Shining Star

Shining Star By David Brooke

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story containing explicit consensual and non-consensual gay sex between adult men. If you find this type of story offensive, or viewing this material is illegal where you are, then do not do so.

Chapter 4 - Superbowl and my new career

So, the fall and football season passed. The Rebels ended their season in their usual collapse, and didn't make the lowliest bowl game. We all went home for the holidays and semester break. My dad gave me the usual inquisition about school, grades, my work with the team, and girlfriends. I avoided lying by telling him there wasn't any "special girl" yet, I was "getting it plenty, regularly". He seemed satisfied; although it was always clear he was never completely satisfied with his only son.

It got weird when we came back from break in January. Colin refused to have anything to do with me sexually, telling me he couldn't handle that "homo shit" any more. He seemed to barely tolerate me as a roommate, and was outright cold and hostile, especially when Brad wasn't around. He even seemed to try to come between Brad and me, changing his schedule around, coming home at different times. In the second week we were back he came home early one night at what should have been only halfway through his shift. Brad was in my room screwing the daylights out of me when we heard Colin loudly banging cupboard doors around in the kitchen, making sure we knew he was home. Brad quickly pulled out of me and got dressed, hanging out by my door until he heard Colin go to his room, and quickly sneaked back into his own room.

Brad's nocturnal visits to my room became more and more infrequent. I knew something was up with Colin, but knew he would tell me when he was ready, and hoped whatever was bothering him would go away. Superbowl rolled around, and Colin announced he had planned a little get-together at the condo to watch the game. He said he had invited a couple of his friends, and wanted Brad & me to join them. He was a little funny about saying that how since our place was small we didn't have enough room for us to invite anyone else but his friends. Brad and I were just relived that he seemed in a better mood and readily agreed, hoping whatever was going on with him was blowing over. Game Day arrived and Colin and busily prepared the snacks and things in the kitchen. He actually seemed in a good mood. Brad was at the library finishing up a term paper, but assured us he would be home before the snap of the ball. Colin made his special "swamp cooler punch" - a mixture of fruit punches and juices and a generous amount of rum. His first friend arrived - Joe, a tall, easy going black guy he knew from Engineering. And then Mike, a stocky, red headed, freckle faced guy also from Engineering. Colin said others would be dropping by later. Joe, Mike and I gathered in the living room to enjoy the game. We all agreed that Carolina didn't have a chance; we just hoped New England wouldn't roll over them too badly and make a good game out of it. Colin came out of the kitchen to join us, carrying glasses of punch for all of us.

"Down the hatch, little buddy!" he said as he handed me mine, surprising the shit out of me by giving me a wink of the eye. I was so happy he seemed to be over whatever had been bothering him. The phone rang, and Colin ran to the kitchen to get it. "Brad's running late" he announced when he returned. "He said he'll be here by halftime." He walked over and stood in front of me. "Come on, little buddy, down the hatch!" as he picked up and handed my half empty glass to me.

"Hey! I want to take it a little slow" I protested. "I don't want to be blitzed by halftime!"

"Come on" he persisted. "Yours doesn't have hardly any rum in it; I know you don't hold liquor very well." He seemed to being so especially nice to me I relented, and down the remaining punch in one gulp. By the end of the quarter it seemed like it was going to be a good game, both New England and Carolina pretty evenly matched. And I had downed four of the swamp cooler punches and was feeling a little dizzy. The room seemed to move around on its on as I tried to focus. I looked over to see Colin whispering something in Joe's ear, nodding towards me, and Joe smiling broadly. My first thought was panic, that Colin was talking to Joe about my . . . curiosity. I quickly reassured myself; that would be the last thing Colin would tell someone about. Colin was being so nice, I wondered if he wanted to get together after the game . . . .

A few minutes later the game broke for a commercial. I was feeling more and more dizzy and lightheaded, and decided to go to the kitchen and get a glass of Coke, and go to the bathroom and splash some water on my face. The room swirled around me as I stood and I began to swoon. I felt a strong pair of arms grip me firmly and hold me up.

"You OK, man?" I heard Joe ask me.

