Date: Tue, 10 Jan 2006 09:51:49 -0800 (PST) From: kevin Donovan Subject: closets, chapter four, gay, adult friends section CLOSETS Chapter Four THE CLUB This is a work of gay erotic fiction. It is not based on any real person, place, or event. It does contain graphic depictions of sexual acts between males, which is why you are looking at this disclaimer. However, if you are underage, or if reading or possession such material is illegal where you are, or offensive to you, then stop now. Copyright 2006, all rights reserved. I do appreciate your encouraging comments. Lonnie pulled the Caddy into a rental parking lot across the street from Grand- daddy's block, and eased into space number 122. "This is your space now, Ace. We'll be using it a lot coming to the Club together, I hope. That is, if you'll come with me any more, after I whup your ass at eight-ball tonight." "What makes you think I'll ever come down here again?" He winked at me. "We're going to see to it that you don't ever want to leave." The three of us slid out of the wide front seat and crossed the street, reversing the route J. P. was taking when he got creamed by the beer truck only yesterday. I couldn't help but shudder at the thought. We hustled across, and under a covered porch that ran the length of the block here, providing a sheltered walk for pedestrians on this side of the street. I noticed the florist on the corner, and the travel agency next to that. Down toward the other end were Rita's and Rick's establishments, and a small C. P. A office. The upper floors had windows with brightly planted window boxes, but the panes appeared to be blacked out, as no light was visible there. Lonnie and Calvin steered me toward the center of the building, where there was a glass door with no sign on it, but the small lobby within was lit. I could see a set of mailboxes inside, and a couple of interior doorways. Calvin was punching a number into a keypad. "O627. The date of the beginning of the Stonewall Rebellion." "Not a date I have ready in my memory. What's wrong with 1492?" "It's gotta be something only gay people know." "Or can learn," added Lonnie. Inside, we passed the mailboxes for the building tenants and the door to the building rental office. Next we came to an elevator, and Calvin pushed the "up" button. It opened immediately, and we rose to the top floor. The two intermediate floors seemed to require a key. We exited into another lobby, but this one was carpeted and attractively decorated in a style that screamed "gay." The love-seat and chair were upholstered in black leather, and there were leopard print cushions and throw arranged on them. There were several men's magazines, including GQ and Men's Fitness on the coffee table. There was even a pedestal with a Greek statue of The Charioteer, a magnificent specimen of young manhood. At least it wasn't David. At the far side a solid wooden door had another number-code lock, and beside it was mounted a small bronze plaque with stated simply, "Elysium: A Club for Men: Private-Members Only." There was also a doorbell below that. Calvin keyed in numbers again. "0203. February, 1903 was the first recorded police raid on a gay bath-house." "Oh, I knew that!" I cracked, sarcastically. "Jeez, I'll never learn how to get in this place." "Then either come with us, or ring the bell. Or learn your gay history." The door swung open, and we were in another vestibule, this one darkened and paneled. There was a coat-room to one side, and next to it a small counter. Upon hearing the door open, or perhaps summoned by a signal from within, a receptionist emerged from a door next to the counter and greeted us. He was a short, wiry little fellow in khakis, sneakers, and red gold shirt with Elysium embroidered on it. He seemed glad to meet me, but rather unctuously solicitous. Calvin and Lonnie walked up and signed a register on the counter. I tagged along and peered over their shoulders. They each also had a member number. "What's mine?" "This one, you'll remember. OOO1," explained Lonnie. "And old Peter DuPree is OOO2. They were the instigators of this whole thing, like thirty years ago. The twelve founders can pass their number to an heir if they want, but no one else can. "Hey, maybe that's what J. P. left me! His Club membership and number! After all, he didn't know you were gay, did he? And in only three and a half years, I have to start paying half-rate, with no sign of any money to do it with." "I guess we'll find out tomorrow. Listen, let's make a pact among us three. None of us knows what is in the will, right?" They nodded. "O. K., let's agree that whatever is in the will is J. P.'s doing, and not any of ours. We won't let it come between us, whatever he has planned." Calvin nodded readily. "And one more thing," Lonnie added. "About tonight. It's all in fun, Jamie. We know you're going into a situation that is completely unfamiliar, and we promise we won't take undue advantage. Well, at least we won't let anything really