Barratboy

Once we got to the room, the burly host closed the door and smiled at me long enough that I started to feel myself blush. The redbull was hitting my system now, and I was full of a nervous energy, even if my ass was sore and my dick still hard. "Okay," he said, and he smiled - teeth bright behind his short dark beard. "You said you'd ride my dick, and you'd take my bet for an extra fifty." I nodded. "Yeah." My voice was a bit shaky. "Here it is: if I come before you do, you get that extra fifty." I nodded again. "Okay." Well, given how sore I was, that didn't seem particularly hard, though I really did want to get off like mad. If I didn't touch myself, though, I'm sure I could handle it. I moved toward the big man, and knelt down in front of him. His hand took my chin and tugged a bit to make me look up at him before I could reach out and undo the laces on his shorts. "And if you come before I do? You stay for the after-party." I blinked. I had no idea what that meant. I saw his eyes narrow behind his black mask as he smiled wider. "Okay?" he asked. I swallowed once, then nodded. "Okay." He laughed. "Okay, boy. I'll give you a couple of minutes to suck it - I hear you're a pro - and then you're getting it up that ass of yours." I undid the laces to his athletic shots and pulled his cock free - he was thick, and uncut, and definitely had more than eight inches, like he'd said. This was probably the biggest dick I'd ever seen, and I couldn't help it - my mouth watered. I started to swallow as much of his length as I could, stroking his shaft and giving his balls a quick tug as I went as far down his length as I could. The low rumble in his chest let me know he liked my efforts, and I pulled out all the stops. I wanted him as horny and as ready to blow as I could. My tongue dipped into his foreskin and I pushed myself to suck as fast and as hard as I could, to draw his load out as close to the surface as possible. Hell, if I could swallow it, I'd be fifty bucks richer right off the bat! The big man's hands never touched me, but he thrust slowly into my mouth while I worked, and continued to make low rumbles of appreciation. I sucked and sucked - he grew very hard, and I was pretty sure I was getting him close - and then he pulled out of my mouth and moved to the bed. I rose, a little short of breath from my efforts, and followed. He crawled onto the bed and moved to the center, pausing only to get a bottle of lube from the table. He sat in the middle of the bed, his hard dick pressing up against his hairy stomach and wet with my spit, and gestured for me to follow him there. I crawled onto the bed. "Turn around and show me your ass," he said. I turned, raising my ass into the air in front of him. Despite myself, and despite how sore I was, I was already half-hard. His fingers were generous with the lube he squirted onto them, and they probed deep into my sore pucker. I heard him pour out more of the lube and stroke himself. "Okay," he said. "Face me, and climb on." It was a little awkward to swing my leg over him, but we were soon face to face, his cock resting between my lubed ass cheeks. I was pressed against him, his hard and hairy body rubbing my own skin. He grinned - even with me on his lap I had to look up at him a bit - and then his big arms cupped my thighs and he pulled me up into the air a bit. I crouched over him, and he used one hand to guide his thick exposed cockhead to rest against my hole. "Alright, boy," the big man said. "Here you go." He pulled me down, hard enough that I couldn't resist, but slow enough that I felt every inch of him slide into me. I hissed through my teeth but still he pulled, and finally, sweat breaking out on my skin, my butt came to rest on his thighs. He was buried deep, and sitting on his dick felt incredible. I moaned a little when he circled his hips beneath me. "Yeah," he said, and his hand slid up the small of my back. "Here it comes..." He was a strong man and his thighs were massive - he started to buck from beneath me, making me bounce up and down on his dick, his left hand clamped to the back of my neck to hold me in place as he thrust up into me. I remembered finally that my job here was get him off, and tried hard to clamp my ass on his cock. He grunted, biting his bottom lip, and picked up the pace. My own cock was hard - he was hitting me in all the right places, and I'd been so horned up for the last while that I could barely think straight. His dick was relentless, and I loved the feeling of his hand holding my neck. He braced his right hand on the bed to twist slightly and he pulled my up a bit by my neck. This new fresh angle made me cry out loud, and he grunted again. "You like that, boy?" he said. I could only moan and nod. He was pistoning my ass, and I was barely managing to maintain my crouch over him. He lowered me again after a short while, and his right hand began to rub across my chest while he ground into me. I moaned again, and his hand squeezed my chest and rubbed up my neck and down my stomach. I realized a moment too late what he was about to do, but his rough hand gripped my cock and he tilted me back and as he treated me to another jack-hammering of his dick, her jerked my cock with expert twists and - - I erupted all over his hairy stomach and chest.

I was the last to come back out through the arch, and it took everything I had not to let a little bit of a limp into my step. My head was spinning, and my small cloth diamond shorts felt tight and rough against my skin - not to mention my hard-on, which had only barely abated after my time with the hairy man who’d tied me up, blindfolded me and gagged me – and the arousal I’d felt still had me as confused as I was aroused. I’d never been with someone like that before, and I didn’t know what it meant about me that I enjoyed the way he spoke to me, and the way he used me. I shook my head free of those thoughts and walked over to the man in the dealer outfit, and he looked at my new card. My new total – thirteen – wasn’t a great hand, but I wasn’t about to stop now. I waited while he looked and he walked over to confer with the host – that musclebear in the spades athletic shorts - who looked down and nodded at the sheet. “We have one diamond holding, but no black-jack,” the host said. The diamond in question, a slim blond, leaned against one of the walls, looking more than a little tired himself. I had a moment of panic looking at him – if he won, then everything I’d suffered (as well as enjoyed) since I’d been double-teamed by the two men earlier would have been for nothing. I bit my lip. As it was, I was sharing half the pot from the first hand – which I figured was about two hundred and fifty, though I’d also been offered more from some of the men I’d been with. I hadn’t known that was on the table, but I’d earned another seventy five dollars from the man who’d told me not to touch myself – which I was half-regretting. I wanted to get off so badly. The clicking sound of the wheel brought me back to reality. I looked up as it slowed, ticking through the four card suits, and then came to a rest on Spades. “Finally!” the host said with a deep laugh. The others wearing the athletic lace-up shorts marked with a spade joined him in laughing. “All right, two of you were already chosen by our diamonds back in the first round,” the host said. “So the rest of us will go first.” He looked at the other three men, and then looked back at the five of us. “Line up,” he said. We did so, and then the host stood across from me, gesturing to the other four men to follow suit. At the end, the diamond to my far left had no spade across from him. “Rock-paper-scissors?” the first of the two remaining spades asked. The other nodded, and they played a quick round. Rock beat scissors, and the man opposed the final diamond. “Okay, offers, gents,” the host said, and he leaned in close to my ear, but before he spoke, he took my hand, and pressed it against the crotch of his shorts – he was already half-hard, and he felt very large against the palm of my hand. “I’ve got eight for you,” he said, and his voice dropped even quieter. “I don’t mean inches, boy – I got more than eight of those. And I’ll offer you an extra fifty if you’ll take a bet while you ride my dick.” I swallowed. He had eight for me? Did he mean the eight of spades? He’d seen the list when he looked at the dealer’s chart, and he’d come to stand in front of me on purpose. Eight would make black-jack out of my thirteen. I nodded. “Okay.” He leaned back, letting go of my hand, and gave me a wicked leer from behind his mask. His short beard revealed white teeth. “This way, boy.”