"Yeah, yeah," I assured him. "I'll be OK. Just hit me all at once. No more of that punch, though, for now. I'm going to fix me some a glass of Coke."

"Let me help you, man" Joe said. He steered me toward the kitchen, his strong hands on my shoulders guiding me. In the kitchen, he fixed me a glass of coke. He handed it to me, and moved back behind me. I felt his hands grip my waist as I raised the glass to my lips. I felt his large hands begin to massage my hips as I gulped down the Coke. "That's it, just drink some nice cold Coke, you'll feel better, he assured me. I felt his hands move lower to my butt, massaging and caressing my buns. No one had ever massaged my butt before. I began to feel warm, and good. "Feel better?" he whispered in my ear.

I nodded. "Yeah, that's feels really good" I told him. "No one's ever played with my butt before" I blurted out with a giggle.

"Colin tells me you really love a big dick in the ass" he whispered in my ear.

I sprayed out some of the Coke from my mouth. "Ssssh!" I said with a giggle, holding a finger in front of my mouth. "That's a secret!" I giggled again in enjoyment as he continued to play with my butt.

"Your secret's safe with me, baby" he whispered in my ear. He moved his hands back to my hips, and pressed his crotch against my ass. I could feel raging hard-on pressing against the crack of my ass as he ground his crotch into my ass.

"Is that a snake in your pants" I giggled, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Yeah" he breathed in my ear. "It's a snake alright, a big, black snake. And it's REAL happy to see you." I began to grind my ass back against him, wiggling and rubbing my ass against that big hard black snake. "Come one, baby, let's go to your room" he breathed lustfully in my ear.

I was aware of his strong, large hands guiding me be my hips back to my room, and him closing the door behind us. I was aware his being guided to my bed and being pushed down on it. I was aware of hands pulling off my clothes. The next thing I became aware of was Joe's voice coaching me.

"That's it, baby, work it, work it. That's it, you gotta work for it baby. Work for it; you gotta milk it outta me if you want it baby. THAT'S IT! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!"

I was on my hands and knees on my bed, impaling my ass on to Joe's long black cock, slamming my ass back against his groin, driving the huge, rigid pole as deep in my ass as I could, and craving more. I squeezed it as tight as I could with my ass muscles as I pulled forward, caressing it, loving it's fullness inside of me, and driving back to slam it back into as hard as I could. Every nerve in my body seemed on fire, every sense on my being focused on the long, fat shaft spearing my insides. And I loved it; I craved it, wanted and needed more of it. I fucked myself harder and harder, faster and faster onto it, spearing my insides, squeezing it, embracing it, milking it desperately for the load of hot lava I craved to be inside of me.

"That's it, that's it, baby!" Joe encouraged me. "You're going to get it, keep milking it; you're going to get it . . . Aaaagh! Gonna nut! Gonna nut, baby!"

I squeeze my ass as tight as I could, gripping the long shaft, as I felt the stubby head swell and the twitch, and then slammed back against it as hot lava began to erupt inside me. I impaled myself again and again, as volley after volley shot the warmth deep inside me.

I felt Joe's hands firmly grip my hips. "Whoa, cowboy!" he said in a soothing voice. "That's all the ride there is for now."

I bucked back against his hands, desperate to impale the softening shaft further inside me. "No! More!" I insisted. "I need some more, fuck me some more, PLEASE?"

Joe's hands held me firmly. "Whoa, cowboy!" he repeated. "Damn! Colin was right; you are one slut for cock! That roofie he gave you turned you into one cock hungry slut!"

Joe's words made no sense to me; all I could think of was good it felt to have my ass stuffed full of hard cock. "NO!" I protested as I felt that long black snake slide out of me and exit with a slurp. "NO! PLEASE! Put it back in! I need more! Please fuck me some more!"

"Just hang loose" Joe told me, as he pulled his pants back up. Mike's turn is next. Mike'll be here in a minute, and he'll fill you up full again."

