The Alien Culture Project, part 13 by Rio Mack
DISCLAIMER: Contains depictions of gay sex.
Reed recognized him immediately. Standing there next to him, smiling slyly, with a roguish glint in his eye, and shaking the last few drops of pee off of what looked to be about 8 semi-hard inches of thick, mouth-watering, uncut man-meat, was Chance's wrestling coach. Reed smiled back, after getting over the shock of recognition.
"Hey, how ya doin'? Fuck, man, you gotta excuse me for starin', but you are fucking gorgeous. And that meat you're packin' between your legs is about as fine-looking a dick as I've seen next to Chance's."
"You boys lovers, then?"
"You got that right."
"Thought so."
Reed just drank in the sight of Chance's coach: short-cropped hair, with just a hint of gray; rugged, handsome face; about a week's worth of beard, nicely trimmed, also with a sexy sprinkling of gray; and small, barely noticeable yellow diamonds in each ear. He had an incredible physique, of course - Reed knew that much from wrestling practice the other day. He judged him to be maybe 35, and the early touch of gray made him look hot as hell. Reed thought of himself as nicely-built, but he felt like a twerp standing next to this hunky older dude. Damn, he thought, portrait of a total gay stud.
"Come on, dude," Wyatt said. "Let's wash up, and I'll buy ya a drink. Chance here with you?" he added, as he re-packed his dick into the jock he was wearing and zipped up, trying to sound nonchalant, despite the fact he was horny as hell at the prospect of Chance Taylor, his favorite jerk-off fantasy - the hottest boy, hands-down, on his very sexy squad - here, in a gay club, with a hot young lover.
"He sure is. And wait'll you see him. He looks hot as fuck tonight. New haircut, new clothes. Fuck, you'll be wantin' to wrestle me for him. But you gotta watch it, cause I fight dirty, strictly below the belt. My name's Reed, by the way," he said, extending his just-dried hand.
Coach shook it with firm, hard, masculine force. "I'm Wyatt. Wyatt Wilson. Pleased to meet you, Reed." Wyatt was very taken with Reed. He reminded him of a younger version of his own boyfriend: blonde, beautiful, and - as he could tell from that see-through shirt and leather pants - nicely built. In fact, there was something awfully familiar looking about this boy, Wyatt noticed it in the gym the other day. How did he know this young hottie? He clasped Reed's hand harder as he shook it, wanting to connect with this hot young boy.
Wyatt's touch electrified Reed. His hand was big, strong, hairy, and throbbing with life. The touch almost made Reed swoon. He could just picture that hand jacking his dick. Fuck, would that be hot: him, Chance, and me in a three-way. Reed's libido indulged in that delicious reverie as they left the john and headed for Wyatt's table.
Pounding fiercely, acting as the club's heartbeat, the loud, inescapable music Tou was spinning throbbed like the rhythm of steamy male sex; it was pure, hard pulsion. Reed's mind was stuck in a horny groove as his followed Wyatt through the club, eyes glued to the older stud's hard, sculpted ass shifting sexily in tight jeans as he walked. He could just see it: he'd 69 Wyatt's and Chance's big dicks, while the two muscle-hunks pleasured his, Chance lapping at his balls, tickling his thighs with his sexy buzzed head, while Wyatt deep-throated him. Then he'd had to have this older bear's ass. Maybe he and Chance could double-dick him. Fuck, yeah! Reed was dripping by the time he reached Wyatt's table.
Meanwhile, at the bar, as Chance waited to order drinks, a very cute older boy, looking a lot like Reed, only a few years older, caught his eye. The dude was paler-skinned than Reed and had a sexy little strip of beard running under his lip to the bottom of his chin, an 'el Diablo,' a high school friend of Chance's called the style. This boy was standing a few spaces down from Chance. Chance could tell he was pretty built under the wife-beater he wore, lean and sinewy, again like Reed. Suddenly, this older boy made eye-contact with Chance. Chance wasn't even slightly embarrassed at being caught staring; he loved being able to cruise guys so frankly now: he wanted to steep his mind in his new sexuality, checking out faces, hair styles, abs, chests, arms, asses, thighs, calves, cocks, even bare feet - all the ingredients in the mix of male beauty. The boy arched one eyebrow mischievously and mouthed "hello!" Chance cocked a finger at him, then watched as the boy headed over.
"Service always gets slow here about this time. Poor Larson. My name's Jesse, by the way," and he offered his hand. It was a beautiful hand, Chance noticed: long, elegant, well-manicured fingers, almost feminine looking, but strong and sensuous. An image of that hand wrapped around his own dick, working it, the other hand playing with his big, floppy nutsac, blossomed in Chance's mind.
