Side Bets

Side Bets: Chapter Four

mm, ds, bd, hm

Saturday: Dinner Out "The Olive Garden"

As I headed back across the main floor, Larry accosted me by grabbing my army roughly. Behind him were Paul, Tim, Chris, Matt and John. I glared at him and shook his hand off.

"Go away," I said. "Take your lame posse with you."

"We're going out for dinner," said Larry. "You're joining us. Our treat."

"Yeah, cuz you treated some of us already," snickered Matt.

"I'm not interested," I said. "I need to go home and sleep so I can pound the lot of you tomorrow. Plus, what makes you think I want to have dinner out with my rapists?"

"Oh, I don't think you can rape the willing," said Tim. "Anyway, it's not optional. Not if you want us to stay away from Bryce."

"Yeah," said Larry.

I shrugged. "Fine."

"Do you have any luggage here?" asked Matt. "You're riding with me and Chris so you don't chicken out."

There was something, but I was too flustered to remember. "No, just stuff in my car. We're coming back here after dinner?"

"We'll drop you in the lot," said Tim. "Unless you decide you can't wait for tomorrow and go home with one of us big men." He put on a simpering lisp for the last few words. I wanted to punch him.

"No chance," I said.

We went out to the parking lot.

Matt climbed into his lime-green Civic. The front and right rear seats were completely filled with gaming crap. Chris and I shoved into the back. I got the middle, of course, with tubs and boxes jamming me up on one side and Chris on the other.

"Bitch seat," Chris laughed and poked me in the ribs.

I slapped his finger away.

We set off down the road, following Larry and Tim in Larry's truck.

The back seat was stifling. Chris was pressed in, tight to me. I think he was enjoying it. Certainly, he kept looking at me.

"What!" I growled.

"Just admiring your mouth," he said.

"Yeah," laughed Matt from the driver's position. "Can you squeal like a pig?"

"Fuck off," I said.

We drove on in silence from then on, but I was pretty sure that Chris had enough space that he didn't have to rub his thigh against me like that. Once he reached over me, for something from the gaming pile, coming back with an army book he made a great show of consulting. When he leaned over, though, one hand found its way towards the small of my back, and it spent the rest of the trip trying to find my ass without really seeming too.

I seethed, but didn't do anything about it. What was the point?

We pulled into an Olive Garden and got out. By the time Matt and Chris and I reached the front desk Larry was already there, haranguing the waitress on duty. He said, "Yeah, but I reserved a private room for 7:00. It's 7:00 now."

The woman was saying, "The last guests are just now vacating it. We need to wipe down the tables and arrange the chairs."

Larry fumed some more. Tim emerged from the restroom, and the rest of the Praetorians stood awkwardly together. Chris stood way too close to me, but I don't think anyone noticed in the press of the waiting crowd.

A male waiter hurried up. He looked like a college kid, built, with short-cropped dark hair. He said, "My name is Kenneth. I'll be your server for this evening. If you would follow me, please?"

He led us through the chinz-Italy rooms, into a back room with a long table. There were more than five chairs. Larry sat down. "We'll just go ahead and order. The rest will be along in a bit."

I tried to sit down as far from Larry as possible. "Nuh-uh.," he said. "The guest of honor sits here." Chris jammed himself in beside me. Of course.

"Oh," asked Kenneth. "Is it your birthday?"

"Sure is," grinned Larry. "Does he get a free desert? How about a crème brulé?"

Kenneth wasn't sure what to make of the laughter, so he gave us each a menu and went on to take drink orders. When he got to me, I said, "I'll have a bottle of zinfandel."

"Which one, sir?" he asked.

"Whichever one is most expensive," I said. I got a good view of Larry's face reddening. I imaged that as head Praetorian, he would have to pay my bill. If I was going to have to put up with this shit, I might as well get some drink out of it. Not that I would get too drunk in front of this lot. I wanted to bring the rest back to my room.

The Praetorians made idle chat as they read their menus.

I leaned over to Larry. "How's Andrew doing?"

Larry scowled.

"Why isn't he here? Can't he sit down yet? " I picked up my wine. "Oh yeah, he isn't even old enough to drink."

Larry slammed his fist on the table. "Shut up!" he said.

Tim said, "I think it's going to a really great after-party. We've rented a big suite, and I've invited everyone I can think of. Plus, plenty of lube and condoms, just in case. Some of them may want to bareback, but I imagine others won't want to touch your ass skin to skin for anything."

It was my turn to scowl.

About then, Kenneth came back. He went around the table for orders. When he came to me, I opened my mouth to get a steak. (A really expensive cut too.) But Larry interrupted me.

"The birthday boy will be getting the Italian sausage and creamy gnocchi. Those are the ones like little balls," he told me helpfully.

"Sure," I said. "Whatever." Let them get a laugh at me eating. Why not?

Kenneth hurried off. I must have been rally far gone because I watched his ass flex in his black slacks. The others were chortling and talking. About me, maybe.