I lay on my back in bed, in a daze. I heard the bedroom door close as Joe left. "Who was that guy?" I wondered. "Where am I?" I looked around the room. It no longer spun around. Everything looked crystal clear, but detached, as if I wasn't a part of my surroundings. It seemed as though I was looking around the room through a TV set. I recognized my computer desk. "It's my room!" I realized. "I'm in my room at the condo. What am I doing here? How did I get here?" I heard my bedroom door opened, and a stocky, red headed, freckle faced guy walked in. He was smiling at me. "Hi!" I said cheerfully. "Who are you?"

"I'm Mike, dude. Don't you remember?" he replied. I stared at him blankly. "Mike? Colin's friend, Mike?"

"Oh, Colin? Is Colin here?" I asked eagerly. "Is Colin going to come fuck me? He has a really big one!" I gushed with a giggle.

"No," the guy told me as he began to unbuckle his pants. "Colin's not going to come fuck you." I watched eagerly as he pulled his pants down to his knees and began to stroke his rapidly hardening thick cock. "Colin said you're our party boy, and we get to use you all we want." He walked over to the bed and thrust his cock near my face.

"Oh!" I exclaimed happily. "That's a nice fat one! I want to suck it!" I leaned forward and impaled the thick cock down my throat and buried my nose in the bushy red pubes in one lunge.

After Mike had left I lay on my back in bed. I could still taste the sweet cum in my mouth, and feel the load in my stomach. "Hmmmm!" I mused. "That was a big load! And, his cum tastes really good! But, I need to get fucked! I need someone to fuck me!" I crawled out of bed and staggered to my door and opened it. I was surprised to see Brad in the hallway, just coming out of his room. Brad seemed surprised to see me, too, as he gaped at me with his mouth open.

"Chad!" he exclaimed in shock. "What the fuck are you doing, man?"

"Fucking!" I told him cheerfully. "Fucking and sucking!"

"Dude!" Brad said in a scolding tone. "Dude! You're totally nude! Put some fucking clothes on, man!"

"Clothes?" I mused. I looked down at my naked body. "I don't need any clothes" I assured him. "I need to get fucked! Will you fuck me, Brad? Fuck me, please?"

Brad rushed to me and pushed me back into my room. "Ssssh!" he scolded. "Shut the fuck up, man!" He pushed me down on my bed in a sitting position, and closed the door. "What the fuck is up with you, man? Are you on some drugs or something?"

"Drugs? No, I don't do drugs, man" I assured him. "But, I do do fucking! Will you fuck me, please?" I looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Dude, you are fucking on something" he insisted. "And, No! No fucking! We're having a party, remember?" I stared at him blankly. "Superbowl? Remember, Superbowl party? We have friends over, friends over from school. You're straight, remember? Can't let anyone know you like sucking and being fucked. No fucking, no sucking. Straight, be straight. Be cool." He repeated it over and over in a coaxing voice.

"OK" I said dejectedly. "No fucking, no sucking. Party, straight party. No fucking, no sucking."

"That's it" Brad said in a soothing voice. "Party, Superbowl Party. Straight Party. No fucking, no sucking."

"But," I said in a hopeful voice. "Will you fuck me after the party? If I'm good, will you fuck me after the party?"

"Maybe" he said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "If you're good, if you're really, really good, MAYBE I'll fuck you after the party. But, you have to behave yourself. Remember: straight. Straight party, you're straight. No talking about fucking and sucking. It's a secret, our secret. No talking about fucking and sucking."

"OK, OK!" I said in exasperation. "I got it, I got it! No fucking, no sucking. Straight. I'll be straight!"

"Good boy!" Brad told me, patting me on the head. "Now, get some fucking clothes on and come on out and join the party. But, be cool!"

"Ok, OK" I assured him, as he closed the door behind him. I looked around my room. "Clothes . . . Hmmmm clothes . . . Ah! Gym trunks, my favorite gym trunks!" I pulled on my favorite pair of light blue nylon gym trunks, the ones a little too small, the ones that stretched tightly around my ass. I liked how the cool material felt against my ass. I liked how it felt good to not have anything on underneath them, how good the cool skin felt against my balls hanging freely. "Hmmm . . . shirt . . . shirt. I need a shirt." I grabbed my favorite t-shirt, the one with the UNLV Rebels logo - a cowboy in an oversized ten gallon hat, both pistols raised, ready to shoot. "That's me!" I mused, "always ready to shoot!"