"Hi, name's Chance. Cool club, huh?"
"Very cool," Jesse agreed, and Chance could see Jesse was studying him, checking out every inch of him, like he was sizing him up for something.
"This your first time here?" Jesse asked coolly.
"Yeah," Chance smiled, "my boyfriend brought me."
"My boyfriend and I come here all the time. We live right around the corner, on the river. Can I ask you something?" Jesse said sharply, suddenly shifting gears from small-talk to a definite agenda.
"Sure, shoot," Chance said, keeping one eye out for Larson.
"Ever consider modeling?"
"Me!!??" Chance guffawed. "Yer kiddin', right? I ain't exactly the 'pretty boy' type."
"No, you're not pretty. You're gorgeous, stunning, breath-takingly sexy. You're one of the best-looking boys in here. This is going to sound like a pick-up line, but it's not." Jesse was fishing in his back pocket for something, then pulled out a business card. "I'm a professional photographer. I do art photography; I show here and in New York, plus I do a male calendar series. My stuff is basically male nudes and semi-nudes, of incredibly sexy, incredibly built young guys like yourself. I would love to do a photo shoot with you. I'll pay you $300 for the shoot, and another $500 if it turns out I use your photo for the upcoming calendar."
Chance stared at the card. It looked legit.
Jesse saw Chance staring at the card and knew what was going through his mind. All the boys he got for models this way - in bars or gyms - had virtually the same response: total suspicion.
"It's on the level, Chance. You don't have to worry about that part."
Suddenly Larson appeared.
"Sorry, guys, place is packed. What can I get ya."
Jesse said quickly, "Larson, can you get me that calendar hanging by the register?"
"Sure, Jess, what's up? You two trying to set a date? Wyatt know about this?"
"Larson, what a dirty mind you have. I'm trying to convince Chance here that I'm on the level when I ask him to pose for me."
Larson looked at Chance lustily, "Oh dude, you should, definitely. You're a natural, Chance; so fucking hot." He fetched the calendar and, handing it to Jesse, said, "You do any nudes of this boy, Jess, and I must get a copy!"
Chance laughed, they both gave Larson their drink order, and then Chance studied the calendar. He'd never seen anything like it. This is the kind of thing he would have snuck peaks at if he'd ever seen it in a bookstore back home, guiltily leering at the gorgeous homoerotic images he responded to so deeply, the way he'd sneak peeks at the Playgirl magazines at the Barnes & Noble in the Ashton County Mall. This was exactly the kind of thing - like the poster Reed gave him - he knew he had to have hanging in his dorm room. The pictures were incredible: Jesse was a poet of male musculature. He eroticized biceps, torsos, abs, asses; the images were exactly what turned Chance on, it was like they'd bubbled up from the deep recesses of his unconscious. A few pages had very frank photos: a dick flopping across a thigh of a guy lounging in bed, or curving proudly over the ballsac of some sweaty stud. The others were more soft-core - sensual poems of male beauty. Chance was getting hard as hell looking at them. Imagine, he thought, me as a pin-up guy. Well, why not, he thought: he loved looking at himself in the mirror, maybe other guys would, too. He flipped back to the cover for a second, just to be certain: sure enough, right there was the byline, "Photos by Jesse Stone," the same name on the business card he'd been handed.
"Damn, dude, these photos are incredible, breath-taking. You think you could get me to look like this?"
"You already do, Chance. I don't even need to see you naked - though, I admit, I REALLY want to." They both laughed.
"Look, here's why you're incredible," Jesse explained, and began tracing both of Chance's hip-bones. "There aren't too many guys who have the bulk you have, along with the incredible definition, plus such fine skeletal articulation. Look at these hip-bones, and this nice, deep groove you have under them. There's maybe 4 -5 % of guys that have that."
Chance was right about the touch of those delicate hands. The tingly play of those soft, strong hands over his body was like an aphrodisiac. The calendar photos had started him stirring, now he was getting full and hard.
"Excellent pecs, obviously," Jesse added, working his hands under Chance's taut T-shirt to trace sexy circles around Chance's hard nipples, "but your thighs, I bet they're cut as hell," and his hands stroked down there. "Your ass is all glutes, no fat," he said, stroking it sensually. "And, damn, this doesn't hurt, either," he laughed, as he traced very firmly up and down on the steel pipe in Chance's jeans. "I can tell just by looking at you, you're perfectly proportioned." He kept rubbing Chance's hardness.
Larson came back with their drinks. "Jesus, you two, get a fucking room! May I remind you, you both have boyfriends!" All of them laughed as they paid for their drinks.
