Date: Fri, 22 Sep 2023 14:12:16 +0200 (CEST)
From: Justin Scholar <saad17@mailfence.com>
Subject: Toga-clad Tugged and Tossed, Part 1

The following story is a work of pure fiction. Any and all characters
depicted within are entirely products of the author's imagination and any
connection to real life persons is entirely coincidental. It is a work of
erotic fiction, including homosexual and public exhibitionist content. If
it is illegal in your locality to view such material, the author advises
not to read this content. If you are offended by questionable consent,
public sexual acts between adults, or homosexual acts between adults, do
not read this content.

The author does not condone such acts. Again, this is a work of fantasy for
entertainment.


Toga-clad, Tugged, and Tossed - I

Eric Fyord had been a track athlete in high school, and he had continued
the sport during his freshman and sophomore years in college. His
upperclassman years, though, he was a little too busy with his business
degree internships, projects, and fraternity work to pole vault and toss
discus. He still kept a rigorous gym routine and jogged in the park, and
that coupled with protein heavy diet allowed him to a sculpt a toned body
that would be fit for an underwear model.

His thick blond hair and vibrant blue eyes were also befitting a striking
model, too, and he consistently seduced coeds with bouncy breasts,
spank-worthy asses, and plump lips—all the better to wrap around his
tool. He ended his high school years a virgin, but the summer of his senior
year, he had several romps with girl on a different school's track team. He
was actually pretty infatuated with her at the time and had thought of her
as a long term girlfriend (maybe even `wife' one day?), but she put that
idea down towards the end of the summer when she laughed off his tentative
words about seeing each other when they both went off to their respective
universities. She was heading off for a pre-med/biomed engineering program,
and she said that he was too stupid to be a boyfriend. He was certainly
bruised by that, and maybe that was part of why he had become such a
Lothario in his college days, spurting cum down freshman girls' throats, on
sophomore girls' asses, and across junior ladies' tits.

Tonight, he had his 6 foot model bod at The Fox Den, one of the sleazier
bars with a wide dance floor and solid Djs, and tonight was the Friday
before Halloween. That meant a costume dance party, and that meant every
college gal—and some tasty milfs—were slutting it up in miniskirts
like wet dream Catholic schoolgirls in league with the Devil and skin-tight
leotards pretending to be Samus or some character from Overwatch. Eric
loved it. It was his favorite season for hook-ups. He got to pretend to be
some demon or hero, and he got to strip down slutty witches and princesses
and feel like he was truly deflowering them while licking their soaked
clits and plowing them doggy style in a dorm under T Swizzle posters.

Sidling up to a table projecting out from the bar with a vodka soda in
hand, Eric caught his reflection in the mirror: a set of spray-painted
laurels wrapped his tossled and sweaty hair. A toga draped over one
shoulder with the other bare. The muscles of his shoulder and one pec stuck
out. He had tanned a little the previous weeks and made sure to hit his
chest group hard at the gym since he knew that `sexy Greek' was going to be
the costume this year. Strappy sandals wrapped around his calves, and his
legs were bare—scandalously bare—all the way up past mid thigh. The
bottom of his toga was scarcely longer than some of the slut's miniskirts
and eye-catchingly draped over his pert butt, the product of hours and
hours and years of squats and stairs. He grinned at his reflection behind
the bar and winked. Oh yeah, he was gonna fuck tonight. (Indeed, he was but
not exactly how he thought...)

Dancing had been fun. He had caught the eye of a couple women out there on
the floor, did some grinding, even did something of a salsa to a Shakira
tune with a witch wearing a tantalizing garter and a distracting cleavage
through her open robe. After grabbing his drink, he had lost sight of her
pointed hat, unfortunately. She seemed fun, and his head had been swimming
with images of her dark lipstick painting rings around his cock and
planting black kisses on his balls. His cock twitched at the thought; it
had been at least a week since he had an orgasm. Eric didn't really jack
off all that much, not when he could find some willing slot to pump into or
at the very least give him a handjob in the library.

He scratched under the belt around his waist and flexed his knees. Looking
down, he could see the white toga had become somewhat see-through in
several places from his own sweat and likely many others from the close
dancing. That included the toga draping over his hip, and even as the
lights went a little dimmer as the clock hit 11pm, he could see the tiny
straplike side of his special underwear he had worn with the costume. The
scandalously skimpy bikini brief let his equipment sort of dangle with a
bit of gentle cupping to give his some bulge under the toga. Definitely a
good choice, he thought, over the trunks he had been considering. Those
were more conventional, but they wouldn't have given him the sort of
free-swinging (and free-feeling) bounce he wanted to tempt the women
tonight. The coeds on the dance floor seemed to have appreciated it.