bad happen to you, O. K.?" "No pain, no debasement, no piss, scat or filth, no blood, and no anal sex without a raincoat," I recited. "Well, that does kind of cramp our style," laughed Calvin. "But O. K. Agreed." That settled, we turned down a corridor past the little reception cubicle, opening into the locker room. It was a far cry from any bath-house or YMCA locker room I'd ever seen. No wonder there were even some straight guys who came here. This place was top drawer. Lonnie and Calvin opened their lockers, which were more like closets, and stashed wallets and rings and such there. "Where's mine?" "Oh, dude, you're not a locker person. You're a room person. We'll show you." They led me through the locker area, past a large gang shower, a room for urinals, one for lavatories, another for toilets, and into another corridor, to room 0001. It also had a keypad lock. "It's O816," Lonnie said. "I don't know what happened then." I paused. "I do. My dad's birthday." It was kind of touching that J. P. used that code on his room. The door opened, and we went in. The room was about twelve feet by eighteen. It had a small seating area near the entrance, and a comfortable-looking queen-size bed at the other. There was a small wet- bar, with a rack of wine bottles and some glasses, and a small refrigerator. It even had a private bathroom, and a walk-in closet for storage. At the far end, there was a bank of uncurtained windows, which looked out, not on the outside world, but into an atrium hidden in the center of the building. Below, at the ground level, I could see the tiled pool shimmering in azure, with several naked forms swimming in it or standing around it. "How does a little town like this support such a place?" I wanted to know. "Members live all over the place, as far as Charlotte and Charleston. By having a room here, they can use the club as a weekend retreat. We have state legislators and officials, business leaders, professionals, and executives, and then we have hot-looking young military men and students as well. We're maxed out at a thousand-to get in now, somebody has to resign or die." Impressed, I left my wallet and watch on the end table, and we moved on through a maze of hallways, with a number of private rooms and other activity areas until, circling around toward the front of the building again, we came upon a stairway down to the next level. We descended into a large bar and game room. At one end, four pool tables were arranged under hanging lights, which provided most of the illumination for the room. All four tables were in play, with a dozen extra men standing around watching. Most of the players were missing at least some clothing, and two were jay-bird naked. At the other end, there was a dark alcove for video and pinball games. In between, there were tables and chairs, many of them occupied as well. A bank of four TV's hung from the far wall. Lonnie led us toward the bar, which was tended by an enormous muscle- bound hunk wearing lace-up boots and a black, stretch vee-thong, which cupped his ample genitals in front, rode the crack of his muscled ass in back, and crossed over his bulging shoulders. Aside from this strap-like apparatus and an ample covering of body hair, he was nude. "Jack, my man," greeted the loquacious Lonnie. "You're all dressed up tonight!" "He's usually buck naked," whispered Calvin. "Yeah, special occasion." Answered Jack gruffly. "In the spirit of the strip pool game, you know. Don't want to spoil the suspense too early." "What suspense? Every guy here knows every freckle on every other guy's ass!" "There is something pretty sexy about getting naked while others are dressed, though," observed Calvin. "Well, we haven't seen this one's ass yet, and there seems to be a lot of interest in it, too," Jack turned his strong but friendly gaze on me. "What'll it be, Mr. Carter. Sorry about your loss. J. P. was a great friend of all of us here." I thanked him, but paused. There were no liquor bottles to be seen behind the bar, only a set of cabinets with small doors. "Uh, what've you got?" "Oh, yeah, well you probably don't know the system here. You see, we're not a licensed bar. You bring your own stuff, and I serve you out of your own cabinet. Since you're using your grand-dad's cabinet tonight, I can tell you he has some real nice single- malt, and a bottle of Bombay Sapphire." He consulted a list in a notebook. "Also some Heineken's and Guinness, and a couple of bottles of nice red wine." "I'll work on the Heineken's. And I go by Jamie." Jack crushed my fingers in his great paw, and then turned to the cooler for my Heineken's, while Lonnie called out, "Get Coors for us, too, then." This Jack guy had one hell of a muscular ass. Even the hair down his brawny back looked sexy on him. Jack checked our beers off of our inventory list, while the three of us sipped our brew and swiveled to survey the room. The room was surveying us, too. A few faces looked vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn't really place anyone. The age spread looked to be from late teens to sixtyish, most sitting or standing with guys their own age. Lots of smiles and nods were directed at me. Down the room, the pool games were progressing. Amid much laughter and teasing, more textile had hit the carpet, and there were now five naked players over there. Suddenly a loud roar erupted from one corner, and a man in jockey briefs, about thirty with a hairy stomach and a bit of a paunch, did a little dance with his cue stick, and then advanced on his adversary, a naked, dark-skinned, skinny, very hairy white man around thirty-five with a resigned look on his stubbly face. The victor in underpants took his victim by the hand and led him out of the room amid catcalls and laughter from the onlookers. "Time to pay up, now, Larry. See you sometime tomorrow!" "Hey, Lar, should we tell the boss you'll be late in the morning?" These were immediately replaced by another pair of guys, in their forties, who racked the balls and began to play. And so it went. I figured out the house rules as I watched. Each pair had tallied their garments before the game, and adjusted by agreement. Most of the time, one took off something if necessary to give him the same number of garments as his opponent. Whenever a player sank a shot, his opponent had to take something off. Generally, that meant that one was naked well before the game was finished, and sometimes, both men played the last several rounds in the buff. A few times, a real pool shark might have to allow his opponent one or two extra items of clothing just to even the match. Each pair had their own wager. Most had to do with some private service which was to be performed elsewhere. A few were about public entertainment or embarrassment. For example, one loser, a well-built and nicely hung black fellow in his late twenties, had to get up on the bar and do a solo jerk show for the room. I got the feeling that everyone had seen this guy jerk off before, some at very close range, but they all good-naturedly gathered around to watch, and he obligingly worked the crowd using his seven-inch tool to good advantage. After ten minutes, he spewed semen into his palm, then held it aloft for all to see, dismounting the bar to cheers and applause. He and his pool partner, now also naked, left the room arm-in-arm and grinning. This show had distracted me from watching a pair of fresh-faced lads in their late teens, just old enough to join this club, but not old enough to drink in it, playing at an adjacent table. They looked military with their close-cropped hair and well-exercised physiques. Both were slender, broad-shouldered, smooth-skinned youngsters, very sleek young animals. They had both gotten down to boxers when the JO show got underway. Afterward, I turned and noticed that the darker-haired one had lost. Now he was on his hands and knees, ass in the air, on the pool table top sucking off his buddy, a lanky, fair- haired specimen with a six-inch dick that repeatedly disappeared to the root within his fellator's mouth. The audience quickly gathered round the table to watch this new attraction. So the pool games had become a four-ring circus. The players, intent upon their game and mostly oblivious to their audience, twisted and bent to make their shots, displaying their naked or nearly naked bodies in interesting angles. From time to time there was a particularly interesting pay-off to a bet. "There's some big dick in this town," I commented to Calvin. "Yeah, I don't know who determined what average is. They sure didn't measure nobody around here." "But wait till they see yours!" added Lonnie. "You've definitely got the Carter cock!" For a moment, I had the thought that I had never actually seen any Carter cocks other than my own, not hard at least. But suddenly, a memory did come to me, though, one that I had not thought of for years. I was about seven years old. My dad had brought me down to visit the grandparents for much of the summer, and he had stayed several days, too. He and Grand-daddy and I had gone to a cabin way out in the woods, by a good-sized lake. It was all very private, and I had the idea it belonged to Grand-daddy, but I wasn't sure. But Dr. DuPree, his son Dalton, and Dalton's son Bryce had been out there for a couple of days with us. And we had all gone naked together the whole time! We swam, fished, played badminton, hiked, and even just sat around totally in the all- together. I remembered how Grand-daddy's and the doctor's dicks had hung so long, and my dad's was even thicker than theirs, and sometimes it did kind of swell up and grow. Even Bryce's little pecker seemed big compared to mine. It was a wonderful time, and it was never repeated. I wondered where that place was and what had happened to it. "O. K., we're up." Lonnie broke my reverie. A table was now vacant, and someone over in the corner was looking at his list and waving to Lonnie. "You're going to put on quite a show, Ace. We