This story contains material of an adult gay nature. It is fiction. Any resemblence to real or other similar situations are merely coincidental. More stories by Adrian Storm can be found at: http://boanddax.com.
Copyright (C) 1999 Adrian Storm adrian_storm@hotmail.com
Pool Room
Dillon finally came to, and tried to collect his bearings. Still shrouded in the warm arms of the seductive drug, he stretch his arms out. It was like waking from a nice afternoon nap. He felt almost refreshed.
"Congratulations, you're now the our all time winner for the most money raised at single Eagle fundraising event," sounded a voice from across the room.
Dillon saw that he was lying down on an old leather couch. Looking over he saw Ron seated behind a desk. Merrick was leaning against the front edge.
"What are you talking about?" Dillon muttered.
"It'll come to you. Every time someone put a twenty into our pledge jars, the bartenders would ring the bell. And."
"Oh my fucking God! That contraption fucked the holy mother-fucking crap out of me," Dillon barked loudly.
"Oh yeah, you should have seen it. Actually, you can if you want. We have it on video." Merrick continued, "You were absolutely incredible. We had so many pledges we were afraid you'd never hold out before cumming."
Ron added, "Believe me buddy boy, two thousand bucks in an hour and a half is a real record. Do the math. That's a hundred drills up that perfect ass of yours."
Dillon, trying to make some sense out it, could hear the driving beat of the music from the bar outside the room. He thought to himself, how the hell did he end up in this depraved situation? Not that he was having a bad time, it was just that he intended to visit a friend and perhaps get his jollies on the side while he was out here.
Merrick approached. "Here's your gratuity," handing Dillon two crisp one hundred dollar bills. "You did you part for your fellow fag, and you certainly deserve a nice reward."
"What?" Dillon said as he starred down at the money in his hand. Thinking to himself, he concluded that this would easily cover the cost of his plane fare. He put it on his credit card and was wondering how he was going to pay for it when the bill finally came.
"Oh and." Ron interceded, "and all the drinks you can handle. Your clothes are at the door in coat-check whenever you want. I'm giving you the leather as my personal gift. Call it a coming-out donation."
"Hey, I'm not sure what to say," uttered Dillon. He certainly didn't feel bad at all.
"Don't say anything. As far as I'm concerned, you're a real star." Ron replied squarely. "As long as I own this dump, you've got place to hang your hat."
"Here, take a toke on this." Merrick offered Dillon a lit pipe.
Taking a long deep drag, Dillon let the smoke linger in his lungs, exhaling it in one long smooth breath. "Well, I can't say when I've had a more thrilling weekend. Fuck, I don't even know what day it is! Shit!"
"Well, according to the plane ticket in your pants, you're not scheduled to leave for another 10 hours," Merrick stated bluntly. "So, I suggest you take full advantage of it. You've got quite a fan club out there. Oh, and before I forget. I think your friend is out there, too."
"Steve! Oh, SHIT!" Dillon stammered blowing out another drag. He lost all sense of time. He was supposed to call his buddy at around two that afternoon.
"He came up to us when your pretty ass was walked through the bar and he told us he was wondered where the hell you had been all day. When he found out what your real role was here, he insisted on being the first to donate a twenty," with a sly smile Ron related.
Dillon laughed out loud. "I guess your friends should always back you up."
"Come on stud-boy" Merrick said grabbing Dillon, pulling him to his feet. "Let's take a few bows. Ron's got some biz to take care of in here. Believe me, it's not near as exciting as what's out there."
The party in the bar was in full force. Outside the office stretched a dark hallway running in both directions. The passed a small alcove where they saw a large man seated in a barbershop-like chair. Another man was sucking his fat cock with intense energy. Dillon realized he had no real concept of what the place actually looked like. It was like exploring a strange new club house.
As they rounded the corner, they passed several hot nearly naked bodies. Directly in front, they moved through a door and entered the D. J. booth. Looking over the turntables, Dillon gazed out over the dance floor. It was bouncing with the tightly pressed bodies of hundreds of men.
Over the loud thump of the music, Merrick turned to Dillon "This is Freddy, our #1 disc spinner."
"Nice to meet you, Dillon." Taking off his headphones and shaking his hand. "You got me so hot, I almost forgot to lay down some new tracks in the middle of it."
