Date: Tue, 28 Dec 1999 04:44:44 GMT From: Brew Maxwell Subject: My Unusual Christmas 2 Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real-life characters or situations is purely coincidental. It is a work intended for mature audiences only. Therefore, any reader who is under the age of legal adulthood in his/her jurisdiction is hereby ordered to exit this story. This story may be posted to the Nifty Archives and may be downloaded for personal enjoyment. However, it may not be posted to any Web page, newsgroup, or other location without the written permission of its author. This work contains graphic descriptions of both homosexual and heterosexual sexual acts. Any readers who are offended by either or both types of descriptions should exit now. Otherwise, enjoy. And Merry Christmas. My Unusual Christmas Chapter 2 We made good time getting back to the city, and we stopped at a neighborhood restaurant near the place we were supposed to meet Scott. We ate a pretty fair meal, and we pulled into the parking lot of the club a couple of minutes before eight. Scott's and Matt's cars were already there. We went up to the door, and I told the doorman/bouncer who I was. We shook hands and he said how good it was to meet me. He was a really good looking guy who must spend six hours a day at the gym. He told us where to go once we were inside. The place was a good bit classier looking than I expected. There were a number of women already there. They were in groups of four or six or eight: office pools, I thought. We went to the manager's office, where we found Scott, Matt, the former owner's son Chip, Scott's best friend Philip, and the manager, a guy named Andre. The room was small, and everybody in it was smoking. There was a fog in there that rivaled anything we have in New Orleans on the worst winter mornings. I shook hands all around and introduced Chuck as my buddy. Scott, Matt, and Philip knew what I meant, but I'm not sure about Chip and Andre. Probably not. Andre asked what we were drinking. I wasn't, or hadn't planned to be, but everybody else gave the name of a drink. So I said I wanted scotch and water--good scotch, I said. Andre called somebody, and in three minutes a waiter dressed in a thong bikini and collar and bow tie showed up with a tray of drinks. We sipped the drinks for a few minutes, then Andre suggested we go meet the boys. He led us to a dressing room that had mirrors on all the walls but one, which had lockers. There were four guys in there, and two of them were in the process of putting on costumes. The other two were stark naked. Andre opened a door off the dressing room, which I saw was a kind of mini-gym with a couple of weight machines, chin-up bars, and a rub-down table. There were four more guys in there, and all of them were naked. Those guys came into the dressing room, and Chip told them that the new owners were there. He introduced me and Matt, and pointed out that everybody already knew Scott. A couple of guys lit up cigarettes, and Chuck and I did, too. So did Matt. We didn't stay there long, though. Andre wanted us to see the infamous back rooms. He explained that the guys didn't strip completely on stage for legal reasons but that they gave "private shows" in these rooms. If a lady wanted the show to include sex, she had to touch the guy's cock to let him know she wanted it. It cost her a hundred bucks for a half hour. One of the guys came with us. He was wearing a thong and nothing else. "Do you guys get much action," I asked. The dancer, Jeffrey, spoke up. "Usually three or four a night, each. We get forty dollars for each private session. It ain't bad, Nick." After a few minutes of small talk, Jeffrey excused himself so he could get ready for the 9:00 o'clock show. It was already 8:45. "Are we staying for the show," Matt asked. "Not tonight. I want you and Nick to see the other two clubs," Scott said. We went out through the back entrance, and Chuck and I got in my car to follow the others--Scott, Matt, Philip, and Chip--to the next one. It wasn't far away, and we got there in time for the 9:00 o'clock show. There wasn't a large audience at this place, but the women there seemed eager to see some skin. There was a three-piece band, unlike the other place that used taped music, and the guys were just as good looking, just as beefy, and just as studly as the others had been. Scott introduced us to the manager, and he took us up to the lighting booth so we could watch the show. We ordered another round of scotch, which I noticed was rather watery. The show was kind of what I expected. Guys would come out in various costumes--cowboys, policemen, construction workers, postmen--and slowly strip down to g-strings while they danced. One guy could barely keep time to the music, but he was a hunk and the women loved him. They kept stuffing money into the guys' g-strings once they got down to them, and I assumed those were tips they'd get to keep--unreported to the IRS, of course. All six guys danced for less than ten minutes each, and the show was over by 10:00. We went into the dressing room to meet the guys, and it was pretty much the same as it had been at the last place. Scott wanted us to go to the third one, but it was already 10 o'clock, and I had school the next day. I promised him I'd see the third one the next night. Why he insisted on my seeing all three wasn't clear to me, but I was willing to go along with it. I took Chuck home, and he wanted me to come up for a nightcap. I wanted to come in with him, but I knew it would be another hour or longer before I got home, and I really was tired. I promised to call him the next day after school. I kissed him good night, went home, and went to bed. I didn't know what to expect at school the next day, but everything was fine. A few guys said they knew I hadn't done it, and the story of Jason had gotten out despite my secrecy. I moved through my classes like I would on a regular day, and after school I turned in my football equipment to Coach in the gym. He said he was sorry I had to miss the last game, but he understood it wasn't my fault. He reminded me about the banquet Friday night and asked me how many tickets I needed. I knew my brothers wouldn't be able to go, and I briefly thought about asking Chuck to go with me. Finally, I told him one ticket. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it tightly, the most sympathy he was capable of expressing. I went home and the house was empty. Ina Mae had left dinner for anyone who would be home to eat it. I went to my room, checked my e-mail and found none. Then I changed into more casual clothes and got started on my homework. I didn't have all that much, but I wanted to get it done before tonight because I promised Scott I'd go with him to see the third club. Around 4 o'clock I got a cup of coffee, lit up my first smoke of the day, and called Chuck. "Hey, buddy, what's up," I asked. "Oh, Nick, you wouldn't believe the shit storm we've got around here. I knew I shouldn't have taken yesterday off, but I really wanted to be with you, and I'm really glad I did. I'll probably have to work late the rest of the week to catch up. December is our busiest month because of people sending Christmas presents, and it's just going to get worse." "I'm sorry. I didn't even think of that," I said. "It's nothing for you to be sorry about. I wouldn't give up yesterday for a month of overtime. So, how did it go at school today?" "It was okay. I turned in my football stuff, and the coach reminded me we have our banquet Friday night. Do you want to go with me?" There was a long pause. I stepped in and said, "I didn't think so, so I only ordered one ticket." "It's not that I don't want to be with you, but I think it might be a little awkward for both of us, don't you?" "Absolutely," I said. "That's why I only got one ticket. The team will probably want to go do something after, too." "Am I going to see you this weekend," he asked, rather plaintively. "Damn straight," I said. "The banquet will be over by eight, we'll raise hell till eleven, and I'll be at your place by 11:30. Do you mind if I spend the night?" "God, no. I want you to. And Saturday night, too, if you want to." "You're on," I said. "You still have more French Quarter to see, and maybe we can do some Christmas shopping, too. How's that sound?" "It sounds great. Listen, I've got another call, and there are two people waiting to see me. Call you tonight?" "Try, but Scott wants me to go with him to see that other club. Anyway, I'll check with you tomorrow. 