"Come on over to my table for a minute," Jesse said, "and let me go over the deal again. I just know you'd be perfect. I'd love to do athe shoot tonight, if possible, cause the final proofs for next year's calendar are due next week." Chance's head was spinning, not just from the ego-stroking opportunity to be a model, but from the cock-stroking this hot older stud had been doing. He knew he'd say yes, if only for more of that.
At their table, Reed and Wyatt had got along very well. Wyatt was turned on by such a breathtakingly beautiful young blonde stud, and Reed couldn't take his eyes off the virile older jock, the epitome of raw, rugged manliness.
"So, Wyatt," Reed asked, loving the erotic wave he was riding, "must be great to be a wrestling coach, gettin' all that fine young wrestler ass? When I left practice the other day, I knew I'd made the wrong career choice."
"The gay wrestling coach hitting on his students is a little too much of a porn clichŽ for me, I'm afraid, Reed. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE young guys; my boys get me hard as hell. And if they ever wanna hit on me, and my boyfriend doesn't mind, fine. But not the other way."
"So you never made a play for a student?"
"Never. I admit, I get so damned horny, I send off signals to a few. But not one of them made the first move, so fine by me. I tell you, though, Chance has tempted me more than any other young wrestler I've coached in 8 years. You saw the other day in practice, when you took pictures of me helping him perfect his form as he lifted, how hard it is for me to keep my hands off him."
"Fuck," Reed laughed, "you just about had that gorgeous fuck-stick o' yours half-way up his ass! That what you mean by sending off 'signals'?"
Wyatt laughed. "OK, I'm busted, I know. But, Jesus, Reed, he's a fucking walking wet dream! You should know that better 'n anyone."
"Tell me about it."
"Hell, first time I saw him naked in the shower - fuck, I musta beat off three times in my office. Shit, that memory still fuels jack-off sessions. Plus, he's a genuine sweetheart. My advice: don't let him get away, if you can at all help it. You found one o' the golden ones, Reed."
"Thanks, Wyatt," Reed said, touched. Now he really wanted a three-way with Wyatt, Chance, and him: someone like Wyatt, who appreciated the beauty of Chance's body and spirit, deserved to know the full, utter delight of the boy, the deep, overwhelming pleasure of sex with him.
"Hey," Reed added, "is your boyfriend here? I'd like to meet him."
"Yeah," Wyatt started craning his neck, looking around, "he was gonna get us a coupla - Holy shit, I shoulda known."
"What?" Reed asked, looking around, then seeing what Wyatt was smiling at: Chance and someone he assumed was Wyatt's boyfriend being very playful with each other at the bar; Chance was laughing as this gorgeous blonde lover of Wyatt's was playing with his nipples, hands under Chance's tight T-shirt.
"Look at those two young fuckers flirting with each other," Wyatt grinned. He knew what was happening - his lover was finding a hot-looking boy to come home and pose nude for him. Little did he know who this boy was. Jesse was always on the look-out for models in places like this - gay clubs, gyms, the beach, anywhere gorgeous men congregated. 9 times out of 10, there'd be incredible sex after the shoot. Maybe that was another reason Wyatt didn't need to hit on his wrestlers: between his lover and the models he brought home, he got all the dick and ass he needed. It was a wonderful life, indeed.
Wyatt smiled, sure that Chance - a total exhibitionist, he knew, from practice - would want to have his picture taken. And on this shoot, there would be the bonus of Chance's very hot lover to spice things up further. He had to chuckle at Chance's surprise when he found out who this hot young photographer's partner was. Fuck, thought Wyatt, the four of them would be all up in each other's asses tonight. That wet-dream jock-stud, to do with what he wanted, and then to do to him whatever the boy wanted. Shit, he was hard as fuck.
"Ordinarily I'd be jealous," Wyatt said, as he casually placed his big, rugged hand over Reed's and stroked it gently, adding, "but something tells me we're all gonna get to know each other a lot better tonight."
"Damn, that suits me fine, Wyatt," Reed smiled, stretching his other arm out, just as casually, to let it rest on one of Wyatt's chiseled quads, which he proceeded to rub sensuously. "I could see back there in the john you were a person well worth getting to know." Reed's hand was now circling sensually over Wyatt's jean-covered crotch, rubbing the hard, thick dick he was so anxious to get another look at. Both men - the young one and the older one - were very pleased: utterly horned-up, they were each happy the other was on their wave-length, ready to cut to the chase and get to some serious fucking.
Wyatt grunted softly, "Fuck, that feels good, boy. Reach under and tickle my balls, too."
Reed scooted his fingers under and felt two huge egg-sized nuts.