each only have on four pieces of clothing, and that counts shoes!" "Maybe we'll both put on a show, then." He laughed. "Maybe we will." "You seem to have this all planned out. What's the penalty to be?" Lonnie gave me a self-satisfied smirk. "Loser is slave to winner for twelve hours." "Well, that will suit you either way, won't it, Mr. Versatility. O. K., I agree, under the restrictions we laid out earlier." We shook hands and began to select a cue from the rack. During this conversation, the table next to ours had also cleared, with two nude young men, one loud and effeminate, the other quiet and manly-looking, making their way out hand in hand. Suddenly, a sort of hush came over the crowd for just a moment, and heads turned toward the door. I looked also, and what I saw froze me in my tracks for maybe ten seconds, which seemed like ten minutes. A stunningly gorgeous man had entered the room. He was about my height, and of a similar build, though maybe with slightly broader shoulders. His carriage was elegant and poised. His hair was medium length and very black, but his skin was smooth and almost fair, though lightly tanned. He wore khaki cargo shorts, a blue golf shirt, and heel-less, closed-toe, suede sandals. He had on fashionable, gold-rimmed glasses, which made him look at the same time smart, sexy, confident, and shy. The expression on his handsome face was friendly and pleasant, but reserved, and that was what made me realize after an agonizing moment who this guy had to be-Bryce DuPree! He exchanged greetings with several men, seemingly looking about for someone. His eye fell on me and lingered for a moment, his smile widening a bit. Then he became aware of Calvin approaching him, and he moved forward to meet the younger man, grabbing him and hugging him, making eye contact. The crowd parted to let Calvin lead his friend over to the vacant pool table next to ours. The two put their heads together, laughed, jabbed at one another playfully, shook hands, and reached for pool cues. "Your tongue is hanging out." That sour remark from Lonnie brought me back to my senses, and I realized I had been staring for far too long. "I'm sorry. Did I drool?" "Just a little. Don't worry, you'll get a taste of him soon enough. He's particular who he hooks up with, but you're the only one here as good-looking as he is. He won't pass you by." "So what are you, chopped livah?" "Nine point eight, remember. That guy is the only damn eleven on record. Yet." I'm sorry, Lonnie. I didn't mean too be rude. I just haven't seen him since he filled out. I had no idea he turned out so gorgeous. I guess I better get my mind on you and the game, or I'll wind up a naked slave!" "You're going to, anyway." I turned to move toward the end of the table to shoot the break shot, and almost ran right into Bryce, who had come up behind me to say hello. It was an awkward greeting from my side, but Bryce handled it gracefully, cool and self-possessed. He shook my hand firmly, then gripped my bicep with his left hand and drew me closer in a hug as he told me how much he'd miss my Grand-daddy, and what a great guy he was. I suspected that Bryce actually knew J. P. better than I did, because his parents had divorced a few years earlier than mine, and he had largely been raised by his dad, who lived in Columbia, not far away. The two of them had seemed to spend a lot of time here in Hebron as we were growing up. My brief conversation with him was a stammering nonsense. "I just learned about this place today...I had no idea...well, I've had a lot of surprises today, as you can imagine...it really blows my mind to find out that you, and Grand-daddy, and Dr. DuPree...that you...well, I'm really glad to see you...you've...you've really changed a lot... I like the glasses...I'm really sorry about this afternoon by the pool, I guess I looked like an alley cat out there...I'm not usually so..." "I'm really glad to see you, too," he finally interrupted, putting me out of my misery. "Don't worry about this afternoon. Don't worry about anything. Welcome to Hebron." As he let me go to return to his game with Calvin, I fired off one more volley. "So what are your stakes with Calvin?" I stammered. "Same as yours with Lonnie, I hear." He gave me a grin that almost caused my bladder to give way. As he leaned on the end of his pool table to watch Calvin break, his curving butt stretched the seat of his shorts, and I was mesmerized anew. "You going to play or watch?" Lonnie jibed. It looked like I would forever be the idiotic little twerp next to Bryce's cool competency. Chagrinned at being so incapable of maintaining my focus, I tried to get back some concentration, but I flubbed the break almost totally. Lonnie was chuckling at me as he leaned into his first shot. "Like fish in a barrel," he commented. He completed the break with his shot, and sank the one ball. So I was stripes. I sighed, and ceremoniously removed one sandal. Several guys standing about clapped. I looked