A gay story: A Circle-Jerk Miracle I’m 24 and in I’m in a pin-stripe shirt that’s become a bit too tight for me, even more so with the week’s all-you-can-eat breakfasts. I’m bored out of my mind with my first-ever professional conference abroad, and disgusted with the unofficial expectation that I now spend my evenings with professional networking and leave just enough time to jack off and sleep.
It’s a big conference, divided between middle-aged lifers and young keeners. I think we were all pretending to value anything about this.
Throughout the entire first day there was an intrusive thought that was probably a terrible idea.
But, as Day 2 trucked on, looking around at the dozens or hundreds of strangers around me, at audience tables and at buffets, I began having silly daydreams about exactly what kind of bored my peers were.
I was definitely the only one who felt like THAT.
I was used to having an inconvenient daytime horniness, used to presuming I was the horniest presence in any room. It just felt unusual.
But at least, in this large city I was visiting, I wondered whether to take the plunge I had already taken twice before in my own city, to use the Internet to find out what strangers also needed to exchange gay sex without baggage.
As the conference session on Change Management began, I began calculating what we call in the biz a Fermi Estimate:
In a given city, there is a baseline of men who want to have sex with men, and some of them successfully sourced it. Of those, within that sub-population there is a baseline of men who keep their desires to have sex with men a secret; and some of them successfully sourced it. Of those, there is a baseline of those who don’t trust others who live in that city not to remain strangers or at least discreet.
Which meant there is a baseline of men in this city who would only have sex with a visitor from abroad.
I thought about that for a moment. This sub-population seeks a resource that exists in scarcity, to fulfil a very real biological need, that can only be achieved in unusual scenarios.
And therefore I essentially represented ‘a good’ that was scarce and indispensable. There was a baseline of men in the city for which they would be desperately interested in having sex with me this week. Of those, a percentage of them had beautiful cocks.
The thought was discarded for the rest of the morning as silly fantasy but it returned at lunch. Watching the profiles of strangers of various demographics reminded me. I watched them. In my industry, no one needs to prove themselves by being chiseled or skinny, and I’m not drawn to chiseled men, they remind me of red-flag behaviour somehow. There’s something about two sweet-spots in particular, 20ish years old and 40ish years old (broadly defined with lots of wiggle room within these 2 sub-populations of adulthood), something about the context of each of these 2 age-group’s particular kind of horniness, that I desire to engage with so very much. Mostly hypothetically, but one session with each of these age-groups confirmed my happy suspicions.
It was almost to occupy and amuse myself that I got onto my old cruising site, re-triangulated my location, and just for the hell of it began to plan an anxiously bored anxiously excited message about how visiting this city for the next 2 days resulted in me being available for and in need of sex with a perfect stranger.
I soon noticed something that made my face go fuchsia.
Having triangulated myself to this exact neighbourhood, several people in this distance-sorted message board were saying messages that all sounded roughly the same: that they were visiting this city for a very boring conference and wanted to have hotel sex.
We were not Downtown. We were in an otherwise differently zoned neighbourhood. I did not notice other hotels around. This big building probably ticked off the buildings and residences around us.
So it was this hotel.
I don’t know why I was bold enough to look individually at these messages while still at the hotel’s (and conference’s) common lounge area, but I instinctively darted my eyes around, in what was probably obvious and suspicious. I glanced back at my laptop screen. There were multiple profiles engaged in this topic, in multiple threads. Of diverse ages. Some of the profiles were erection-only or pictureless, but there was a sub-population of don’t-give-a-fuck faceshots.
I recognised two of them. Not knew them, but those were two faces I had seen. Today.
And more messages still.
They had already started coordinating. I was not the first to think of this. I watched the context, and two of them had already entered an early negotiation to pair off.
I closed my eyes and breathed hard and slow.
thisisstupidthisiscrazythisisdangerousthisismoronicthiswillgetmefired
Wait. What is this scenario, exactly, that I was afraid of? That this subpopulation of men asking for anonymous gay sex at a work conference would find out that I was also interested in anonymous gay sex and talk about how they know?
I breathed and thought and thought. By definition every man who didn’t want to have sex at this conference was oblivious to this conversation.
thisisstupidthisiscrazythisisdangerousthisismoronicthiswill-
“Hi everyone, I’m visiting for a conference in the Lower East Side of the city and this is my chance to have some anonymous sex. I’m unusually horny, I love giving blowjobs, I love getting blowjobs, I love both young and mature men, I don’t mind your body-type, I just need you to be friendly and horny and discreet and giving. I’m recently certified healthy. Who needs some secret fun?”
The engagement blew up. There were offers from other neighbourhoods, but somehow in this conference was apparently emerging a teeny little countercultural community. Of gay sex.
There was a lot of adamant talk back and forth, but multiple couplings were quickly emerging. Among those whose attention I had attracted, I had gladly accepted that of a middle-aged man with a bit of a tummy and a stunning uncut penis, who was ready to be very very bi after a separation.
At least some of the pairings had mentioned tonight after the dinner. I enjoyed the shared pictures and sales-pitches of the other men, horny for most of them but cautiously happy with my outcome.
The afternoon sessions began, and it was a little harder to hear, as hail and later huge raindrops started pounding on the glass dome above us (the atrium was partly jutting out of the rest of the building in a boot kind of shape, probably exactly for this purpose of skylight). There was thunder as things went on.
While the conference ate dinner in earnest, some mandatory speeches proceeded, and carried on for a bit longer than necessary. The lectern was occupied for a good while as most plates emptied. There was a very tangible moment, with both released tension and added tension in the room, where the speaker finished her speech and, after a polite clap, invited up a far less mandatory speaker though on a topic pretty consequential for the industry.
Not perfectly planned. If you’re a bureaucrat forcing people to listen to your little Expo, you back-load the mandatory stuff.
This was the very tangible moment, the flashpoint, where several people stood up, with polite gradualness but in no way lingering. Some of them carried on to the washroom. About 6 of us walked briskly from the atrium door to the elevator.
You don’t look at faces while waiting for an elevator. In fact one tries pretty hard not to. But when one gets in the elevator (which was at least luxuriously large), one has to make tiny fragments of eye-contact to exchange negotiations of social contract: who will stand where, how silent to be, whether anyone is going to try to chat with you…
The first thing I noticed is that two of them were smirking but trying to act casual and not look at anything: one a young chubby younger man and one a tall man in maybe his late 30s.
The second thing I noticed was that I definitely recognised the face of a shorter middle-aged man, who I remember had an absolutely stunning penis.
The third thing I noticed was that the chubby young man had a familiar figure, and an image came into my head of a poorly-taken picture of a naked young body, neck-down, with a cute cut penis, trying to pose casually despite the nudity, in a dimly lit bedroom. The fourth thing I noticed is that yet another man, maybe the oldest, was looking very casual but whose very expensive-looking suit pants were terrible at hiding erections.
I felt that fuchsia look on my face again, and the people in the elevator started to notice me, and almost looked concerned about something. I certainly hadn’t shown my face during midday break’s illicit correspondence, but something about my obvious bashfulness and the others’ double-takes, one by one until the glances at me and around became something else entirely. If I wasn’t stupid and mistaken, they began to turn into a dawning thought on the faces of us 6 elevator strangers.
Sub-populations can be partitioned by scenarios of unique behaviour, and if you’re lucky, by their unique choice to be in a particular place in a particular time. What is the sub-population of men at a conference who would quickly move to their empty hotel rooms during an important but non-mandatory PowerPoint presentation?
The answer was men who had something unique to do in private bedrooms that there wouldn’t be another chance for. Or better yet, that could be done a bit later but were good enough to miss a meeting for.
After the final of us no longer was able to look subtle, we all scanned each other. We scanned to count and cross-check for a single outsider. A single outsider was grounds to shut the fuck up right now. It was in fact crazy not to.