I made my way down the hallway to the living room. I saw my roommates, Brad and Colin, engaged in what appeared to be a heated conversation. I saw two other guys, a big black guy, and a stocky, red-headed guy, watching the TV. I didn't recognize them, but they seemed to snickering at me. "Hey Brad! Hey Colin!" I greeted my roommates cheerfully.

"Hey, Dickhead!" Colin returned my greeting.

"Dickhead?" I repeated, confused. "I'm a dickhead?"

"Yeah," Colin assured me. "You are a total dickhead."

"Hey, man!" Brad protested. "Chad's our roommate. What's with the 'dickhead' shit?"

"'Cause he is" Colin assured him. "Chad is a total dickhead. He's a dickhead, as in dumbass. But, he's also a dickhead as in cokehead. A cokehead, like Sebastian."

"Sebastian?" Brad questioned.

"Yeah, Sebastian" Colin said. "Remember Sebastian, from high school? The cokehead?"

"Yeah, I remember" Brad replied in a confused voice. "I think he's still in rehab. So, what about him?"

"Total cokehead." Colin began. "Remember how he first started doing coke at parties? Then he started doing during the day, at school. Then he started doing it first thing in the morning when he got up. Totally hooked on the shit. The more coke he got, the more coke he wanted. The more he wanted coke, the more he needed it. Chad's like a cokehead, only his drug of choice is dick. So, he's a dickhead. The more dick he gets, the more dick he wants, the more dick he wants, the more dick he needs. A dickhead; Chad's a total dickhead."

"Oh, I get it!" I volunteered cheerfully. "Yeah, I'm a dickhead. The more dick I get the more dick I need. I need some dick! I want some dick!"

"Shut the fuck up Chad!" Brad scolded.

"Jesus!" I heard someone snicker from the back of the living room. "What a total fucking fag!"

I looked over to see a guy I hadn't noticed before standing by the patio door. He a beefy, big build guy, with round face and close cropped light brown hair. He seemed familiar. "Ah!" I mused as I remembered. Bill. Bill Myer. We had a couple of classes together, and he was on the Rebels reserve team. "Hey, Bill!" I greeted him cheerfully. "Hey! I didn't know you were coming over!"

"Yeah!" he snickered. "Well, I didn't know you were such a total fucking fag!"

"Yeah!" I agreed readily. "I'm a dickhead! The more dick I get, the more dick I need!"

"Well," he replied, grabbing holding of his crotch. "Why don't you get over here and chow down on this puppy?"

"OK!" I agreed cheerfully. I walked over to Bill, got down on my knees in front of him, and began to undo his belt.

"Whoa!" Brad shouted, rising to his feet. "Stop! Stop right there! I'm not going to sit here and watch Chad blow somebody!"

"Bill?" Colin began. "Take Chad back to his room and give him what he needs."

"Come on, fag bitch" Bill spat out as he roughly pulled me to my feet and shoved me toward the hallway. "Take me to your room; I wanna fuck your face."

"Ok!" I replied enthusiastically. "But, I want you to fuck my butt, too! I REALLY like in the ass!" As we closed the door to my bedroom, I couldn't here the heated argument between Brad and Colin as they stepped out on the patio and closed the door behind them.

"Is Chad on some fucking drugs ors something?" Brad angrily demanded.

"Yeah," Colin non-chalantly, shrugging his shoulders. "I gave him a roofie; Rohypnol. Mixed it in with his swamp cooler punch with a shitload of rum. Should keep him flying for about 8 hours. He won't remember a thing when he comes around."

"Why the fuck would you do that to Chad!" Brad shouted. "Why the fuck did you slip Chad some drugs?"

"To release his inhibitions" Colin explained in an even voice. "To release his inhibitions and get in touch with his fucking sick faggot inner-self." Brad stared at Colin, not understanding, no believing what he was hearing. "I got tired of his fucking game" he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I got tired of him lying, pretending he's really straight when he's really a total fag, a complete slut for cock. Right before he'd chow down on my dick he'd tell me how he was really straight. He'd take my cock up the ass and beg for more, and then tell everyone how straight he was. Makes me wanna fucking puke. I can't handle it anymore. I want him fucking out of our place; I can't handle living with a dirty, disgusting fucking faggot anymore!"