Now, now, who is this to his left? Eric prowled a hungry eye up and down
her form: wavy auburn hair, thick eyelashes, bright pink lipstick, a decent
little rack, and long legs with a pert—if small—butt. Oh, he
recognized that butt; this was Delilah Jenson who was a dance major with a
business minor. They shared some classes over the years—and had made out
a couple times but been stopped short of going further at some frat
parties. He also knew that that rack was the product of a pushup bra and
some padding. He enjoyed tweaking her nipples when they had made out, and
he predicted he could suck her entire tit into his mouth to tongue and to
bite, but he suspected he would find trying to tittyfuck her an exercise in
frustration.

They met each other's eyes, and Eric winked.

"Eric!" She squealed. "Eric, look at you! I ought to call you `Perseus.'
How many times have you been hit on tonight? And how many of them were guy
dance majors?" She laughed and took a long pull on the tall beer she was
guarding.

"Oh just a few," Eric said, "And none."

"Yet."

"Yet," Eric laughed. He hadn't really had any of the sort of exploratory
encounters that college was (in)famous for. Sure, he had been
propositioned, and he had felt eyes on him in the locker room at the gym
over the years. And sure, he had given some thought to it, too. He kept
hearing that guys always gave great head since they knew the equipment they
were working with, but the opportunity and his willingness never
aligned. And besides, he liked women. He liked grabbing and massaging their
breasts, thrusting his tongue into their yielding mouths, and frisking
their wet slots to feel them clench and thrash with climaxes.

Delilah had started talking to someone around the corner of the table, and
Eric glanced to his right as someone new squeezed into the foot of space
between himself and the next guy along the table front. She was dressed
like a princess, yellows and blues with lots of lace and some bows. A pair
of fairly sizeable breasts swayed under the silky fabric. Her ass wasn't as
perky as Delilah's, and she was fairly short and boxy. The shortness could
be fun, pushing her down on her knees or hauling her up on his shoulders to
savage her muff, but that sort of boxiness she had...Eric decided she was a
solid 4 with hopefully a fun personality or a really horny libido. His eyes
drifted up from her legs to that tempting hidden pair on her chest—ok,
maybe a 5.5 or a 6 if he was drunk and could mostly play around with those
breasts or have a titjob.

His eyes flicked up to her face, and he realized he may have been caught as
she was smiling up at him. Oh lord, this was Meghan Smith from his math
classes. She was a mousy thing who normally wore thick rimmed
glasses. Tonight she was dolled up and wearing contacts, it seemed. Eric
hadn't considered her as a potential conquest before since those tits
usually were covered in a hoodie and not under a princess dress. If it came
to it, he thought, I could enjoy tearing off a lacy bra from that chest.

"Eric, right?" she asked. Wait, Eric wrinkled his brow, did she not know
him? Once he was a sophomore, it seemed like everyone—guys and
girls—knew him. Or, at least the folks he had spent any time
around. Sure, Eric acknowledged, he was a bit brash and audacious, but he
was charming, too.

"Yeah," Eric smirked. He'd toss this back at her. "Business Calc 2, right?"
He pointed in the direction of the math department's building, a mile
away. "Professor Bern?" Meghan giggled into her drink, something pink with
an umbrella. Eric saw her eyes glint in the flashing lights of the dance
floor.

"Old Bernie, yes. You kept asking the TA about Marginal Profit differential
equations." Eric grit his teeth a bit. That old bit...too stupid... Maybe
Meghan caught his irritation since she continued. "Bernie didn't give good
notes on it, and it still doesn't make sense to me." She smiled while Eric
nodded and drank more. It was a cute little smile, and it was a cute smile
that could use a cock laid against it, Eric decided.

Just then, someone behind Meghan jostled around, and the guy dressed as
Frankenstein's monster stumbled sideways and knocked Meghan into
Eric. "Oh," she squeaked and Eric reached his free hand out to support
her. She managed to keep her cup upright—mostly--but some of her opaque
fruity drink splashed onto Eric's chest. It dribbled down his pec and
around his nipple. Meghan's other hand had fallen conveniently about Eric's
hip, right at the drape of the toga, and cupped the near curve of his ass
cheek.