The food arrived. My plate was, indeed, sausage links over balls of white pasta. I speared one sausage deliberately. Chris began to giggle as I raised it to my mouth. I viciously bit off the end. That shut him up.

Just then, more people entered the room. Erik and Mindy led. Erik helped Mindy into her chair, then slapped me on the back. "More sausage?" he asked.

Everyone laughed again.

Then two more Praetorians, Greg and Don, came in. Greg had a very familiar-looking bag over his shoulder. My heart sank. They were my Space Crusaders. I'd left them on the table where Erik and I had played. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I tried to bluff it. "Hey, you brought my stuff. Thanks!"

Greg wagged his finger as he set the case down. "No so fast, there. You want it back, you'll have to redeem it. Otherwise, I bet you can tell me what a fully-painted Crusader army goes for on Ebay."

I said, "What do you want?"

"Something that might, if I'm really generous, possibly make up for a fraction of its value. I'm not greedy. I have to go to the bathroom. Why don't you come with me?" He drew one finger. Meekly, I got up, and followed. Don trailed behind us. Kenneth watched us pass him in the hall.

When we got to the men's room, Greg turned to him. "Hey, watch the door, will you."

Don nodded. "Can do."

Greg and I went inside. There was a stall in the back, two standing urinals built into the wall, and a little sink with a mirror. Pictures of Italian doorways decorated the walls. The loudspeakers played violin music, with the odd bit of Sinatra for variety. Greg kept me standing while he pissed.

"Ahh," he said as he sprayed. "That's always a relief. You know, when you have to piss really badly, it's almost as good as sex. Fortunately, I'm going to get that too."

"Just get it over with," I growled.

"Why?" he asked. "I'm here to relax." He leaned against the far wall, slacks unzipped, belt undone and cock out. He began to stroke it. Greg was about my height, but better built, with a sharp nose and a broad chest. He had dark eyes beneath light brown hair.

He beat off a little more. "See anything you like?" he asked.

I didn't want to admit that I did. Now that it was out and hard, his cock swollen into a nice long sausage that looked both plump and juicy. The head was a light pink. As he stroked, a drop of precum fell from the end and splattered on the floor.

"Well," he said. "Get over here."

The door opened and Chris burst in. He looked at Greg and at me. "Sorry," he said. "I just really had to go. Don let me in."

Greg pointed at the wall. "Hurry up, then." He turned to me. "Get started," he said.

I knelt awkwardly on the tiles. The whole place smelled of urine and disinfectant. A very male smell. Behind me, I could hear Chris making a show of pissing into the porcelain. His ass bumped the back of my head annoyingly.

Greg stepped away from the wall. He adjusted his cock and shoved it past my lips. He began to take up a rhythm. His cock was longer than Erik's but not nearly as fat. It slapped the back of my mouth and teased my throat, but I had room to play my tongue and to suck. The hot, hard, silkiness filled me.

Chris flushed behind me, but I didn't hear him zip up. He wandered into my field of vision, watching intensely as Greg face-fucked me. His pants remained unbuckled, and he stroked himself through his white briefs. "That is so hot," he said.

Greg looked at him. "I thought you were here to piss? Or did you want something else?"

Chris said, "I wouldn't mind some of him."

Greg shook his head. "There has to be something left for the party." He pulled way back, leaving just his head in my mouth. Then he rammed hard. I was sure the show was for Chris's benefit.

And, indeed, Chris was getting visibly turned on. "Just a little?" he pleaded. He was the youngest of their regular group, maybe twenty, and he looked very boyish then. Eager.

Greg sighed, "Well, if you insist, you can stand over there, and he can give you a hand job. You don't get a real hole before the party unless you win it, though."

Without any other word, Chris jerked his pants down to his knees. It barely had time to look at it, or his young legs, before he stepped in, thrusting his cock into my left hand. I found fisting and fingering a different experience than blowing. My thumb and fingers explored his sensitive head and shaft, pressing and massaging the hard core of his shaft. Greg meanwhile went back to my face. Both of them towered over me. The hot, fresh smell from their bodies began to overwhelm the background odor of toilet, and I began to harden properly once more.

The door opened again.

"What the hell? This isn't an open party." asked Greg.

I pulled off and looked behind me. A rope of spit drooled from my mouth, still connecting me to Greg's dick.

I saw Kenneth, our waiter standing there. "You guys can't close up the restroom like this."

"Shit," said Chris.

Kenneth took in the scene. A smirk wandered across his face. "Not unless management gets its cut," he said.

Greg popped out of my mouth. "You can have the front, Kenneth. I'm almost done with it."

"Call me Ken. Kenneth sounds stupid." He leaned his ass against the sink. "Come here," he told me.

I let go of Chris' cock, and he followed after my hand like a puppy.

"What do you think?" asked Ken. "Bend him over?"

Greg grunted. "If you can hold him up." With the mirror in front of me, I could see him unbuttoning his shirt and slipping off his pants. He was more ripped than I would have guessed. Lean but with some good muscle. .

Ken nodded at me. "You strip too.