'Bye." "Bye," he said. "And Nick, thanks for being my buddy." Then he hung up. I finished my homework by 5:30, ate a couple of plates of red beans and rice and pork chops, and decided to take a nap. I set my alarm clock for 7:30 and got up in time to meet Scott at the third club by eight. He was a few minutes late, so I sat in my car in the parking lot until he and Philip got there. Matt had already seen this club, so he was off doing his Matt thing. Maybe even studying. This was the nicest of the three clubs, and the manager was just as gracious as the other two had been. They offered me a drink, but I turned down liquor in favor of a diet coke. The manager had stuff to do, so Scott, Philip, and I sat in his office. Scott said, "Listen to my plans, Nick. I'm going to run all three clubs. Is that okay with you?" "Of course it is. I never thought otherwise. What did Matt say?" "Matt said exactly the same thing. He wants a job, though, as a dancer. Philip is going to be our talent manager. He'll be in charge of scheduling the boys, keeping up with costumes, finding replacements, and handling the private clients." "'Private clients'?" "Yeah. A lot of women aren't comfortable screwing a dancer in one of the back rooms, or they want a longer session, or they want something special. They'll inquire about setting up a private performance at their houses or a hotel or somewhere. Philip will handle all of that." "What do you mean by them wanting something special," I asked. I must have sounded pretty naive, but I was only eighteen and new to the world of male strippers. "Some women like it with another woman and man. Some want their boyfriends or husbands in on the action. That kind of thing. We can't really do orgies here, but most of the guys don't have a problem with them elsewhere. We get a commission on anything like that we set up, but the guys keep most of the money. Here it's a sixty-forty split, us-them." "You mean every time a guy fucks a girl here he gets forty bucks? That ain't bad." "Most of these guys would do it for free, but, yeah, that's what they get." "What about you, Nick," Philip asked, "are you interested?" Philip was twenty-three, almost two years older than Scott, but Philip grew up as our next-door neighbor, and he and Scott had been best friends most of their lives. Philip introduced Scott to sex when Scott was twelve and Philip fourteen. At first it was just jerking off, but they progressed to sucking and fucking, too. Scott still liked cock, and he and Philip were regular fuck-buddies, but Scott also liked women. A lot. Philip had never been with a girl, but he had had plenty of boyfriends. Philip was like another older brother, and I'd had his cock in my mouth and ass more than once, and mine in his. "Hell, yeah, I'm interested. When do I start?" "Not for a while," Philip said, "at least not as a regular. School is still first in your life, but we thought we could use you as a replacement, or for private parties and such. Besides your driver's license, what kind of ID do you have?" Getting a fake ID in New Orleans was easier than getting a fresh loaf of French bread. "Of course," I said. "It says I'm twenty-two." "Well that'll cover us in the worst case, but we don't expect any problems. Technically, you only have to be eighteen. We've found out a case of good scotch at Christmas and Easter and the Fourth of July earns friends on the police force, though. Besides, you know how laid back people are around here. There won't be any problems." "So why can't I be a regular right away?" "Because you're in school, asshole. You can't be up to one or two every morning and still do what you've got to do in school." Scott seemed amused at having to tell me that. "Oh, yeah," I said, and grinned foolishly. "Another thing," Philip said. "You've got to be really buff to impress the ladies, and a good tan never hurts, either. I want you to keep working out, and I want you to hit the tanning bed at least twice a week. The clubs have weight rooms and tanning stuff, so you can do it here or at home or wherever you want to." "No problem." I worked out regularly anyway, and that would be motivation for me to buff up even more than I was. "Any you're going to have to shave, too," Philip said. "I shave every day, man. I didn't last Saturday, but I will from now on, if you want me to." "I don't mean your face, Nick. I mean your legs, your arms, your ass, your cock, your balls, your chest--everywhere that hair grows." "My pubes, too," I asked, incredulously. "No, not your pubes, although that hair will have to be trimmed regularly. And not your underarms. Everywhere else, though. Including your asshole." I must have had a look of confusion and, perhaps, terror on my face because Scott laughed and said, "Don't worry. Philip or one of the other guys will shave the hard-to-get-to places. Who knows, you might even enjoy it." Philip and Scott laughed hard at that, but I didn't get the joke. The manager came back in just then and asked if we wanted to meet the dancers. It was just like at the other clubs. Scott knew all of them and introduced Philip and me. I checked out the hair situation, and every one of them was as clean as a baby's behind. It was almost nine, and I really wasn't interested in staying for the show. Scott said he wanted to make it over to the other two clubs, so we split up. I used the manager's phone to call my answering machine, and there was a message from Chuck that was only five minutes old. He was still at work but would be leaving soon. I called his office on his private number, and he answered. He said he was about to go get something to eat and why didn't I join him. We met at Shoney's just a few blocks from his office. He got a full meal, and I had the salad bar. I told him about tonight's adventure, including the shaving part, and he seemed interested in that. "I don't really think body hair looks all that good," he said. "I might get you to shave me, if you'll do it." "Okay," I said. "When?" "Why not right now?" "Cool," I said. We went to Chuck's house. We decided it would be easier to do it in the shower, so we both got naked. Chuck was about half hard, and I could tell he had been leaking for some time. We got into the shower and put the water on pretty hot. I soaped him up all over but didn't let him rinse off. Then I got his can of Edge gell and smeared it all over the hairy parts of his torso. The hair came off pretty easily, and I didn't once nick him. Then I moved lower. He had a pretty wild bush, so I got some scissors and trimmed that for him. Then I very carefully shaved the base of his cock and his balls. He kept giggling, saying it tickled. He bent over and I shaved the area around his hole, being very careful not to mess that up. I moved down his legs and the tops of his feet. Then I rinsed him off and caught a few spots I had missed. "I can really tell the difference," he said. "I feel completely and totally naked. Not just nude. Naked." "Let me feel," I said. I ran my hands over his chest, pausing at each nipple, of course. Then I felt his cock and balls, and I reached around to feel his asshole. This brought us into direct frontal contact, and both our cocks responded. "Would you, er, clean my asshole for me," he asked with a sheepish smile. "Gladly," I said. I soaped up my cock with the Edge, and he moved into position. I shoved my pole into him, and it went in without a snag. We rocked back and forth in a nice rhythm. "My cock needs a good cleaning, too," he said. "No, it doesn't. This will take care of it." I continued fucking Chuck without touching his cock, and in a little while he came in a hard, body-wracking orgasm. I came, too, a second behind him. The hot water was beginning to get a little cool. Chuck made me get good and wet all over, and then he turned off the water. The bathroom was so steamy there was no chance of our getting cold, and he lathered me up with the Edge. I had more body hair than he did, so it took a little longer for him to shave me. He was very gentle with my cock, balls, and asshole, and he trimmed my bush as I had his. When he was finished, he turned the water on again and rinsed me off. He, too, felt my body for missed places but didn't find any. By this time, we were both rock-hard again, so Chuck cleaned my asshole for me as I had cleaned his. He said he wasn't sure he had gotten everything as clean inside as it needed to be, so he pulled out, soaped up again, and did me a second time. He didn't jerk me off either time, and I think the fucking without the jerking made me come even harder than otherwise. We dried off and sat in the living room for a while. Chuck had a scotch, but I passed. I smoked a cigarette, though, and finally left around 11:30. I crashed in bed twenty minutes later and went into my usual coma. I talked to Chuck on the phone Wednesday night and Thursday night, but we couldn't get together. I had too much homework, and he was busy at the office till almost midnight both nights. He said that was par for the course this time of year and that things would lighten up on Christmas Eve. I didn't see much of Scott or Matt those two days. Matt was in the last week of classes before finals, so he kept pretty busy with the books. Scott was in hog heaven over his new business, and it kept him going almost non-stop. When I did see them, they both asked about Chuck. I told them what I knew and said we were just fuck-buddies. I didn't go into the whole business about being so lonely and depressed I could die and that he pretty much pulled me out of that. Scott asked what my plans were for Christmas vacation. "Aren't we going up to the Country Place, like always," I asked. "Maybe for a couple of days, but I don't want to be gone too long. I'm new to business, and I never thought they'd be this much to learn. Matt's leaving the day after Christmas for Switzerland and Austria, and he's going to be gone for two whole weeks. In fact, we'll probably need you at the clubs then, if you're game for it." I was disappointed about not having our usual Christmas time together at the Country