Eric's hand, meanwhile, was supporting Meghan by one of her sizable tits,
and as Eric flexed his fingers on the pleasing plump flesh in his hand, he
felt what he quickly recognized as the nub of a nipple harden just between
his thumb and finger under the thin silky fabric. He instinctively pinched
his finger and thumb together and rolled Meghan's nipple. He heard his
vodka soda fizz with new vigor as he steadied it in his hand against the
tabletop. Probably from the sudden movement, Eric decided, but before he
could look to check that he hadn't splashed Delilah to his side, a gasp
from Meghan made him smile and look down at her against his side. He was
anticipating that his pinching of her nipple was drawing that gasp. She had
pulled back and was looking at his chest and the fruity liquid running down
his side, and she was tugging at the low end of the toga at his hip.

"It will stain," she worried and found a spot on the table top for her
cup. Then, she swung her hand from the table to Eric's waist, her hand and
palm sweeping across the tiny skirt covering his crotch and brushing
against his member. She pulled at the part of the toga laying across his
abs, pulling it away from his skin and the splash damage. "Is there a
napkin?" Eric glanced around. Even on a night that wasn't packed and
bouncing, you would be hard-pressed to find a napkin in this place. He
shook his head and took another drink.

"No, but it's alright. I'll dye it red or something. Or toss it out."
Meghan played a look of horror on her face.

"No way, Theseus. This is too nice." She yanked a little harder on the
toga, down and out, and Eric coughed. If she yanked any harder, the toga
was likely to come apart under the belt and become truly scandalous. From
the feel of air and her fingers against his skin, he could tell at least at
his hip Meghan was baring him down to his briefs. Then he felt the electric
touch of something hot and wet drag up against his obliques. She was
licking him!

"What are you doing?" Eric coughed. He set down his drink and grabbed at
his belt to keep the toga together. Meghan looked up at him and shrugged.

"No napkin, so next best thing." She went back to lapping at the fruity
drink remnants. Eric's skin tingled where it had flowed and her tongue had
cleaned. She leaned over and licked the tiny bit that pooled in his belly
button, and Eric tensed as he felt her thumb pull the belt down. He
couldn't see it, but he could swear that he could feel her fingers curl
into the skirt of the toga and press up into his balls. Maybe it was the
long time since his last sexual foray, maybe the electric sexuality of the
dancing earlier, maybe the bit of vodka in his belly, or maybe the tongue
tracing over his skin, but Eric felt himself swelling up and the pouch of
his briefs filling out. If those were indeed Meghan's fingers he thought he
felt barely touch his balls, she would likely feel him hardening
centimeters from her palm and hot tongue.

Eric swallowed and squinted to see what she was doing in the quick flash of
a dance light playing over them. She was finishing up at his side, cleaning
the dribbles of drink that had slipped down past waist. As she licked up
the last bit, she pulled back and surveyed her work, using both hands to
pull the toga away from his hip. "A little salty," she said, acknowledging
the result of Eric dancing in the tight company of the club, "but—oh!"
When she had pulled the toga away, the scant side of Eric's briefs became
clearly visible, and she was looking wide-eyed right at it, a finger right
across the soft cottony fabric. "Eric, you slut!" She curled a finger under
the strappy side, pulled the stretchy garment away from Eric, and let it
snap back onto him. "Are you going to give us a show tonight?" She smirked
up at Eric's blushing face. Even his chest was turning red. Eric gently
brushed Meghan's hands away and attempted to put the fabric of the toga
back in place, tucking and untucking folds around the belt and adjusting
his underwear with the swollen, somewhat stiff member making the front of
his toga skirt project forward a bit more noticeably.

"Wasn't planning to," he croaked. What was wrong with him? Where was his
confidence? He actually felt embarrassed by her exposing him and
noticing. And yet, there was some tingling charge that went up and down his
spine and kept that member of his swollen and his mind filled with the
image of Meghan playing his organ. She punched his arm.

"You wouldn't wear that unless you knew someone would get to see," she
teased. She reached to the table and boldly took a sip of his drink and
pushed hers to him. "Bleh, bitter. What is in this? Here, taste mine." Eric
shrugged and took a large swallow of Meghan's drink. Maybe she'd buy him a
drink for the trouble of molesting him and nearly ruining his costume. It
wasn't bad, Eric considered. Strawberries with some sort of liquor beneath
it. It must have been strong as it made his tongue tingle. Meghan was
talking now to someone else who had come up for some water. Eric shook his
head and rolled through some affirmations to jump start his tough guy ego
again.

`You're beast mode,' he said to himself again and again. He looked back to
his left. Delilah winked at him while chatting to a sorority girl around
the corner of the table. Eric had seen them on the main quad and laughing
at the coffee shop by the bookstore. So, they are chummy, he thought. Maybe
he could negotiate a three-way? That was definitely on his bucketlist for
college.