"You've been fucking Chad?" Brad questioned in disbelief.

"I was" Colin responded with a shrug of his shoulders. "Last fall. Right after I found out you were fucking him. I figured, well, I know you're straight. You were just using him to relieve some extra loads out of your balls, and maybe help the poor fag out. So, I figured what the fuck? Beats the hell out of Rosie Palm and her five sisters. Little fucker can suck the shit out of dick, and can't get enough dick up he ass. But, I can't handle the shit anymore. I want the little faggot out!"

"Chad told you I was fucking him?" Brad asked quietly.

"No, dumbass" Colin laughed. "The little fucker kept your secret safe. Probably afraid you'd stop porking him if anyone found out. I caught you guys going at one night. I got off work early and heard you guys going at it in his room. You left the door half open. I looked in, and Chad was flat on his back like a bitch in heat and you were fucking the shit out him and he was begging for more. I confronted him about it the next night, when you were at practice. He said that was the first time you guys had done it; that you'd come home and caught him getting off using a dildo or some shit, and you blackmailed him into giving it up for you. I made him give me some head. He cried and shit, claiming he was really straight and shit, and then chowed down on my cock like there was no tomorrow. I fucked his face or plowed him in the ass every Monday night after that. While you were at practice, you're little faggot buddy was getting porked up the ass, begging for more. And, Chad never said shit, but I knew you were banging him every chance you got, too. You're not very careful, dumbass. I came home early a couple times after that and hear you two going at in his room, Chad begging for more. I'd just go to my room and close the door. I figured what the fuck? We're both enjoying a free mouth, an extra hole, all eager and ready and close by. But, not any more; not after Christmas break. I can't handle the shit any more; makes me want to fucking puke!"

"What happened over Christmas, man?" Brad asked. "What the fuck did happen over Christmas? You've been strange as shit since you came back. It's like, I dunno, like you turned into some fag hating Nazi. Always putting fags down, always some crack about how disgusting fags are, and how much you hate them. You've been a total asshole to Chad. What the fuck happened?"

"You really wanna know?" Colin replied, his anger rising. "You really wanna fucking know?" Brad nodded his head earnestly. "Well, I'll fucking tell you: It's my fucking old man!"

"You're old man?" Brad repeated. "Your folks divorced when we were in high school together. I thought your old man left town, and you never talked to him."

"Yeah, that's right," Colin spat out. "I was a sophomore in high school. I come home one day and all the sudden, Boom! No more Dad. He moved all his shit out, and he was gone! Mom told me that she found out he was seeing someone else and she'd thrown him out of the house. She said he told her to tell me he was so ashamed of himself he didn't want to see me for awhile; that when he was ready, he would call me, and talk to me. Well, he never did. I never heard from him. Until Christmas break. He called me at home, said he needed to talk to me. He'd talked to mom and it was OK that he came over to talk to me. Mom left when he arrived, said we two needed to be alone to talk. So, he sits me down and begins by telling me that he needed his son to know he was gay! He thought it was important that I know my old man is a fucking FAG! He told me that he'd always known inside that he was gay, but he married my mom because he loved her and wanted children, and hoped his "feelings inside" would go away. But, they wouldn't. That's what happened; that's why my folks divorced! My mom found out he was screwing around with other guys; lunchtime quickies in some park, or secret rendezvous in cheap motel rooms. He told me he was ashamed of cheating on Mom, of lying to her and himself all those years. But, know that he had "come to terms" with who he was, he was proud. CAN YOU FUCKING IMAGINE?" Colin screamed, his face turning red with rage. "My fucking old man actually told me that he was 'PROUD'! Proud that he was a fucking low life fag scum piece of shit!"

"Whoa, man!" Brad softly said. "That is heavy shit." He shook his head sadly. "So, what did you tell him?"