Place, but I guessed everything had changed now. Scott was a businessman, and Matt had his friends to bum around with. He loved to ski, and I guess Switzerland and Austria at Christmas were perfect for that. I liked the idea of working at the clubs, though. "Well, what about Christmas Eve? And Christmas Day?" "We'll all be here Christmas Eve. In fact, I was thinking we could have a party. You know, like Mom and Dad always did. The old friends, plus some of the people from the clubs, Matt's friends, your friends. The old friends won't stay late, and we can party on into the night if we want to. Make sure Chuck comes, okay? If you want him to, that is. Oh, and Nick, what would you like for Christmas?" "A fucking pony," I said. "I'm sorry, Scott, that was mean. It's just that. . . ." He hugged me, and I started to cry. "I know, Bubba. It's hard. Matt and I have our lives, but you're still a kid, kind of. Let it out, Bubba. I cry sometimes, too, whenever I think about them. I can't tell you how many times in the last week I've wished I could have gone into Dad's study, closed the door, and asked him what to do. And I know Matt's the same way. Don't worry. I'll make this Christmas a good one for you." "I know you will," I sobbed. Scott continued to hold me very close, and in a minute I started getting hard. He could feel it, I know, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he got down on his knees in front of me, undid the buttons of my fly, took out my dick, and started sucking it. He did it with such tenderness and feeling that I knew he was making love to me. I had the most intense orgasm I'd had in weeks. Friday night was the football banquet. The day after the cheating thing came out, one of the managers, a guy named Brett Walsingham had come over to try to cheer me up. We had ended up having sex, him for the first time. Anyway, he came home with me after school. His parents were out of town again, and he didn't have anybody to go to the banquet with, either. Well, we talked and farted around with some computer games, and before long we ended up in bed again. I had been Brett's first, and I was still his only. "You want to spend the night at my house," he asked, as we lay propped up in bed. I was smoking a cigarette, but Brett didn't smoke. "I'd like to, man, but I can't. I've already made plans to spend the night at another guy's house." I had almost said "with another guy," but I caught myself in time. "Oh," he said in a really dejected voice. The banquet was at six, and we both needed to shower and get dressed. We showered together and jerked each other off. Then we got dressed in the old uniform. We both had clothes to change into after the banquet, so we loaded them in my car and took off. The banquet was like every athletic banquet I had ever been to. The food wasn't bad, but there wasn't enough of it. Whoever thought a guy like me could make do with a thigh and a wing of a very unbuff chicken? Some third-string coach from Tulane was the featured speaker, and Coach, who had obviously tippled a few with the Quarterback Club before the thing started, rambled on about the season. They presented the usual awards. I had lettered as a freshman, so all I got was a bar to put on it. Big fucking deal. The seniors, including Brett and me, all got special awards--for endurance, I think, or patience, or some damn thing--and then it was over. We all went out to one guy's boathouse at West End for the after-banquet party. I had been there before, but they had made some changes since my last visit. They had a gigantic "ship" in the slip, and the boathouse itself was like an apartment. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a huge party room. Walt Oldfield's parents owned the place, and Walt was the party-master. He had gotten a keg of beer, which was cool but not cold, and he had also set out half-gallons of the usual booze. Guys started drinking as soon as they got there, and by 10:00 o'clock almost everyone was feeling no pain. Interestingly, for a football team, almost everybody smoked. Colton is an old school, and it is very tradition minded. Most of the traditions were what you would expect, but some were a little crazy. Take the football team, for instance. Every year before the first game, we gathered at some place like this for our brotherhood ritual, and we did the same thing after the banquet. It was supposed to mark us as special and somehow committed to each other, just like we were brothers. This is what it involved. After everybody had drunk enough to lose their inhibitions, the captain gave the word for us to get naked. Everybody stripped bare-ass, and we got into a circle around a table that had a big bowl on it. Each guy would work up as much saliva as he could, and then he would spit into the bowl. Next, the captain took an Exacto knife, and cut the finger of the guy standing next to him, and the guy would add a few drops of blood to the bowl. He would do it to the next guy, and so on until everybody had bled into the bowl. When that was finished, the captain would grab the cock of the guy next to him--the same one he had cut--and jerk him off into the bowl. This would go around the circle, and everybody would be jerked off, and then jerk off the next guy, until everyone had come into the bowl. Then the captain would stir the mess up and say, "Our spit represents our spirit, our blood represents our life, and our semen represents our manhood. We mix these fluids together as a sign of our unity. We are brothers of the field. We must help, protect, and defend one another against all enemies." Then he would take a spoon and scoop out a little of the mixture and feed it to the next guy. He'd do the same to the next man, and so on until everybody had swallowed some. Then he'd say, "our spirit, our life, and our manhood are all now part of one another. Brothers forever." We'd all say, in a cheer, "Brothers forever" and then scream our asses off. The guy who jerked me off had been a friend of mine since the seventh grade, and we had "practiced" the ritual, without the blood, on several occasions. I jerked off Brett, who ordinarily wouldn't have been included but was this year because he was a senior and because he had been the team manager for four years. After the ceremony, some guys started leaving for dates with their girlfiends or other parties. A few paired off to go into the bedrooms. I drank my second cup of warm beer and shot the shit with a few guys. Then I told Brett we had to be going. It was almost eleven, and I had told Chuck I'd see him at 11:30. I swung by Brett's house and dropped him off, and I made it to Chuck's right on time. He was glad to see me, and we stripped and fucked on his living room floor. When we were finished and Chuck was making us drinks, I told him about Brett. "I really feel kind of sorry for the guy," I said. "He's an only child, and his parents are always out of town. His dad's a neurosurgeon, and he likes to get away as often as he can. Brett told me they always go out of town with another couple, and his mom screws the other man and his dad screws the other woman. He told me a couple of weeks ago that they are going to get a divorce on December 31st to take advantage of the tax laws. He doesn't know what's going to happen to him." "He sounds like the two of us," Chuck said. "You think you ought to call him?" "And say what," I asked. "Invite him over. I assume you wouldn't mind a three-some, and I think it might be fun." "Are you serious," I asked. It had actually occurred to me to ask him to join us, but I wasn't in charge of this place. "Yeah, why not?" "Okay. I will." I called Brett, and he answered it on the second ring. "Brett? This is Nick." "Oh, hey, Nick. I thought you might be my mom." "What's up?" "Nothing. Not a fucking thing. I was just about to pour myself another scotch and pop a video into the VCR." "Well, why don't you come over? I'm at my friend's house. We're just hanging out. No point in being by yourself. And you never can tell what might pop up." Brett liked the idea. I gave him directions and told him to plan on spending the whole weekend. I figured it would take him a half hour or more to get there, but twenty minutes later he knocked on the door, weekend bag in hand. He came in and I introduced him to Chuck. Neither Chuck nor I had bothered to get fully dressed, but we had pulled on our jeans for his arrival. I noticed he checked out Chuck pretty thoroughly, but he didn't say anything. We made him a drink, and all three of us sat in a circle on the floor. I had buttoned the button on the waistband of my jeans, but the fly buttons were open. Ever since Chuck had shaved me, my balls had itched something fierce. I stuck my hand in my fly to scratch them, and, when I did, I noticed Brett's cock started to come to life. "My balls have been itching like crazy ever since you shaved me, Chuck," I said. "Have yours?" Chuck seemed a little embarrassed, but said they had been. I purposely pulled my cock out when I scratched, and Brett's eyes moved to it instantly. I felt a little bad about doing that, but I knew somebody had to start something. Neither of these guys would do it, so it was up to me. "Let me tell you what we did tonight, Chuck." I glanced over at Brett, and he was blushing slightly, but I could tell he was