Barely a moment later I was sucking on the bear’s thick dick, pressing my nose into his hairy stomach while I tried to swallow as much of his dick as I could. I loved to suck cock, and it was definitely helping me keep my mind off the small pile of toys on the bed beside me. I knew we had a fixed amount of time, so I put my expert cocksucking skills to their best use, tonguing under his foreskin and gripping the shaft of his dick with one hand so I could control taking him as deep as I could. Above me, the man rumbled deep in his chest. “You are an eager boy, aren’t you?” he said. I came up for air, just for a second. “I like to suck.” In the back of my mind, I hoped to get him off, maybe. I went back to work, enjoying the sweaty taste of his skin and how hard he grew in my mouth. His hands gripped my hair, tight, and he started to buck his dick into my mouth. “Oh, that’s a pretty mouth,” he growled. “And talented, too.” Then he suddenly shoved me back off his dick, his cock springing from my mouth and slapping up against his stomach with a wet spray of spit. I gasped. “Now,” he said. “Open that mouth wide.” I tried not to shake, and did as I was told. He reached over - still holding my head in one hand - and then put the round rubber ball into my mouth. Once he liked where it was, he nodded. “Bite down,” he said. I bit down. He reached around me with both hands, pulling the strap over my head, and then let go. He smiled down at me. “On your stomach,” he said. I rolled over, trembling. He took my hands behind my back and I felt the cuffs connect and click behind my back. Then he rolled me over again onto my back - my hands and arms felt awkward and uncomfortable behind me - and smiled down at me. “Lean up,” he said. I did my best, and he leaned over me with the blindfold. His hairy body was already a little wet with sweat and I could smell him as the black cloth slid over my eyes. And then I could see nothing. He rolled me again onto my stomach, and then pulled at my ankles to slide me further down to the edge of the bed. As my waist tipped over the edge, I managed to catch the floor with my feet and I felt him come up between my legs, the heat of his skin against the inside of my thighs. He reached over me - some of his hairy stomach and chest pressed against my bound arms for a moment - and then there was a click as he opened the bottle of lube. “Shame you vetoed the paddle,” he said, his voice conversational. I heard him squirt some lube, assumedly into his hand. “I’d love to bugger this ass once it was nice and red. It’s still a little sore, though, isn’t it?” I tried to answer, but my voice wasn’t understandable behind the ball gag. I settled on nodding. He chuckled behind me, and there was another squirt of lube, and then his fingers stroked between my ass cheeks, near my pucker. The cool liquid dripped onto my hole. “You look great like this,” he said. “Blindfolded. Slick. Ass a bit sore. Gagged and cuffed… Oh yes, it’s a good look for you.” He paused, his fingers rubbing the lube around my pucker, and then there was another squirt that he poured right into the cleft of my ass, pushing his fingertip just a little inside me. I squirmed. “If I had my way, I’d paddle that ass red, then eat it. From what I’m told, you like having your ass eaten. I’d paddle it, eat it…” Every time he was saying “it” he was rubbing his finger a little further into my ass. “And paddle it again. Get you so hot you’d be crying for relief. And you know what relief feels like?” His hands gripped my thighs, and his slick cock began to rub up and down between my ass cheeks. I pictured the small pile of toys and remembered the lube, condom, and the paddle, and how the paddle - and the condom - had ended up tossed aside. “Relief is when I finally get inside you, and you know you’re going to get fucked, and fucked good.” His hands slid up my sides and he leaned heavily over me, his hairy bulk pressing against my bound wrists and forearms, and his hands slid beneath me, sliding up to my chest, and in each hand he took one of my nipples and then squeezed just shy of painful. I made a noise into my gag, and he laughed. “Yeah, you didn’t want the nipple clamps, either, did you, boy?” He chuckled again, squeezing harder, and twisting a little. I twisted under him, unable to move or get away. “They’re a lot like the paddle,” he said, and as he spoke, he pulled away, once again rubbing his dick up and down between my ass cheeks, holding my waist and standing behind me. He tugged on me a bit, and I was hanging further off the bed now, my dick swinging free. “Gets you all sore, and then the relief comes. And what’s the relief?” I made another inarticulate noise into the gag. “That’s right, boy, the relief is getting fucked. I like to take hours, you understand. But we’re on a schedule here. But just know, if you ever want to get done right, I’ll do you.” He leaned over me again, and this time his lips were right near my ear, the heat of his hairy body pressed against mine. “Because me and my man, we like boys like you. First date we ever had, we brought home a boy like you. I broke that boy’s ass with my paddle while my man watched, and then that boy got a double dose of relief from us.” He pushed away again, and rubbed his dick up against me. I moaned, unable to help myself. “Oh, if I had more time,” he said. “But.” With a swiftness that I wasn’t expecting, he sank the full length of his cock into my ass. His hands were vices on my waist. I bellowed into the gag, as much from surprise as from the sudden heat of his cock driving into me, but the noise wasn’t much more than a grunt with the gag in the way. “Oh, that’s a sweet fucking sound,” the bear said, and he pulled his cock out and then rammed the length of it back in again. Even half aware of what he was going to do, I cried out again. And again. And again. After a half-dozen times, he leaned over me, his dick buried up my ass, and I felt my blindfold grow wet with the tears that were leaking from my eyes. His scent was stronger now, and I was puffing in my breath through my nose. “Boy, you are a sweet fucking piece of ass.” His hands took my wrists and he pulled hard, making me curl up a bit with my stomach, and he pulled me toward him while he thrust into my ass with short, deep shoves. I grunted and moaned, trapped by his strength and the handcuffs. “I will use every minute I’ve got with you,” he said, and he ground into me again, letting go of my wrists and then pushing into me hard, pulling my legs wider apart and gripping my waist for a series of even strokes. “Oh, I’d keep you for-fucking-ever… live inside you…” Despite myself, his words were making my head spin. My dick, only half-hard up until now, started to grow harder. “I’d have a hard time sharing you, I think…” He said, and one hand crept up the small of my back with a series of thrusts as he leaned further and further over me, his cock battering me inside in a way that was making me groan in a different way now. “I think I could keep you for myself. But me and my man, we share always. Always the once, and then we kick the boy to the curb.” His pace lengthened, then shortened. He gripped me harder, then slid his hands down and released me, thrusting with his own body weight, only to then lean right over me and push me higher up on the bed. The entire time, he was speaking to me, telling me what a hot piece of ass I was, or how he liked to fuck boys like me, or how he loved the sound I was making. When he reached around my waist and found me hard, for two delicious strokes he even jerked me before letting go. “Yeah, you’re an eager fucking whore of a boy, aren’t you?” I groaned in frustration, wishing he would jerk me until I came. I so desperately wanted to come. It seemed like hours had passed, with me blindfolded and bound, only able to feel and smell what he was doing to me, and so aroused I could scream - I had no idea I could feel this good being spoken to in such an ugly way. “You know why we only share the once, boy?” he said, and he leaned all the way over me, gripping my head with both hands, ramming me deep. I made a noise that could have been anything. “Because one of us ruins him for the other, you see.” I didn’t see, but his cock was ruthless, still pounding me. I made more noises. “One of us fills the boy with dirty fucking cum, is what I mean.” The image of him tossing the condom aside flashed in my mind, lost in the blackness of the blindfold. I grunted and shifted, but I couldn’t do anything confined beneath him. He continued to thrust into me. My head spun, and his rough hand slid between my thighs and he felt me - I was rock hard - and laughed. “Yeah, you’re a whore, aren’t you boy?” He thrust harder, and I cried out again, so unsure, so turned on, so terrified - everything at once. “Here you go, boy,” he growled, and his hand left my dick and he pulled on my waist hard, twisting me onto my side and then onto my back. He pulled first one leg then the other over his hairy wide shoulders and he pressed both hands into my chest and fucked me harder than before. I whimpered, losing my breath like a bellows being pressed over and over again. Outside, I heard the bell that let me know the time was up, and I cried out just as the big hairy man unloaded deep inside my ass. He pressed on top of me as I felt both hot surges in my hole, and he lay there, grinding his dick into me while I whimpered, pinned beneath him, still bound, still gagged, still blind. Then his beard tickled my ear. “I always go first,” he said, and his tongue licked my ear. “That way my man can ruin the boy after I’ve had my fun.” He undid my wrists, and I lay there for a moment, stunned, until I heard the door open. “Hurry up,” he said, and then the door closed. I pulled off the blindfold and managed to get the gag off, putting them on the bed and sitting there as the hairy bear’s cum leaked out of my ass onto the bed. I was breathing so heavily I was seeing stars. Then I saw the card on the bed beside me. The two of clubs. Oh God. I only had thirteen.