The profiles of each other told stories.
The pink-faced young man with wide eyes.
The recognisable young body we had all seen naked.
The late-30s man who approached and entered with him but avoided eye-contact.
The older man with the raging erection.
A man in his 30s unnecessarily wearing a buttoned-up coat.
A man of 40 darting his eyes away subtly, but unwisely darting those eyes specifically between two locations, the face of the young man and the buldge of the older man. Until he saw me again, and thought for a second, and then glanced downwards at my pants, and then up at me once more.
We were safe.
At some point in that slow-slow-rising elevator, we chuckled at each other.
“Christ, really?” I said. We laughed more.
The other young man said, “Ummmmmmmm, have fun?” The late-30s man close-by him smiled very broadly.
It devolved back into awkward silence. Even if what was happening was in some vague potential way a small miracle of fortune, I didn’t really have the language or the presence of mind to process that vague thought. The situation was volatile and fleeting. We would all have separate floors. Eventually it would be time for me and one other person to get off at the same time.
It was just a funny little coincidence that would make for 2 things about tonight to never discuss with anyone.
The elevator crawled up. In the elevator shaft we could hear the pelting rain again.
First the lights blinked, with an old-fashioned flickering noise that was particularly discouraging, and then I heard something spinning begin to not spin correctly, and a kind of ca-chunk of shuddering lost momentum upward. We all held our breaths for those first few seconds one wonders whether this is A Hiccup or whether it’s A Situation.
For the first few seconds of realising it was a situation, it was like we were strangers again, uncomfortable at being in a box with strangers for more than a few seconds at a time, and not able to choose our next movements. There were a few instinctual reaches for our mobile phones.
After a few seconds, there was a polite little ding, and a bored but practiced customer-service voice telling us to be patient and that the situation will be resolved swiftly.
There was a moment of grumpiness. And then a moment of awkwardness.
Eventually, the first flashpoint of annoyance calming down, I think one by one we once again remembered the scenario we were in.
And we men were awkwardly chuckling. Far more awkwardly now.
The young man spoke up,
“Aw nuts, how long until…..” Two of us smarmily shushed him, glancing warningly up at the intercom.
“Can they hear us?”
I glanced around and there was a phone box. I put up my finger to signal to wait. And, without touching the phone, I said, “Hello? Can someone hear me? Someone may be hurt in here, we need advice.” A full minute went by and there was nothing.
For the first time I glanced very carefully at the ceiling. It was a shabbier elevator than it at first seemed to be. Kind of old. No mirrors (the kind with cameras behind them). Just faded metal and wood. I glanced down at the box with the phone logo.
“Okay, there’s no camera. And they can’t hear us unless we use that thing.” No one wanted to be the person to pick up the phone. And another moment went by. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but we had slightly upgraded our familiarity. We were in fact in a deeply uncomfortable uncanny-valley between strangers and not-strangers, a feeling we all probably knew very well as conference visitors. That feeling is torture, with an added sense of butterflies-in-the-stomach when you add the connotation of immediate sexual familiarity.
So I decided to switch discomforts. As torturous as this transition was, I really needed this feeling gone if I was stuck.
“I think it’s fine. We have lots more chances to get what we need, tonight or tomorrow.”
We chuckled. “I hope tonight!” someone said. “I hope now!” the young man said.
I looked at the 40 year-old beside me. “Um, hi”, I said, knowing the elevator was watching me. “I think I’m going to have sex with you tonight?”
There was a moment of tension as I mentioned the secret out loud, but there was such a dramatic release of tension.
The older man spoke next, and it didn’t surprise me since he was the one who shared his face.
“Getting ready to drop to those knees everyone?” There were elated smiles among us. The man in his 30s said, “Well I’m way more ready to drop these pants, but I’ll drop to my knees in exchange if I need to!” There was chuckling at the wordplay. But I blinked in surprise.
“Well I definitely can’t wait for both of them!” I said, still very bashful to be saying all this. “Right everyone? Both are fun, right?”
“Well sure,” said the 40 year-old. “It’s hot doing it, and I love a great, uhh,” he glanced around one more time, “a great dick… But it’s a ‘sexual favour’, it’s more fun to get one, right?”
There were smiles of camaraderie now.
“I’m not the only one who just enjoys giving…” (glancing around) “blowjobs just for its own sake, am I?”
The young stranger blushed. “Well? Um, technically I don’t know yet, so maybe?” His companion seemed absolutely delighted.
The outlines of more erections were now visible.
“Goddamn it, this elevator…….”
We smiled and nodded. “This is impossible,” I said, softly, but smiling.
We all looked at each other again. Face and tent, face and tent, face and tent.
No one was going to say it.
No one.
They started looking at me. Something about my first words, or something I said, or the fact that I was the brave one that spoke first (was that top energy?) or something else about me, made them look at me more than elsewhere.
They seemed to like something about my bashful but hopeful grin.
I opened the phone box. I put my finger up again. I let myself breathe calmly. I picked up the phone.
“Hello? I’m wondering if we can get an update on the sit–”
“Yeah hi” said a very loud voice through the telephone, and I realised I didn’t need to hold it to my face at all, with a voice like that. “I know, it’s not a great situation. Look my team is looking into it, and we’ll get you out of there as soon as we can, but look it’s going to be more than just a minute, I’m sorr–”
“Okay, I hear you, it’s okay, hi, thanks for this. I’m not calling to rush you, we’re just planning expectations, how comfy to get in here, so we’re just checking whether we’re looking at minutes or hours here–”
“Yeah I’m really sorry I get it’s going to–”
“It’s okay!” I said a little too forcefully. “I’m not upset about it, it’s really great that you’re here, I believe you about the situation, we’re calm, we’re just planning what we’re in for. What’s the sitch boss?”
We all held our breaths.
“Hey thanks, that’s great. Okay I don’t have an estimate, but I’ll tell you something maybe about the storm and this old elevator caused an arc. It’s not just the elevator that’s out. You still have lights in there? Yeah? That’s lucky. But look more might go down. We’ve got the electricians in, and we’re looking at it, but yeah, to answer your question? It’s definitely, definitely not going to be a few minutes. There are mechanical and electrical things to do before we can possibly lower you down to a floor safely. I’m really sorry. It’s possible in half an hour we can lower some water down in there, could that help?”
“NO! No it’s fine. Thanks, that’s really great, but um, I don’t need your team diverting your attention, you can focus on the main problem. We’re going to be alright.” I tried to keep my voice very steady. It would probably be understandable, if misunderstood, if it wasn’t calm though.
“Hey that’s great, thanks, you’re doing a really great job of staying calm.”
I blushed and grinned. “Well we’ll be alright. There’s 6 men in here, all relieved for the news.”
“Hey that’s great. Okay, I’ll be in touch.”
I gently put the phone down.
All of us were wide-eyed. Especially the young man.
“Um, what were we talking about?” said the man who was scheduled to have sex with me, with an indescribable expression.
I gave them a sheepish look. “I was talking about how much I enjoy having men in my mouth. And then I was talking about how it’s absolutely certain that this elevator door isn’t opening for way over an hour. And now I’m deciding whether to talk about something else on my mind.”
I watched the faces. I saw bashfulness, but I looked and looked but saw absolutely no discomfort.
“Okay, can I say something?”
I sensed a hopeful kind of silence.
“Are we all still interested in hooking up?”
They looked at each other, and their faces all interacted and slowly smirked. I gradually heard “yeah” from each man, and as carefully as I watched none of them felt forced or just compliant.
“So what was the other thing that’s now on your mind?” said someone, pointlessly, or maybe just to get to the next moment. Which I think we all desperately needed now.
“What’s on my mind? Maybe how I’m in a secured room with people that have been waiting to have discreet gay sex for hours. Like how I’m in a secured room with people who have already shared pictures of each other naked. We all already know each other’s bodies. Well, most of you.”