excited. I told Chuck the whole story about the ceremony, and by the time I was finished, my cock was hard. Chuck was sporting a boner, too, and Brett was so hard I could see the wet spot in his crotch. "It looks to me like we could perform the whole ceremony all over again right now," I said. With that I leaned over to Brett and put my hand on the bulge in his jeans. He flinched a little then looked at me and then at Chuck. I started rubbing him gently, and the bulge got bigger as his cock got harder. I unbuttoned his fly and pulled his jeans down. He was wearing briefs, but I was able to get my hand fully around his meat through them. I squeezed it softly, and more pre-cum oozed out. Chuck took the not-very-subtle hint and took his jeans off. He unbuttoned mine and pulled them off me. Brett went into action and unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. His shoes, socks, and briefs came next, and in a second all three of us were buck naked on the floor. We rolled around, caressing and jerking and kissing one another. I got my mouth on one of Brett's tits and sucked it hard. Chuck went after my ass and rimmed me, while Brett went down on Chuck's cock. We played with each other that way for a good while until it looked like we were all about to come. Chuck suggested we go into the bedroom so we wouldn't get cum all over the living room, so we did. I lay on the bed on my back but with my feet still on the floor. Brett got over my face for me to rim his ass, and Chuck took my cock in his mouth. Brett was the first to come, shooting a thick load all over me. That, plus Chuck's mouth on my dick, helped me come, and I erupted in a spasm of ecstasy. Chuck didn't take my cum. Instead, he let me shoot onto my stomach and chest. He stood up over me, though, and jerked himself off onto me just as the last spurt was flying from my dick. Chuck and Brett smeared our cum all over me, and we wallowed in it even more by rubbing each other in every place we could find. I propped myself against the headboard and gently guided Brett's mouth onto my cock. Chuck got behind him and entered his anus, and I reached up under Brett to take his cock in my hand. We got a good rhythm going, and we came again. After we recovered for a little while, I went after Chuck's ass with my cock, and Brett shoved his tool up my hole. The bed creaked as we fucked, and the moans that came from us must have been audible in the next apartment. After we came again, we all collapsed on the bed, legs draped over one another. Chuck had a pack of cigarettes on the night stand on his side of the bed, so he and I lit up. Brett asked for one and joined us in a smoke. He coughed a little the first time he inhaled, but it was obvious this wasn't his first cigarette. We were all pretty tired from all the sex, but we decided to get up and go into the living room for more drinks. We all sprawled out on the sofa, legs and arms on top of one another. I don't know about the other guys, but I was more relaxed and more at ease at that moment than I had been in weeks. I checked the clock on an end table, and it was almost one o'clock. I don't think any of us finished our drinks because we all fell asleep draped over one another. Chuck woke us up around two and told us to come to bed. Brett and I stumbled after Chuck and went back to sleep as soon as we hit the pillow. We all woke up at the same time when Chuck's phone rang. It was 9:30, and the sun was streaming into the bedroom. It was kind of cold in the apartment, so, while Chuck took the call, I got up and put on the heat. I came back to bed as he was telling the caller he wasn't interested in aluminum siding because he lived in an apartment. Chuck got up to take a leak, and then he vanished in the direction of the living room and kitchen. He was hard when he got up, but I figured it was a piss-hard. In fact, Brett and I were hard, too, for the same reason. He and I got up together and pissed. We had a little contest to see who could have the best aim at the forty-five degree angles our cocks were pointed in. I won, of course, but there wasn't a prize. When we were finished pissing, I turned Brett to face me, and I rubbed my cock on his. All of a sudden, my piss-hard started developing some feeling, and I could tell his did, too. Chuck came to the door of the bathroom, which we had left open, of course, and stood there a moment watching us. "Okay, guys, what's up," he asked. "Come here," I said. He was still hard, too, and I positioned him to all three of our cocks were touching each other. "It's a come contest," I said. "We'll stand here rubbing cocks until somebody comes. That guy will be boss for the day. Okay?" They both agreed. "Put your arm around the other guys' waists, like this. Except for that, you can only touch another guy's cock, and you can only touch it with your cock. Like I said, the winner calls the shots, and the other two guys do what he says, no matter what." It was fun trying to balance without touching anyone and still getting your cock stimulated, and the three of us laughed a lot. I thought about every sexual thing I'd ever done, trying to make myself pop. Chuck got his cock on top of mine, and he started rubbing the sensitive underside of his against the flared part of my cockhead. It sticks out from the shaft pretty far, compared to most guys, and it gave him a point of friction I couldn't get. It felt pretty good on me, of course, but not enough to come. Brett kept butting his cock into ours, and he flopped his on top of Chuck's. All of us were leaking pre-cum pretty good, so it got more slippery as we kept thrusting. Brett started a kind of rhythmic thrusting, like he was about the come, but Chuck beat both of us to it. He let out a loud "aaaaaahhhhhh" and came all over our cocks. "Okay, Buddy, you're the winner," I said. "What will it be?" "Coffee and cigarettes. What else?" "What about these," Brett asked, pointing to his and my cocks. Chuck took command. He grabbed hold of both of us and started jerking us. Brett came first, shooting his cum down the side of Chuck's leg. I came a minute later, dousing his other leg. "Lick it off," he said. Brett and I were down on our knees in no time, licking Chuck clean. "All right," he said, "now we'll have some coffee." We went into the kitchen, and Chuck poured us coffee. I like mine with cream and sugar, and Brett does, too. Chuck drank his black--a real man. All three of us fired up Marlboros. I said to Brett, "I didn't think you smoked." "I love to smoke, and Marlboro is my brand, but my dad gets really pissed at the idea. He's a doctor," he said, for Chuck's benefit. "I try not to smoke, but I really love it, and fuckin' Dad isn't here." Chuck and I laughed, but there was a real touch of bitterness in Brett's voice. "So what do you want to do," I asked Chuck. "You're in charge of today's adventures." Chuck thought for a moment. "I don't know. How about we stick around here and read?" "Crews can mutiny when the captain loses his fucking mind, you know," I said. "And that idea makes me think you're pretty close to losing yours." He laughed. "I was just shitting you," he said. "Why don't we explore the French Quarter some more. You and I had a good time doing that last weekend." "You know, I've lived here for five years," Brett said, "but I've never really explored the Quarter. I've been down there, of course, but only a couple of times. That sounds great to me." "I'm game," I said. Chuck stuck his face in my crotch when I said that, sniffed, and said, "You sure are." We all laughed pretty hard at that. After another cup of coffee, Chuck told us we had to shower. We all got in the shower together, and he made us clean his ass with a soapy probe. He came for each of us, but Brett and I only came once each. I could tell Chuck was having a good time, and, hell, so was I. Brett didn't look too bored, either. We piled into my car and got to McDonalds just as they were finishing serving breakfast. "Fuck them," I said. "Let's go to Shoney's." We went to Shoney's and had the breakfast buffet. After we ate, Chuck told me to pull into the Wal-Mart parking lot that was right next to Shoney's. We went in and went to the men's wear section. He asked Brett and me what size sweats we wear, and we told him. He picked out two pairs of white sweat pants one size smaller than we had said and told us to go put them on. Then he pulled out his cock ring and mine from the pocket of his jeans and told us to put them on. "Oh, you're a motherfucker," I said. He just grinned. Brett and I went into separate cubicles in the fitting room, and we came out with our cocks sticking out like telephone poles. I'm bigger than Brett, but he sports about four inches soft. Chuck came up to us with two long-sleeve pullover shirts and told us to put them on and tuck them in. We did. He had asked the clerk if we could wear the clothes out, and she had said yes. This guy was really getting into his role of chief. Brett and I paraded through Wal-Mart in our get-ups following Chuck. He told us to wait for him at the end of the check-out line with our hands clasped behind our backs while he paid for the stuff. Everybody who passed--man, woman, and child--stared at our crotches. The outlines of our cocks were perfectly visible behind the tight, white sweat pants. One