Reluctantly, I pulled out my shirt and cast it aside. Then I undid my pants and slipped them off. I had to remove my sneakers to get the pants off, but I kept my socks on because the tile was cold. Between the mirror and the tight space, I could see four pairs of eyes watching me. My own included.

Chris ran his hands over my chest and ass. "He's smooth," he said.

Greg shoved past me and squirted some soap onto his hands from the dispenser. "You can think about that as he jacks you. Hell, you can think about me too, or Kenny here. We don't care."

"Ken," said Ken. "I don't like Kenny either. No one has killed me." He undid his dress shirt and revealed a young, flat-belled chest. He worked his belt off and lifted his hips to pull his shirt-tails away from his crotch. His cock sprung up at a 45 degree angle as he settled back onto the marble sink. His package was longer than I expected, but somewhat thin.

Greg came up behind me. He gripped my waist with his strong hands, lifting my torso so that I looked down at the spear of Ken's cock. Ken took my shoulders and head. He lowered me down onto him until his pubes met my nose. They smelled of soap and sweat. He lifted his hips, grinding his pubes against me, and his cock-head popped the back of my throat. Then he pushed my head up and relaxed his ass, so that he fell back a bit around my waiting tongue and lips. There wasn't much motion though. Not much room for it.

Meanwhile, Greg was sliding his soaped up dick along my asscrack. I had to rise on my toes. Only the strong arms of the two men held me up. I braced myself against the sink with both hands, one on either side of Ken's flexing buttocks.

"Looks like you lose, Chris," said Greg. "Nothing left for you."

"The hell there isn't," said Chris. He stepped up to my face and began to slap my face with his cock as he masturbated. "I so want to cum on him."

With that Greg braced and pushed against my hole. It burned as I stretched. I tried to scream, but Ken just pushed even harder into my throat. Greg filled me up. At first he felt like a big shit I was trying to expel. Then gradually, the sensation became something more pleasurable. I could feel him strike in, then withdraw, leaving a vacuum. The top of his cock-head massaged my insides. He began to get more traction, and bottomed out in me, his balls slapping against my own. Ken kept up another rhythm. His taste and smell became intoxicating. Chris just stood over me, looking down with half-closed eyes, and groaning. In the gap between their chests, I had a view of the mirror, of my own flushed face, and of Greg pumping hard against me.

Ken began to cum in my mouth. I felt him splash my throat and tongue as he rocked and spasmed. He gave a long groan as he stopped, but he did not pull out. (Perhaps because everyone would have collapsed in a heap of awkward geometry.) Greg took that moment, too, to come. I felt him jam my ass harder, then there was a hot spurt in my guts. His orgasm lasted a long minute, filling me with sperm. Then he let me go and stepped back. Ken did too.

I collapsed to my knees in a heap on the floor. I looked up at Chris. His body seemed so hot. I saw his biceps flex and his abs and pecs tense as he beat his meat over me. Then he came I traced the arcs as they flew at me, only remembering to close my eyes at the last minute. They splattered on my head and face.

Greg and Ken were already putting their clothes back on. Chris, though, just stood there stunned, and I lay there with my violated hole leaking and my cock throbbing.

The other two opened the door to leave. "Fuck you later," said Greg.

"Don't worry about the tip," said Ken. He looked at Chris. "You've got ten minutes, then I let people back in."

"Remember," said Greg on the threshold. "No holes."

I lifted myself onto the sink, leaking from my ass. I bet future hand-washers would have a nasty surprise when they used it. I took my hard cock in my hands. "Help me out here, Chris," I said. "I won't tell."

He looked at me contemptuously. "I'm not gay," he said.

"I don't care. Just look at me, or put your cock in my mouth or touch me or something. I'm so hot. I have to have something."

He nodded, and stood next to me. His hands wandered over my thighs and chest as I stroked. I took in the sight of his body. His taut chest, his big hands, his face somewhere between grin and terror. My hands worked my shaft. I was so hot and hard, I barely felt my own dick. "I'm cumming!" I warned.

Chris stood back and watched as I came on my belly. Then he leaned in and gently wiped me down with my boxers. He said, "That was hot, man." We'd almost urn out of time. He slipped on his clothes and left. I hurried to do the same. It was only after I left that I saw he had taken my boxes and left his own boxer briefs. I couldn't bring myself to wear them, so I shoved them in my pocket before ducking out the door.

When I returned to the dining room, everyone had left. My pasta had gone cold. I left it, and took only the bottle of wine. I made sure to bring my case.

On the way out, Ken stopped me. He handed me a black leather sleeve. "Your bill," he said.

I opened it. "The fuckers!" They'd left me the bill for everything for EXCEPT my food, which they had kindly paid for. I slapped it on the podium, and let Ken ring me up. I left him a tip, and then, at the last minute, my phone number, both at the hotel and my cell.

What the hell.

I took a taxi home.

Ken didn't call though, so I fell asleep with Chris' briefs decorating my face and my cock in my hand, instead.

Tournament Games 15