Everyone was frozen still.
“So where am I? I’m crazy, I’m stupid, I’m done giving a shit, and I’m in a room full of cocks that already planned to cum into a strange mouth this very hour.” I was talking feverishly now.
“No one wants to take the lead in situations. I get that at work all the time. There’s accountability involved in being the person with the idea. But I can’t forget the fact that it’s literally impossible that the doors will open soon, and I can’t forget the fact that everyone here wants a blowjob from a stranger, and I can’t forget the fact that you all liked what I said about what I enjoyed.”
Everyone stared. I must have sounded like a lunatic.
“So I’d like to hear anyone waffling right now to say a big strong No and we can just wait this out until we’re out and our separate ways. Can I get a big strong No from anyone?”
Utter silence. This time it sounded like there was concern that an exhaled breath would have counted as a No.
There was nothing more to say but no one knew what the next step was. Because everyone knew the next step was too a hard transition.
So what if the thing that would make it alright was someone else doing the embarrassing risky part?
I walked to the middle of the elevator, ignoring my inner voice that I was a lunatic.
I folded my corduroy jacket inside out and made a kind of cushion. I ignored the faces as I untied my tie and unbuttoned my cuffs. As the breathing around me began to sound happy I looked at the man pre-arranged to pair with me in Room 507 as I took off my shoes and shirt and belt. I glanced around, more nervous than ever in my life, as I found all the fumbly buttons of my pants.
I watched the young man watch me. He looked awkward though excited, so I gave the rest of my glance to him, tried to give him my strength, and held his gaze and let him watch me as I nervously slipped down my pants and my underwear. He glanced down at the springing elastic motion of my freed erection and then, after a long moment, returned to my face, not quite unsmiling. I let him see I was nervous, and tried to give him a reassuring stare to help him through the uncanny valley of stranger sex.
I knelt on my jacket. I let my naked bum touch the back of my feet, still wearing striped navy socks.
And still they waited, half-commitedly reaching for their own ties and tucked-in shirts, but caressing their buldges a little.
Winking once more at the young man, I let myself turn around to the first man I chose. “Hi there. We were excited to have sex with each other. We can still have that. Or we can also have something less… structured. What feels right?”
Less structured.
With one last chuckle around me and higher up in my kneel, there was shuffling clothes all around me. With various ranges of readiness, my companions released their erections. As a group we all kind of naturally gathered near the middle of the elevator.
Around me. Closely around me.
I glanced around, likely with a look of absolute (nervous) delight. The penises that had delighted me at lunchtime were in now front of me, bared and close. Not just the gorgeous one of the man I had invited into bed hours ago, but others. And now I began breathing their sweat — the unique sweat that only comes from the left and the right edges of a penis and balls, where they rest against thighs. 6 versions of the same wonderful, perfect aroma, including the very familiar scent of my own horniness beneath me, the scent of my pre-masturbation body.
For a moment I just let myself give adoring glances to the penises around me, especially at the one I had requested, and some of the hands at my eye-level began very gently to experimentally touch their own and then adjacent shafts, also at my eye level.
As they stood around me, hope in their eyes and hope also dribbling from some tips, my eyes finally landed on the 40 year-old I had first chosen and replied to. That penis was long and proud, and its soft pretty foreskin wasn’t quite fulsome enough to contain the shaft now that he was fully hard. It was just a very arousing shape, and something about the foreskin-and-head said “105%” to me.
And so, I gave a single first grateful lick bottom-to-top to my 40 year-old. And as he gasped I gave a second slathering lick. I let my open mouth close around his tip to discover its taste. Before he could thrust forward though I had shifted, and smooched his ballsack with a slack open mouth.
Movement to my left darted me left, and the completely different shaft of a slightly younger man wiggled.
I had a single moment of, Am I Doing This?, and I shrugged and gave this new penis’ tip three grateful laps, and immediately knew his true taste.
I glanced around, and I saw the beautiful body of the chubby young man, who had just given a middle-aged shaft with perfect drooping balls his first tentative strokes up and down, not truly stroking but exploring its landscape, and was currently not sure what to do with his hands anymore.
I had turned to him, and there was a new kind of smile on the men around me at this. I looked up at his face, and he showed me hope and gladness, and he was more comfortable when looking at me. It was almost ritual the way he came to me as the others gathered, and how my outreached hands found his hips, and how I gave him a very long glance to deeply enquire about his willingness.
When I found and enjoyed his willingness on his face, I shone gratitude at him, fawned at the lovely penis who, despite its fullness had a gorgeous complete and soft bunching of foreskin along its top, and I gave its sheathed head a long adoring french kiss. I held him gently as his body torsioned with what I was now theorising may just be his first several seconds of blowjob, or at least gay blowjob. I greedily descended to self-servingly enjoy his first several seconds of ball-licking, and I made my mouth as wet and as gentle as I possibly could. And once more I gave him his third gasp, as I used my hand to uplift the skin of his shaft, which both served to grant me new inches of testicle to lick and to give him a simultaneous stroke-and-lick.
Finally, with his pleasure already at a risky peak I relented a little, and unsurprisingly his original companion was more than ready to catch him from me. The older hand descended to the soaked shaft and gave a happy hello to the young man in a far stronger pump of contact than I had given, though to my approval still pleasantly slow.
I glanced around, and it began truly dawning on me what I had created.
My years of managing-up, of never officially being in charge but needing things to get done, of giving people ideas they were allowed to believe were their own, of offering between choices all of which I desired, had led to this far more extreme scenario than I had envisioned when I had logged onto a website that lunchtime, or even moreso than when I had knelt just then.
Five penises were presented to me in particular, patiently waiting.
Five erections gladly were mine to touch, mine to navigate through their various journeys to completion, through each body’s style of pleasure and need.
I thought to myself:
You wanted this? Here it is.
THIS IS YOUR FINAL EXAM. YOU ARE THE ROOM’S DESIGNATED SLUT. YOU HAVE FIVE PENISES THAT NEED ORGASMS. IF ANY SEXUAL ACT DISPLEASES OR ULTIMATELY FAILS TO PLEASE ANY OF YOUR ELEVATORMATES, YOU FAIL. IF ANY PENIS ACHIEVES MORE THAN 50% OF THEIR PATHWAY TO ORGASM BY HIS OWN HAND, YOU FAIL. IF ANY PENIS CUMS BECAUSE OF HIS OWN MASTURBATION, YOU FAIL.
PLEASURE GIVEN BETWEEN THE OTHERS IN MUTUAL PLAY IS PERMITTED. IF YOU FORGET OR IGNORE ANY BOUNDARIES, YOU FAIL. IF YOU DON’T CONVINCE ANYONE TO GIVE YOU AN ORGASM, YOU FAIL. YOU MAY NOT REQUEST YOUR OWN PLEASURE OR ORGASM, IT MAY ONLY BE CONFERRED BY THE DESIRE AND DECISION OF ONE OR SEVERAL OF YOUR ELEVATORMATES.
UNLESS IMPOSSIBLE, WEIRD, OR UNDESIRED BY YOU, ALL REQUESTS OR OBVIOUS DESIRES MUST BE WELCOMED OR REDIRECTED TO OTHERS MORE WILLING. ALL IN THE ELEVATOR MUST LEAVE THE ELEVATOR BOTH ORGASMED AND DRESSED, AND ALL EVIDENCE OF ORGASM MUST BE DESTROYED BY SWALLOWING.
YOU HAVE AN UNKNOWN NUMBER OF MINUTES BUT NOT LESS THAN ONE HOUR. YOU HAVE A MOUTH AND TWO HANDS. YOU MAY REQUEST HELP FROM PEERS BUT YOU SHOULD BE THE PRIMARY AUTHOR OF ALL WORK. BEGIN.
