideaways had two men on the bed in the classic sixty-nine position.  I admit that I slowed my pace just a little walking past that, and I was surprised to notice that my own dick still had some life in it.

"What next?" Jared asked me once we had settled into our chairs.

"I'm kind of curious about the third floor," I told my friend.

The desk clerk had referred to the third floor as the place where we would find the "play rooms."  I had been afraid to ask what that meant.  I didn't want Jared to think at the time that I was overly curious.  After our experiences in the sauna, signaling a little curiosity did not seem to be a concern.

"Yeah, me too," Jared agreed.  "Anytime you're ready, lead the way."

On our way back to the stairs, we got to the room with the guys sucking each other just as one guy, the one that we couldn't see as well, starting cumming.  His groaning signaled his climax.

Jared came to a dead stop, and I bumped him slightly before I noticed.  We watched.  We saw that the other guy had a bit of cum drooling from one side of his mouth as he obviously swallowed what his mouth still contained.

"Wow," said my friend as we watched, although I don't think that I was meant to hear.

The guy who had just cum released the other guy's cock from his mouth and stood next to the bed.

"Thanks, man," said the satisfied man as he turned and saw us.  

Looking me in the eye he continued, "Your turn," and nodded toward the now visible huge cock standing proudly in the air.

Jared and I quickly resumed our journey to the stairway, although I have to admit that I was a bit intrigued by the memory of the damp dick that I had just seen.  I tried to put that sight out of my mind.

The stairway delivered us into the middle of a large room that was quite clearly a play room, in the most mundane definition of the term.  There were several old pinball machines along one wall, a couple of video games along another and more vending machines against a third wall.  There were towel wrapped guys of a wide variety of ages at each of the machines.

In the middle of the room were two pool tables.  A couple men were playing at each, with about four or five other guys watching the games, perhaps waiting their own turns at the tables.

We walked toward the closest table to join the audience.  Just as we arrived in the group of onlookers, one player scratched while trying to pocket the eight ball.  He had just lost the game.

"Looks like I top you," said the victor, displaying a wide smile.

He opened his towel so that the defeated could see what had been hidden beneath.  From my vantage, I didn't see anything.

"Do you think you can take it?" the winner asked.

"I pay my debts," said the loser.

The two men walked to one end of the room and parted the draperies covering an opening about the size of two standard doors.  They disappeared.

I wasn't too sure what their exchange meant, although I had a couple of ideas, one of which made me cringe at the thought of it.  I noticed that two other guys were racking the balls. 

One said, "Same bet as them?"

I didn't hear the response, because at that moment I noticed that Jared was headed for the curtained doorway where the previous two men had gone.  He paused at the doorway and waited for me to catch up.

There must have been at least thirty men in this room.  Some were leaning against the walls with their towels still wrapped around them.  Others were leaning and had a kneeling man's mouth locked around their respective penises.  A few men meandered around the central portion of the room, watching first one couple and then another, as if they were studying details of paintings at an art galery.  

I saw the men that we had followed at the far end of the room.  Jared and I slowly made our way in their direction, although I watched some of the other activity during the transit.

The two guys had arranged their towels on the floor to serve as a bed in much the same way you might do on a sandy beach.  The winner was pumping his cock into the mouth of the reclining loser of the pool game.  This was one of my guesses about what their brief exchange about "top" meant.  Eventually, of course, I would learn just how wrong I was.

After a short while, the winner pulled his cock out of the other guy's mouth.  He moved down to the guy's feet and spread his legs far apart.  Then he crawled up between them, lifted his competitor's hips off the floor, and moved his face directly into his now exposed ass.

"Oh god," I whispered in disgust, although my eyes were glued to the unfolding scene.

Jared must have heard my exclamation, because he reached down and patted my hand gently.  I looked toward my friend, grateful for his presence.  I couldn't avoid noticing that his towel had a pronounced tent in the front.  I was even more surprised to notice that the same could be said about me.

