A gay story: The Devils Den Well, the divorce was finalized. All things considered, I did pretty good. She got the house and a bunch of money but no alimony and she didn’t get my pension. I’ll be paying for the lawyer for a while, but I was just glad it was over.
Most importantly, I still had my bike. If it wasn’t for that motorcycle, I don’t know how I would have survived. Therapy on wheels!! A couple months back I had met a few guys at a bar when I stopped to piss. Local guys, nice bikes, friendly.
We had gone out on a few cruises together. Nothing crazy. Down to the beach for seafood. Across the state for hot wings. Down to the state line for ice cream. It really didn’t matter where, I was glad to be on my bike and appreciated the company.
We all agreed to take a ride out to Franky’s cabin up in the mountains. No wives. No kids. Just us and a bunch of beer, weed, and bad food.
Well, most of us agreed to it. Some had previous plans. And as the days passed, the group got smaller and smaller. Wives said no, jobs interfered. You know the bullshit lines you get. About 2 weeks before the trip, it was down to just me and Frank.
I was ready to cancel. I could celebrate on my own at home, but Franky would have none of it.
“Absolutely not! We’ll get drunk, we’ll get high, we’ll eat until we puke! You’ve been through hell. You need to blow off some steam. Worst case scenario, we hang out on the dock and dont catch no fucking fish.”
Ah yes, the lake. I had forgotten about that. I had seen pictures of this little hideout but hadn’t been there yet. It really did look peaceful. Set in the mountains off a lake, surrounded by thick woods. He was right. It was just what I needed.
“Yeah, alright. Let me know what I need to bring and when we are leaving.”
The pictures really didn’t do the place justice. The cabin looked like it had been there for 100 years. And if you didn’t know where it was, you’d never find it. Heavy cruising motorcycles weren’t ideal for the dirt roads that took us on the final leg of the journey but it was all worth it when the cabin came into view.
It wasn’t much, maybe a 25×50 foot building with a wrap around porch. When we parked under an awning next to the cabin, I could see the lake. It was like a mirror, probably about an acre or so with a rowboat tied to a dock. Like a fucking Norman Rockwell painting.
I could feel the stress leaving my body.
Inside the cabin was just as stunning. It had a wide open floorplan with one side of the cabin housing a small bedroom and a bathroom. The giant main room had a big leather couch with a big, poofy, leather recliner on either side. If front of them was a big TV, maybe 65 inches or so. Off to the side was a small kitchenette with a oven/stove, microwave, sink and a refrigerator.
And that’s where Franky was, grabbing a couple of beers.
“I had a buddy bring up enough food and beer for 4 or 5 guys so dont be shy! The fridge is full of beer, the freezer is full of meat, there’s a ton of snacks, and (opening a drawer in the kitchen and holding up a freezer bag full of pot) enough weed to keep us stoned out of our minds for the foreseeable future!”
“Just what the doctor ordered”, I said as I tossed back my first beer.
I admired the lake and tossed back a few as Frank grilled us up a few steaks. We chit chatted about the ride, the view, and the guys that had backed out on us.
“Those guys all talk tough and make big plans until their wives find out and squash their dreams. We’d be better off checking with the bitches before running it past those fucking guys. It’s their loss though. They gotta sit there and listen to their wives bitch and we get to hang out here without a care in the world.”
Frank was right. I already felt significantly better just breathing fresh air and leaving the troubles of the world behind me.
Frank was an interesting guy. I know he came from money but I never figured out what he did for a living. He’s that guy that always has someone that owes him a favor. He was about my age, mid 40s, divorced- twice, no kids. He mostly took decent care of himself with the exception of our biker outings, and even then he didn’t usually go overboard.
The beer really started hitting me as I ate the steak. Man was it good. I just sat back and relaxed and enjoyed the stress free feeling of a full belly and moderate intoxication.
Frank interrupted my peace. “I’m going to hop in the shower. I don’t know about you but I’m a sweaty mess.”
I hadn’t thought of it but it was kinda hot out and we still had our heavy jeans and leathers on. Well, damn it, now I was uncomfortable too!
Before long I noticed Frank walking around the cabin wearing socks, a T-shirt, and boxers and it looked like the most comfortable outfit I’d ever seen. And within 20 minutes, I was dressed the same as we lit up the first bowl of weed.