Past them, in a darker spot of the dance floor that the lights didn't sweep
as often, Eric could see a gaggle of awkward men. A rare flit of blue light
went across their faces, and Eric realized he recognized them as
engineering students. He knew them from their academic frat and from asking
for help at the math lab. Mostly Indian, Southeast Asian, the Far-east
Asian crew seemed to favor another bar. He watched the boldest of them
approach a knockout gal and strike out, but then he was able to cajole a
slightly lesser prize to come out on the dance floor. `Good on him, man,'
Eric thought. `If he can do it, I should be the cockiest motherfucker
here.' He smirked and chewed on a piece of ice from his drink. Meghan was
still chatting with her friend and had a new drink in her hand, so Eric
winked at her and tilted her abandoned drink for a quick clink and took a
big swallow.

A new set started out on the floor, and a throbbing bass rocked through the
crowd. Eric could swear he could see the rhythm reflected in the ripples
across the surface of the drinks. His eyes lifted from the cups and glasses
around the tabletop to survey the others around him for any enticing
targets for his rekindled boldness. On the other side of the table, the
cute witch from before was making out with someone—oh damn, a slutty
ninja! Eric lifted his eyebrows in appreciation, and a tingle went to his
already primed groin. The witch cupped the ninja's ass and then let the
cheek drop within the tight lycra. Eric caught some other guys like the
Frankenstein past Meghan ogling the sapphic display, and he could swear it
felt like those girls were right in front of him and tickling his balls. He
swallowed and felt a little lightheaded while the tingle below made his
heart rate climb.

With a quick glance below, he was glad the table's edge was high, past his
waist, and that the club was at its darkest. In his white toga with its
tiny skirt, it would be pretty clear he was aroused, even contained in the
tiny briefs. He smirked and flexed his cock, which was pushing out the
pouch and stretching the thin cotton obscenely, and he chewed his lip while
the ninja and witch swapped spit. He knew he was a guy who leaked a fair
bit when he was aroused. His conquests often said that they enjoyed the
taste of his precum, and he enjoyed flexing the muscles inside to give them
their tasty treat. There was definitely precum seeping into his underwear,
and he hoped that it wouldn't be so much that it would start to soak into
the toga skirt, too. Damn, he thought, need to find something to throw this
dick at soon before I bust, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Wait...the tickle changed. Eric turned himself a little, angling towards
Delilah, and after a moment the tingle returned but in a slightly different
spot. Holy shit, this wasn't him being crazy horny; this was someone
fondling him under the table! Looking to his left, Eric saw Delilah glance
over from the gal she was still talking to and wink. He and her were side
by side, and Eric could only see one of her hands. Her right arm next to
him was under the edge of the table. Was she really going for this? Was she
that hot for his dick from their make-out sessions?

Eric smiled at the thought and winked at her before she returned her
attention to the sorority sister and their conversation. She was a bubbly
personality when he had been around her before, but he had been the one to
make the first move when they had made-out, and he had been the one to
reach around under her shirt and slip under her bra to massage her cute
little breasts. She yielded and didn't tell him `no', but she didn't seem
like one to grope him at a bar unprompted. Cheers to her newfound boldness,
he thought, with another swig. Her delicate touch was truly a pleasure to
his junk, and he rocked his hips forward, allowing easier access for her
questing fingers.

Mostly so far, she had been tracing the tips of her fingers in circles on
his sack, causing his cock to twitch when the tickle hit a high note. Now,
she started stroking her fingertips along his hard shaft, the fingertips
alternating between swirls and back-and-forth strokes. Both felt electric,
and Eric's head was swimming. Mostly, Delilah kept to teasing his shaft and
swiping along his nutsack periodically, but Eric was floored to feel her
scratch a finger nail across the tip of his glans. The soaked cotton
transferred the friction directly into the so sensitive tip of his cock,
and Eric shuddered. He had to set his glass down while Delilah started
torturing his member with rapid tickles of his glans. It was both
excruciating and intoxicating, like a double shot of tequila right down his
throat. He was ravenously horny now. He wanted to tear apart Delilah's
costume and tongue-fuck her before picking her up and jackhammering her
with that same tool she was wickedly teasing.