Standing back in the main room again, I felt a little better after my shower, though it was doing nothing for the flips in my stomach and my ass was still more than a little bit sore. I’d reported my second “hand” to the dealer, and he’d made a noncommittal noise. I gripped my complimentary glass of 'pick-me-up', which was a Red Bull cocktail that only served to worsen my nerves and filling me with a jittery energy. Meanwhile the older men came back into the room. The six of us diamonds stood again near the host, and I couldn’t help but notice that there were only five clubs left in attendance. I’d been right – the host was refilling the cards in the older men’s arm-bands from a single deck, and given how often the clubs had been chosen, one of them had 'run out'. I waited, trying to breathe evenly. The dealer had taken each of us diamonds aside in turn and gave us our new starting card. I looked at mine – Ace of Diamonds! – and smiled to myself. Of all the starting cards, this was the strongest. I was one face-card or ten away from blackjack. I could have laughed out loud, but settled for putting it in my arm-band pouch with trembling fingers. “We have a tie for the first round, at twenty,” the dealer announced. “The first half of the prize will be split.” I saw the guy who’d stopped after one card grin, looking at the other diamonds to the left and right of him. I nodded at him when he looked at me, and he laughed quietly – just a quick chuckle. I quickly did the math – a thousand bucks, halved, was five hundred, halved again was two hundred fifty. “Time for the second – and final – hand,” the host was speaking now, and once again I noticed how fit, hairy, and strong he looked... and the obvious lack of underwear – the lace-up athletic shorts he was wearing were leaving nothing to the imagination, and I had to force myself to look at his face while he was talking. He looked back at me, “Well, final as long as someone else doesn’t get to play twice.” A few of the men in the room chuckled, and I felt my face heating up. “We’ll do things a little differently this time,” he said, and there was a wickedness to his smile, even though his voice had never been anything other than authoritarian and cultured. He sounded like he was conducting a business meeting, not a sex party. “We’ll continue to spin the wheel,” he said, “but if any of the diamonds decide to turn down the offer, they will sit out that round. That means the other players have a good chance at getting ahead.” He nodded to us, then looked over at the gathered men. “So now’s a good time to break out your best offers, gentlemen.” More than a few of the men chuckled at that. Breathe, I thought. “Lastly,” the host said, rubbing his chin, “If someone does reach blackjack, how about we allow all the other players to keep playing to see if they, too, can achieve blackjack and thereby tie. The usual rules for bust would – of course – still apply.” This last part made the bear in clubs I’d seen paddle the other young man who’d gone bust with me grin widely. “Agreed?” the man asked, but it was a rhetorical question. No one answered him. I didn’t say a word, since it had felt more like a proclamation than a request to me. With that, he walked over to the wheel again, and gave it a good spin. When it landed on clubs, the five men in clubs hooted and laughed, and the other man grumbled audibly. “I swear it’s random,” the host said, and the grumbling subsided after a moment. “Well,” the host shook his head, “I assume you know the drill by now.” I watched the first two men in the clubs outfits walk up to two of the other diamonds, and then the third club – the burly bear who’d been turned down by a diamond before, and who’d been so rough with the paddle – walked over to me. My breath caught. He leaned in. “I’ll open the toy box and bring out every toy in it, three at a time. You can veto one of the three, and I’ll pick from the other two.” Then he waited for me, dark eyes amused behind his mask at my obvious indecision. The thing was, the clubs had come up a lot already, and my math – though shaky – told me the four, the five and the eight were all out of play. That made it much more likely this guy had a face card or a ten than any of the other suits out there, unless I was way off. I’d get a veto. I wasn’t big on playing with toys – that paddling I’d taken had been my first real experience – but, five hundred more bucks. Seven hundred fifty total. And I'd get a veto. “Okay,” I nodded. He smiled in acknowledgement. When all five of the men in clubs had chosen a diamond, the host spun the wheel again. This time, it came up spades. The host told the diamond to close his eyes and pick a number from one to six. The men arranged themselves in a line while he had his eyes closed, and he picked the third. And then we were heading to the rooms again. The burly bear closed the door behind me, and then his hairy body pressed against my back, his strong arms wrapping around me and giving me a squeeze. His beard tickled my ear. “You are good enough to eat,” he said, "and from what I hear, you love being eaten.” I shivered, as his dick pressed against the small of my back. He let go of me, but his hands slid down my sides and he pulled at my white briefs, and I stepped out of them and away from him. When I turned around, he smiled again, gesturing to the bed as he said “Have a seat.” I sat. He went to the “toy” chest, and lifted it onto the bed, opening the lid away from him so I couldn’t see what was inside. Then he reached in, and pulled out three things, putting them on the blanket between us. The first three things were this: a very large dildo, a fairly small butt-plug, and a plastic ball with a strap on it that I didn’t recognize at first, but realized from a movie was a ball-gag. There was no way I wanted that dildo in my butt, so I said “the dildo.” The bear smiled slyly, saying “Aw, I bet you would have learned to like it.” But he picked up the huge dildo and put it on the floor. He looked at the two remaining items for a brief moment, then put the butt plug on the ground beside the dildo. He slid the ball-gag higher up on the blanket. “Not that I don’t like your voice,” he said. I swallowed. The next three items came out of the toy chest. A bottle of lube. A condom. And then – with a wicked smile – the bear pulled out a flat wooden paddle. “The paddle,” I said, barely hesitating. There was no way I wanted to be at the mercy of this man wielding a paddle. His pout was still mostly playful. “Damn, you got off so easy last time.” My ass begged to differ. He tossed the condom on the floor beside the paddle, dildo, and butt-plug, and I swallowed again as he put the lube beside the ball-gag. Three more toys: A blindfold, a razor, and little silver clips on a chain. I wasn’t sure what they were, and I asked. “Nipple clamps,” the bear said, grinning. You are a vanilla boy, aren’t you?” “Veto the clamps,” I said, feeling light-headed. They went to the floor, with the razor. The blindfold sat with the ball-gag, and the lube. This wasn’t so bad. I was starting to relax. “Last three,” the bear said. What came out next was a pair of handcuffs, a candle, and a small bottle. “You party?” he asked, as he pulled out the bottle. He unscrewed the cap and smiled. “Ecstasy.” The last thing I needed to do was get high. “Veto the pills.” I said. He chuckled, but screwed the bottle back up and put it on the floor. After a long hesitation, he put the candle aside, saying “I don’t mind some wax play, but gagged, blindfolded and handcuffed? That just has nice symmetry.” He put the toy chest on the floor, and rose again. “Now, before I truss you up, how about you get your fucking mouth on my dick, boy?” He tugged his cock free. He was thick, and uncut, and already half-hard. I crawled toward the end of the bed, and opened my mouth.

I'm still working on it, honest. Just got hit by a lot of life stuff in the last couple of weeks.