"Damn, dude, I'd love to feel these babies slapping against my ass. Fuck, are you hung. Tell you what else I'd love to feel," Reed added, as he moved his hand down towards Wyatt's hole, "my dick in that hard jock ass of yours. I bet you've got an incredible muscle-bear bottom. Fuck, I want a piece of that."
Wyatt, luxuriating in the boy's sensuous touch, smiled and traced a rough finger down the boy's jaw. "That's so damn nice, man. So fucking nice. Mmmm, here come our fellas; I s'pose we better stop."
Chance had no idea which table was Jesse's, but he broke into a huge grin when he suddenly saw Reed at a table talking with someone he couldn't recognize from the back.
"Jesse, wait up. Stop here for a minute. There's my boyfriend! Reed!" Chance called, "Guess wha - Coach! Holy shit, no way! This is so cool!"
The young, hot-looking guy with Chance smiled, "Chance, I see you know my boyfriend. Wyatt, I met this extraordinarily beautiful boy at the bar. I gather he's one of your wrestlers. We're going back to our place for a shoot later, I hope, if you'll help me talk him into it." The two lovers exchanged subtly excited looks. "And who's this?" he asked, turning to the hot fucking blonde sitting with his lover.
"Oh," said Chance, still mind-boggled at seeing Coach here, and Reed with him. "Uh, Reed, I'd like to introduce Jesse Stone, Coach - uh, I mean, Wyatt's boyfriend, I guess. Damn!"
"'Jesse Stone?'" Reed gave a pleased but puzzled look, and he shook this older stud's hand. "How do I know that name? It sounds really familiar."
"I'm a photographer. I'm inviting Chance - and you, of course - back to our place later tonight so I can take some pictures of Chance for a calendar I'm working on."
"Oh, hell yeah! Jesse Stone! You're incredible, man! A date took me to one of your gallery shows last year. Shit, those were the hottest, most beautiful pictures I've ever seen. No one captures the beauty of the male body like you do. Fuck, that show was incredible, erotic as hell! And calendars, yeah; my date told me you do those 'American Adonis' calendars every year. I can't believe I'm meeting you!"
"Well, I'm very flattered. Surprised you've heard of me."
"Are you kidding? Your calendars must sell through the roof. Shit, that calendar has become one of the hottest conversation topics on so many gay blogs, not to mention the male model web sites, and hip young women's blogs, too, I heard. It's like the male version of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue! You're a legend, dude! Chance, you definitely want to pose for this guy! You guys were made for each other! You're the perfect model/photgrapher fit."
Jesse laughed, embarrassed, but loving the attention, and loving that Reed was going to seal the deal. He had carefully worked those blogs Reed spoke of, doling out many of his sexiest photos for free, to establish his reputation as quickly as possible. "I really want Chance as one of the men for next year's 'Adonis' calendar. The theme is 'jeans,' so when I saw him at the bar in this outfit, well, it was a no-brainer."
"OK, sold. I'm in!" Chance said, excitedly.
"Excellent!" They toasted Chance's new career.
"So, nyah-nyah-the-boo-boo," Chance said, wiping the foam off his lips, "you won't be the only male model in the family now, Mr. 8-by-10 Glossy Boy."
"You model?" Jesse asked. "I'm not at all surprised. You're gorgeous."
"Thanks. Yeah, actually, I get a fair number of gigs. OK, this sounds cheesy, but here's something I did you might I have seen: did you happen to catch the latest fall catalog for that big department chain, Bierman's? I did a lot of the underwear pages. Some were pretty hot, I thought. Didn't pay so well, but I got a lot of cool, free underwear."
Wyatt suddenly realized where he'd seen this boy before. As if reading his mind, Jesse laughed, "Yes, we're actually very familiar with those photos. Wyatt's had them taped up in the john for the past month."
Reed turned to the older stud, excited as hell, and smiled, "I'm flattered, Wyatt!"
Wyatt was not a little embarrassed, "What can I say, those were hot photos. You're very good-looking."
"Ever beat off to my picture?" Reed asked slyly, coolly sipping the scotch Chance had brought him.
"I take the fifth," Wyatt answered, totally turned on that two of his most recurrent fantasies were sitting right here at his table, and later might be sharing his bed. Aw fuck, he thought, dick pulsing deep and hard under his jock.
"Well, all I know, Reed," Jesse said coyly, "is: that one full-page ad, you know, where you're lying in bed, pulling up your briefs, and your abs look so hot and your cock is VERY clearly outlined, and you still haven't pulled the briefs up over that firm, gorgeous ass of yours? Beautiful lighting, you know which one I mean?"
"That one's the best!" Reed cried. "That one could make a dead man cum!"