He turned his head to the left—Delilah was gone! He could see her and
some of her friends out nearby on the dance floor. Oh god, that meant it
was Meghan, wasn't it? That would make sense. She probably even dumped her
drink on him on purpose to lick his abs. Typical of the mid-tier girls,
horny and devious in equal measure and very willing to trick the best
looking guys into being horny werewolves and drilling them out of
desperation. He had to hand it to Meghan; he never would have pegged her,
either, as this sort of exhibitionist dominant type. He turned to look at
her, and all the while, Meghan(!) cupped his balls, gripped his steely
shaft, and tweaked his cockhead in rapid succession. She was certainly
expert in handling a cock and balls. Maybe she was not so mousy after all?
Maybe the calm facade hid a little nympho? She certainly didn't let slide
any indication she was vigorously torturing him sexually under the table.

"You ok, Perseus?" she asked, looking up at him all innocently. "You look
flush." Eric cleared his throat.

"I could probably use a water," he admitted. Meghan's friend had been
listening and flagged the bartender for another two waters while she
chugged her cup. How could Meghan maintain such a still look while tickling
all around his groin? Then, the real bold move occurred.

The friend slid the extra water towards Eric while throwing back a long
swig, and as Eric reached for it, his pivot must have presented a golden
opportunity for Meghan's mischievous manipulations, for the torturing hand
reached up to the waistband of the brief and pulled the stretchy cotton
down. Eric froze, holding the cup, and he felt the fabric slide down the
top of his shaft. The soaked fabric around his head remained glued from the
precum, and Eric had a brief thought he might retain his modesty. Then the
determined hand kept pulling on the waistband, and a finger fished down
past his shaft, dislodging the pouch. One of his eyes closed and twitched
as the fabric twisted around his dong making a twirl of fascinating
friction.

All of this was happening so quickly, and Eric was trying his best not to
be noticeable to anyone and everyone around him. He had paused when Meghan
first yanked on his underwear, but seeing her eye him, Eric forced himself
to grab the cup and slide it towards himself. Meanwhile, the waistband
caught on his flaring tip, clinging to his member for moment. Then, it
slipped past his glans with another precum spurt inducing dose of friction
against the sensitive skin, and his boner bounced free, springing up into
the toga skirt and thwacking the underside of the table. To Eric's ear, it
was the loudest slap in the world, but when he sheepishly glanced around
the vicinity, no one gave any indication of suspecting the perverse
occasion under the table.

Certainly Meghan gave no indication. She was looking at Eric with some
concern and watching him gulp that water while below she snaked a finger
around his erection and pulled the rigid appendage down from its upward
angle, away from the underside of the table. Fingers and thumb pulled along
the length of his shaft, and Eric could feel a splurt of precum emerge from
the tip of his cock. In the next moment, that thumb smeared the fluid all
over the swollen glans. Eric thought he might climax from just that. The
touch was so silky smooth, and his cock had been worked over into such a
sensitive state. Eric grunted, and Meghan cocked her eyebrow. Her friend
was watching him closely, too, and he was very self aware just how close he
was to blowing his load with an audience, a prospect both embarrassing and
maybe a little arousing to him.

"I'm good," he croaked, "I'm good. Just had a weird burp caught in my
chest." The fingers were twirling around the head of his cock, each drip of
precum adding slickness to their orbit. After several rotations, they
changed to a back and forth stroking motion. All of a sudden, the stroking
ceased, and Eric came back to his senses a bit when his erection again
sprung up against the bottom of the table. Without the intoxicating
stimulus, he was a bit more aware that there were far more people around
him than just that little nympho Meghan. Her and her friend had pressed in
closer at his right with more folks squeezing into the area for
drinks. Meghan's silky dress was tickling his oblique, and her friend's arm
at Meghan's shoulder occasionally brushed against his pec or
(accidentally?) flicked his nipple.

Someone to his left was saying his name and talking, a guy. Eric turned and
said `hi' to Darren Monroe from his frat. While they made some small talk
about the women's costumes around them, Eric considered how he might
extricate himself from the situation, as pleasurable as it may have been so
far. If he came, it would undoubtedly make a big mess, maybe spray on his
sandals. The dark of the bar might give him some cover for that, but it
definitely wouldn't cover his boner. He wasn't hung like a horse, but he
was definitely above average in his endowment. That coupled with his
erection's tendency to point at an upward angle, plus the short hem on his
toga's skirt, meant if he stepped away now, his cock would be more or less
on full display for everyone in the place to gawk at.

Maybe he could reach underneath and contain his cock again back into his
briefs. The bulge would still be noticeable, but at least some fabric
around him would maintain his modesty. And maybe the blood in his boner
would start to pump elsewhere if danced or something.

