Throughout my life, I've heard them all.


Every cliché and stereotype. Every joke and pun from the harmless and hilarious, to the offensive and awful.


But, that Sunday splayed on Richard's rug, wet, exhausted, sticky and willing my eyes to focus on the six men who had just spent the last two-hundred-and-ten minutes taking it in turns between my legs and down my throat raw, rough and ruthless, forget walking funny, I couldn't walk.


I knew, though, as my legs trembled, my hands shook, and my body quivered with dopamine aftershocks, copious lines of cocaine slowly dwindling, I would be fully functional again in no time.


Worth every second.


As my mind regained control of my body and switched back to the present, and my eyes darted to and from the masses of redressing muscle around me, my bloodied knees beginning to sting and my arse throbbing, all I could do was lie on the plush, expensive material and wait.


Wait as I panted, my lungs still drawing deep, as thick streaks of cum dried and crusted against my chin, crack and both sets of cheeks. Took the time to take in the details I hadn't had a chance to notice before.


I don't mean eye colour or height or skin tone. While I didn't know all their names at this point, I'd had plenty of time to notice the essentials from my hands and knees. All the obvious, surface wonders that had kept my cock on the verge of exploding throughout our entire session.


I mean the more personal things. Like their knowing looks and glances. Their familiar touches and caresses.


Their smiles.


Smiles to each other and smiles to me. Some kind, some sexy, some downright dirty, but smiles of comfort and confidence nonetheless. Knowing smiles of more than release and fulfilment.


Lying on my back, the taste of three different loads still on my tongue and between my gums, each man in varying states of dress, sitting or standing sweaty and spent and ensconced in their own post-fuck haze, I could tell I hadn't been the first boy this group had enjoyed.


Hadn't been the first twink to be passed around, used and abused. Not their first rodeo by a long shot.


But I was the best.


It was obvious. Clear as day in their big, wide eyes, appreciation and respect glinting as they looked down at me. And in their impressed grins to each other as they pulled on t-shirts or jeans, looking back over the naked teenager in the middle of the room and nodding proudly to one another.


Everyone happy. Everyone pleased. Everyone wanting more.


And even though parts of me hurt, and my legs still shook like a new-born deer when I tried to lift them, it was nice. Really nice: after my performance, I knew I was a part of the group. The newest addition to their circle after proving my worth.


Beyond doubt.


So, like I said, as I lay there, a proud smile of my own creeping across my jaw, all I could do was wait.


Wait for one of these fuckers to help me up.


Unsurprisingly, Richard came to my rescue, reappearing in a pair of white Armani briefs and a tight white t-shirt from, I assumed, his bedroom. A large hand attached to a strong, outstretched arm coated in his signature thick, black body hair appeared in my vision.


`Up you get, handsome,' he said, hauling me to my feet, only to grab me under the arms as my shaking legs gave way.


`Woah,' Jason, Richard's doctor friend, said, coming to my aid and offering me a shoulder to throw an arm around. `Let's get you on the sofa.'


I tried to say thanks and laugh off my weakened state, but I couldn't speak. So instead I coughed a few times and nodded my head.


`You ok?' Jason said as I landed on the sofa and his handsome, olive-skinned face and green eyes came into direct focus.


`Yeah,' I managed to croak. `Water would be great.'


`Coming right up,' the short, brown-skinned power top who I would soon discover was called Nelson said, jogging through Richard's apartment to the open plan kitchen, wrenching open a cupboard and grabbing a glass.


`You were amazing,' Richard said, now behind me and massaging my shoulders; his thick thumbs pushing blissfully into my traps as the faucet in the kitchen hissed.


`Yeah,' said one of the tattooed skin head couple standing to my right, now redressed in his jeans but no shirt, his wide, hairy pecs glistening with sweat as he reached down and chucked my chin. `Best yet.'


Knew it.


`One-hundred percent,' said his almost identical boyfriend, passing his lover his t-shirt. `Rob and I have to shoot, but,' he said looking at Richard and then back at me, `You boys better keep us in the loop for next time. And make it quick.'