I’m a born cocksucker and maybe I don’t often admit that, but on my knees in front of two older men in white masks, my hand gripping their cocks, and alternating my mouth from one to the other, I was definitely enjoying myself. The reality that it was part of potentially taking home some part of a thousand dollar prize in an evening loosely based on black-jack – if black-jack also came with masked older men willing to fuck you as part of the game – had definitely made me nervous at first. One of the men moaned while I swallowed him down to his balls. He was a stocky smooth white guy who, I’d thought, reminded me of Mister Clean – complete with the single hoop earring. I tightened my lips around the last inches of his shaft for a moment, then let his dick slowly slide free from my mouth and turned my attention to the other man, who was taller, black, and had the build of a power-lifter and the arms to match. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to swallow the entirety of this second dick – he had a wicked curve to his cock and the root of his dick was much fatter – but I wanted to try. I sucked him, and looked up at the two men while I did so. I was hoping to distract the black man if I could, because – “Okay,” the black man said, as if he was reading my mind. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep slurping me like that.” He pulled back, and as his thick curved cock slipped out of my mouth, I took in a couple of quick breaths. We were back in one of the rooms – door closed – and I’d half hoped to spare my ass and give it some time to recover from the paddling I’d received for going bust with my last “hand.” Blowing them both and making them come in the half-hour we had before the second round began could have done it, but the older black man had suggested he and Mr. Clean enjoy me together since Mr. Clean had wanted my mouth, and he wanted my ass and that would give them both more time if they didn’t mind each other’s company. “Okay,” the Mr. Clean-like daddy said, smiling down at where I kneeled. “On the bed.” He backed away, at the same time stepping out of the cloth pants I’d pulled down to access his dick. He sat on the bed and then scooted up to sit between the pillows, spreading his legs. His dick, hard and wet with my spit, stood up and ready for more attention, his cockhead peeking out from the foreskin. “Go on,” the black man said with a chuckle. I rose and sort of crawled onto the bed. The black man gave my ass a light swat with his hand as I passed him and I yelped – my ass was probably still bright red from the paddling underneath the tiny white briefs with the diamond design on them that made up my only clothes. His laugh was deep and as I put my face between the smooth daddy’s thighs and gave his balls a quick lick, I felt the bed tip behind me as the other man got onto the bed. I focused on licking and sucking at the uncut cock in front of me as I felt hands work to peel back the shorts that covered my freshly paddled ass. Lying back and enjoying my attention, the stocky daddy rested one hand on my head while I bobbed up and down on his dick, twirling my tongue around his cockhead and in and out of his foreskin. I truly love sucking cock, and even with my ass still burning and a tremble in my stomach over what it was going to feel like to have that curved black cock inside me, I was getting hard. Behind me, the black man’s hands were rubbing my reddened butt gently, though even that was setting off the heat on my skin. When he ran a finger up between my cheeks, my back arched and I shivered, which made Mr. Clean groan and push on my head a bit – obviously he’d liked the way I’d swallowed him when I’d reacted to the touch. “Boy’s ass is hot and ready,” the man said behind me, and I felt him let go while he stirred. When his fingers returned slick with cool lube, I nearly moaned with the temporary relief I felt when he ran them between my ass cheeks again, and the result was obviously pleasing for Mr. Clean, who put his other hand on the back of my head and started to thrust up a little with his thighs. There were more squirting sounds behind me, and then the unmistakeable feel of a dick pressing at my pucker. I groaned again, burying my face down to the bottom of Mr. Clean’s shaft, and held my breath as the black man gripped my waist with one hand, and guided his dick into me with the other. I felt every inch, and though he went slow, I was soon grunting and twisting between the two men, trying to find a position that didn’t feel like a cock was setting my ass on fire from the inside out. He wasn’t the thickest cock I’d ever taken, or the largest, but after being fucked already this evening – twice – and the battering my butt had taken with a paddle, the sensation was unbelievable. “Oh fuck yeah,” the black man’s voice was almost a rumble. “This boy’s ass is fucking hot velvet...” He pushed his last thick inch into me with a little jab, and the curve of his cock made my whole body arch between them. I swallowed Mr. Clean’s dick convulsively, breathing in little explosions through my nose while I tried to keep up with his thrusts, which were getting rougher and faster. His hands tightened in my hair. “Yeah, fuck him,” Mr. Clean said. Spit-roasted between the two dicks, it was all I could do to keep upright as the two men fucked me at both ends. My ass burned, but soon the heat wasn’t entirely unpleasurable – he wasn’t being rough on my hole, though he was definitely fucking me with the full length of his curved meat. Mr. Clean, on the other hand, was ramming his cock into my mouth with a vengeance, and I was pretty sure he was impressed I was keeping up. Like I said, I love to suck cock. It didn’t surprise me that he blew his load first – he grabbed my head and buried his dick in my mouth as his cock erupted. “Swallow it, fuck!” he growled, and I did, happy to oblige. After that, I licked and sucked at his shaft – he didn’t quite soften completely, and got every last drop while behind me the black man continued his slow deep rhythm on my hole. A few minutes more passed like this, and I was sucking on Mr. Clean’s balls and actively pushing back against the other man’s thrusts when he grabbed my waist in both hands, buried himself deep, and came with a long rumbling exhalation of “Yeah...” The flood of his cum in my ass made me realize he wasn’t wearing a rubber and that we hadn’t even discussed it. My head swam, my mouth still full of the taste of spunk and sweat. The black man pulled out of my ass and was upright and wiping his dick with a cloth before I even got off the bed. Mr. Clean nodded to the ensuite that accompanied this room. “Most of the boys take a shower between hands. You’ve probably got time,” he said. He reached up to the pouch on his arm, and pulled out his card. He handed it to me. Ace of hearts. Along with my four of clubs, that was either a five, or a fifteen. I turned and looked at the black man, feeling some of his cum leak out of my pucker, and winced at the feel of the blankets on my reddened ass. He pulled out his card and handed it to me. Five of clubs. I grinned. Twenty. “Thanks,” I said, unable to help myself. Mr. Clean laughed. “Believe me, boy. Our pleasure.” I got up to take as quick a shower as I could.

The paddle slapped my right ass cheek with just enough force that I closed my eyes for a second. “Twenty-two,” I said. I was bent over and holding the back of a large leather chair, the little diamond briefs down by my ankles, and paying for going “bust” in the manner that all the players did when it happened. I wasn’t the only one – when I’d walked in, after telling my total to the dealer, he’d brought another guy here with him, too. He’d taken up the same position on the next wing-backed leather chair to the other side of the small table, and a moment after the paddle landed on my butt, I heard the other guy in the diamond briefs take a similar hit, and he said, “twenty-five.” The paddle struck my other ass cheek. “Twenty-one,” I said. I’d been told to count down from my score, and the man with the paddle – mine was one of the men wearing hearts, a thick-bodied man in his forties maybe, with a hairy chest and a neatly trimmed moustache and dark hair – had begun his work. Another hit – and I couldn’t help but notice it was a bit harder. “Twenty,” I said. On the other side of the table, I heard the other guy say “Twenty-four,” and I thought the crack of the paddle on his ass that had proceeded it was louder than my own. The guy paddling him was the big hairy bear in clubs I’d seen turned down by the Latino guy in the diamond briefs. The next hit was harder, and landed right across my ass. “Nineteen,” I said. I squirmed a bit, shifting my grip on the chair. It went on. Eighteen was an up-stroke that landed deftly below my right buttock, almost on my thigh – it made me yelp out loud and the mustached man chuckled as the next strike, number seventeen, did the same on the other side. By the time I was said “Ten” my eyes were watering and my ass was hot. It was obvious the man with the paddle knew what he was doing. From the way the other voice in the room nearly broke when he cried out “Twelve” I figured I was actually having an easier time of it than the other guy, but it was definitely taking a toll. I huffed in a breath at “Eight” and managed to get to “Five” by