He kept up his conversation with Darren and reached under the table, with a
slightly awkward bit of a half squat. As he pulled the waistband of his
briefs out to try to contain his meathammer, Meghan returned to her
torments. She looped a finger around the flaring crown of his glans and
pulled the rigid member down again, this time farther, far enough that it
was mildly uncomfortable. Eric kept his thumb pulling the waistband out and
reached his fingers out to try to brush Meghan's wicked fingers away, but
before he could dislodge the fingers, Meghan tweaked Eric's tip, the
fingertip slipped off, and Eric's erection flew up and slapped the
table. The sensation was both stinging and a sudden rush.

Darren saw Eric wince. "You alright, bro?" He laughed and half bent to look
under the table. "What are you doing under there?" Eric panicked. That's
all he needed was for Darren to see him being toyed with and his cock out
under the table like a weirdo perv. He brought his hand out from under the
table, releasing his underwear, and giving Darren a bit of a
push—hopefully read as playful rather than forceful.

"Just adjusting myself, man. The toga doesn't give me a whole lot of room."
Eric forced out a laugh for Meghan was pulling his member down again before
letting it slap against the table. So this was the torture now, eh? She was
doing it more rapidly now. Thwack, thwack, thwack, in quick succession. She
added in a sort of pinching tweak to this cock head each time she pulled it
down, and the slaps of the glans tingled. Eric could feel precum leaking
again, probably even flinging around under the table with each springing
swing. Good lord, Meghan was skilled at this. What a little whore she must
be.

With the latest slap, she reached into the briefs and cupped his balls,
flexing her fingers and gently hefting them. That along with the pinching
pull before the springing slap was a new, exquisite sensation.

Wait...how was she cupping his balls AND pulling on his cock? He briefly
turned from Darren to glance at Meghan. He could see one of her hands, but
the friend who had given him water was pressed in close enough that her arm
could easily be the mysterious partner in crime. This was all just too much
for Eric. He was entirely out of control, and if two women were going to be
fondling him, he wanted it to be back at his apartment where he could lick
their nipples and tear at their panties. To keep his cover, he kept up
talking to Darren. It sounded like he would be going back out to dance
again and see about slipping in with the ninja and witch who had returned
to the dance floor, at the center of attention. Being one of the few
straight dance majors, Darren certainly had the killer body and height to
pull it off. He was dressed up as a man-whore mummy, abs exposed, with just
some sparse wrappings around his pecs and shoulders and strategically
around his thighs and trunk-cut underwear.

Eric laughed at a lame joke Darren made, and the springboard hand went to
stroking his shaft. The copious dripping precum slicked his shaft, and the
soft strokes were drawing even more out. God, Meghan had been right to look
for a napkin earlier. He would need one before stuffing his cock away. The
precum would soak through all of the fabric and make a noticeable damp spot
if he wasn't careful. Was that another reason why she was looking for one
before? Well, Eric decided, she could use her tongue again as payback for
jerking him around at the risk of exposure like this.

Darren said `adios' and returned to dancing, and Eric heard Meghan ask if
he was still good, if he needed more water. Eric turned back to her, and
his heart went cold. The friend had stepped away, and both of Meghan's
hands were on the tabletop. Granted, those arms scrunched together
deliciously fluffing up her tits. He could see the lace of her bra in the
gap of the buttons on the front of her costume. His blood had gone cold,
though, because with all of the likely tormentors' hands and arms visible,
he was still being jacked off and his balls groped.

Holy shit, it was someone actually under the table! There was some
perverted horny slut under the table assaulting him. Eric told Meghan he
was fine and watched her and her friend slip off into the crowd. Others
filled in where the two of them had been, and a couple people had slipped
in where Darren had been standing. All of these people just a foot from
where Eric was being manhandled and stimulated, probable moments from
blowing his load all over. This was definitely too much, and Eric knew he
needed to put a stop to it—but how?

As he considered how to dissuade the person stimulating him, that torturer
went for a new avenue: Eric sucked in a gasping breath that drew a short
look from the alien-costumed person next to him as a hot wetness enveloped
the head of his cock. The hidden person was blowing him now! Eric hated how
good it felt. He had no idea who it was, and he had gone into the night
wanting someone like Delilah or those lesbians sucking on his prick to
swallow his load—hell, even Meghan. Good lord, it could even be a dude
under there. Eric groaned at the thought. It just felt so good that he was
having a hard time bringing himself to work to end this. He had brought his
hands to the edge of the table but had not reached under to try to pull
himself away and dismiss the wicked bj artist.