`Of course, Micky,' Richard said, squeezing my shoulders tighter and sending a blast of pleasure down my spine to my gooey hole. `We'll give this one time to recover but, I'm sure he'll be begging for it again soon. Right, boy?'


Nodding as Nelson returned with a glass of chilled water I took a gulp. Enjoyed the soothing cold gushing into my stomach as I let my body rock forward so Richard could continue his massage. Placing my glass on the floor I rested my chin against my sternum and hung. Relaxed, breathing deep, into Richard's deep, kneading fingers.


Behind me in the darkness of closed lids, I listened to their conversation, Richard's magic hands in full swing.


`Who's staying for more champers?' Richard said. `I'll order in food.'


`Not me, I'm afraid,' my water fetcher said. `Wish I could, seriously, but I've got three client meetings tomorrow and need to prep.'


`Say no more,' Richard said.


`Yeah, no more, Nelson,' the guy who fucked me third said. `No shop talk on the sabbath please.'


I heard and felt Richard smirk: a breathy burst through his nostrils, warm against my neck as he continued to squeeze the tension away. Saliva pooling in my mouth, I sucked it down. Then I coughed and swallowed again after it had got caught in the cum still lining my throat.


`Honestly, you ok?' Richard whispered in my ear.


`Yeah fine. My throat's blocked, that's all.'


`Here,' his doctor friend Jason said, passing me a frosted glass of fizzing, golden champagne. `This'll shift it better.'


I grinned and thanked him. Took a sweet, bubbling gulp, placed it next to my water and hung my head again. Richard took the hint and continued to massage.


`We'll give you a lift if you want, Nelson?' said the first skinhead, Michael, aka Micky. `But we need to make a move now. We're already an hour late for pre-dinner drinks.'


`Worth it though, right?' I said, my eyes reopening and adjusting to the golden, late afternoon light pouring into Richard's home through the floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the city below.


For a full two seconds absolute silence descended as the group turned to look at me. Then, as fresh memories reformed simultaneously in our minds, the six circling mouths turned into mischievous grins. Then Michael bent down to my height, put his hands over my cheeks, pulled me in and kissed me, long and deep.


Pulling his face a few inches away, still holding my head, he said, `Every fucking second.'


Then Rob, his boyfriend, reached down with his right hand and cupped my face gently. Turning his hand, he smoothed my cheek with the back of his fingers, slower over the line of now crusting seed, and winked.


`You were fantastic, little man,' he said. `But babe,' he said, turning back to Michael and tapping his left wrist even though he wasn't wearing a watch.


`I know, I know, don't get your dick in a twist. Thanks for the afternoon, Rich,' he said, now looking above my head. `We'll have to do this again soon. Deal?'


`Deal,' Richard said.


Pushing down on my shoulder, he leant over me: his cotton-coated body pushing against my bare back and warming me from behind. Then, above me, he kissed Michael and then Rob, once on the lips each.


`You off too?' Richard said, standing back up straight and continuing to massage me.


`Yeah,' Nelson said, taking a seat next to me on the edge of the sofa. `Can't pass up the free lift.' Then placing his hand on my left, naked thigh, he ran his hand up and down before gently slapping it. `What a pleasure it was to meet you, young man.'


`You too,' I said, my voice almost back to normal.


Thirty seconds later, Richard was back in his jeans, placing my folded undies on the armrest next to me, along with some wet wipes for my face, and was leading Michael, Rob and Nelson to the front door. It closed behind them practically silently on its expensive hinges, leaving me alone with the remaining two.


Jason, Daddy Dick's doctor friend, and:


`Steve,' he said, now fully dressed in jeans, white socks and a dark blue tee, perched on one of two designer chairs across from me and staring back into my inquisitive eyes as Jason busied himself with the empty champagne flutes and the dishwasher.


`Thanks. You read my mind,' I said, finished wiping myself clean.


He chuckled and leant back into his seat: his biceps bulging as he linked his fingers together behind his head. Said:


`So, where did you come from?'


Cocking my head to the side, I looked him up and down. At his handsome face, thick brown hair and impressive body. At his blue eyes and trimmed stubble. His thick eyebrows and full smile.