breathing evenly and running over the mental tally in my head. Only four more. Only four more. Another smack, square across my right ass cheek. “Four!” Only three more. Only three more. Another, left ass cheek. “Three!” The last two were up-strokes again, and they landed hard, one on either side of my butt. After I called out “One!” with nothing shy of total relief, the mustached man had put the paddle back on the little table where three other paddles already sat. I straightened up, and slowly pulled up the diamond briefs over my burning butt. The material felt cold, but it wasn’t soothing. I flinched a little, feeling every spot it touched my skin. “Two!” the strangled voice cried again, and I turned and watched the burly hairy bear swing at the other diamond boy’s but for the last time. The bear was definitely putting his strength behind the blow, and the sound was a loud crack in the smallish room. “One!” the boy said. The bear tossed the paddle on the table, and walked out. The other guy’s ass was bright red, and he leaned against the chair for a few more seconds than I had, then slowly leaned down to pull up his briefs. He took a deep breath, like he was working up the courage, and I walked out of the room before he was done. In the hall, the dealer approached me. “You have a second hand for this round. The others will be resting for a half-hour or so, but you’ll need to finish your second hand – built on the four of clubs – before the second round begins.” The idea of that second hand – let alone a whole other round – brought tears to my eyes again. I blinked. Okay. I could do this. I needed the money, and hey, I could take a nice long soothing bath when it was all over. For maybe a week. The dealer led me back into the main room, where, I saw, not all the men had gathered. The diamonds were gone, of course, but I was starting to realize that the deck of cards, split up among the men that had gathered, only meant that most of the men would be able to be picked twice. I was trying to distract myself from the pain in my ass and what I was heading into, but the math of it had just clicked. Six men for each suit – and if you took the diamonds out of it, since there was no way for me to draw a diamond – then those eighteen men could each have two cards each, and one of them would be able to have a third, assuming all the cards were used only the once. When I looked around the room, it made sense. The first turn, the diamonds had all just chosen a guy we liked – I’d gone for my photographer friend, who was a club. The next round, the clubs had come up on the wheel, and we’d all had a club come talk to us. I’d seen my photographer friend go off with someone – and now he wasn’t in the room. There were five clubs here, and he wasn’t one of them. That meant, if I was right, that another club had gotten the last – the thirteenth – club card, and he’d had his two turns already for the night. “As you know,” the host said, and I jumped, looking at the man in the spade athletic shorts with a start. “This lucky young man doubled down. So our usual half an hour respite will be his opportunity to play this second hand for the first round.” The men all looked at me from behind their masks, some smiling, some leering. I felt my face grow as warm as my butt. The host walked to the wheel. “Given the limitation, I think there’s time for two draws. Let’s settle that first so everyone else can enjoy a break. If you decide to hold after one card, we’ll just move on from there.” Then he spun the wheel. It spun, then stopped on the heart. “I believe five of you have already had one turn?” the host said. One heart nodded and stepped forward. He had a shaved head, a single silver hoop in one ear, and a smooth wide chest. If it hadn’t been for the mask and the lack of a white t-shirt, he could have been Mr. Clean’s twin. “I like my first time to be a blow job,” the man said, loud enough for everyone to hear, even though he’d moved closer to me. “Makes my second turn last longer. You like to swallow?” “Okay,” I said, admittedly relieved. The wheel spun again. Clubs this time. “Damn,” the host said. “Clubs are having all the luck tonight.” Most of the men in the room laughed, and I swallowed. There were only five men left in the wife-beaters and cotton pants marked with the club. The big burly bear was one of them, and I flashed back on how much he’d seemed to enjoy beating the other boy’s ass with the paddle. “You’ve all had a turn, no?” the host said, and the four men nodded. He turned back to me. “Close your eyes,” he said. “I’ll line them up, and you pick a number from one to five.” I closed my eyes, feeling my stomach clench and twist. I heard the men moving around. “Okay,” the host said. He sounded very amused. “Four,” I said, thinking of the card number I’d gotten twice already. When I opened my eyes, the black man with the big arms I’d seen get picked by the diamond before me in the first round was moving toward where I stood waiting with the Mr. Clean lookalike. “Listen,” he said, smiling. I realized he wasn’t talking to me, but to the man in hearts. “You want his mouth – and I don’t want to end up rushed, so how about I take his ass, and we all go play right off?” “Sure,” Mr. Clean said. I swallowed, and looked at the host, not sure what to do. “That’s fine by me,” the host said, a sly smile firmly in place. “And you can still choose not to draw the second card if you want to hold,” he said to me. I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I said. The two men led the way.

I reported my new card – and the total, twelve – to the dealer. “You are not in the lead,” he said, and I couldn’t help but offer up a bit of a smirk in return. “I’m not surprised.” He nodded, and said, “Continuing?” and I nodded back, then moved off to the side to get another glass of the bubbly water. My dick was still hard in my little diamond-marked briefs, and I noticed my hand was shaking as I took a sip. One thousand dollars. I took some deep breaths, drank some more water, and waited. The last two of the five other diamonds returned, and walked up to the dealer, one of them looking chagrined, the other pleased. Behind them, the two men in clubs spoke to each other, and then laughed. “And?” the host asked, a moment later, his voice loud across the room. I looked at him again, unable to help myself from noticing the dark hair across his wide chest, and the short athletic lace-ups that left nothing to the imagination definitely showed a full pouch in front. The man dressed as the dealer read from his little clipboard. “We have one player who have bust" and with that there was a rumble of laughter, snickering, and even a couple of cheers from among the men, and I saw the chagrined looking young diamond blush and look at the ground and bite his lip. Once the noise calmed down, the dealer continued, “and two more who are holding.” He looked at his clipboard again, being unnecessarily dramatic, I could tell, as my stomach tightened. “But no black-jacks.” I exhaled. Okay. There was me and one other diamond still here to play, and no one had broken twenty-one, which meant we all still had a chance to take home the pot. I only had twelve, but I also had a second hand. I tried not to consider how many men that meant I would be with before I finished that second hand, and finished the rest of my drink. The dealer gave the wheel a spin, but before it even stopped, he spoke again. “If the player who has bust and those who are holding will follow me,” he dealer said, “I will set you all up the waiting areas.” The three diamonds followed him – it struck me that the red-haired fellow who had held after his first card was already gone. There were only two of us diamonds remaining – me, and a tall and slim blond who was very handsome and didn’t seem to be remotely nervous. They left. The wheel clicked around slower and slower, then stopped on the hearts. “Okay,” the host said, in his deep voice. “Those of you in hearts who already were chosen by players in the first round, hang back.” This meant four of the men in the long cotton pants moved to stand beside the host. The host tapped the first heart on the shoulder – a short fire-plug of a man who was wide and bore some faded tattoos on his left arm, and he walked straight up to the blond, and leaned in to make his offer. The blond nodded once, and they didn’t even pause – they just left the room through the arch. I took a deep breath as the host tapped the next man and he approached me. He was fit and vascular – veins stood out on his forearms and I could tell he had strong legs given how tight the cotton pants were riding his thighs. As he got to my side, I realized he was probably older than he seemed – even behind his mask, I noticed the lines beside his eyes and the corner of his mouth. They weren’t obvious at first, but they were there – and there was a ghost of the presence of grey hair on his otherwise shaved head. He was a very well-preserved fifty-something, I figured. I held my breath as he leaned in to talk in my ear. “I like to eat a boy’s ass before I bugger it,” he said. “And after. And I like a boy to be very vocal about what I’m doing.” I swallowed. “You play safe?” I asked, also whispering. He regarded me, and the creases around his eyes deepened when he smiled. “I’ll add fifty to your pot if I don’t have to. You