"Shit, why haven't I seen this?" Chance asked hotly.
Wyatt turned red and looked down, knowing what was coming.
"Well, anyway, oddest thing. Each week - each day, in fact - there seems to be more of these strange droplet stains all over it, like dried paste or something."
He and Reed cracked up, each grabbed the other in delight.
"Shit, Wyatt, don't feel bad," Chance commiserated. "I'd beat off to soft-core photos of Reed all I could, too, if the creep would just give me some. Damn!"
"OK, next subject, please," Wyatt said, pretending to be pissed, but loving all the sexy talk, loving that his ravenous sexual appetite was on full display.
"I'm so glad you like my work, Reed," Jesse said smoothly, starting in to some light flirting with this very beautiful blonde boyfriend of Chance's. He knew how this evening would go: Wyatt was dying to get into Chance's pants, that was obvious; he loved the muscle boys Jesse brought home for photo shoots. And that was just fine with Jesse, cause Reed was sexy as hell. And then, later, Wyatt would turn his attention to his favorite underwear model, leaving Chance and Jesse to get to know each other more intimately. What an evening was in store for them. "I'd love to show you my work tonight. You can pick out the one you like best, and I'll make you a print."
"That would be amazing, to see your stuff, I'd love that. And to think about having one of your pictures hanging on my wall . . . damn! I can't believe this."
"Hey, Jesse," Chance suddenly got an idea, "you're a photographer. Would you mind taking pictures the rest of the night with this camera of Reed's? I'm doing a sort of report on my experience tonight for a class project. I sure would like a few really nice photos of some of the sexy boys in here done by a professional like yourself, to kinda record my eveing here."
"Glad to, Chance," Jesse said, and immediately took a few sexy shots of his three table-mates, then he turned his eye to the rest of the club to get a few steamy pics of some of the hotter-looking, barely-dressed boys, who were only too happy to vogue for him.
While Jesse took a few snaps, Reed looked at Wyatt and his lover. Factor out the ages, he realized, and physically he and Chance were a perfect rhyme of this couple: the hard, massive stud and his gorgeous blonde trophy boyfriend. But that's OK, cause he was sure Jesse felt the same as he did: you could also frame it a different way, flip the script - the gorgeous, sexy-ass hottie and his big, bulky boy-toy.
Wyatt was horny as hell, he could hardly wait to move this wonderfully unexpected party into a more intimate setting. "Should we mosey on over to our place now?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"Mind if we stay here just a bit longer?" Chance begged. "I'd like to do a little dancin' with my boyfriend before we book."
"Excellent idea," Jesse said, deliciously savoring what lay ahead of them all tonight, knowing the routine with his models so well. "Wyatt, when was the last time you danced with me?"
Wyatt smiled; as long as he had to kill time, being out on the dance floor with his lover and watching these two sexy young hotties was about the best way to do it.
Before they headed out to the dance floor, the two couples each removed their shirts. At this hour of the evening, everyone on the dance floor was naked from the waist up (many were pretty much unclad from the waist down, too). When Chance lifted his shirt over his head, Wyatt and Jesse did what every boy within eyesight of Chance did: they gasped involuntarily and just stared. Chance's torso was homoerotic perfection: every well-worked muscle stood out lusciously. He was big and beefy, yet svelte and sexy. His nipples stood out hard and perky against those ripe, smooth, college-jock pecs. Shirtless, his Apollo's belt was revealed in all its powerful erotic glory. His long, lean, luscious abs were about the most droolingly X-rated set in the club tonight. Utter perfection. The crowd seemed to part in a kind of stunned, lustful daze and he walked blithely through.
On the dance floor, Chance caught Tou's groove immediately. He started gyrating his thin, muscled waist, doing a kind of "Matrix" move: twisting and turning his chiseled torso this way and that, as if he were dodging bullets. As he did so, his cut, rippling abs, toally exposed by the ultra-low cut of his jeans, riveted the gaze of almost every dancer. The only ones not staring at this live sex show were those behind him, who were glued to the hard, lickably-perfect globes of his butt. It looked like he had two perfect melons stuffed under his jeans; as he did his hip-shake, his ass-cleavage made the most amazingly tempting undulations, causing everyone lucky enough to see it to gaze longingly and lick their lips.
Chance loved dancing with Reed, and vice versa; where Reed had smooth, well-practiced moves, Chance simply had boundless energy, a natural rhythm, and an eye-popping physique. Chance got into it even further, letting the funkified techno beat carry him away. He raised his muscular biceps, crooking them so his balled-up fists were near his head, and as he got into his body-rocking groove, every arm-pit fetishist on the dance floor (and, really, who isn't?) got weak-kneed. One brave young boy dancing next to him was so turned on, he couldn't resist: he swooped next to Chance and sensuously licked a trail from his ribcage up to his pit, swirling his tongue giddily around in that smooth, muscular nook, that crevice of jock-boy paradise. Chance laughed, Reed shook a finger, and the boy, smiling serenely, danced away.