The under-table activities were heating up. The person had dipped deeply
enough to deepthroat Eric a few times, and the saliva and precum mixed to
make his entire cock silkily lubricated. The slickness had dribbled down
onto his balls and into his pubes. Eric was hoping it wasn't soaking into
his costume, but the hand holding his nutsack was using the lubrication to
rapidly stroke and caress his nads, time and time gently tugging on
them. Eric shook his head. That was often the secret some women found to
making him cum quickly—tickling his balls while working his cock. He
knew to his embarrassment he would be fountaining cum in moments if he let
this continue.

He reached his hands underneath and pulled up the front of his briefs,
which pulled his cock away from the deepthroater, who kept sucking like a
shopvac as Eric's cock withdrew. The hand cupping his nads withdrew, and
the sucking mouth slipped off of the shaft but then clamped strong lips
around Eric's tip. He grit his teeth as the person's tongue furiously
swished across the so sensitive skin there. That person's hands themselves
began a tug of war with Eric over how much coverage his bikini underwear
was to provide him. Eric pulled up near the hips while the attacker tugged
down around the pouch, both with increasing persistence and strength. Just
how strong is the fabric, Eric wondered. Was the attacker going to tear the
skimpy garment and Eric going to end up going commando tonight? The tongue
kept lashing his glans, and Eric involuntarily flexed his ass, giving up
another spurt of his sweet precum he had been hoping to smear on whomever
he preyed upon that night.

Just then, a deep voice he recognized laughed: "Fyord, you whore!" It was
Dan Brown, also from his frat, and a big time rugby player, overall solid
guy. Eric looked over his shoulder, terrified Dan (and maybe anyone else)
had caught sight of the debauched tug of war happening over Eric's
underpants and boner armor. Dan sidled up on Eric's right and slapped him
hard on the ass. That slap undid all of Eric's work in decoupling himself:
Eric threw his hands up onto the table to steady himself, relinquishing his
side of the briefs grapple, and his hips and crotch thrust forward entirely
under the table.

Dan was saying something to Eric and laughing, pointing at Eric's toga over
his shoulder, but Eric was focused on the titillating but dispiriting
things he was feeling below the belt. Having let go of the bikini briefs,
the fondler pulled them entirely down his thighs to his knees. Eric
instinctively pivoted his legs out to keep the underpants from falling
further, which completely revealed his equipment to the attacker, who had
not ceased their licking and sucking on his cock tip. The hands set aside
stripping him of his briefs and traced up his thighs, seizing Eric's upper
thighs and not letting him pull back. The deep throating began again, this
time alternating with several strokes of the sucking mouth and tongue
lashing his cock head.

Eric did his best to keep up conversation with Dan, but he had no idea what
was being said. Something about him definitely getting laid tonight showing
so much leg or something. Eric's head was entirely with the events beneath
the table. The DJ switched up the tunes, and a slower beat pulsed a
slightly lower volume—a little break for folks to get a drink. Bodies
pressed in around Eric, some intruding mightily close to his side and rear
end. Someone was joking with Dan behind Eric, and their arm and hand kept
brushing against his ass, sweeping the tiny skirt this way and that. Eric
was hoping the darkness would keep people from seeing his bare ass. He
could feel the hot air of the club when the skirt was swept away from his
butt. Eric nervously reached a hand down to hold his toga in place.

The attacker kept up the work, and Eric knew it wouldn't be long with this
sort of expert blowjob before he had an orgasm. Maybe that was the only way
out of this? He couldn't step away with his underwear halfway down his
legs, and he couldn't stealthily pull them back up into place. If he tried
to bring his legs together to protect his sensitive balls and maybe try to
hid away his overstimulated cock, his briefs would fall to the floor. Maybe
that was the way? Snag those from the floor and make a bee-line for the
bathroom?

The attacker snaked fingers behind his balls and along his perineum,
tickling him and making him gasp a little. The tall woman on his left was
reaching past him for drinks, the armor of her costume poking his nipple,
and her hand tickling his ear and neck. A jostle in the crowd pushed him
harder against the table, and the questing hand along his perineum stroked
his asshole. Eric clenched his jaw. He had not really experimented with
assplay with his ladies, and while he enjoyed tonguing their asses and
slipping in a finger while making them cum, he hadn't really thought about
trying it himself. The attacker was making that decision for him, and he
hated that. He also hated that it felt good.

All of this stimulus, Eric knew he was coming to the edge. The attacker
deepthroated him again, their tongue slipping out to jiggle his balls. One
hand pushed his thighs further apart, while the other used some of the
abundant saliva/precum mix to lubricate Eric's hole and slowly, steadily
pushed in a finger deeper and deeper as Eric's muscles below pumped in
anticipation of the doomed orgasm. Dan laughed with the guy behind Eric,
who—like Dan moments ago—slapped Eric on the ass but this time with a
lingering grab of his cheek. Eric could feel his big, rough fingers on the
skin of his ass—the skirt had ridden up and bared his ass!