guy even tried to grope me, but I pulled back before he could get a feel. "This is starting to get me excited," Brett said. "I know what you mean, but concentrate on not getting hard. That's what that fucker wants." "How can you concentrate on not getting hard," Brett asked. We both laughed. Chuck came up to us just then. "What's so funny, boys?" That only made us laugh more, and Chuck joined in. "Get your asses in the car," he said, "and I don't want any more laughing. Do you hear me?" "Yes, sir," we said in unison, and all three of us laughed some more. Once we were in the car and I had gotten us on the street, I asked, "How'd you think of this? It's brilliant." "Well, Buddy, it's an old Citadel trick. We used to do it to the Knobs every year at homecoming. We didn't know about cock rings, but the tight sweat pants thing is an old, old trick. The cock rings only make it better." Brett and I both laughed. "So, when can we take them off?" "Oh, you'll be taking those pants off, don't worry about that, but you'll be putting them on again, too. I'm in charge till midnight, I believe." Again, more laughter. We got to the Quarter in a few minutes, and I parked beside the Jax Brewery. We got out and started walking. The Quarter was crawling with people; there must have been some big convention in town. Everywhere we went, people stared at Brett and me, and Chuck just laughed. We went into some of the antique shops on Royal Street, and we stopped at several galleries here and there. Around 2 o'clock we decided we were hungry, and Chuck wanted to go back to the Central Grocery for a muffaletto. The place was packed, as usual, but Brett and I bellied up to the counter to place our order. Chuck was right behind us. Like I said, the crowd was pretty thick, so nobody noticed what he did to us. He reached around each of us and started playing with our dicks. Both of us were pretty sexually charged anyway, but that made us pop boners that wouldn't quit. We got our sandwiches, and left the store. We walked across the street with big weenies sticking out in front of us. Even old ladies stared. It was awesome. We found a bench near the levee and sat down to eat. I thought that my boner would subside, but I was wrong. Brett's didn't, either. When we had finished eating, I said, "I gotta take a leak." "Me, too," Brett said immediately. "Me, too," Chuck said, grinning at us. We found a bathroom in the French Market. I wanted to jerk off in the worse way, and Chuck knew it. I went into a stall and pulled down my sweats. Before I could get a good stroke in, the door opened behind me and Chuck pushed Brett in and came in himself. "Cock dual," Chuck said. Then, with a little less volume, "Like we did this morning, only it's you two, not me." Brett and I took off all our clothes, which were only the shirts and sweat pants. We kept our shoes on. We stood facing each other, and I took hold of Brett's shoulders. He put his hands on my hips, and we went at it. It didn't take us long to come, and we splashed cum all over each other. Chuck made us lick each other clean, as I knew he would. When I checked his crotch, I saw a big bulge. I rubbed it through his jeans and asked if he wanted some help. He nodded. I pulled out his cock and sucked him off. We weren't in the tiny bathroom more than ten minutes, and I think all three of us were ready to continue the adventure. We decided to walk up Decatur toward Canal, and we passed several interesting shops. One place was a tattoo parlor, and we went in to check out what was going on. The guy I took to be the owner asked us if he could help, and I told him we were just looking. I found a cool design that featured a three-leaf clover, some ribbon, and a star. "Hey, guys," I said. "Look at this one." Brett and Chuck came over and agreed that it was a really nice one. "You like that," the guy asked. "I can put it on for you in twenty minutes. Sixty bucks." I've always liked tattoos, and I thought this one might bring me luck, or something. Brett and Chuck could tell I was thinking about it, and Chuck said, "I've got to give permission, and I don't think you want something permanent without thinking about it a little more. I say, no." The guy had checked us out pretty good when we came in, and he knew what was up. Brett and I were dressed identically with plenty of basket showing, and Chuck, who obviously wasn't old enough to be anybody's daddy, had to give permission. "I can give him a temporary," the guy said to Chuck. It'll last until he, or you, are ready for it to be gone. It's a new technique a friend of mine developed. We use skin dye instead of ink. No needles." "Tell me more," I said. I was really getting interested. "Well, I set the design up on your arm, or wherever you want it, and then I apply untraviolet light to it. It bonds with your skin, but it ain't permanent, like a regular tattoo is. If you don't like it tomorrow, come back in and I'll take it off. A bonus is you don't have to wait for it to heal. You can show it off today." "I saw something in the paper about that," Brett said. "They use this for patients getting radiation treatments. They have to mark the spot where the radiation has to go. They've always used real tattoos before, but some doctor at Tulane invented this way so the tattoos can come off once the treatment's done." "That's right," the guy said. "That guy is Dr. Freeman. I know him. In fact, I used to do the tattooing at the Tulane Medical Center. Now I do the dye work up there. You can't get this nowhere else in the city, except the hospital." "What do you say, Chuck? By the way, this isn't covered in the bet." I wanted Chuck to know he didn't own me. "Well, it sounds pretty good. If you want to do it, it's up to you." That's all I needed to hear. "What about you guys? Don't you want one, too," I asked. Brett looked like he did. "Er, . . ." he said. "Ah, come on, man. It won't hurt, and you can take it off whenever you want to," I said. "How do I know you'll still be here in, say, three months, if I want it off," Brett asked the guy. Good question, I thought. "Make an appointment in the dermatology clinic at Tulane Medical Center and tell them what you want. It's a real simple process to take it off. Takes less than an hour and about a hundred bucks." "Okay," Brett said. "I want one, too." "How about you, Chuck," I asked. "All three of us could get the same design. That would really be cool, don't you think?" "I guess so," Chuck said, with pretended reluctance. "I can put your names on this little ribbon, if you want," the guy said. "Or whatever." "Let's get our three initials," I said. "C-B-N. That'll keep people guessing." We decided that's what we'd do. I went first. It took the guy about ten minutes to sketch it out, and another ten minutes under the light. While I was getting the light, he sketched Brett's, and then he sketched Chuck's while Brett was being ultravioleted. We got them on our left biceps, and they were about two inches long and an inch and a half wide. They looked really fuckin' cool. I wanted everybody to see them, but we were wearing long sleeve shirts. It was warm enough outside to go without shirts, but I was afraid they wouldn't want us in shops and other places without shirts. We went next door to a T-shirt shop and had the guy cut the sleeves off three bright purple shirts. Then, all three of us marched around the French Quarter in sleeveless T-shirts showing off our new tattoos. It was kind of an experiment for me. I really wanted a real tattoo, but I didn't know what design or where I wanted it. This would give me a chance to try it out. We did more Quarter stuff, and by 5 o'clock we were all flagging. I was desperate for a cup of coffee, so we went back to the Cafe du Monde for coffee and doughnuts. It was so funny: Brett had lived in New Orleans for five years, but he had never really been through the Quarter and he had never gotten coffee and doughnuts. I felt like I was a tour director. After we were served, I asked Chuck what he had in mind for the evening. It was way too early to go bar-hopping, but we needed to make some plans. "I don't know. This is your town. What do you recommend?" "Well, there are many possibilities," I said. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm starting to get a little chilly, now that the sun is going down. Why don't we finish up here and go home for a while. We can come back down here around eight, hang out for a couple of hours and check the action on Bourbon Street, and then I know of a couple of parties that'll last pretty much all night." "That sounds good to me," Brett said. "Frankly, I've got to take a shit, but I don't want to use any of these place down here." Chuck and I laughed. Frankly, I thought, I've got to take a shit, too, and I agree with you. "Nick," Chuck said, "you're in charge of the evening's entertainment. Whatever you decide is fine with me." "Great. But Chuck, we've got to lose the sweat pants, okay?" "You want to take your pants off," Chuck asked. After we all laughed, I said, "Yes." More laughter. "And no. I want to replace these pants with jeans. What I have in mind is skin-tight white jeans, my black leather jacket, black boots, and no shirt. I'll keep the cock ring and wear a black and white bandana around my head. I'll be stunning." "Okay, Buddy, you guys have been good sports about this, but I agree sweats aren't evening wear. What about you, Brett? What'll you wear?" "Don't worry about him," I said. "He can wear my clothes, and I'll fix him up. We'll have to stop at my house to get some stuff, though." We finished our snack and walked the short distance to my car. There was surprisingly little traffic, and we made it to my house in just short of fifteen minutes. "Holy shit! Is this where you live," Chuck asked. "This is it," I said. I punched the combination into the machine at the gate, and it swung open for us to go in. Once inside the house, Chuck said, "I thought the Country Place was grand. This place is a goddamn mansion." Chuck wanted to see the house, so I showed him around. My mom would have been pleased at how impressed he was. We went up to my room to get clothes. Brett was a little smaller than I was, but I found some light-blue jeans and a cool shirt for him to wear. He didn't have a jacket, so I lent him one of mine. I went into Matt's room and got one of his many cock ring and tossed it to Chuck. "You wear this," I said. Both guys had followed me in there, and they were amazed at the collection of sex toys Matt had. "What are these things," Brett asked. "Those are butt plugs," I said. "You stick one of those up your ass, and it feels like your riding a cock. Wanna try one?" They both said they'd pass this time, but they'd like to try one another time. "Why don't we take a shower, get dressed here, and then go get something to eat," I asked. They thought that was a good idea. All three of us got into the shower in my bathroom, and the expected happened. We ended up fucking one another and jerking each other off. It was like there was some kind of magnetic force among us: if we touched each other, we had to have sex of some kind. Brett and I put on our fresh clothes, and Chuck got back into what he had been wearing. We all trussed ourselves up in the cock rings. We were three studs ready for a night on the town. I thought I looked the best in my black and white, but eveybody looked good. We went to a neighborhood restaurant not far from my house and ate a typical New Orleans neighborhood-restaurant meal. It was plentiful and good. Then I told them I wanted to stop in and say hello to Chubby. We went to his place, but he wasn't there. Chubby had a date, his nephew Jimmy told us. Jimmy and I laughed. Jimmy was close to Scott's age, and they partied together often. Jimmy handed each of us a beer. "Did you know your brother's here," Jimmy asked. "Who, Matt?" "Yeah. Back there." "Did he tell you about the places we just bought," I asked. "No. What?" I told Jimmy about the three strip clubs, and he was impressed. "There's a party at the one on Elysian Fields--5200 block--tonight. Why don't you try to make it? Let Dino close up." Dino was Chubby right-hand man, but he would never trust him to run the place because he wasn't family. "Yeah, I might do that," Jimmy said. "Go talk to your brother. I got work to do. Nice to meet you guys." We walked back to the pool table where Matt was. Chuck had met him earlier in the week, and Brett knew who he was from school. He was shooting pool with a guy about his age that I didn't know. I introduced Chuck again because I didn't know if Matt would remember him, and I introduced Brett because he didn't know him. He introduced his friend as Jon Hastings, from Detroit and in one of Matt's classes at Tulane. "So what the fuck is this with no shirt on," Matt asked. "It's my look, Bubba. It's sexy, no?" Matt shrugged, meaning yes. "What's up," he asked. "We're gonna check out Bourbon Street for a little while and then go to Scott's party. What are you doing?" "We're hangin' out until the party starts," he said. "Is Jon a buddy of yours," I asked. "Yeah. Kind of." Matt knew what I was asking, and so did the others. "Why don't y'all come with us? Is that okay with you guys," I asked my crew. "Fine with me," Chuck said. "The more the merrier." "Yeah," Brett said. "Are you fuckers wearing cock rings," Matt asked. Chuck and Brett both blushed. I was used to this kind of thing from Matt, but they weren't. "Yes, we are," I said. "Cool," Matt said. "We are, too." Matt and I laughed, and the others kind of chuckled nervously. Jon looked like a really straight guy, whose dad was probably a minister or the superintendent of schools or something. He looked at his shoes when Matt admitted they were decked out, too. Matt wanted to finish the game because he told us they had bet a blow job on it. Jon turned about six shades of red, and Matt proceeded to run the table. After they finished the game, we left Chubby's place after telling Jimmy we'd see him later at the party. Matt and Jon were in Matt's car, and they followed us. We parked beside the Jax Brewery again, and walked the couple of blocks to Bourbon. We bought cups of beer at a take-out window at one of the places, and for once it was cold. We walked up and down the street, stopping now and then to try to get a peek at a strip show in progress in one of the clubs. We ended up in the courtyard at Pat O'Brien's just off Bourbon, and we all got Hurricanes. I told my guys to be careful with those things because they taste like fruit juice but pack a hell of a wallop, if you aren't careful. I had been there the summer before with some people who were hot and thirsty, and they downed three in about forty-five minutes. Then they were down. We had a good time. We sang along with the singer at the piano, and we danced with three girls who were sitting at a table near us. I thought about putting the moves on the one I was dancing with, and it was obvious she was pretty hot for me. We invited them to our table and bought them drinks. They were tourists from Cincinnati and just loved New Orleans. They were hair stylists at a pretty fancy salon in Cincinnati, and drove down to have a little fun on a long weekend. They had gotten to New Orleans Firday night, and they were leaving Monday morning. We ended up inviting them to go with us to Scott's party. The girl I was interested in came with us, and the other two went with Matt and Jon. I had watched Jon carefully, and he didn't seem like the type who was interested in girls. He seemed to really like Matt, but Matt seemed only mildly interested in him. I knew Matt and I would both fuck at least one of those girls before the night was over, but I didn't think the other guys would even try. When we got to the club on Elysian Fields, the parking lot was full. I thought for a moment Scott had decided not to close early as he had said. Inside, though, it was definitely a party. Some cool music was blaring, and every guy who worked at the clubs was there, most in costume. Scott had had a pretty nice spread of food brought in, and we went to that first. We found a table somehow, and all eight of us crowded around a table that ordinarily sat four. Matt, Jon, Chuck, and I went for drinks, and we were able to get waited on pretty quickly. I don't know if the bartender recognized Matt and me, but he treated us like he did, even if he didn't. After we had eaten and I had smoked a cigarette, Jenny and I danced. I held her close, and she swayed into me, rubbing her pelvis against my crotch. That started making me hard almost immediately. The dance ended, and we went back to the table. The next one was a fast song, and Jenny wanted to dance again. I was pretty hot, so I took off my jacket. By the time the dance was over, I was dripping sweat, so I excused myself and went to wipe myself off in the men's room. When I got back to the table, Matt had his mouth clamped on Dawn's mouth in a hot kiss, and everyone else just sat there making small talk, pretending they didn't notice Matt and Dawn. Jenny and I danced again, and by the end my cock was a fucking telephone pole. I took her to one of the back rooms, but they were all full. Then I took her to the manager's office and locked the door. She and I made it on the small sofa in the office. It felt so good to have my cock encased in a pussy. It had been a few weeks, and I had almost forgotten how great a hot, wet cunt could feel. She was wearing a denim skirt, and I took it and her panties off her. I stuffed the panties in my back pocket, intending to give them back later. I unbuttoned her blouse, and she wasn't wearing a bra. She pulled my jeans down to my knees and told me to get on my back. She took off my cock ring and put it somewhere beside her. She got on top of me and rode me for a good twenty minutes before we both came in a stupendous climax. As she positioned herself on my cock, I could feel the juice from her pussy leak down my shaft, and I wanted to slurp it up from her box. She had other ideas, though, and she impaled herself on my member before I could even suggest that she might like a little oral play first. She turned me every way but loose, and I came in the best and hardest orgasm of the month. When we were done, she ordered me to clean her up, and I leapt to the task eagerly. I finally got my tongue on some pussy, and I made her come twice more before I was finished. "Let's get back to the others," she said. "Oh, and Nick, ask Heather to dance, please. She needs you." I knew what she meant by "dance," and I was only too happy to oblige. When we got back to the table, Matt