Wyatt and Jesse, dancing near them, were just as overcome. Jesse had already snapped a few pictures of Chance dancing, with the digital camera of Reed's he'd tucked into his back pocket. Now, the older couple glided over, sandwiching Reed and Chance as they danced. It looked hot as hell: a kind of mini-orgy on the floor. Jesse wedged his cock firmly into Reed's ass, a signal - as if Reed needed any - of how badly the handsome young photographer wanted to fuck the gorgeous, half-Brazilian young stud. And Wyatt, the restraints on his lust for his gorgeous young wrestler now dissolved, let his fevered passion overwhelm him. He pressed his jock-and-jean-covered hardness tightly against Chance's mouth-watering ass, wedging his steely bulge deep into his exposed ass-crack, then used his dick to push down the waist even further. He wanted to see as much of this boy's gorgeous ass as possible. He wished he could fuck him hard and deep right now. He reached in to pull the boy close to him, his hands trembling with excitement at being finally freed to live out their dream. He played all over Chance's hard, sweaty musculature: one hand working over those thick, firm pecs and eraser-hard nipples, while the other rubbed Chance's abs up and down, going further, on each downward stroke, under the waistband of his jeans, to get at the cock he'd lusted after from the first time he saw Chance nude.
Wyatt's uncaged lust, given its head at last, quickly grew bolder and more bestial. Not giving a fuck, single-minded now in his need to consummate desire, he unsnapped Chance's jeans, then unzipped them, so he could work that too-tempting dick in earnest. He pulled it put excitedly, marveling in the long, hard thickness. Chance was in heaven, in the hot arms of his hunky coach at last. Wyatt's hard, rough hands worked his dick with a mixture of awed worship and bold desire.
Reed, meanwhile, was swooning against Jesse's passionate dry-humping, the photographer having reached round to work his boy-toy's dick and pecs. With Reed occupied, Wyatt delighted in the full freedom to jack his gorgeous young muscle-stud, and jack he did. The music and crowd throbbed and swirled around them, further intoxicating this already-heady moment. Still pumping hard against the boy's fully exposed ass, he had one hand on the boy's long hard shaft, and the other ran riot over his big, sweaty ballsac. Everyone near them wasn't so much dancing anymore as swaying in a circle, mesmerized by this hot scene. Wyatt worked Chance's foreskin as if it were the first dick he'd touched in months. His other hand, big, meaty, callused, dug under Chance's balls to brazenly finger the boy's hole.
Finally Chance shouted, "Whoa! Stop, man! Stop!"
He turned around, his long thick shaft jutting straight out, a glistening cord of pre-cum dangling off the tip.
He kissed Wyatt sensuously, then pulled back and said, "I gotta collect a bet from my boyfriend, Wyatt, and damn if this don't seem like the perfect time!"
"Reed!" he shouted over to his lover, who was lost in Jesse's arousing dick-play.
"REED!!" he called louder, so he could be heard through the music, the crowd, and the lust that was fogging his lover's mind.
Reed finally heard; he looked over to see Chance with his dick sticking out alluringly, jeans gathered around his ankles. Wyatt's hand slowly rubbed the young stud's ass-crack up and down, then round and round on his ass-globes, sort of like an engine on low idle, while he waited to see what this bet was.
Reed laughed and called out, "I know what you want! OK, stud, I'll pay up."
He sashayed his leather-clad hips sexily across the floor, took Chance's big dripping cock in his hand, and gave his lover a deep, tender kiss. "God, I love you," he whispered. "What a hot fucking life we have!"
Chance stroked his face longingly, silently mouthed "You, man, you," and put his head back, reveling in his boyfriend's touch.
Reed kissed his way down Chance's gleaming cut torso, stopping to suck those hard, perfect nipples while he kept up his dick-play. Then, reaching his abs, he licked the rest of the way, savoring the feel of his tongue rubbing over the closely-groomed stubble of Chance's pubic patch. When he got to that hard, thick shaft, he took it in both hands and rubbed it all over his face, letting it play over and over across his lips. God, he loved this young sex-angel. 'A golden one,' was that what Wyatt called him? No fuckin' doubt.