"Well, first I smashed his face in with my fist" Colin began with pride in his voice. "I punched him in the face as hard as I could. I knocked him flat on his back. Then, while he's lying on his back on the floor trying to wipe the blood from his nose with some neat little white hanky he pulled from his pocket, I told him how much I fucking hated him. I told what a low life piece of shit he was, and that I never wanted to see him again. I told him I wished to hell he'd figured out he was a fag before he married Mom, so that I'd never been born! I told him I'd rather not have been born than to have a fucking fag piece of shit for a father! And then I told him to get the fuck out before I killed him, and to never come back, never try to see me again, or I would fucking kill him. He practically ran out of the house!" Colin added with a laugh.

"Wow, man!" Brad said gently, shaking his head. "He's still you're old man, dude. He can't help what he is, man, and he's still your father."

"Yeah! He's still my father!" Colin spat out. "And he's a fucking fag! I just hope to hell he didn't pass that shit down on to me. I just hope to hell he didn't pass down any of that fag shit to me. I'd rather be dead than be a fucking fag. THAT's why I can't handle it anymore. I don't care how good a cocksucker Chad is. I'm not doing any of that shit anymore, and if you know what's good for you, you'll stop doing that shit, too or he might turn you into a fag. Or, you might catch something. Get another girlfriend if Brynda can't give you enough. And Chad's gotta go; I won't stand for a faggot in the house!"

Someone knocked on the patio door, and they turned to see Joe holding the cordless phone in his hand, pointing at Brad. Brad took the phone from Joe as Colin stepped through to go inside.

"Oh, hey Jerry! What's up, man?" Brad spoke into the phone as the door closed.

"Colin!" Brad called out as he stepped back inside.

"Yeah?" Colin answered. They were interrupted by me and Bill coming back from my room.

"You're right, man" Mike said to Colin, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Little fucker really know how to chow down a piece of meat."

"Uh, Chad, man?" Brad began. "Will you get me a Coke from the kitchen?"

"Sure, Brad" I readily agreed. "Are you going to fuck me, then?"

"Just get me a Coke, Chad" Brad said firmly.

"Ok, Ok" I complacently complied.

"Look, man" Brad began. "Jerry's coming over."

"Cool" Colin responded.

"No!" Brad replied forcefully. "Not cool. Definitely NOT cool. He's bringing Beth, his girlfriend with him. Beth is all Christian and shit. If Chad starts in with this "will you fuck me?" shit, Beth will freak. And, Jerry knows Chad real well, and likes him a lot. Uh, I mean . . . he likes Chad, and assumes he's straight. While he may not know Chad is . . . well, gay, or whatever, he knows that Chad doesn't normally act like a slut. He's going to know something is up with Chad. If he finds out you slipped Chad a roofie . . . . well, he's Team Captain. He'll go straight to the Coach and Athletic Director, and I . . . we ALL will be fucked! We gotta get Chad the fuck outta here! And," he added, turning to the others, looking at them threateningly, "you guys all keep your fucking mouths shut about Chad! Colin here slipped him a fucking roofie, and Chad has no idea what he's doing. And, he won't remember it, so you all keep you fucking mouths shut! Brad turned back to Colin. "As for you, man, I'm not so sure you're my friend. We've known each other since, what, junior high? I thought I knew you man, but I'm not so sure. I think you have some serious personal problems to work out. But for now, you're the one who slipped Chad the drugs. You're the one who needs to get him out of here, take him some place safe until the drug wears off!"

"Ok, Ok, man!" Colin agreed, raising his hands in surrender. "I'll get Chad outta here!"

"Remember!" Brad said sternly. "I said someplace SAFE!"

"Ok, Okay!" Colin agreed, as he got up and when to the kitchen. "Hey Chad!" he greeted me, putting his arm on my shoulder. "C'mon, we're going to go for a ride."

"A ride?" I repeated.

"Yeah, a ride" Colin assured me, pulling me toward the door. "We're going to the casino. Remember? We said that after the game we were going to the casino."

"Okay!" I agreed happily.

Colin pulled up to the curb in front of Caesar's Palace. "Ok" he said, pointing toward the entrance. "There's the casino. You go in THAT casino, and wait for me. I'll park the car, and then meet you inside. Ok?"