The next sight I landed on was a towering shaft with salt-and-pepper tufts of hair. The older man’s erection had impressions of multiple pillars up the shaft, and a vein up the front. It had no foreskin, and the head didn’t mushroom out with a crest, just remained broad and handsome the whole way up. Bits of hair were also on the shaft itself, in a kind of treasure trail. The testicles beneath hung low but with an arousing fullness. The older man had his hand wrapped around a relatively limited amount of shaft.
Happier than a dog in a park, I batted away the older man’s hand from his own shaft, smiled up at him, and simply said, “Mine” and managed to devour half of the shaft while stroking the other half. Trying out any potential way to explore a fuller pleasure for this gentleman, I tried slowly slip-and-sliding my mouth all the way down and all the way up the front of his shaft, though his whispers more than hinted he especially liked a good healthy bob up and down however much length a man could manage.
For long moments I pumped and bobbed and swooned and tickled, until a familiar penis to my left returned, the one I had only made a smooch and a lick of contact with.
With a friendly and grateful glance to ease the transition from the older man, I dove deeply and with unteasing fervour onto this head. I started with just a little penetration, re-acclimatising myself to this one for its foreskin, beginning with its now-bunched up pucker of skin with its gifted precum, sliding my tongue around its fragile perimeter, but quite soon going deeper, and deeper in my engulf, finally beginning a full-on bob, powerful but slow, far down and far up. My original companion had patiently earned a lavish blow.
Another cock already approached from my new left, and, not wishing to relent this deeply entertaining momentum I was building up in front of me, I felt around and found the new presence with my hand, and it was official, I was entertaining two penises at the same time, instinctively matching pumps. But the pulses of sensation in both of them told such individual stories about how close or far either was.
New rules begin to occur to me, which I collected and consecrated in my head as carefully as I could.
IF ANY PENIS SHOWS SIGN OF EARLY IMMINENT ORGASM, SWITCH. IF ANY UNREQUESTED ORGASM OCCURS IN THE FIRST 15 MINUTES YOU FAIL, UNLESS SOMEONE DECLARES NEED TO CUM IMMEDIATELY, WHICH OVERRIDES THE CLOCK: TAKE ANY ORGASM REQUESTED. IF ANY PENIS IS NEGLECTED ENOUGH TO REGRESS TO THE STARTING POINT OF AROUSAL YOU FAIL. YOU MUST REMAIN ENTERTAINING ENOUGH TO BE THE FOREMOST TARGET OF SEXUAL DESIRE.
Was that last one selfish?
It occurred to me, somewhere far back in my brain, that it was probably silly of me to worry about selfishness while inviting free-for-all pleasure for a circle of cocks.
Each time I left a cock as my primary attention, my eyes and mouth gave it emotional reassurances, like sentimental be-right-back smooches or thankful smiles. I did this now as I switched whose shaft I was stroking and whose I was soaking in drool, and my gentle corkscrewing hand seemed ample consolation for my original companion, caked in warm saliva and being wetly slathered by the horny movements of my palm and fingers.
The lights flickered again. And then they stayed off. All of a sudden we were in a complete blackout.
There may have been a moment when we decided what to do.
But the scent of sweat to my right now was new. I think it was someone I hadn’t yet touched. In the blindness I turned my head, and estimated. I waved my hands uselessly for a moment, until I found a leg and noticed how off my estimate was. I felt it was a left thigh and moved my hand to my left and up. I found another leg. I fumbled up now and two fingers drifted into what was almost definitely a ballsack. I gently grasped an average-sized, cut, steel-hard penis, and softly pulled it in my own direction.
The little grunt of surprised pleasure above me resulted in some happy sounds elsewhere, relieved-sounding noises, and as this penis grazed my cheek and then nose and then tongue, I heard and felt other presences, forming a new circle around me. Without a visual reference I memorised the shape and listened for sounds.
It was careful work, and extremely exciting, but eventually, hearing the impatience of those around me, I started a simple but substantial suck up and down to this man, giving him and myself a beautiful moment of pleasure before clumsily feeling both my hands left and right.
For a moment I had found two penises with my hands and I was clumsily pleasuring three cocks, humming delight into the penis in front of me and sending a voice above me into soft sounds. Eventually I was evaluating the feel of each shaft in each palm. I had a choice to make. Trying not to be all about size and wanting to please all, I felt around for any other information about who to choose.
It took me a moment to realise the obvious.
The penis in my left hand was bone dry. The one in my right was sticky, maybe with my own drool.
Equity demanded I go left. A rising tide lifts all ships. A giving circle-blower levels up the cocks together.
Sure enough, when I fumbled left, and followed my left arm back to the penis I was stroking, I heard the surprised gratitude of a cock’s first kiss of the day.
I heard further groans behind me. They were finding each other in the dark. They were there waiting for me, but they were helping each other.
When the lights flickered back on untold minutes later, I must have been quite the sight. I learned all at once that I had the older stranger in my left and the younger stranger in my right and I was rapidly bouncing my mouth back and forth between them. I had already suspected who they likely were, with the towering shaft and broad head to my left and the wonderful foreskin with the precum wellspring to my right. The young stranger was no less exuberant than I.
At the sight of me, eager multitasker, thankful sampler, new presences soon crowded, and I couldn’t possibly refuse the obvious request to turn and welcome back some old acquaintance. They were needier now, and I begun switching more rapidly. I alleviated their second-by-second envy by groaning my delight for each of them.
I was also a bit slower, giving my jaw a little bit of reprieve, though it felt very, very important to me not to stop any of this. My penis and balls ached for attention, I was desperate for something to happen to me too. But I enjoyed that feeling. The discomfort of horny desire was a delight, and I loved how the wonderful things I did to these strangers made my shaft ache more and more.
But there came a moment. I had just been gently pulled back to the penis of the older man again, and I cracked my neck back and forth and did my best to engulf and otherwise please it for a good lavish moment. Beside me, the young man in the elevator was trading handjobs with the thirty year-old, while they both watched me. And I heard the thirty year-old say to someone, “How about my mouth, want it? Can I?” I like how he couldn’t decide whether this was an offer or a request, but I was happy for the young guy. But then, he replied,
“On one condition?” I didn’t know yet what he was negotiating. All I know is that in a few seconds there was a presence between my legs. I was on my knees, perched up to meet the tall shaft, and the young man curled around in front of me suddenly, up with head on hand and elbow on floor, on his side. For the first time my shaft was taken in a hand.
The penises and balls around me had gotten quite a lot of action by now, novelty gone and just pumping slowly towards completion, but I reacted with overwhelmed novelty at being touched, and as the young man grasped me and then experimentally licked me for taste and texture, neither he nor the owner of the mature glorious penis in front of me could possibly have predicted my groaning mouth-vibrating reactions to being pleasured by five fingers a mouth and a tongue.
In that moment I felt how rapidly I could cum if unchecked. That concerned me, this would be a very difference experience if I became satisfied, but that was just my first impression, the pleasure went on, and on, and on, tripled by patience but sustainable through the minutes. For long minutes, possibly as the others watched, and I hoped idly stroked, I swooned gratefully onto a cock and gently trembled in and out of a surprisingly soft mouth. If the young stranger was on his side having made a deal, it meant four of us were chained cock to mouth.
Eventually, the momentum was halted as another penis came to me, and I gladly held it. With the shift, the older man shifted to someone else, and I felt my penis empty out of the mouth beneath me. I took this new cockhead in my mouth for a short but powerful turn, secretly wanting something in particular but not wanting to be ungrateful or hurried for any offered cock.
Soon I’d departed from it and turned around to see just what I’d hoped to. For the moment, the young stranger was now on his hands and knees, devouring the shaft of the 30 year-old, who in turn was still ass-on-floor. Which meant the young stranger had a pretty ballsack flopping around right in front of me.