around and observed that they were staring, no leering, at me optimistically. All that for one shoe! I heard a whoop from the next table, and turned to see Calvin raise his arms. "I'm stripes!" he exulted. He looked meaningfully at Bryce, who, still smiling, also removed one Birk and tossed it under the table. He glanced sympathetically at me. There was more applause. Both games proceeded apace. I sank the ten and took a flip-flop from Lonnie. We both missed on two rounds. Then he sank the five, putting me in bare feet. Two shots later, I followed with the a stripe. At the next table, Calvin was playing bare-chested! Bryce seemed to be on a tear, having lost only the one shoe. I concentrated on my follow-up shot, which required a careful bank. Miraculously, it worked perfectly, and I watched another striped ball roll gracefully into the side pocket. Lonnie doffed his tee shirt to the applause of the growing crowd. I looked out to notice that every member in the place had gravitated down to our end of the room. The other two pool tables were idle, as all present focused on these two contests. Bets were being made and odds discussed. I narrowly missed my next shot, and left Lonnie in good position to take my shirt. There was kind of a low moan followed by a murmuring of conversation from the crowd as I pulled it over my head. Then a second moan alerted me to the other table. Bryce was pulling his shirt over his head, too, revealing a sleek, smooth abdomen with muscular ripples, and firm, well-delineated pectorals. The only hair visible was a tiny trail beginning at the navel and descending tantalizingly into the shorts. The excitement increased among the onlookers. I knew that three of us were down to one item of clothing, and there was no sign of an underwear elastic showing at Bryce's waist, either. It was Bryce who struck first, causing Calvin to drop his shorts. There was applause for his incredible physique, but after all, everyone had seen it before. Calvin answered Bryce with authority, however, and my old childhood playmate slipped out of his shorts, too. Even this, he managed with bemused dignity. The applause was a bit more sustained this time, as he was not quite so much a fixture of the place as Calvin. I stopped watching Lonnie's turn at the table to take a good look. I find that before I see a man naked, I'm tantalized with curiosity, picturing various sizes and shapes of dick, pubic bush, scrotum, and ass cheeks with or without tan lines, and wondering which vision is closest to the real thing. Once I see the guy, though, I always wonder how I could have imagined him any different than he is. It seems so inevitable, as if I should have known all along. Bryce was like that, too. His naked form was perfect in its symmetry, balance, and proportion. His cut cock was meaty and substantial, even totally flaccid, which it was. His balls were large and heavy-hanging. His pubic bush was full and triangular-in fact, I saw no sign of any trimming whatsoever, nor any real need for it. In his totally natural state, the man was a perfect specimen of masculine beauty, European division. Looking at him made me feel over- groomed. In the back of my mind, I heard the balls striking and rolling on my own table. Then Lonnie's voice broke in. "Well, well. The spotlight now moves to the Center Ring, Stud-cakes. Drop 'em!" He had sunk his ball, and now my shorts must sink as well. The whole crowd of men turned as one to watch. I'm not the least bit modest, but when I saw Bryce standing there naked, looking at me and smiling, and everyone else but Calvin dressed, I actually blushed. I unhitched my belt and opened the button and zipper in one smooth motion, trying to be as cool and nonchalant as they had been, but to me it felt bashful and awkward. My shorts dropped to the floor like a shot bird. I kicked out of them and pushed them under the table near my shirt and shoes, and stood there like an idiot, stark naked among thirty or forty clothed men. For just a couple of seconds, there was a strange silence. Then a lone whistle, and after that the applause began. It seemed to go on forever, and I blushed even deeper under my tan. Lonnie had a resigned set to his jaw. I wondered if he might be feeling a little worried about losing some of the distinction of being the club Adonis. He muffed his next shot. The only way to regain my composure was to focus on the business at hand. I bent over my pool cue with a vengeance, and sank two striped balls. Off came Lonnie's shorts, to an appropriate level of audience appreciation. Lonnie's aw-shucks grin returned, but not his concentration on the game. He was now part of a show in which the four sexiest men in the room were performing naked for the pleasure of the rest, and he seemed more interested in posturing and posing than in playing. I'm going to take this guy, I exulted to myself. I was down to the eight-ball, while Lonnie had two left on the table. I had an easy shot, a sucker-shot. I lined it up