Steve was by far one of the top three of the group. On par with Jason, maybe better, but just behind Richard. Either way I was glad he'd stayed.


`Your wildest wet dreams,' I said, chugging back another gulp of champagne.


He laughed and said, `You can say that again.'


I grinned and said, `Nah. Grindr.'


`Classic. How long have you and Dicky been hanging out then?' he said, his beautiful arms still bulging behind his head.


`Ages,' I lied, reaching across the sofa to the arm and picking up my underwear.


Then successfully lifting my legs for the first time in ten minutes, Steve watching every movement, I pulled on my undies. Didn't care that they instantly began to soak up the sweat, lube and loads coating my groin and the sofa cushion below me.


`Selfish bastard. Can't believe I'm just meeting you now,' Steve said, leaning forward in his chair to take a sip of his own champagne.


`I was kidding. We met Friday night.'


`Damn. You work fast.'


`So does he by the sounds of it.'




`Meaning he shares his boys with you guys often?'


`No, not at all,' Steve said. `You're the first.'


`Bullshit. You guys have done this before.'


`Oh, fuck yeah,' he said. `We've been banging lads together for years. What I meant is you're the first Richard's introduced to us.'


`Pull the other one,' I said, my undies now a patchwork of dry and damp fabric.


`I'm serious, the ones he usually goes for aren't into it. They want him all to themselves and don't want to share. Ain't that right, Jay?'


`It's the truth,' Jason said, done with the dishes and taking a seat next to me on the sofa with a deserved but content sigh. `You can imagine, since his divorce, Dicky's had boys and men alike throwing themselves at him.'


I nodded. Said, `Yeah, he's alright.'


`But, he wants this, and they want him,' Steve said.


`Doesn't want to be tied down,' I said, as images of Harry, my needy, deluded so-called boyfriend flashed across my mind's eye. `I get it. Trust me.'


`Good,' said Steve, slapping his hands against his thighs, grabbing his champagne from the side table and standing.


Walking over he took a seat next to me, sandwiching me between himself and Jason. Put his arm behind my shoulders and kissed my neck as Jason placed his hand on my right thigh and squeezed.


`Sorry gents, but I need a rest,' I said, letting them paw at me all the same.


`Of course,' Jason said. `It's just been a while since we've had someone like you between us.'


`Like me?' I said, opening my legs a little wider and leaning my back against Steve's warm, wide, muscled chest; his breath blissfully heating my shoulder.


`Hot as fuck,' he said into my ear.


I giggled and said nothing; his voice loud but still supremely sexy.


`It's true,' Jason said, shuffling into the far corner of the sofa, lifting my legs onto his lap and massaging my feet. `The last lad we had was one of mine, and he was almost as fit as you. Almost.'


`What happened to him?' I said.


`He's still around, I guess. But it didn't work out.'


`Richard said,' I said relaxing under the four hands now stroking and caressing my skin and muscles. `Henry, right?'


They laughed: Steve's chest lifting me up and down from below.


`Yeah, Henry the Hoover. That boy sucked cock like a champion,' Jason said.


`How would you rate me?' I said, a wave of pride beginning to swell. `Better than champion?'


`Absolutely,' Steve said, his voice reverberating in his chest. `A prince.'


Reaching up I pulled him into a kiss. Deep and with tongues as Jason's hands explored my calves and thighs. My cock swelling under my undies until they were full again.


But, before either of them could tempt me to go back on my word, the front door opened. Then Richard's deep, masculine voice called through the apartment:


`Hope you boys are hungry!'


Want more?


The first in my Australian series of erotic tales, Oscar Down Under: Part One, is out now.


A lush sensory experience exploring themes of self-development and morality, find it on Amazon US here, Amazon UK here and Amazon Australia here. Or simply search for `Jack Ladd' on the Amazon homepage.


Also available on iBooks, Barnes & Noble and more.


Want a FREE book? Download my prequel novel, Oscar, for absolutely nothing here. Or head over to my website to learn more, including exclusive content on my series, Oscar Down Under.


Copyright Jack Ladd 2018


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