He made a surprised little squeal as I started tonguing and smooching all over the bottom-half of his soft tight ballsack with its downy fuzz. I heard surprised approval and arousal around me. I licked on, and on, and on, until his sounds settled down, the novelty-stage in the area gone. And then, in my most commanding act yet, I pulled him up by his hips and gently nudged him against the cold metal handrails of the elevator. And far more strongly than before with his pretty shaft I adamantly, gratefully, hungrily memorised his tastes and his sources of pleasure.
Now he started making the first sounds of pre-orgasm, the first in the elevator. I arched back off of his shaft. We looked at each other. I dove my mouth fully down again and fully up again. We looked at each other. I dove down again and pumped my face on him four times and up again. He looked at me pleadingly.
I made sure he didn’t feel abandoned, by keeping my hand on the base of him while I sought out and found the nearest shaft, which my hand recognised as my original 40 year-old companion. I gently brought the two penises together. The young stranger wobbled a little with desperation but I saw the dawning understanding, the dawning hope.
Only then did I dive deep and unhesitantly onto the 40 year-old cock, my original chosen, pumping it with my mouth and tickling the balls. There was something about this motion that raced things forward. I heard vulnerable sounds from him for the first time.
And I immediately switched who was hand and who was hand-and-mouth. Which only increased those middle-aged sighs. But I was met on the other side by sounds of grateful desperation and growing salty-sweetness. It was maybe half a minute of power-worship on that long shaft until he’d raised an octave from his regular voice, and I left again. This time he never stopped his gasps, and I hope I hadn’t ruined or abandoned his completed orgasm. But I gave the 40 year-old shaft the most adoring pumps and twists I could, quickly rushing him into his final stretch, until he was grunting.
I didn’t stay there for as long this time, though I did follow up with some happy adventurous slathers along his balls, which he obviously very-much appreciated in his time of need.
I had decided. I had my final, follow-up Am I Doing This?
But I looked at the flushed and needy face to my right and I was Doing This.
I gave both my hands and my entire face to the young round-bellied man in front of me and his beautiful long narrow shaft. I felt presence all around me as everyone sensed the shifted energy in the room. The young man turned a proverbial corner in his pleasure, the moment of needing the next few seconds to happen, and in the next instant he realised the next few seconds were absolutely happening. I wasn’t stopping.
And he panted. And he pet my head. And he took another penis in his hand, too delirious to do much more than hold it for balance and for arousal. I ruthlessly adored his shaft and caressed his sack and I hoped to god I hadn’t lost track of time and the sounds became new and a new kind of pulsing sensation came from the growing shaft inside me.
And both his hands hugged my face by the cheeks and neck, a kind of friendly and thankful embrace, and I started gulping. I started gulping before and during there were things in my mouth to gulp. The excited young stranger had quite a lot pent up to gift to me and I just kept it up, long seconds after the flow finally relented. His needy orgasm was quite a lot to take fully inside me, but it was my first of the day. Feeling lovely and full already, it was daunting for a moment that I had apparently signed up to do this quite a lot more.
I came off of the shaft and looked at him and smiled and softly smooched the tip and shared a tired grin with him. And then dove aggressively down onto the middle-aged and patient man’s dribbling cock. Just like that I activated something in him, and I felt familiar pulsing and growing. A hand pet me by the top and back of my head. Surrounded by masturbation I rapidly earned this new orgasm.
His had a completely different energy. He was trying to be gently in charge, though his pleasure was challenging that dynamic. His emotion directed downwards was not so desperately grateful as the young stranger, just delighted.
I forced one more little tease by descending to the balls again (he really did have a wonderful full sack and I sucked it more firmly now) but it wasn’t long before I returned up. When I came back I didn’t need to do anything in particular: once he was back in my mouth, he expanded and burst. And I was glugging and glugging. I whimpered with the effort now, with the speed of it, with the repeat of the strong taste, with the surprising difference in the taste, with the difference in eruption: he had less than the young stranger but he burst it straight forward in shots.
I managed it. And soon he was humping more, dryly, with cute little sounds.
After a good long moment I was let go, finally, and I heaved a bit. I was in no way unhappy, and as everyone watched me, I gave a flushed sheepish smile that gave the half-naked men something to laugh about. They knew it was an effort for me, but they could see I was trying and they could see I was more than willing.
I was approached by the older man, who, apparently impressed and aroused by my joyous collection of cum from the men around me, was granting himself several powerful strokes. As he began to buck, and I felt a little trepidation about what may be about to become my third swallow in a minute, I decided not to scold his hand away this time but instead approach from below again, lavishing his testicles with soft laps as he expertly corkscrewed his towering cock.
Now this time was different. His sounds of surprised pleasure when I made out with his ballsack were for some reason thunderous. He was overwhelmed, even though I had basically worshipped that ballsack just a few minutes before.
And then I understood.
Because now, I was in possession of a mouth and tongue that had already been thoroughly coated in cum. I knew this as a taste in my mouth, but as I heard this older gentleman above my face begin to emit sounds of his own very unique version of vulnerable sexual joy, I quickly found that my lips and tongue were now far, far slipperier than they were a moment ago. I was absolutely buttery.
This is a benefit that’s hard to appreciate when one or two people are producing cum, because penis-owners, as far as I know, tend to become far less interested in sexual acts once they erupt. However, in this unique and exquisite situation, I had the opportunity and privilege to bring a cum-filled mouth to another unfulfilled cock, and gift the benefits of its lubrication to a cock in its most desperate moment of need.
So I presented my gift to these wonderful round balls with the coarse salt-and-pepper fluff, nuzzling back and forth with a sloppy relaxed tongue, ready at any time for a moment of eye contact. He gave me the eye contact. For less than a second. The sight of me, grateful and hopeful and sentimental under his cock, burst him into life. A long stream of semen began rapidly flowing down his shaft, and I knew I had one precious instant to act.
As he watched, amazed, in a rapid call to action I anxiously dove onto the bottom of his flow and lapped. I lapped and lapped as quickly as I could, slowly raising to the source, gulping away this happy little emergency, until, as I reached his tip, I was mopping up with a pointy tongue into his slit.
A bit began to escape onto my cheek, just beyond my tongue’s grasp, so after trying to lick my mouth clean I relented to the fact (inevitable anyways) that I was not leaving this elevator with spick-and-span hands: I fingered the trail that tickled my jaw, and let everyone in the elevator see me catch and neutralise it inside me. The spent shaft in front of me had reduced to 75% and falling, just enough to point right at me. Forcing bravery, I again mopped up his substantively aftershocking tip as it passed my mouth.
I arched back and let myself land on my hands, in what must have been some sort of calendar-like pose. I heaved and shook away a bit of hair from my forehead and let my stomach slowly settle, now quite loaded up with cum, three different tastes, three different textures. Shiny with sweat.
I breathed, let it slow, eyes closed, oblivious for a moment. I opened my eyes at the sound of a little gasp, and it was from the young stranger, who had suddenly noticed a line of aftershock dipping down, stretching to its limit. It could be in the next second or the one after that before we had a different level of evidence to hide.
I still had the spryness of youth, and by now I had a reputation to keep in the elevator of problem-solver, leader, and I guess proud slut. I darted underneath the young stranger and looked up, did whatever I could to predict the swing back and forth of the gooey trail. I managed it, and I heard unwisely volumed celebration around me as I caught the bottom of his stream and followed it up to its source. Tiny little webs of it flicked along my cheek instead.
I was beginning to be surrounded by satisfied cock now, and my whole face and neck and chest felt blushed. I didn’t know if I could do this twice more, but I was beginning to make this about my pride. I smiled around me, idly doing subtraction (5 — 3 = 2; +1 myself), and found what I had just been wondering:
Two remainders were taking matters into their own hands, and were now fully locked in a 69 on the floor. One of them, and only one of them, was starting to make sounds of incoming.