perfectly, and gave just the right tap on the cue ball. The eight rolled smoothly toward the called corner pocket. It dropped in with a clunk. And so did the cue ball, right behind it. I had scratched on the eight-ball, losing the game. The crowd groaned loudly. Lonnie whooped. I know he had had visions of himself as my slave (not that he would have minded all that much), but I figured that, in proposing this wager, he must have plans for my ass that night. Now, he could have his way with me. At the next table, Calvin was close to defeating Bryce as well. He was pointing to a side pocket and preparing to end the game; Bryce still had one ball left on the table. Calvin tapped expertly on the cue ball, and it glanced precisely off the eight, knocking the eight into the side pocket while bouncing safely against the side, inches from the hole. Their game was ended, too, and Bryce was to be a slave to Calvin. Several men slapped Calvin on the shoulder, and there were congratulations and condolences all around. Money was changing hands, too, as side bets were paid. Lonnie came up to me and wrapped his arms around me. He planted his mouth on mine and gave me a big, deep kiss, to the delight of the onlookers. "Your ass is mine, Baby!" I didn't mind that concept at all, but I did wonder what Lonnie might have in mind for me. "O. K., first, we have to reward these fine gentlemen for their support and encouragement. Hop up on the table, and lie down on your back." On my back? I wondered. It looked like some kind of public display was coming, but what? I did as I was told, perhaps a bit sheepishly, and noticed as I was lying down that Bryce was doing the same thing on his table. Hmmm. There seemed to be some kind of coordination going on between Lonnie and Calvin. Those two had some kind of plan together. I lay back nervously. Calvin then hopped up onto the table with me, and straddled me at the waist. My hands spontaneously fell onto his strong thighs. His dick approached my chin as he scooted up a bit on my torso. As he leered at me from above, his cock was growing larger and firmer. In short order, it was tapping gently on my chin. "O. K., slave, it's time to service your master. Let's see some submission, boy." He took my wrists and pulled them up over my head, leaning forward so that his cock lay across my lips. Ah, so I was going to get throat-fucked. Kind of embarrassing in front of all these strangers, but oh so sexy as well. I felt my own cock rising toward Lonnie's anus, and I heard the murmur of commentary from the men around the table. I could no longer see what was going on, because I had Lonnie hanging over me. I opened my mouth to receive his long dick. Suddenly, I felt firm hands, several of them gripping my ankles and calves, and extra ones on my forearms, too. Straps were fastened quickly around my wrists and ankles. The hands were removed, but I remained immobilized. I had been bound to the table. "What the..." I mumbled around Lonnie's dick. "Shit, what is this!" I heard Bryce call out from the next table. Something similar was happening to him also. There were obviously a number of conspirators in this prank. "You fucker. What would you have done if had beaten you?" "Then I'd be lying there like you are, Stud-muffin. I almost wish I was." He swung his leg over me and hopped down off the table. "What are you going to do to us?" "Well, the strip pool tournament is over now, and we're ready for another contest. This one is between you and Bryce, only the winnings go to me and Calvin, since we're the owners." "What contest?" "It's milkin' time, hon. We got us two purebred Holsteins here, and we're gonna find out which one gets the blue ribbon for production. The one with the most cums before six in the morning is the winner." "You guys are going to stay up all night and jack us off?" "Oh, there's lots of us, we'll get some sleep. You can too, if you can manage it. You'll get some breaks, say half an hour or so between cums." I groaned. This was going to be a long night. My dick would no doubt be raw by six o'clock. I turned my head to look over toward Bryce. His dick was already hard and pointing straight up into the air, being pistoned by a shirtless, strapping man about thirty years old. My own dick responded by reaching for my navel across my abdomen. Bryce had an easy eight inches of beautiful, straight cock, and seeing him restrained and manhandled there was an enormous turn-on. "This is no fair, I've already cum twice this afternoon!" I wailed childishly, as if it mattered. "So did Bryce," chortled Calvin. "Lonnie went over and sucked him off at his grand-parents' house this afternoon, while I was getting started with you. And then my buddy, Duke, the bakery delivery driver, did him when he got to the club. That's why he was almost late to the pool game!" Bryce groaned good-naturedly. "We've been had, Jamie. Might as well lie back and enjoy it." "Oh, you ain't been had yet. But you're about to be!" Lonnie triumphed.