"Sure, man" I agreed as I stepped out the door. I barely got the car door closed before Colin sped off. I walked up the long entrance and into the casino. At first I looked around for Colin, but then I forgot I was supposed to meet him. I totally forgot about Colin as I wandered around the maize of the Forum Shops, marveling how real the twilight sky ceilings look, and got completely absorbed in the mechanical statue shows. I was totally unaware of the occasional snickers and guys pointing to my ass covered in the skimpy light blue gym shorts. Some of the day's deposits of cum were leaking out, leaving a large, obvious dark wet stain in the seat of my shorts. Well, I guess obvious to those who know about such things.

After a few hours, my head began to clear. I began to wonder what I was doing wandering around Caesar's Palace. "How did in the hell I get here?" I wondered. The last thing I remembered, I was watching a football game at the condo. I was tired, and hungry; I decided to grab something to eat in the coffee shop. I felt much better after several cups of coffee and a burger and fries. My mind was becoming more and more clear. I didn't remember how I end up at Caesar's, but it was time to get back home. The waitress brought the check and refilled my coffee. I reached for my wallet. "Oh shit!" I thought, my mind panicking. No pockets in these gym shorts, not wallet, no money! How the fuck am I going to pay for this check? How the fuck am I going to pay for a taxi home? My mind was racing as I looked about. I saw and old guy in a big cowboy hat out in the slot machines staring at me intently, suspiciously. I looked away and down, and gulped down some more coffee. The waitress came by, glancing down at the unpaid check.

"Ummm, could I have some more coffee, please?" I asked politely. "Uh, and where is the restroom?" I asked as she re-filled my cup. The waitress jerked her head toward the front of the coffee shop. "Thanks" I muttered.

I hurried into the restroom, took a piss, and then splashed some water on my face. As I inspected my face in the mirror, a guy came up behind me to use the sink next to me. As he passed behind me he snickered.

"Hey buddy?" he queried as he turned on the water faucet. "Did you sit on something?"

"Huh?" I responded, confused.

"Did you sit on something?" he repeated. "You've got a big wet stain in the back of your shorts, like you sat on something wet . . . or, something hard" he added with a laugh.

"Oh, I dunno" I grunted, ignoring his intent stare in the mirror. He lingered, and I continued to ignore him. When he finally left I went into one of the stalls, pulled off my shorts and sat down to inspect. There was a big wet stain right in the crack of the seat. I held it to my nose and sniffed. Cum! It was definitely a cum stain in the back of my shorts! How the fuck did that get there! I tore off some toilet papers and gently wiped my ass. Ouch! It's tender down there. I inspected the toilet paper; it was wet with a clear liquid. I sniffed and confirmed my suspicions. Cum! I have cum in my ass. I've been fucked! I don't remember getting fucked today! It's been like a week since Brad fucked me last. I was confused, nothing was making any sense. I shitted out as much of the cum in my ass as I could, wiped my butt really good, and tried to dry off as much of the stain from my shorts as I could with toilet paper. Pulling my shorts back on, I opened the stall door carefully and peered out. No one was in the restroom; I made my way to the doorway and peered out surveying the restaurant carefully. The waitress was not is sight. I slipped out the entrance and then quickly out the restaurant exit. I walked briskly to the rows of slot machines, then quickly through then, turning through different rows to elude anyone who might be in pursuit. I was nearly through the slot section when someone came around a corner quickly and I ran smack into him. It was the old guy with the cowboy hat, who'd been staring at me earlier.

"Sorry" I muttered an apology, and then tried to get around him. He grabbed me firmly on the shoulder.

"Where you going to in such a hurry, sonny?" he demanded looking at me in the eye intently.

"Umm, I have to get home" I answered, trying to break his grip and get past him. He jerked me back next to him with his hand gripped firmly on my shoulder.

"That right, sonny?" he said, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Looks more like a little D&D to me." I stared at him blankly. "D&D" he repeated. "Dine and Dash. I've been watching you, boy, and I noticed how you 'forgot' to pay your check in that restaurant. Now, I imagine those casino security fellas over there would be real interested in hearing about that."