Reed was lost in his worship of Chance's dick. He couldn't see that the crowd on the dance floor had formed a circle around them. He didn't even hear the music that Tou, digging on this hot scene from up in his booth, had switched to: while a deep, blisteringly erotic house beat played, Tou mixed in a scratched sample of a Ying Yang Twins' song. Over and over, above the deep beat, the lyrics repeated, "you ain't never had nothin' like this, just wait till you see my dick . . ." Reed licked the shaft up and down; then, holding it tenderly, he worked over the honey-glazed tip, digging around in the piss-slit to get every drop of Chance's nectar. Having cleaned it dry, and loving the feel of that huge tool throbbing in his hands, his tongue danced down one of Chance's veins and across his hefty set of low-hangers. The salty coating of sweat that sheened them was like a heady cocktail for Reed, and so he bathed them harder, getting every drop off them, lifting them up to get at more juicy sweat secreted away on his perineum. Chance's hands stroked his head in lust-gorged gratitude.
Reed pulled up off his balls and gazed at the long, thick, rock-hard shaft twitching in front of his face. The bulging veins traced a pattern of male eroticism all up and down the shaft. Reed traced his fingers along them. The top of his pink cock-tip poked out from the foreskin encasing it. The tip was thickly glazed with pre-cum again. Fuck, Reed thought tenderly, he must be ready to shoot. Again his tongue delicately licked off every drop, then he dug his tongue all around under the foreskin to get whatever else there was down there, cleaning the head and driving Chance wild. Then his tongue swirled lusciously all over the top and up and down the sides. Then he moved in for some serious cock-sucking. His head bobbed up and down on his lover's cock, as the boys around him cheered approvingly. Several other young sexed-up dancers had, by this time, gone down on their partners. But most spectators were all glued to Reed and Chance, as Reed's buzzed and spiked blonde head rose and fell in a steady, savory rhythm on Chance's gorgeous, spit-slick fuckstick.
Jesse and Wyatt, meanwhile, were swept away by the strong rush of boy-lust. Jesse got down next to Reed and added his lips and tongue to the pleasuring of Chance. And while Reed and Jesse sucked him off - or rather, as they madly kissed and tongued each other in fevered desire, with Chance's stiff prick between them, the happy recipient of their oral lust - Wyatt stood behind Chance, free to resume his own sex-play. He began by grinding his hard, dripping, cock deep between those ripe, muscular ass-cheeks some more, manhandling those two suckable tits with his rough fingers, and kissing and licking all over his neck and collar-bone, while whispering hot and wet in his ear how hot this young Adonis looked. Soon, he could stand it no longer; he bent down, spread the cheeks of Chance's hard, sensational ass, and dove in. His tongue sent ecstatic waves through Chance's core as he lapped that smooth, hard, boy-jock's ass-crack. Wyatt loved few things better than rimming a hot muscle-stud's ass. His tongue was a finely-tuned erogenous engine, and Chance's ass was top choice. His hands rubbed the smooth, rich skin covering those hard glutes, while his tongue made a disgustingly raunchy mess, saliva drooling everywhere. He began to tongue just the rosebud, lightly at first; then, as the groans of boyish pleasure erupted out of Chance, he went at it harder, in a fever of desire. His strong tongue poked and darted, demanding entrance past the young stud's nether-gate.
Finally he was in, the rose-petals parted, and he started to trace around the hole. His saliva was a thick ooze of lube as he worked the hole open with his long, hard tongue alone. Further and further in he went, circling the velvety walls of this young boy's pleasure-chute, tasting the tangy mix of sweat and funk. He was snorting and moaning and drooling, honking like the horny pig he was, but loving every minute of it. His hands kept kneading those firm, ripe melons as his tongue-fucking got hard and regular. This is what I want, he was trying to tell the boy; I want this fine, young ass. I want to bury every inch of my thick, hard man-dick up this sweet hole, and just fuck and fuck till we both explode.
Chance was in a zone he had never before known. While his dick, so close to shooting, was being worked over by two hungry mouths, each trying to outdo the other in pleasuring him, his ass was getting the most glorious rim job of his life. He started working his muscular hips back on Wyatt's thick, stiff tongue, grinding away, clenching on it when it was all the way in. This drove Wyatt crazy. Soon he brought his thumbs in, to open Chance wider. He, too, was in the zone, and planned, in a few seconds more, to whip his own aching cock out and fuck this boy silly.
Jesse was taking first one ball, then another in his mouth, sucking, swirling his tongue over them, licking up a full load of whipped, frothy cream. Reed was lapping all up and down the straining shaft of his beautiful lover, then giving him the most sensuous head he could, pistoning up and down while his tongue swirled everywhere. Chance was the lust object of not only these three oral worshippers, but every boy in the club who stood and watched, stroking their own cocks or their lovers'.