I don't know how long we watched as the guy seemed to devour that ass.  It was as if he actually enjoyed what he was doing.  It occurred to me that if I had been in that pool game that led up to these events, I would have rather been the loser rather than the winner.  However, what happened next changed my mind quickly.

The man pulled his face away from his target and raised his own torso upright, supporting himself only on his knees.  I had a good view of the cock that he had flashed at the pool table so that only his partner could see.  He had spoken of it in such a way that I expected it to be enormous, but it actually looked a lot like mine.

Having seen a lot of dicks during the evening, most of them erect, I now knew that I was about average in size.  I might be just a bit above average.  That was something that I had never known.  Actually, I hadn't really even given it much thought, but it was reassuring to know, now that I did know.

The man walked on his knees toward the awaiting ass.  When he arrived at his destination, he took the condom from the hand of one of the gathering group of onlookers.  I watched fascinated as he unrolled it along the length of his dick.

Two of the members of the audience dropped to their knees, one on each side of the prone man.  Together they elevated the man's hips just a bit, as the pool game winner grabbed the base of his sheathed cock and aimed it at the now fully visible hole.

He plunged into the guy about an inch or so.  While the man made no sound, I gasped more loudly than I would have preferred.  

Jared reached again for my hand.  This time though he didn't just tap it to reassure me.  He grasped it.  His hand encircled mine, and I was grateful for the grip which I interpreted as protective.

I looked toward him.  He wore a gentle smile, or at least a smile that I thought to be gentle.  He was looking directly at my face.  I returned his smile, and then I turned my gaze back to the action that was unfolding in front of me.

The man had paused in his entry.  He hadn't moved since I had turned away.  It was as if he awaited some signal to proceed.  The guy on the receiving end smiled and gave a barely discernible nod.

The guy on top started driving his stiff cock further and further into the space inside his former opponent.  He was claiming the prize for his victory.  His pace was extremely slow, but with each slight movement he emitted the grunt of the victor.

I could tell that the cock was now fully lodged inside the ass.  I looked toward the guy whose ass must have felt stretched to the point of tearing.  I did not see what I expected.  I anticipated seeing a face that displayed agony.  What I saw instead was an expression that looked to me like bliss.

I felt Jared squeeze my hand.

The man began a slow pumping movement.  With each stroke of his piston, the guy laying on his back on the floor would comment with encouragement.

"Oh, yeah," he said, and then, "Yeah, give it to me."

He had a different expression for each thrust made by his partner.  In a way it was like watching a human thesaurus, although that analogy did not occur to me until later when Jared and I were talking about our strange night.

The speed of the fucking increased.  The cock drove upward, deeper into the ass, and, at the same rate, the ass moved anxiously toward the spear that was pillaging it.

No longer needed to hold up the hips, one of the volunteer assistants in the process executed a knee walk to the face of the guy on his back.  He offered his smallish but rigid cock to the guy.  The pool game's losing competitor took it into his mouth as if he were grateful.

The kneeling guy pumped his organ in and out of the awaiting mouth.  He must have been very aroused by his close up view of the fucking, because he started to cum more quickly that I would have thought possible.  Through his climax he kept pumping at the same rate, sometimes pushing a little of his own cum out of the eager mouth.

The fucking guy shouted, "Oh, yeah, swallow his cum you slut.  Here comes mine!"

At that exact moment, apparently motivated only by being fucked on one end and having a guy cum in his mouth at the other end, the guy starting squirting cum, himself.  He hadn't even touched his cock.  I was amazed.

Jared's grip on my hand became even tighter, and I squeezed his in return.  We had just watched a fascinating display, and in the shared experience I felt very close to my new friend.

Still clutching my hand, we walked out of that room, through the room with the pool tables and back to the room that we had claimed for our own.  Only when we had seated ourselves in the two chairs did Jared release his physical hold on me.     

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