I lowered my head, ashamed. "I've never done anything like before, I swear! I was at a party earlier today . . . and, well, I don't remember how I got here. When the check came, I realized I forgot my wallet! I was going to go home and get my wallet and come back and pay for it, I swear!"

"That right, sonny?" the man began, brining his free hand to his chin and rubbing it, as he stared at me intently. "You come to a casino, but forgot your wallet? Hump! Never heard that one before" he chuckled. "Let's see . . . you're in a casino with no wallet. I guess that means no ID, either. I'd being willing to bet you're not 21 yet, either?" I shook my head in the negative. "Waaal, I'll bet them security fellas would be real interested in hearing about that, too."

I began to panic. "Look, please mister?" I pleaded.

"Well, let's see what we can work out here" he replied. "You're here in a casino with no wallet, no money. But, you are here with your cute little butt. Me? Well, I'm here in a casino with money, with a hard dick, and with an appreciation for your cute little butt. What do you say you let me have a go at that cute little butt of your and I'll solve your problem of not having any money?"

"What kind of guy do you think I am?" I exclaimed in indignation.

"I'm pretty sure I know EXACTLY just what kind of guy you are, sonny" he assured me in a steady voice. "I've been around the block a few times." He reached behind me and rubbed his finger around my crack as I squirmed in protest. He brought his finger to his nose and sniffed. "Yep, just as I thought! Some fella's had a go at your butt earlier today and left a deposit; maybe more than just one fella. Well, I don't mind seconds. Now, Sonny, now that we both understand just 'what kind of guy' you are, how much?"

"Mister, you don't have enough money to get me to do that!" I angrily assured him.

"That so, sonny?" he replied, cocking an eye. He released his grip on my shoulder, took his wallet from his back pocket, and held it open with both hands. "Waaal, I've had a pretty good run of luck in the casinos this trip" he said, as he started counting out hundred dollar bills. "And I'm willing to make me one last bet. You're a real looker, and that is one fine little butt you have. I'm willing to bet this here one thousand dollars that I DO 'have enough money to get you to do that'. I'll bet this here one thousand dollars here that that your ass is mine tonight." He held out the ten hundred dollars bills for emphasis. "How 'bout it? You gonna call my bet?"

"One thousand dollars?" I repeated, my eyes open widely, looking at the hundred dollar bills fanned out in front of me. "Whaaat . . what do I have to do? Nothing weird, or kinky?"

"No, none of that crazy shit" he assured me in an easy voice. "I'm not into any of that leather or pain crap. All you gotta do is just lay there on your back and take my eight inches for as long as I can give it you."

I considered it over in my mind. One thousand bucks! That's more than I made in one month as a student assistant. While I didn't like the idea of letting a stranger screw me in the ass for money, I certainly was no stranger to getting screwed in the ass. And, an old guy like him; it'd probably all be over with in a couple of minutes and I would have the money for a taxi ride home and a lot more. "OK" I said quickly, before I changed my mind. "I'll do it!"

"Thought so!" he said with a smirk. "Follow me, son. I've got a room here."

The old son of a bitch! He had some Viagra, and some pill he said "deadened the nerves a little, prolonging the orgasm". He screwed me for over three hours straight with that rock hard eight inch cock. The first hour I egged him on, begging for it "faster, harder". The second hour I just grunted, groaned, and moaned as I creamed three times. The third hour I begged him "No more! Please! No more! I can't take it any more!" He seemed to enjoy the last hour the most. I guess for a thousand bucks, I was just lucky he wasn't into anything kinky. Well, I did think it kinda strange he kept his cowboy hat on. Not a stitch of clothes on, but he kept that old cowboy hat seated firmly on his head. And, when he finally started to nut, he whipped it off his head and started to whirl it around, shouting "I'm affixin' to cum! I'm afixin' to cum! Yahoooooo!"

The sky was just beginning to light up with the sunrise when the taxi cab dropped me off in front of the condo and I made my way inside with one sore butt and one thousand dollars tightly clenched in my fist.

To be continued . . . Feedback encouraged & appreciated: chad89119@yahoo.com.