Dillon smiled broadly. He peered over to the far side of the room and caught a real glimpse of the stage he must have been on. I was directly above the bar backed by a wall of mirrors. He thought to himself, there's almost no spot in this place that didn't have a real good view of it. Whatever the contraption he was strapped to was gone. A couple of good looking go-go boys were shaking their buns there now.
"Come on, I've got something else you might want to see," Merrick planted into Dillon's ear.
Down one of the dark hallways, they came to a set of steps flanked by a husky man seated on a bar stool. He nodded toward Merrick and opened the chain that was stretched out in front. They ascended the dark stairwell and entered a large red-lit room. The smoke laid heavy on the ceiling. Passing a few well built men they moved up to the bar.
"This place is reserved for special clients" Merrick related. Toward the bartender, "Hey, Jake. Pop us a couple of beers."
Noticing Dillon's lost expression, the bartender said to Dillon, "Hey gorgeous. Don't look so bewildered. You're in right spot."
Dillon wasn't sure what to say and just gave him a slight grin. Downing the beer, he turned and took in the action around the room. He watched guys coming and going through several arch ways that surrounded the room. All them were in perfect shape he thought to himself. In the center, where several stuffed chairs occupied by half naked men. There was something particularly odd about this place, but he couldn't put his finger on it right away.
Motioning to a very good looking stud wearing on a tight pair of leather pants, Merrick requests "Michael, come here for sec." As he came closer, Merrick instructs: "Listen, this is Dillon. I want you to escort him around when he's ready."
"Sure thing. Anything for this guy," beaming a wide smile towards Dillon.
"Dillon, there's other crap I've got to deal with. I'll hook up with you in a bit." Merrick stated as he headed out through a door behind the circle bar.
A fresh beer appeared in front of Dillon. He didn't even question it. He took a good look at the man ordered to be his personal valet. Nice body, he thought, and I don't really go for blondes. Wondering about the situation, he eventually asked "So, what's up. Is this some sort of weird private lounge?"
"You see those doorways. Each one leads to a private pool room. Only they don't really play pool, if you get my drift?" Michael said smugly.
"Call me na‹ve, but I figured something strange was going on here -- all these buff guys, moving around. But what's even weirder, a lot of them seem to be glancing over here," confessed Dillon.
"You see that center curtain covering the middle arch. That's one strictly reserved for you."
Dillon turned to him with an odd expression, "What do mean, for me?"
"On special occasions that room is reserved for one person. And, tonight its reserved for you." Michael continued to explain, "The room is surrounded by railings. Once inside, you can have any guy standing up against them. Like your own little play room with able and willing men - to do anything you want."
"No shit!" Dillon laughed. He didn't know what to say. It was so completely strange. "I'm not sure I can handle this sort of thing."
"What? Are you nuts? You've got one night to have any guy you see standing around -- suck you, fuck you or do whatever you want. And. " Michael resounded, grabbing Dillon's sore right nipple, "They are obliged to tip you for the opportunity to enter the room."
"Holy, fuck. Like I'm whore with a child to feed?" Dillon redirects flatly.
"Hey, you don't have to keep the cash," Michael rebuked. "Fuck, you can give it away for all I care. But, you should have seen the waiting list after your show downstairs. These guys couldn't wait to get up here, just to get the chance of getting a closer look."
Downing his third beer, Dillon mused. What the hell? It's not everyday you get to have any red-blooded hunk bow to your every whim. "OK. Lead-on Maestro."
Crossing the floor, Dillon felt a hundred eyes follow him. Just the thought of having every orifice in his body worked over by all these dream men was making his cock start to twitch. Michael pushed back the curtain back and they stood facing the round room. Dillon noticed all sorts of equipment lining the room. There was stuff in here he'd never seen before. Placed in the middle was a small wooden bench. Next to it was a leather sling hanging silently from the mirror ceiling. Dillon noticed a couple strapping bucks staring at him from the railing with their hands pulling at their crotches.
"I think I need a little boost to help my mood," turning to Michael.
"Got some X and poppers, if you like. And, I can get anything else you need."
"I think I'll pop an X first. Then keep those poppers handy," he related to Michael.
Sitting on the bench, he quickly swallows the pill. Looking up at Michael, he plainly requests: "Can you get this shit off my dick. I think they want to come out an play."