don’t need to worry about me,” he said, then added, moving closer to my ear until his breath tickled. “All you’re going to get from me is a well-buggered hole.” Fifty to my pot? I nodded. “Okay.” He led me through the arch. In our room, the older man closed the door – I felt a bit of relief at that, I had to admit, given how all the eyes of the remaining men had followed us through the arch. He crossed his veined arms over his chest, and smiled at me, asking “Does boy want to get naked for me?” Right. He liked boys who were verbal. “Yes, sir,” I said. “I want to be naked for you.” I pulled down my briefs, and my dick – it had never really completely softened – was once again on display. “Would you like me to turn around for you?” I asked, aiming for a shy and timid voice, which I hoped would be what he wanted. “Yes, I would,” he answered. I turned in a slow circle, maintaining my innocent pose and shy glance, and kept talking. “I hope you like me.” “I do, boy. I do.” “What would you like me to do now?” I asked. “I think you should come over here and help me get undressed, too.” I walked over to him, and my fingers shook a bit undoing the knot on his long cotton pants. When I pulled them down, I didn’t have to fake my chatter. “You have really strong legs,” I said, running my hands up and down his thick thighs. “And you’re... big.” He’d shaved his pubic hair and balls – again, I could see that the hair would be grey if he let it grow back from the ghost of stubble that remained – but the man had a large cock that was already mostly hard, and was already caught in a silver studded black leather cock ring. “Do you like big dicks?” he asked, his voice in a deeper, more intense tones. I nodded, then remembered he liked things verbal. “Yes. I like big dicks. And I like to suck dick a lot.” He made a little noise, and his fat dick shifted as he asked “Do you like having your ass eaten?” I bit my lip for just a second. “I do.” “You hesitated. Why?” The tone brooked no argument. It was obvious he assumed I’d answer, and honestly. “It makes me really horny,” I said, feeling my face heat up. It was true. Having someone eat my butt was pretty much the fastest way to get me going – maybe second to sucking dick, but sucking dick made me want to jerk off and get the guy off, so I could swallow it. Having a tongue inside me made me crazy for having a dick inside me. I looked again at the man’s fat cock, and swallowed. “Horny?” he asked, and again, his tone was clear: he wanted to hear more. “It makes me crazy for getting fucked,” I said. It came out in a rush, my voice trembling. Why was I admitting all this? One thousand dollars. “Get on the bed,” he said. “On your back.” I did as he ordered, feeling my stomach clench and unclench as I lay down. He got onto the bed, between my legs, and slid forward until his knees were pressing against my widely spread thighs. His hands were rough as he slid them under my legs, then he paused, and asked “You want me to eat your ass, boy?” “Yes, please,” I said, his even gaze making me extremely polite in some bizarre way. He raised one eyebrow, so I repeated my request “Please, eat my ass.” He lifted me, rocking me higher onto my back, and I reached out to grab the bed to keep myself from tipping to the right. He hoisted my legs high, and then leaned forward and took in a deep breath through his nose, barely an inch from my ass, now up near his face. I trembled. “You’ve been fucked already tonight, haven’t you, boy?” “Yes,” I said, shaking still. “What card did the guy who fucked you give you?” “Uh... Eight. Eight of clubs.” The man smiled. Once again, it struck me that behind his mask he could be fifty or more, but his fit, vascular body was definitely up to the task of holding my ass up in the air. Then thinking took a detour as he leaned forward and his tongue darted into my raised pucker. “Oh god!” I gasped, and then the noises I made after that were more or less just moans and groaning. He had a thick and hot tongue, and he knew how to bury it just right in my ass. His hands held my legs up, and the angle was perfect for him to slobber and lick and suck and even nibble at my pucker. I twisted, writhed, and continued to let out little whimpers and moans as my once-fucked ass was quite overwhelmed by the older man’s powerful tongue. He paused, and I lay there, panting for a second. “Speak up, boy,” he reminded me, and then he continued his tonguing. I could barely formulate complete thoughts, let alone words. What came out of my mouth was nearly a stream of consciousness. “Oh yes! Oh god, yes! I love that, oh that! You’re so good... oh my god I love it! Please! Oh god that feels good – that feels so fucking good! Please! Oh! Fuck!” I went on and on, barely registering what I was saying, looking up at the masked man’s face – his forehead visible above my balls and my cock – which was rock hard now and dripping onto my stomach from the awkward angle I was perched. His grip on my legs grew tighter as he buried his face deeper between my cheeks, and his tongue flicked maddeningly inside me, sometimes slurping, sometimes drilling. “Please! Please fuck me! Oh god oh god I need to be fucked! God, please!” I’d moved on from telling him how good it felt and was now begging him to fuck me. I wasn’t sure when I’d done so, but I realized I was asking for it over and over when he pulled away from my pucker with what was almost a sneer on his face. “Yeah, boy?” he asked. “You need to get fucked, do you? You want my fat dick, do you?” He leaned back down and licked hard at my pucker. “Yes!” I gasped. “Please! I need you to fuck me! I need your dick! Oh fuck god yes please!” He grunted, and with three large swipes of his tongue, he deposited a mouthful of saliva into my pucker. I could feel his spit leaking around my balls and onto my stomach, as well as down between my ass cheeks, and writhed as that tongue teased my hole once more. Then he shifted my legs lower and wider, letting my back drop enough that the next thing I felt between my parted ass cheeks was his hard fat cock. He pressed just the head of his dick against my opening, and leaned ahead until it pushed into me. I groaned, biting my lip, and he paused. “Tell me, boy,” he ordered, his voice sounding like gravel. “I.. Oh.. I like that,” I gasped. “It’s big... it hurts, but... oh! Yes, please!” “You want more?” he leaned forward just a little, and perhaps an inch of his cock moved inside me, his head slipping in, and my ass opening to take it with a welcome heat. “Oh! Fuck yes! More! I want your dick inside me!” I was begging again, and writhed to try and pull him into me, but his grip was firm on my legs. He leaned over, and slowly entered me – every inch was tease, every few moments he made me beg for more, and every time he did, I did so willingly. He might have had the fattest dick I’d ever had inside me, and with nothing but his ample saliva (and the leftover lube and spunk from the man before him) the friction was incredible. When I felt him pressing skin-to-skin, and knew that entire dick was inside me, I gasped, and managed to say “Fuck! Oh! Fuck!” “Yes, boy,” he said, and he began to fuck me. His thighs were as strong as they looked, and his grip never loosened as he started to pump his cock up my ass. His thrusts were steady, measured, and he never had less than half of that fat dick inside me. I continued to babble to him, telling him I loved it, I wanted it, that I loved being fucked that I loved his dick – I wasn’t sure what else I was saying, right up until he leaned over me and gave me a series of three deep thrusts in rapid succession, and I gasped out loud at the way his dick was rubbing inside me. “Oh, fuck, yes! That! That!” “You ready for my load, boy?” “Yes, please! Fuck yes please!” He gave me another series of those deep quick thrusts and then grunted loud into my ear and said, “Here it fucking comes, boy,” as I felt his load blow deep inside me. I wrapped my legs around his back and pulled him into me, grinding myself against him. My hands tried to get to my dick – I was desperate to jerk off – but he pressed down hard on me, preventing my grip. “Did I say you could touch yourself?” he asked. I whined. “No.” “I’ll make it seventy five if you don’t touch yourself,” he said. I whimpered, but nodded. He laughed, grinding himself again, then raising himself. He left his dick inside me as he positioned his arms back under my legs, and was careful how he lifted me. When his fat cock slipped free, his mouth was almost immediately on my ass, and I nearly convulsed with the sensation of him slurping, licking, and swallowing his own load from my hole. “Oh my god that’s so fucking hot!” I was babbling. My hands twisted in the sheets. I was desperate to jerk myself off, but didn’t. Seventy five extra bucks. I could wait. He ate my ass clean, licking every last drop from my hole and leaving me heaving and shaking on the bed when he finally let go. I sank back onto my back, and he smiled down at me, obviously pleased with himself. “Lick my dick clean while I get out your card,” he said. I was happy to oblige. Even softening, it wasn’t an easy task, but I do love sucking a dick. The taste of his spunk was incredible. When I finally let go, he smiled, and handed me the card from his small leather arm pouch. It was the jack of hearts. Oh shit. Twenty two. Bust.