and his girl were off doing who-knows-what, and Chuck and Jon were dancing to a fast song with a whole group of other people. They might just have well been dancing together. Heather and Brett were talking to one another. I was pretty thirsty, and I had to take a leak. I asked Brett to come with me to get some drinks. "I gotta take a piss first," I said. We went into the men's room, which was empty, and each stood in front of a urinal. "Where were you, man? Chuck and I lost you," Brett said. "I had a little business to take care of in the manager's office," I said and grinned knowingly. "You and, er, . . ." "Jenny." "You and Jenny?" "Yeah." "So you, what? fucked her?" "You could say that," I said. "She wants me to fuck her friend Heather, too." "Heather's a nice girl," Brett said. "You think there's any way she might be interested in me?" I looked over at Brett and saw that he had stopped pissing and was holding a half-boner. I grinned at him, and he smiled back, shyly. "I think you've got the matter well in hand," I said. "You want me to give her a recommendation?" We both laughed, and Brett turned scarlet. "You asshole," he said. We finished in the men's room, and I showed Brett where the manager's office was. I suggested he'd have better luck finding a vacancy here than in one of the "back rooms." I told him to ask her to dance the next time they played a slow song and not to be afraid to rub up against her to let her know he was interested. "You can kiss her, too, while you're dancing, and use plenty of tongue. If she doesn't get the message, put her hand on your cock and rub it around some. She'll feel it and start gettin' hot, I guarantee it." We got the drinks and went back to our table. Matt and Dawn were still away from the table, and Chuck had moved to Matt's chair next to Jon. I sat down next to Jenny, and Brett took his place next to Heather. We sipped our drinks and smoked cigarettes, making small talk as best we could over the loud music. Chuck and Jon were talking to each other, often leaning over to talk directly into each other's ears to be able to hear. At one point, Chuck leaned over and motioned for me to give him my ear. "I know what you've been up to," he said. "So," I asked. "Have you got a problem with that?" "Not at all. Have you got a problem with me putting a move on Jon?" "We're _buddies_, man, not boyfriends. We're both free to fuck whoever we want to. Go for it." There wasn't a whole lot of light in the place, but I saw Chuck put his hand on Jon's leg. Jon moved it to his own crotch, and I knew the pursuit was on. Meanwhile, a slow song came on, and Brett asked Heather to dance. Chuck and Jon got up and left the table. I thought for a second they were going to dance, too, like a few other male couples on the floor, but they just disappeared. Brett was doing all the things I told him to do, and halfway through the song I saw him and Heather leave the dance floor, headed for the manager's office. I continued making small talk with Jenny for a little while, then I kissed her hard and deeply. She responded as I thought she would, and we sat at the table alone, making out. My cock was rock hard and straining against the white denim of my jeans. I knew it was making pre-cum stains on the crotch. I stuck my hand under Jenny's skirt and started playing with her pussy. It was wet and hot, and her clit stood up a good half inch above the folds around it. I didn't rub the little man in the boat for fear of making her sore. Instead, I used my first two fingers and rubbed up and down on either side of it, and that seemed to send her into ecstasy. She broke away from my kiss and looked at me deeply. She moaned loudly, and I was afraid people around us would hear. With my free hand, I opened the last three buttons on my fly and, with some difficulty and a little discomfort, got my cock out. It was pointing straight up, and the head was covered with pre-cum. Jenny leaned over and grabbed my cock and started jerking it. I shook my head "no." I slouched down in my chair a little and guided her onto my lap. My cock slid into her pussy like a red hot knife through softened butter, and she rested in my lap, impaled on my dick. We both moaned a bit when I entered her, the pleasure was that intense. "Let's take this slow and easy," I said. "Keep track of how many times you come, if you can. I'll stay in you the rest of the night." This was one of my fantasies come true: to be in the middle of a crowded room fucking a good-looking girl without anyone knowing it. "Rock back and forth a little, if you want to, but don't pump too hard, okay?" She made a noise that meant "okay," and she rocked a little. She had commented on my tattoo earlier, and now she outlined it with her fingernail. She also outlined my right nipple, which is the more sensitive of the two, and now and again she'd flick the erect center of it, sending shivers of pleasure to the tip of my cock. In a few minutes I felt her pussy contract, and I knew she had a pretty powerful orgasm. She leaned over and put her head on my shoulder, breathing hard. After she recovered, she started licking my neck and then my ear. She also started contracting the muscles of her vagina to create a wonderful pressure on my cock. Then she added soft rocking motions to that and went back to my nipple. The sensations were more than I could stand, and I blasted my cum into her hot pussy with the force of a shotgun. I expected to feel hot cum trickle down my dick, but that didn't happen. Then I realized I had already come five or six times that day, so I probably didn't have much left. That was fine with me because my dry comes are always harder and longer than the wet ones. Plus, there wouldn't be much to clean up. Jenny must have come, too, because she said into my ear, "That was number three." "I couldn't feel it," I said. "Mine was too hard. Don't count the ones in the manager's office," I said. "I'm not," she said. "I came once while you were fingering me, once a few minutes ago, and again when you blasted." Jenny's pussy was getting tighter around my cock, so I knew she must be working her muscles again. Just then Scott and Philip came up to the table. "Glad to see you could make it, Nick," Scott said. "Oh, hi, Scott. Jenny, this is my brother Scott. And this is Philip. Guys, this is Jenny." "Philip, how about getting us a fresh round of drinks. You mind if we sit for a while? We've been table-hopping visiting everybody, and we're pretty tired." "No, of course not," I said. I couldn't tell whether Scott had figured out what was going on. He didn't smile or anything to give away that he knew, but, then again, I had told him about my fantasy, so he might just have been cooperating. "Nick, when y'all were dancing, I thought I saw something on your arm." "You probably did," I said. "I got a tattoo this afternoon." Scott got an amused look on his face. "Well, I figured it was just a matter of time. Where is it? On your left arm?" "Yeah." I couldn't turn to let him see it. He got up, though, and walked to the other side of me and sat down there. The light wasn't very good, so he struck up his lighter and held it close to my arm to examine the tattoo. The ultraviolet light had been like a bad sunburn, and the fire from the lighter started to burn. "Watch it, man, you're burning my arm." "Sorry. I just wanted to see it. It looks good. What is it? A shamrock?" "Yeah. For good luck." We both laughed. "I suspect you'll have your share, if you haven't already." Then he grinned. He knew. Philip came back with the drinks and took the chair on my right. I leaned forward to get my drink from the table, and Jenny let out a kind of loud moan. I did that several more times. Once, I leaned forward to get a cigarette, and she came. While that was going on, Philip was pumping me with questions about how I thought they ought to redecorate the place. I hadn't even seen the place with the lights on, and I wouldn't have had much of an opinion, even if I had. Then Scott told Philip about my tattoo, and he had to come over to my left arm to look at it, too. Then Matt and Dawn came back to the table. She looked like she had been worn out by my stud brother. She asked Jenny if she wanted to go to the ladies' room with her. I felt Jenny stiffen. Neither of us had thought about that possibility. Dawn pestered her like it was a test of friendship or something. Suddenly Jenny said, "Nick, take that bandana off. It's making your head sweat." She untie the bandana, unfolded it, slid off my cock, and dropped the bandana into my lap like a big napkin. This all happened in a nano-second, and I pulled up close to the table. This girl's got it down, I thought, admiringly. When they were gone, Scott said, "I thought you were caught, little brother. I thought for sure you had your cock up her pussy, but I guess I was wrong." I made a face like he was crazy or something. Matt noticed my tattoo and said "Whoooa! Dude! Bodyart!" He got up to get a closer look, and he, too, fired up his lighter to see it better. "Hey, Bubba, watch the fuckin' fire. It's still real sore." "So, where'd you get that honker," he asked. I told him, and then I told all of them that it was skin dye, not a regular permanent tattoo. "It can't be, man. It looks too fuckin' real," Matt said. "Besides, I've never heard