I knew how awkward that could be. One of them was clearly going to win. And then what.
But I was now pumped full of three orgasms and a big youthful aftershock.
I had to think quickly.
I joined near the face of the groaning man with a mouth full of shaft, and smiling reassuringly at him, I joined him. On the other extreme end of the cock.
The floppy testicles were extra salty, unloved yet, and with the beginnings of my ministrations they quickly bunched up into a firm excited ball. And I began hearing more distant moans now. The face near me smiled gratefully, and together, we teamed up on this project. Together, we were going to somehow time this cock to cum at the exact same second as his own.
Keeping eye-contact, the back of my tongue slipped around the bottom of the balls, rapidly but softly, and slowed down as the more rapid swoons began. I kept it slow for another moment. Until my companion closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows and held his breath and breathed more deeply. And then I continued my touch as adventurously as I could.
I was being smarmy and calm in my technique, until I again felt a hand and mouth, engulfing me somewhere out of my field of vision.
And now, the two of us on this cock both looked at each other with happy alarm and desperation, each overwhelmed with sensation. I later realised that this cock was now having probably the happiest sensation of its entire life: two mouths, vibrating with pleasure and one buttery with cum, making a last meal of his every inch tip to perineum.
Our faces watched each other groan and hyperventilate, until I beheld an amazing sight I’ll never ever forget: an orgasming face simultaneously being filled up with cum. I could see each burst into him, into his cheeks, and I saw what I would swear was recoil. His increasingly agape mouth finally released a dribble of it and I rescued him with a lap of my tongue. As I succumbed to my own pleasure again, I gave my excitement to the balls for one last moment, until the 69ers finally, reluctantly disengaged with each other.
By definition it had to be a post-cummer who was now blowing me, and I was so adoringly grateful for the compliment, to give me pleasure after his satisfaction had come and gone.
My former 69 co-op partner now began a motion which, in what would become the most amazing sexual moment of my own life, activated everyone else into cooperative motion. He gently pushed up the top of my body, which I thought was strangely easy until I realised he had help. In a kind of crowd-surfing motion several several hands were turning me around from belly to back. I didn’t land on floor, but on what was either one or two laps.
And the whole time, the mouth, which turned out to belong to my original 40 year-old companion, never left my cock.
I was surrounded by satisfied half-hard shafts and smiling faces, and they watched me racing through the stages of my own pleasure. The extremely patient selflessness of it all and the sheer sexiness of the scenario and the sights around me were all making unprecedently quick work of me.
And they were all happy to make the moment about me.
I leaned completely back and into flesh, not holding a fragment of my weight myself, my only work being to fumble for and find two accessible penises to massage, just for the sheer arousing kinkiness of holding multiple cocks, and massaging bits of cum into the shafts.
Two hands were on each of my ass cheeks, the rest of me sitting on lap. Someone I didn’t see was touching me opportunistically all over. My eyes glazed and watched nothing as I felt two penises in my hands and somehow multiple mouths between my legs, in motions I can’t even describe in retrospect. Nothing was still, and the people tasting my penis and balls must have been trading places again, and again.
My head started thrashing, my ass humping at nothing, my voice sounding not quite frustrated and not quite joyous, because I was maddeningly desperate for exactly the thing I was being given. I gave complete faith to the men touching me to do whatever the fuck they wanted to my skin, nothing was going to stop what was in motion now. No moment of stagnation bothered me, my cum was about to come out and it was someone else’s problem and I would have faith that someone would take it on. I know now that I was pumping two spent penises in substantial handjobs, their shafts apparently forced back awake with sheer horny fervour, and without a single protest at what must have been very sensitive touch.
I never found out what exactly happened to my cum. I know I was being hungrily slathered all over, and after several seconds of a deep rumbling sensation at a mouth or hand’s very correctly executed twist downward along my shaft, I began to count five bursts of ecstasy, some into warmth and some into open air, and I know that long long seconds afterwards when I managed to look down it was all nowhere to be seen. Just a sleepy cock, sparkling with drool but otherwise clean, surrounded by smiles and greedy little tongues.
We stayed there for a long while. How could any of us choose to end a moment like that? A joyous young slut interacting with as much cock as possible in a chair made of multiple orgasmed humans.
I glanced around for erect or dribbling cock and for the first time in an hour I found none.
For the first time in an hour.
In an hour.
Bashfully, I crawled across the floor, and very gingerly, with what I’m sure was a filthy hand, gingerly picked up the phone in the phone box.
Trying to speak reminded my throat of all the cum and I cleared my throat. The others tried not to laugh.
“Hi I’m just wondering how things are going!”
As I waited for a response and even after the response began I found a flushed flaccid cock beside my face and made out with it a little.
“Hi there, heh, how are you doing? Hang in there” [laughter in the elevator] “We’re actually almost done! We hope you’ve been okay in there!”
I couldn’t bring myself to say anything witty or even normal. I said a single “Mhm!” and clicked the receiver down. Behind we were the sounds of many shuffles of fabric.
I rushed to action too.
Turned out we didn’t really need to. Afterwards, all dressed, we just sat down in a rectangle-shaped circle against the walls of the elevator, in what I’m sure any other elevator of strangers would have been awkwardly doing the entire time for an hour like this. We were very comfortable in our silence. We let each other check the others out, one by one, not bashful at being the subject of memory. It could hardly even be called memory yet, I still smelled our sex in the air.
The others were very visibly starting to look around and notice too.
“Don’t worry,” I said with a sly grin, “I’m sure the vents will finish clearing the air soon.”
The vents.
The air vents.
The air vents leaving the elevator.
How did air vents work again?
Like in the movies or not like in the movies?
Where did they go?
Where did they go in an elevator?
Did they go to places where engineers go?
When they fix things?
The vents.
One detected look on my face and we all were thinking the same thing.
If they were like me, they were trying very hard to decide whether not to care or whether to care a whole awful lot.
A minute later gravity shifted with a jerk. My testicles had that weird zero-G feeling that testicles feel the first second you start descending in a car or an elevator. This was the first time that feeling happened right after my testicles were emptied, and I can confirm it feels weirder.
We all stood up and there were some shaking jackets and pants straight. I’m not really sure how important it was to do that, we had every reason to look disheveled even under innocent circumstances.
But I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to torturously interpret what it meant that when the elevator doors opened several grinning hard-hat wearers erupted in applause at us. Others in the vicinity eventually politely joined, but maybe with a different spirit.
We half-listened to their update and apologies and were really quite gracious about it all. It seemed to surprise people how non-angry we were, and it also seemed to surprise them that we didn’t seem to be in any hurry to rush off once free.
Of course, we didn’t talk sexily with each other or give any clues. We were a tipsy kind of overcompensating subtle. Bad liars but careful liars in our smirking silence.
Now that we were back in the lobby, after we asked for lots and lots of bubbly water from the bar, we flopped at the lounge area again. Still not quite ready to go up to our respective rooms.
There were a few scant others in the lounge area chairs, others still networking keeners or dessert-2nd-takers or something. But it was getting late.
We were nearly wordless, not awkwardly, I think, it’s just somehow no one seemed to want to leave each other’s company yet.
I said the first real thing. Because, for the second time that week, an intrusive thought came over me that was probably a terrible idea.
“So………………………….. anyone going to the conference next year?”
There was a kind of quietly shocked silence, not uncomfortable, just slowly realising. No one answered but I felt a few smirks around me.
On a whim, with my phone I returned to that clump of message threads from the midday break. Checking behind myself for whether anyone could see over my shoulder first, of course.
There were two new entries. It was from the two others! Those who hadn’t joined us in that lucky moment.
Maybe that would have been too much anyways?