Chance could hold out no longer. He felt the wave engulf him, coming on swift and strong. His ass clenched Wyatt's tongue and thumbs in a vice grip, his loud young voice whooped, and Wyatt knew the boy had cum. Reed and Jesse were covered by one of Chance's biggest, thickest loads; they could just feel the cream soaking through their pores. The dance floor had erupted into cheers, screams, and applause; and Tou had switched on Queen's "We Are the Champions." Jesse and Reed tongue-cleaned each other's faces, Chance slowly pulled up his jeans. Then the two couples made their exits, amid continued cheers and back-slaps.
As they gathered their things and snaked their way out of the crowded, pulsating club, Chance relished the scene. He had to come back here, soon and often. Suddenly, he thought about his dad again: were there any gay bars up in Yellow Branch? Or even any in the whole of Ashton County? Or were his hunting and fishing trips, along with his barn-dates and wife-away sleep-overs, a sort of virtual Sparta for him and Bill - small, floating islands where they could indulge their true selves and desires, an archipelago of exclusively gay society? Chance really wanted to see his dad. They needed to have one of the most intimate conversations of their lives. The fresh outside air, and the sight of the three gorgeous men he was with, illuminated by the street lights, chased these deeply personal thoughts out of Chance's mind.
The two couples walked through the still-mild fall air, towards the warehouse loft of Wyatt and Jesse. Those two lovers were arm in arm, whispering and laughing excitedly about the evening ahead of them. Most weekends, even if Jesse hadn't found some stud who would pose first and then be up for a three-way, he and Wyatt had guys over for sex parties. They felt it domesticated any impulse toward infidelity, kept it nicely confined in the expansive bonds of their own relationship. Neither of them, however, had ever been as excited to fool around with two other guys as they were tonight.
A few paces back, Chance, hugging his lover close, was excited, too, about his first experience at a gay club. His boyish enthusiasm delighted Reed.
"Dude, we have to come here like every fucking weekend! What a high! I have never felt so dick-tinglingly alive, so totally myself, as here. Not even playing sports - which, I now agree with you, are just a not-so-thinly-veiled metaphor for what went on in there tonight: guys in total celebration of the beauty of the male body and - what do I wanna say? - the sexual possibilities of that body. A club like Sparta is, like, such a cool, frank admission of masculinity, of what it feels like to be a hot-blooded, fully-alive male."
"Damn, Taylor, I do believe hanging out with me brings out the philosopher in this here country boy," and Reed reached over to give his boyfriend's cock, so deliciously outlined in his jeans, a loving squeeze. Fuck is he hard, Reed moaned to himself. He wanted to pull Chance into a darkened parking lot and take him right there.
Chance's mind, though, was turning on what might lie ahead; his dick was full and thick with the bone-deep lust he felt for Wyatt, the rugged older Coach, who was such a jerk-off fantasy of his. There had to be sex tonight, lots of it, with all of them. But how to work it, he wondered? He pulled Reed close to him and whispered giddily, like a child on Christmas Eve: "Tell me if I'm nuts, man, but the way my mind is workin', and maybe I'm just too fuckin' horned up from the 100 proof sex in that club, and from how fucking hot Wyatt and Jesse look - but, well, wouldn't it be incredible if we could somehow kind of work it so we could get a totally nasty kinda 4-way thing goin' with those 2 dudes? You know, after this photo shoot thing we're gonna have? I mean, you'd be up for it, no? You think these guys might? I mean, that scene on the dance floor with the 4 of us was mighty hot. Would they be up for more, d'you think? Or am I just goofy with lust?"
"Chance, it's kind of sweet to see that there's a few aspects left to this whole thing that are still 'alien culture' to you. Take my word for it, stud, we've got about 3 or 4 hours of the most heavy-duty sex you can handle ahead of us tonight. Every fucking permutation the 4 of us can think of. Oh yeah, Chance, you'll be fucking, don't worry. That's why they invited us over, you big dope. I mean, sure he wants your picture. Fuck, he should, and I bet he's gonna use your photo in the calendar. But I know the sexual mindset of dudes. We'll be fucking about 1 second after Jess takes those pictures. Fuck, I'm as horned up as you. Jesse is such a turn-on for me, and I bet you can't wait to get all steamy with your coach. Fuck am I psyched."
Chance cupped his lover's ass, then rubbed up and down the crack longingly. "Fuck, man, me too. I been fein'in' for Wyatt since before I even knew I was gay. God, I useta just stare at how good-lookin' he was. Fuck, I bet I got his body memorized. Shit, Reed, my dick is so fucking hard right now," and Reed reached over to cop a feel, "I might just shoot off before we get there."
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