Eric felt the person pressed against him turn. It was one of the Indian
engineering students, and he was turning to look behind Eric—right at
the hand holding his cheek and baring Eric by lifting the skirt. The
engineering student met Eric's eye and smiled and nodded. `Very nice,' he
mouthed and winked. Eric gave a weak smile in his embarrassment. At that
moment, the attacker's penetrating finger started wiggling, the other hand
danced its fingertips across his balls, the lips swept back and forth
across his swollen head, and joking Dan slapped a hand against his pec,
tweaking Eric's nipple the same way Eric had been planning to do to Meghan
or Delilah.

All of those things together were just too much for the stimulated young
man, and Eric felt himself tumbling into an orgasm, a very intense
one. Eric's eyes crossed unbidden and his face and chest flushed
further. His hole quivered and pulsed around the finger that was pumping in
and out. Eric gripped the edge of the table, and his knees clenched inward
against the successful fondler. Eric could barely feel it, but his briefs
fell to the floor as the first surge of cum gushed forth. He stretched onto
his toes with the next spurts. A weak `oh-h-h' left Eric's mouth. Dan gave
one last twisting pull on his nipple while the giant behind him gave his
ass cheek a last shake before letting go. Another surge of cum gushed.

"You like that, bro?" Dan asked with a laugh, looking up and down over Eric
as the young man leaned over the table. Another cum splat. "You look like I
am going to later tonight."

"Someone just stepped on my toe," Eric croaked. The finger in his ass
pulled out, and the hand cupping his balls tapped his nads gently, which
caused Eric to flinch and gush more cum.

His involuntary muscle spasms done as his orgasm subsided, Eric felt his
poor tormented cock was no longer captured but hanging free. His ass still
felt bare to the pressed crowd, though, and was that a new hand on his
buttock?

"Maybe it was Fyord's o-face?" asked the giant with a laugh. Eric had
glanced to his left. It was that engineering student, rather blatantly
cupping his bum and stroking his thumb gently into Eric's crack. Eric
turned back to Dan and the giant and threw some banter their way about
o-faces and their moms. Down below, the original fondler pulled along his
slightly deflated—but far more sensitive—cock. Eric could feel little
pumps of cum dribble from his dick, and he sorta danced from foot to foot
in tortured pleasure when the hand milked the head of his cock of its last
drips. The engineering student must have interpreted Eric's movement as a
result of his groping his ass since he squeezed it more firmly.

Eric glanced to the guy's face to try to subtly drive him off. The engineer
was staring intently at Eric's butt and thighs, but then he looked up, met
Eric's eyes, and leaned in. Eric panicked that the dude was going to try to
kiss him when his fratboy friends were two feet away, but the engineering
student spoke into Eric's ear.

"Did you wear a thong?" he asked. "Can I see?" His other hand came around
and touched Eric's upper thigh, sliding up under the toga skirt and nearing
his painfully sensitive equipment. That's all Eric needed when he was so
close to getting himself out of this situation, this guy to find out he had
been stripped of his underwear and was dripping cum from an orgasm a moment
ago. That would be a tough rumor to keep under control.

Eric snatched his left hand down and seized the adventurous hand at his
front, but the one on his rear end drifted down and tickled him towards his
perineum. "Stop," Eric spat through clenched teeth. The hand at the front
stretched a finger into Eric's pubes, and the hand on his ass then dragged
its fingers up through his crack. The engineering student smiled and
mouthed `sorry' to him and withdrew his hands. He shrank away into the
crowd, and Eric saw him sniff his fingers. "Fruity little perv," Eric
muttered to himself before realizing what sort of debauched thing he had
just participated in. He was reminded by the feel of people walking by,
sliding against his ass, and his dong dripping another spot of cum onto the
floor. `Or into my briefs,' Eric thought glumly.

Dan clapped him on the shoulder, and he and the giant stepped away from the
bar. The dance tunes were picking back up in tempo, and a bit of relief
from the press around him allowed Eric to step back from the tabletop. He
adjusted the toga so that it covered his ass again, and he carefully
brought the fabric around his still swollen cock. He truly must have been
sex-starved, because while it wasn't erect like a steel rod and pointing
upward, it was still very swollen and forward swinging. He could see it
pushing the toga skirt out, so he was really going to need that underwear
to make his exit—or to find a chick to re-establish his dominant side
tonight.

Eric looked down at his feet and then eyed the near area. His skimpy bikini
briefs were gone.