The only good thing about being a Mall Santa - beyond the extra pay check and the opportunity to take some time off being a bouncer at the bar - was the eye candy. Sure, brats leapt onto my lap (and more than a few managed to kick me in the balls doing so) and sure sometimes there's barf and there's a hell of a lot of crying, but some of the young dads are hot, but this year's prize definitely went to one of the elves. I'd never see him at my other job as there was no way he'd step into something as untrendy as the bear bar, but I got to see him just fine in his tight green elf pants (which were more like shiny spandex or yoga wear than actual 'pants'). And, before he put on his overly long elf jacket, I could see he was slender, sported some sharp little nipples which looked to be perfectly edible. Naturally he was a dirty blond, had soft brown doe eyes and even had dimples. He was the best damn thing I'd ever worked with - except for the attitude. I hated his attitude. See, he was a snob, an effete twink who knew he was cute and liked to drop comments into conversation to make sure we all knew who was looking at him (and that he'd noticed.) Once he found out I was gay, something I let drop casually to see if it would shut him up, it changed in tone, but his remarks were no less obnoxious, if anything, his remarks were even more unpleasant. For example I remember he said "I bet it's nice not having to worry about your gut, y'know, being a bear and all" and “I work really hard to stay this healthy and it’s a lot of work" and "It's gotta be hard to be around all the younger guys, eh? They probably blow right by you" and "I'm sure the bear community is interesting, I guess, but I'd get bored with all that flannel and denim." Stuff like that. Still, as flaws went, it wasn't insurmountable. I liked young fellows with attitude; I liked to put them in their place and drill it out of them, and as for his mouth? Well, I had gags aplenty at home. As for his crack about how hard it was to stay healthy, I had something hard I’d love to introduce him to, and damn the consequences. To him, anyway. Being Santa, I got to give the elves names, and he had no choice but to answer to Twinkie when we worked together, although his name was Parker, and I made sure to make him do any of the lifting - if only because I liked to watch him bend over, as only then would his coat slide up enough to show of his firm round ass. "Shouldn't you do this?" he'd ask, grunting lifting up the boxes of candy canes and little toys we handed out to the kids, trying to goad me on by adding "Aren't you supposed to be a big strong muscle bear under that costume?" It was said with mild contempt, and I could definitely hear it. "Oh I can lift," I replied in a low voice into his ear as he passed by, "...but I prefer to shove." He stumbled, and nearly dropped the box. His eyes widened, as I put my Santa beard on over my actual short beard, and of course I smiled at him. "What?" he asked. I smiled wider. "You heard me. We bears don't mind getting rough. Especially when there's good reason." I let my eyes trail up and down his slender form and then put on my hat and left the little changing area in Santa's village to go to my throne. When Twinkie showed up a few minutes later, he was a little more polite than usual at first, though he was back to his usual self by the end of the shift. The next afternoon, he dropped another obnoxious comment, "It's hard to find guys who care enough about personal grooming. All that hair, ick!" I waited patiently until there were no kids around and nodded at the red and over-sized white striped pole that was near the candy canes were stuffed in an open sack. "Hey Twinkie, give my pole a good rub-down." He blinked at me, obviously not accustomed to being on the defensive, and in a shaken voice asked "What?" I gestured to the North Pole. "It's dusty. Rub it down. I'm sure you know how. It's not complicated." He blushed, but I was the boss, so he grabbed some paper towel and a bottle of cleaner and started to clean it up. "That's right," I said, pitching my voice to him as I walked past on my way to the throne. "Get it just wet enough. You don't want it too slick, or you'll never get it off." I squeezed his shoulder, and felt him shiver beneath me. I watched him work, and he didn't meet my gaze at all, and just before he was done, I saw him put his hand in his pocket and adjust himself. I smiled behind my Santa beard. This was going to be fun. I went in to full gear with him. Anytime Twinkie was alone with Santa, even if it was just a few seconds between kids, I'd find a way to drop a suggestive comment into the mix. "So what would you like Santa to shove through your chimney, Twinkie?" or "You want to suck on something? I got something right here." (And with that I would hand him a candy cane) or "Is your costume okay? You keep tugging at it" and "Santa could definitely use some warm buns - the pole sure is chilly." I'd grab his shoulder and squeeze when I could, and before long he was flustered and clumsy. Here was a boy who'd never had an older daddy bear chasing after him, and he had no idea what to do. His first few attempts at banter fell a little flat, and when I turned his comments into further innuendo, he fell quieter each time, just blushing and going about his day. "I'm pretty sure Santa would bring you any toy you'd like, Twinkie. You want to reach in and see what he's for you?" He blushed redder. "I bet elf-ears make great grips." This made him nearly trip. When we were changing after our shift on the last weekend before Christmas, he kept his back to me, and I admired his firm buns. When he tugged his jeans on over his elf tights I let out a little chuckle, and he flinched. When he put on his jacket and turned to leave, he saw I'd shucked down to my wifebeater and jeans, and I caught him looking at my wide chest and thick arms. "You see something you want for Christmas?" I asked him. He shook his head, blushed again, and said he'd see me Christmas Eve. "Sure thing, Twinkie," I said. "And I've got a present for you, too." He looked up, and I smiled at him in a way that made his whole body shiver. He moved to leave and I stepped in front of him just enough to make him hesitate. "Excuse me," he said. I smiled again. "I thought twinks just blow right by bears like me." He bit his lip, and had to slide by me. I let my hand brush his thigh and the back of his ass, and he let out a little breath as he escaped. I laughed loud enough for him to hear, and then got changed. Christmas Eve there were four of us working, and I brought each of the other elves a present to take home – Twinkie eyed his nervously – and when the long day finally ended, I turned to the other two and said, “You two can go ahead. I’ll give Twinkie a ride.” If they noticed his discomfort, they didn’t care – he’d made no friends of any of the six of us he worked with with his initial attitude – and they left as soon as they could. I watched Parker open up a box to put the last of the toys and candy canes in while the mall announced it was closing. “You make sure that whatever goes in goes in tight, Twinkie,” I said, and he bit his lip, working silently. We pulled down most of the more portable bits, and after a half-hour or so, I nodded. We were still in costume. “Okay,” I said. “The mall maintenance crew will do the rest before opening on Boxing day. Come on,” I said. My little elf followed quietly into the small room behind the throne, and I pulled off my beard and hat, waiting for it. I started to undo the buttons on my Santa jacket before he finally said something. He’d taken off the elf jacket – I could see his slim body trembling a bit in his plain white t-shirt and those tight elf pants and stupid curly-toed shoes. “Where’s my bag?” I feigned looking around. “Maybe one of the other elves took it?” He looked at me. “Please.” I smiled. “Let me look in Santa’s sack.” I made a show of looking in it, then said. “Nope, no clothes in there. Hey – check your present out. I know I said it was for later, but open it now.” He glanced around, then went to the box I’d wrapped and marked for Twinkie. He pulled it open quickly – he was a tearer, I noted – and then opened the lid. “You like it?” I asked, smiling. “You could wear that.” It was a green jock strap – the same colour as his elf costume – and across the waist I’d had “Twinkie” embroidered. He looked up at me. “Look,” he said, but his voice cracked a bit. “I’m sorry about all the stuff I said... You’re a nice guy.” I smirked. “No I’m not. I’m not nice at all, Twinkie. But I think you like that. Or at least, your dick does, if that semi you’re sporting is any indication.” He bit his lip, and I took a step toward him. “Tell you what, Twinkie. Maybe you should get changed, and sit on Santa’s lap, and tell him what you want for Christmas.” “I want my bag,” he said, but his voice had even more of a tremble to it now than before. “Then ask Santa,” I said, and smiled at him, pulling off the jacket and dropping it to the floor. The wifebeater I wore underneath was a bit damp from the work we’d been doing. I turned the only chair in the small room around, and sat on it, spreading my legs a little and crossing my arms. He looked at me for a long time – I imagine he was trying to stare me down – but I just held his gaze and smiled. Finally, shaking even more, he started to walk toward me. “No no no,” I said, raising one hand. I let my arm flex, and I saw his eyes shift to look. Oh, this was too easy. “You need to get dressed up for Santa.” He froze. “I...” “You want to ask Santa for a present, don’t you?” I smiled, and stretched my arms over and behind my head until my back cracked. He winced at the noise. Then he nodded. I watched him shuffle back to the box he’d unwrapped, and then he turned his back to pull his t-shirt over his head. I laughed low in my throat, and he flinched again. The smooth skin at small of his back