Routing for their good time, I checked in on them. The answer was a little more morose than I had expected:
One had invited the other to the top floor. Once the elevators shut down, neither of them apparently had been willing to take the stairs all the way up there. One of them, the ‘host’, said it had been too bad, that this fancy suite had a jacuzzi. He was glumly at the lounge, waiting for bedtime to just go to bed.
The other one, never hearing back, had separately reported he been unable to go all the way upstairs, and was, as he’d reported to the anonymous Internet, hanging out in the lounge checking emails in a wasted evening.
I glanced up. And around. There were a few strangers, a few of them men.
My heart faster now. I looked in on both of those profiles. They can’t have checked other threads, just wrote their own failure messages!
Okay, one of them had their faced blurred out but was about 30 with blonde straight hair. The other was just a penis-and-tummy shot, but with a kind of distinctive barrel chest, and……. a telltale iron ring on the pinky.
I glanced around, failing to be subtle. I snorted a little too loud and people looked up before they looked back down again, when I realised: they were sitting next to each other.
Oblivious. Each a bit morose.
I looked at my young companion from the elevator. (I still didn’t know his name, just that I like having sex with him.)
I nudged him a little and gestured very gently over to the twin lounge chairs. And then I let him peak at my phone depicting the naked body and short message. He took a moment to catch on.
His eyes widened a little, and his mouth opened a little. I confirmed with him by hitting ‘BACK’ twice to the first message. He covered his mouth in what failed to successfully look like a casual gesture.
We both looked back at the others from the elevator. I wiggled my head to the left and pointed at my phone. For a few moments I watched them take turns realising.
We all smiled a little. Not needing language for the big stuff anymore, The Older Man chuckled and said the first out-loud words: “I’m afraid I’m out of pep, but go nuts friends.” He gestured very cordially some sort of body language of thanks and farewell, a kind of Sinatra-like class about the motion, and bowed out. The others looked at each other, the middle-ageds, apparently co-evaluating. They grinned and gestured silently to the two younger of us.
After longing glances at each other, they were gone too.
I nodded to my friend, who I had been calling The Young Stranger or My Young Friend but who may have technically been a tiny bit older than me. Or was he? I forgot by then, and I think over the course of the evening I had, as they say in the biz, ‘collapsed the hierarchy’.
We grinned and nodded. But without yet an actual plan.
After a moment, I realised it would be dangerous to just say it out loud, here and now, even quietly. I thought for a moment. And then I returned to my phone.
I started up a reply in the thread, and also private chats with each of them. I simply said,
“Your fun isn’t ruined, trust me. Your way to your room is cleared, and there’s a bonus offer if you like. Sincerely, pinstripes.
It took 2 minutes. The younger one was clearly on the platform at this very moment. He looked up, and around very nervously, found me in my pinstripes, and that I was next to a cute young man. The man looked quite sheepish, maybe concerned. Poor guy. I was ready to back off. He looked back to his phone, and scrolled for an instant. On my phone my profile views went up by One. After a moment he looked back at me, and gave my body a glance. And looked at me with complicated emotion.
I smiled and said, “Elevator’s fixed.”
The young stranger looked deeply emotional, no longer in a negative way, and at the moment I said that the barrel-chested man looked up from his screen and said, “It is? Oh gosh, finally. Way too late for my, uhh, thing though………….”
My friend beside me said, “Not too late, actually. Look behind ya?”
The man looked nervous now, and he looked way to his left, and saw the blushing young man. He clearly recognised the face and the other way around too.
For a moment they both had angry-at-fate stares for each other.
“It’s okay,” I said. They looked at me, the barrel-chested man not yet comprehending enough to not be suspicious of this intrusive talk.
“We’re from The Thread.” We let him think about this, and after a moment, he blushed, and looked around him nervously, only gradually confirming that absolutely no one cared what a few men in a hotel lounge were saying.
“We’ve been upstairs,” I said pregnantly. “Well, upstairs ENOUGH.” My friend laughed. “And…….. you could still go, if you still want, and, if you’re interested, we could either make our own arrangements, or have a networking after-party together.”
I would not have propositioned the two of them with no context except for nuances of language in their messages. Both of them had expressed a scattered kind of horniness in their disappointment, a kind of needy interest to be sexually fulfilled as soon as possible.
The young stranger, who probably was bursting, looked bashful as I had been but intrigued. The barrel-chested man was now looking at three young men in front of him, each visibly horny. That’s when I knew it would be okay.
We awkwardly made it up to this room, on this top floor, though I noticed two of us were far more comfortable in that long elevator than the other two. Later on, I’d realised that maybe it wasn’t a great idea to risk the elevator again. I didn’t know how fastidious the engineering staff were about precautions. But I was once again acting on feeling and not thought.
And in the eyes of the men around me, while there awkwardness, but also deep desire. With less practice than the elevator survivors, they spoke in code of eager consent and possible approaches. We had been invited in their little coded way of talking to strangers to join this reputed executive room.
We never asked why he had this luxurious space. But it was more than we’d thought. It was high enough not to need privacy, just lots and lots of windows. The automated basin of swirling water was large and centred in the room, also with no privacy.
Once inside we shared very familiar awkward glances, looking for first steps.
I checked in with myself, and I realised I just didn’t feel fresh anymore. Just the opposite. I told the three of them I’m going to have the most rapid shower of my life, and get right back to them. They agreed, and glanced at my body. Knowing what they were thinking, I didn’t wait for privacy to remove my clothes. There were many many steps again, ties and buttons and buckles, but I’m sure it was surprising to 2 of my companions how nervous I wasn’t.
The body I showed them was damp with sweat, with little flicks of shininess. I had a fuchsia-coloured penis now, that was still waking back up, but did not look at all bored either. They watched me. Again I was the first one to be naked for a room. Their eyes on me surged the next little burst back to life.
But I wasn’t yet at my best for them.
I had the most rapid shower of my life, maybe 30 seconds. I came back, sheepish again for some reason, and my friend, naked but waiting, rushed into the shower too.
I let my towel fall, exposing my now full and very pink erection, gently beaten by several mouths and resurrected, and stepped into the swirling hot water. The heat and the jets awakened my body further.
Until my young friend returned, the two strangers watched each other get naked, and let themselves get excited for the bodies they had been waiting for all day, with some experimental first touches. Very, very soon, we were all showered, hurriedly returning.
The young stranger and I watched the blonde stranger and the barrel-chested stranger exchange a few first Hello licks and sucks. They hesitated before their first mouthful with sheepish horniness and novelty. Soon though, they remembered the swirling hot water and the two naked men idly masturbating each other. The two new arrivals to our fun stared at us again, seeing us at our full mast for the first time. I think they assumed we had smaller penises, than we did, but we were solid and full, with a little encouragement.
In a moment we were all in the water together.
Cooperatively the young stranger and I resurrected each other to full eagerness. My young friend smiled and me and said, “So you really have more pep in you, after all that?” Our two companions were too interested in the novelty of being naked together to notice and wonder what we’d meant.
I smiled sheepishly and listened to my body. “Weeeeellll…….. I think I just might be done swallowing for right now!” We laughed together. “But man do I apparently enjoy earning cum.”
Him soon kneeling on the halfway-up seat of the jacuzzi and me kneeling on the bottom, he was just emerged enough in the water for me to enjoy the feel of his balls in my mouth. I smooched his whole area, circumnavigating every corner. It was a different context now: we weren’t in a hurry doing something illicit, we were having a more relaxing evening orgy.
……………………….Had I orchestrated two orgies in a day?
……………………………………………….What exactly is the deal with me?
What was that pent up???
Anyhow, my young friend treated my mouth-work as a very cordial Hello, but moved away from the touch soon enough for me to miss his ballsack, taken away too soon. Soon he took me and curtly sat me down at the rim.
And then he was licking along my balls.