And that’s really when we started having fun. Frank was mixing drinks, we were telling stories, telling jokes! I was having the absolute time of my life.
By the time we fired up another bowl, there was porn on the TV, liquor bottles on the table, and empty beer bottles everywhere.
Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the tequila. Maybe it was the weed. But this bowl hit different. All my senses were magnified. I could see sound. I could smell light. My entire body tingled. I had reached a eutopian high.
I know I was still talking but I don’t know what I said. Frank was talking too but I don’t know what about. I could hear the slut in the porn getting fucked.
I dont know how long it went on. I was nestled in a little corner of my brain, finally happy, finally at peace with the hell I had been through for the past 18 months.
It seems crazy to say but my cock was rock hard. Ok, maybe not so crazy, just different. I could feel it pulsing almost in unison with the grunts from the porn. I swore I felt my boxers slide off.
“C’mon, slacker!! Have another beer!!”, Frank said as I felt an ice cold bottle slip into my hand. I opened my eyes enough to see a big titted brunette getting spit roasted by 2 enthusiastic guys as I took a swig of my brew.
I chugged my beer and savored the feeling of the cold liquid sliding down my throat and allowed myself to return to that peaceful room inside my brain.
It was so quiet, so peaceful. I was only aware of my breathing, the gentle throbbing of my cock, and a dull ache in my nipples.
I was startled from my utopia when I thought I felt something warm and wet on the tip of my cock. I wasn’t even sure where I was as I felt a sleeve of warmth engulf my shaft and heard myself moan.
“Mmnnnnnnn….”
There was a gentle sucking and slurping on my cock as I felt my balls getting rubbed. What a crazy dream this was. I hadn’t even masturbated in the past 4 months and now that slutty brunette from the porn must have crawled out of the TV to suck my cock.
I wanted to cum so badly but I couldn’t. I shouldn’t have even been able to get hard yet here I was, like a rock, and my balls wouldn’t give up their prize.
But that didn’t stop this little brunette! Damn she was persistent! Licking my balls, my taint, even tonguing my asshole a little before swallowing my cock again.
It was so crazy, the sucking, the slurping, the ball rubbing and finger pushing against my asshole. And then it happened.
It started with a tingle in my toes and the pleasure shot up my legs causing my ass checks to tense up. My head pushed back against the chair, my hands grabbed the cushy arm cushions in a death grip. My entire body tensed up and I heard myself growl as my pent up load squirted I to her mouth. And squirted. And squirted.
It seemed like every rope of cum made her suck harder, want more. My body gave all it had, months of backed up spooge in an orgasm that left me weak and listless.
So listless I must have fallen right asleep.
When I woke up it was still dark outside. The room was lit by the credit screen of the porn that we had been watching. It took me a few seconds to remember where I was.
“Ah, the cabin.” I reminded myself, maybe out loud. I was covered with a blanket. I saw Frank passed out on the couch.
Damn I had to piss!
I stood in the bathroom trying to find the hole in my boxers and realized they were on backwards. “For fucks sake,” I said as I kicked them off and let the piss flow into the bowl.
As I’m pissing I start to wonder how my shorts ended up on backwards. There wasn’t an issue with them last night. Then I remembered the dream. But a wet dream doesn’t explain it either.
The fact that there wasn’t a wet or crusty patch on them raised more questions. Maybe that brunette really did come out of the TV to suck my cock.
I laughed at the thought. “Man that was some good weed!”
But the question remained in my mind. Did Frank suck me off last night?
He’s been divorced…twice, and is always talking about the sluts he’s banging. The girls he takes on the rides are usually pretty decent looking too. The wives all flock to him and the waitresses at the bars always take a liking to him. Nah, Frank doesn’t suck dick, he’s too much of a ladies man.
But my cock had definitely been sucked. There was a little saliva/semen residue around the base of it. As hard as it was to believe Frank went down on me, it was more likely than the chick climbing out of the TV.
The burning question on my mind was what to do about it. Fact was….I liked it. Granted I had been responsible for my own orgasm for nearly 3 years and hadn’t even shot off in months…it was probably the most intense orgasm of my life.
I was staring at myself in the mirror when I came to the realization that Frank had gotten me drunk and high to take advantage of me and swallow my load.
Now how was I going to handle it?