The feeling off being totally free was incredible. His ass and cock were out in the open. He thought, my hole has been so completely worked over today, I can take any cock now. He opened the top of the popper and took a deep whiff. It sailed into his brain, sending him rocking backward until he was lying completely back on the bench. He gazed up to his reflection on the ceiling.
"Oh yeah." Dillon drifted off for momentarily, then gazed back and said frankly "Michael, I want them all. It's your job to line them up. When they are waiting for my ass, they need to work my mouth," smiling from ear to ear, Dillon continued: "beginning with you."
Michael took a giant sniff of the poppers while Dillon reached forward and undid the his zipper. He pulled out Michael's healthy cock and swallowed the well-proportioned partially limp muscle. Dillon heard him groan as his man-meat began to grow to full size, pushing deep into the back of his throat. After he knew Michael was seriously rock hard, he let him out and laid back, pulling his legs up in the air. Michael took no time at all, and drove his pulsing rod into Dillon open hole. He slammed into Dillon, plowing him with all his strength. Holding onto Dillon's boots, Michael fuck his swollen cock into Dillon's hungry chute.
Looking up, Dillon watched the beautiful blond pound his boy-butt. God! He lived for this. A cock was slapped on his face from above. This was man number two. It was a real monster with a fat head. Dillon open his mouth and the cock slid deep inside. He felt the man's heavy balls fall across the bridge of his nose and push against his eyes. He was now being plugged at both ends.
Michael shot his load into Dillon fuck passage just as Dillon began to float on the drug inside him. He almost felt like he was dancing to a beat. The second guy moved down and replaced Michael's rod with his own. He picked up exactly where Michael left off, slamming his fat meat into Dillon's open ditch. A third cock was rammed into Dillon mouth. The force of the cock drilling into his ass pushed his body forward allowing the dick in his mouth to go even deeper.
So much man cum was pumped into Dillon's ass that it couldn't contain the massive amounts of fluid let loose inside him. It flowed out and began to pool on the floor around the bench. Dillon's asshole was so open from all the cocks being slammed into him that it was no longer able to close completely. It was now only a gapping hole spewing cum juice as each new cock pumped in and out.
Dillon's back was starting to feel raw from the friction of being fucked hard on top of the wooden bench. Lunging up to find Michael after the twentieth man ha blasted his wad, he motioned helplessly towards the harness. Without hesitation, a few of them hoisted Dillon up off the bench and placed him sideways into the sling. With one boot hanging, Dillon felt his other leg raised up, stretching his cheeks as far as they would go. A cock was planted back into his exposed hole. This guy didn't try to aim. It hit his spread butt and found its way inside by sheer sliding force. Suspended off the ground, Dillon's ass was repeatedly invaded by each fresh cock. He was plowed over and over, relentlessly.
At one moment he was pulled off the sling and placed over two dripping cocks. Two men sat straddled together holding their stiff rods together between them. Dillon was lifted above them and plopped down onto them. He was dropped onto these extra large man-poles with the full force of gravity. Let bounced his poor body up an down, like he was on some wicked ride. He felt like he was riding a titan missile.
Dillon lost consciousness after that, and was unaware he was being used like a floppy fuck-toy by a least fifty guys. One would hold him up while the other would plow his open shitter from behind. They passed him around several times. Moments later, Dillon found himself on the receiving end a fuck-train. His legs were legs were pulled apart as cock three cocks tried to invade him simultaneously. Their bodies prevented them from going into him completely, but his hole was accommodating their fats heads together.
Gallons of cum had been squirted inside him and onto his body that Dillon was as slick as a greased pig. For what seemed like hours, Dillon's ass received almost a hundred cocks. He was beyond used. He was now the biggest slut he knew. As the last cock pumped its load, he felt the satisfaction of having it all. Dillon just laid on the floor, limp and exhausted. He was so drained he really didn't think he was capable of moving. All he could do was lie there in a puddle of jizzim.
"Hey, Dillon!" a voice came out of the darkness. "Ah, man. What the hell have you been doing? Looks like you fucked the entire US Marine Corps."
Dillon, trying to turn his head back in order respond, "And, they love it, I tell you."
"Well OK for you. But, I've got a car outside waiting to take your pathetic blond ass to the airport."
Finally managing to pull himself to his knees, Dillon looked at his friends face. "God Steve, I think the next time you should come to visit me."
"Fuck that! There's pile of money sitting here. I'm assuming its yours."
The End.
Copyright 1999, Adrian Storm