of skin-dye tattoos." "There are probably a lot of things you've never heard of," I said. Then I told them what the guy at the tattoo place told us. "I want one on my dick," Matt said. "They say you should get them on the place where they can be most easily seen," Philip said. We all laughed. The girls came back to the table, and Jenny slid onto my lap and slid my cock into her hole like we'd practiced it for weeks. This time she was facing the table, though, so she could participate in the conversation, too. It was awesome, and nobody noticed a thing. The DJ put on a loud, fast song, and Jenny did a little lap dance. She came halfway through, and I came near the end. Everybody just sat there tapping their feet and keeping time on the table. When the song ended, Scott and Philip got up and left. Matt and Dawn got up to dance to the next song, and Jenny flipped herself around without pull off me so she was facing me. "That was some quick thinking with the bandana," I said. "Thank you. I wasn't about to lose the biggest and best cock of my life because Dawn wanted to powder her nose, but I knew I had to go with her." Brett and Heather came back to the table, having been gone long enough to conceive a family of eight. I looked closely at Brett's face, and he winked and nodded. Yes. Success. Chuck and Jon came back a little while later, and Chuck gave me the same sign. All right! I thought, these good-luck tattoos are working. Jenny and I stayed hooked together for another hour or more. She would do her lap-dance thing to every fast song that came on. She would come and then I would come. I kind of lost track, but I must have popped off at least eight times. Nobody at the table had a clue about what we were doing, at least as far as I could tell. About 1:30, Scott took the stage. "Hi, everybody. I hope you're having the time of your life." Chorus of cheers from the crowd that still must have numbered a couple of hundred. "In just a few minutes, I'm going to ask my two brothers to come up here and join me, but first . . . ." I didn't hear what he said next, but Jenny knew what to do. She slid off my cock without standing up, and she reached down and put me away. I was still hard, and it was as wet and sticky as a half-melted fudgesicle. She got the buttons buttoned, or so I thought. She got the second-to-last one into the hole only part way. She refolded my bandana and tied it back on my head. Then she got off me and handed me my leather jacket. I put it on. "So Matt and Nick, come on up here and greet your guests." Applause greeted that remark from Scott, and Matt and I stood up to go on stage. The stage was three steps higher than the floor of the club, and the half-opened button on my jeans must have popped open all the way as I walked up the steps. Matt spoke first and said how glad he was everybody could come to the party. Then I said something equally bland and gave the mike back to Scott. I felt self-conscious, and I had the feeling people were staring at me and laughing--or at least smiling hard. "I guess there's no doubt Nick's had a good time tonight," Scott said, and the audience roared with laughter. "This, friends, is what this place is all about." He pointed his hand at my crotch, and the audience broke up. I looked down and saw what they were laughing at. The bright stage lights made my white jeans translucent, and you could see my boner like I wasn't wearing anything. Not only that, there was a large and very obvious wet spot at the head of my cock, and a big tuft of hair stuck out where the button was open. I must have turned ten shades of red. Then some asshole in the crowd started a chant: Take it off! Take it off! Take it off! Pretty soon the whole fuckin' place was chanting that. Scott said to me, "Play along. It's just good fun." The whole place was cheering and carrying on. Before I knew what the hell happened, three chicks who must have been bodybuilders were up on the stage. One of them pulled my jacket off and threw it to the side. The other two undid my jeans and pulled them down. There I was, bare-ass naked with a raging hard-on on stage in front of a roomful of people. Two of the muscle-chicks held my arms and leaned me back, holding me up. The third one ripped off her dress and panties--if she had even been wearing any--and was on top of me as her friends held me up. My cock went into her pussy in an instant, and she started fucking me. Scott was off to the side, so he didn't realize what was happening. There I was, though, eighteen years old and half drunk, being raped on stage by an Amazon. The crowd could see everything, and they got even crazier. I thought about how to play this. It was pretty obvious I wasn't going to get away from these three. If I played along, I'd win the crowd's favor. So that's what I did. I started fucking. It wasn't easy to move, but I kind of fishtailed my whole body up and down, and the big chick on top of me matched my rhythm. I felt her come and she pulled off me. I came a second later, and, even though I thought I was bone dry, cum spurted out. The whole thing lasted maybe three minutes. Scott finally realized what was happening and rushed over to me. He made the two big chicks let me go, and he helped me pull up my jeans. Matt, who had been watching the whole thing with glee, brought my jacket over to me and put it around my shoulders. Then he raised my right arm up over my head the way a referee would do the winning fighter, and the crowd jumped to their feet in a standing ovation. I head "bravo" from three or four people. About six pairs of panties hit the stage. I was a fucking hero. Matt and one of the dancers picked me up and put me on their shoulders. My jeans were down around my thighs, and my still-hard cock stuck up out of my lap. They carried me through the place, and women handed me money and slips of paper with their names and phone numbers on them. I was carried through the place like the winning heavy weight, and I loved it. Scott got back on the microphone and said the party wasn't over but the entertainment was. The DJ pumped up the volume on a nice slow song, and the stage lights were dimmed the way they had been before. People started dancing, and the crowd settled down. Back at our table, Matt got me a scotch on the rocks. I lit up a cigarette and basked in the glory of the moment. I did up my pants and put on my jacket. Jenny gave me a kiss. "How much money did you get," Chuck asked. I counted it, and it was close to $200. I was flabergasted. Scott and Philip came over to the table. "Nick, I'm really sorry that happened," he said. "I didn't know that would happen when I called attention to your, er, state. You handled it great, and I hope you aren't pissed at me." "Pissed? Hell, no, Bubba. I enjoyed it." Scott and Philip sat down for a little while. Then Jenny asked, "Hey, what time is it." We all looked at our watches at the same time and said "2:30" in unison. "Guys, we've got to go. We've got a flight at 7:45 tomorrow morning. That means we've got to be up by five, at the latest." We said hasty good-byes to Scott and Philip. We left the way we came. When we got the girls back to their hotel, Brett and I walked Heather and Jenny to the door. Jenny and I kissed good night and good bye, and I went back to the car. Brett took a little longer with Heather, but he was in the car pretty soon, too. "Where to, boys," I asked. "Is that doughnut place open," Brett asked. "You bet your ass," I said. "They never close." "That sounds good to me, too," Chuck said, and off we went. "Okay, buddies," I said, "let's settle up." "What do you mean," Brett asked. "I mean who got laid by whom," I said. "Oldest first." Chuck went first. He told about him and Jon. Apparently they hit it off really well. Jon was older than he looked--twenty-four and not nineteen. They sucked each other off and ass-fucked three or four times. They made plans to get together during the coming week. "I feel like I came of age tonight. And you know what," Chuck asked. "He really liked my tattoo." Brett went second and said that he and Heather had gotten it on. "I was a virgin until tonight," he said. We both objected, but he said, "You know what I mean." We laughed, and we did know. "I probably won't ever see her again, but I'm not a virgin anymore, and I'll be able to put the moves on other girls. I feel so fuckin' good I'm almost willing to talk to my parents." More laughter. "And she _really_ liked my tattoo." "Well, you guys saw what happened on stage, so I don't have to tell you about that. What you may not know, though, is that my dick was up Jenny's cunt the whole time she sat on my lap. I came seven or eight times, and she must have come a dozen times or more. She liked my tattoo, too." Again, more laughter. We finished our coffee and doughnuts, went back to Chuck's place, and crashed. The next morning we got up around noon, took a shower together, "cleaned" each other's asses with soaped probes, and went home. Brett and I had studying to do, and Chuck said he had to go to his office for a while. Around 7 o'clock that night I went to Chubby's for a sandwich, and he had heard all about the night before from his nephew Jimmy. I hadn't seen him at the club, but apparently he was there. I told Chub all about it, went home, hit the books, and went to sleep.