That was always an amazing feeling, and that caused in me sounds which gathered attention. The next moment I had my vision fully back, the barrel-chested man had joined our side, glanced at me enquiring approval, and then licked at the other extreme. Two mouths were now in concert along my most sensitive parts, lapping up my tastes and scents.
The younger stranger looked sheepish, and I said in a bit of a shudder, “Don’t worry friend, mmmmm, trust me, we can’t wait to make you feel like this. Ohgoshyes…………….. It’s all about……….. taking turns being mindblown.” He was smiling again. I tried to form the best sentences I could while being lavished and worshipped top and bottom. “Whose mouth next, friend? Seriously, we’re all happy to do it. Who gets to worship your cock next…………..”
Something about my voice must have got him quite interested, and he said, “……………..You………………………………………..”
It took several seconds for my companions to give up my substantially harassed cock.
I was worried I was just about done blowing cock at all. But I needed to know what he tasted like. And then I realised that as of now we all tasted like jacuzzi. And would continue to until we began tasting like precum or sweat.
So this time I walked to his side, almost behind him. And I placed as much hand as I could in a wrap-around along his shaft. And then I caught his wobbling trembling body as I slowly but strongly pumped him. Sometimes my hand held him firm. Sometimes my hand released and my pumping just grazed along his skin. He was always surprised and speechlessly happy with each transition, back and forth.
Someone I didn’t bother identifying approached to mouth-and-tongue the tip of what I stroked.
This new man was clearly not used to having his cock treated as tremendously important. So here I would stay for a while.
I kept a supportive arm around him while giving such long and gentle strokes that I went from his tip to far below his base, masturbating his ballsack as well as his shaft.
The attention of the barrel-chested man soon turned to the young stranger and the young stranger was soon receiving an eager blowjob that seemed to give him a whole new suite of sounds. With the blonde stranger fully mine for the moment, and his penis primed with need, I curled down into chest-deep water and tasted him.
This submerged I was supported by the water, and it was easy to stay at an optimum height. So I crouched more than knelt as I explored yet another brand new taste and contour of cock. Yet another cock, rapidly learned all about and happily invited far into my mouth.
He started doing something no one else had today: the blonde stranger started giving my entire face slow and gentle humps. He held my temples, felt around for an angle, and, with a few attempts that landed at my cheek or my tongue, found his aim and began a rhythm. Soon, and for a little while, my mouth was being rushed into to a rhythm, in and out.
My mouth didn’t choose a motion now, it chose a position. I became soft for him, and as closed as I could be, so with every hump into me his penis slipped along lips tongue and roof, snuggled close as he invited himself into my body with endless repetition. I felt my drool slipping down him and I could tell by a hazardously strong, needy increase in his power that he loved my mouth.
I accepted his cock and what it needed, ready to be what this cock needed with whatever strength I had left. If I was going to hurt later, it would be a proud and delighted ache.
My ass cheek and then the crack between was given a gentle Hello from a hand. The universal signal for Taking A Number. I closed my mouth to release the penis from me, and gave it a consoling lick goodbye.
Turning around I saw that I had clearly missed one. Of course. NOW it was one more cock.
Requesting entry right at my mouth now was a cut penis with a sharp bow-curve. Something about its strange shape was gorgeous. And its balls were enormous.
It was touching my lip now, so I let my instincts plan the attack. I turned my whole head sideways, and let the beautiful shaft arch towards my right cheek. Another new taste. Another character of recipient: the barrel-chested man didn’t give me his cock but received the blowjob, holding me close but letting me give the performance of my choosing. I gave him my usual surprises of affectionate softness and adventurous nuzzles down the shaft. Of course, I didn’t really have much power left in me.
I made him feel good enough to make him need a seat. He perched hurriedly on the top rim and my face chased him, landing on his balls. Each testicle and surrounding skin filled me up, and I had to make out with his balls one by one, gratefully slathering up his taste and feel.
In retrospect I had nothing to be guilty of, as everyone had a long while to enjoy the hell out of each other, but in that moment I felt greedy and needy. I had descended completely into my role. In that moment I needed my face to absolutely hurt with orgy — with men’s desperate need to complete inside me.
And so I rapidly explored the remote inches of him, letting him wonder and be surprised at my next craving. I let him watch me do it, and I watched his stunned enjoyment of my hungry enjoyment.
Until his breathing became somewhat more rapid.
Then hands were propping me up again, and this time it was easier. I was gently pushed to and kept on the surface of the water, floating cock-up. I was being fondled. The barrel-chested stranger didn’t let the interruption stand this time, though. The grunting and masturbating barrel-chested man was trying to say something, and as he approached between my starfished legs and with a hand now on my thigh beside my erection, he whispered,
“Where?” He panted a little. “Where should I cum? Wherever you want, mate.”
One last decision to make. And I had pretty few seconds to decide.
I thought of nice places for cum to go. I thought of penises pumping cum into my throat. I thought of a cum-filled mouth blowing someone else. I thought of—-
Of course.
Butter.
“Right on my cock…… right on my entire cock, please……. don’t miss…… as much as you can…………..” I whispered the words needily, and the thought of my answer clearly filled his mind and began a surge of thrashes and yelps. He shook it off and forced his eyes open. As the others held me at the surface, the strong-looking barrel-chested stranger held himself steady to me, a hand behind me to my ass, his testicles and his shaft sometimes slapping me in his back and forth. And he aimed.
We all watched the two cocks. One prone, flexing up but as still as could be, waiting for the other’s touch or gift.
An enormous burst struck right between my shaft and balls, pooling in the crevice. A second almost perfectly streaked up my shaft. As he squirmed and forced his continued attention, he gave my penis a third complete stripe top to bottom.
Before backing up.
There was so much on me. The gorgeous slick liquid began to slip off its balance.
I felt the two hands beneath me twist around. And there was now a young man a tongue’s length away from my balls, and a barrel-chested man arching over my painted shaft.
All at once, two mouths descended and every nerve shrieked pleasure as two tongues and two mouths more slippery and soft than anything that had ever happened to my body made out with every inch of me. They were so soft and gradual that the cum stayed. They never swallowed, just sloshing and sucking as I groaned and whimpered and gave everything I had to the horny barrel-chested man with the surprisingly cavernous mouth.
I’ll never know how much I gave that man. How much left I had to give. But he was swallowing two of us at the same time.
And the young stranger between my legs was just affectionately making out with my balls, long after they had been emptied by our new companion.
I was a ragdoll of a man as I gently sat up at half-level.
The blonde stranger, still near me, sat up at the rim, and presented himself.
For whomever, I’m sure. Or even just subconsciously.
I remembered his mouth-fucking. I thought about it. It was gently commanding but somehow endearingly amateur. As I watched his face and his penis, I knew he needed a lovelier touch than he knew existed.
I breathed meditatively for a moment. Then I opened my eyes and stared at his penis. And I whispered to no one in particular,
“I can do this.”
And before anyone gave an opinion on next steps I engulfed him into me, one last penis in my sore happy mouth, and it was broad and it tasted wonderfully salty. Without bothering with particular technique, I gave the grateful stranger a long, long moment of slow affectionate bobs as far down as I could.
I wrapped my arms around his legs and made my blow more powerful for him, communicating to him happy grateful hums.
How could he possibly last. He had been hopeful, disappointed, and then invited to an ad hoc orgy by a cabal of visibly horny men, that turned out to be probably more affectionately cock loving — cum-loving — than most people were used to.
I made my hope for his orgasm, my hunger for his orgasm, obvious to all his senses. When his sounds transformed I released his legs to capture his balls in all my fingers, held like a precious gift. I felt my gift tremble, bunch up, shrink, and form into a perfect sphere of lovely soft skin.
What I had just earned was a relentlessly fulsome, needy stream of cum, the second-but-not-last flow even fuller and more desperately orgasmed out than the first.
Not a drop from the blonde stranger entered the water. It was all for me.