emphasized his narrow waist. I laughed again when he kicked off his elf shoes and then hurriedly peeled off his elf tights in one quick motion and stumbled a bit trying to put on the jockstrap as quickly as he could. I got a great view of his lean legs and his round ass cheeks, as pert and tight as I imagined, especially when he bent over to step into the strap. I caught a glimpse of his balls, too – he had low-hangers – and was unsurprised to see no hair on him anywhere. He stood there, facing the wall, just breathing. “Come on over, Twinkie,” I said. He took a deep breath, and turned around. The bulge in his jock-strap made it obvious that despite his mild protest, he was definitely reacting to the situation. His stomach was as smooth as I imagined, and his chest was lean and fit. His nipples were as small and as sharp as I’d imagined, and I couldn’t help but leer at him. He approached slowly, and I made a grand show of patting my thighs. He shifted awkwardly in front of me, and then started to sit down across my thighs. I wrapped one thick arm under his and with a quick tug I pulled him into my lap, where – no doubt – he could feel my already obvious hard-on pressed between his wonderful ass cheeks. He shifted, and I wrapped both of my arms around him and squeezed. “Well hello, Twinkie,” I said, and he ducked his head a little, his hands gripping tightly in his lap, obviously trying to cover his arousal. I put my lips to his ear. “Have you been naughty or nice?” He looked up at me, his brown eyes wide. “What?” I raised one eyebrow. “You know how this works, Twinkie. First Santa asks if you’ve been naughty or nice.” I let go of him just long enough to wrap my arms back around him and squeeze, pinning his own arms against his chest. He was sitting across my lap, his legs over the side of my chair, and squeezing him pulled his face more toward my chest. I squeezed again. “Now, Twinkie, have you been naughty or nice?” “I...” He swallowed. “I’ve been nice.” I laughed, and it wasn’t a ho-ho-ho. “Oh, Twinkie. Santa has a list, and he knows you’ve been naughty.” I slid my left hand across his chest, and pinched one of his pert little nipples. He yelped, and squirmed in my lap. It made me growl low in my chest, and my dick grew harder. I looked at his jock, and saw he was definitely squirming in a good way, too. “Naughty or nice?” I repeated, rubbing his nipple again. “Naughty,” he said. I laughed again. “Good boy, Twinkie,” I said. “Now, you know what happens when you’re nice?” He swallowed. “I get a present?” I nodded, and squeezed again. “Very good, Twinkie. Now what do you think happens when you’re naughty?” He closed his eyes for a second, and I shifted just enough to grind my hard-on against his butt. He squirmed again, and it felt just as good. “N-n-no,” he wavered. “Santa gets the present,” I said, and with that I slid my left hand down his back and let one finger slide between those delightfully round ass cheeks just a bit. He let out a yelp, and tried to slide off my lap. I held him long enough to let him know I could have made him stay on my lap, then let go. He slid off, but I moved my hands to his shoulders and pushed hard enough to make him sit down at my feet. He looked up at me. “Time to give my pole a rub-down, Twinkie,” I said, and undid the broad flap on the Santa pants. His eyes locked on my crotch as I unfolded the pants open, and revealed the black jock strap I was wearing underneath. “Then I can have my bag?” he asked. I liked this – he was agreeing already, in his own way. “Then you can ask for your bag,” I agreed. He leaned forward, and lifted a hesitant hand. I reached out and took his wrist and pressed it against my hard dick. He rubbed it, applying a little pressure, and kept his eyes away from mine. I chuckled, and he looked at me. “I’ve seen you do better. You know better. Rub it down, boy.” He bit his lip, but shifted forward between my legs – which I spread a bit wider for him – and then he used both hands to pull my dick free of the jockstrap pouch, tucking it to the side. I’m sure the thick hair bugged him, but he wrapped his hand around my shaft and gave my dick another tug. He watched the foreskin tighten, and then gave it another tug. I got harder, and my cockhead started to peek out on his down strokes. “Now get it just wet enough, Twinkie.” His brown eyes met mine for the briefest of moments before he looked down again. His hand shook on my hard dick, and I exhaled long and loud. “Come on, Twinkie. You want to ask Santa, don’t you?” He leaned forward, moved one hand to my thigh, and then opened his mouth to suck my dick. When his lips wrapped around my cock, I let out a contented rumble, and leaned back in the chair. He was breathing quickly, and I had the urge to grab the back of his head and shove him down until I was in his throat. I resisted. Barely. He bobbed his head down a bit, and I groaned. The elf was a decent cocksucker, it turned out. I shouldn’t be surprised. The loud ones are always the ones gagging for a dick. After he sucked for a few strokes, I couldn’t resist putting a hand on his head, and though he tensed, he didn’t pull away. After a few more strokes, his tongue licking my dick and him getting used to my thick cock, I tightened my hold on his hair and lifted off the chair a bit to meet his sucking with a short thrust. He gagged a bit, but I held him firm as his hands gripped my red cloth pants. “Yeah, Twinkle, that’s not bad. You’re doing good, boy.” He slurped and sucked and sometimes gagged a bit, until finally, when I was good and hard, I pulled him away from my dick with a quick jerk. His brown eyes were watery with tears from when he’d gagged a bit. I looked down at him, and he bit his lip when I tugged his hair tighter. “Please..?” he said. “What’s that, Twinkle?” I asked, amused. “Can I have my bag?” I smiled down at him. “You don’t ask from down there, boy,” I said, shaking my head. “You know better than that, boy. Back onto my lap. And ask properly.” He shivered, and his eyes widened for a moment. “What?” I spread my legs a little wider, and slapped my red-cloth-covered thighs. My cock stood tall and proud – I’d put on a cock-ring before work for just this moment. Parker swallowed, but he rose shakily, and once again tried to sit sideways across my lap. “No no no,” I said, and grabbed his waist, turning him to face me. I slid my legs between his, one at a time, and then pulled at his waist until he slid forward and crouched over my dick. He sat down with a whimper, and I felt my cock pressed between those luscious round cheeks. His face was right in front of mine, flushed and awkward. He stared at my chest. I wrapped my arms around him again, and rocked him back and forth a bit, my cock sliding along his crack. “Now then,” I said, leaning ahead and putting my beard right against his ear. “Do you have a question for Santa, Twinkle?” “Can I have my bag?” he asked. “Hrm,” I said, and shifted my weight under him, rubbing my dick between his ass cheeks again. “Santa will let you reach into his bag, since you’ve admitted to being naughty. Let’s start with that.” Parker tensed, and I leaned over – more wonderful friction between my dick and his sweet cheeks – and I glanced down to see a telltale wet-spot on the front of his green jockstrap. His dick was very hard. I pulled up the bag and held it just a little out of his reach. He leaned over to get it, and I shifted just-so underneath him, rubbing my dickhead across his pucker for a moment. He let out a little whimper, and I smiled and let him reach into the bag. He pulled out a smaller bag, one of a few I’d put in there, and he held it in one hand. I slid my hands back to his waist and pulled him back onto my lap again, grinding my dick up between his cheeks and pulling him even closer to my stomach and chest. He undid the knot on the bag with trembling fingers, holding the small red bag over my stomach and then reaching inside and pulling out the first of the two items – a small bottle of lube. He swallowed. “There’s more, Twinkie,” I said, and took the little bottle from him. He reached in again, and pulled out the ball gag. I could tell at once he had no idea what it was, and I smiled at him. “It’s to stop naughty boys from saying naughty things,” I said, and he bit his lip frowning at the rubber ball and straps. “Please, I... I’ll be nice...” I smiled, and took the ball gag from his fingers with my free hand. I pressed it against his lips, and he whimpered before opening his mouth. I pushed it in, and then put the small bottle of lube in my mouth while I took the straps of the ball gag and tied them around the back of Parker’s head. I took the lube from my mouth and smiled at the young man. His eyes were wide. “That’s much better,” I said. “Can’t say naughty things, can you?” He made a noise, and I smiled even wider. “You know, I think Santa’s pole isn’t as wet as it needs to be. Don’t you agree, Twinkie?” Parker whimpered as I uncapped the lube and squirted some onto my open hand. When I reached behind him with the hand that held the bottle and tugged him up and off my dick, he pressed against my stomach and chest, shaking as he spread his thighs and balanced on his knees in a half-crouch over me – it wasn’t a position he could keep for long. I rubbed my lubed hand against my dick, then started to stroke my fingers up between the young man’s ass cheeks, pouring more of the cool liquid onto my fingers and giving his pucker a little prod with my finger tips. Parker’s hands gripped my shoulders and he was breathing in little puffy breaths, his knees shaking against my thighs, propped up against me. I moved my head a little and found his little pointed left nipple with my mouth and gave him a little bite. Ah, his nipples were sensitive, as was his little twink rosebud. Perfect. I sucked on his nipple. The noise he made into the gag was music to my ears. I pushed a little harder with my fingertip, and he pushed back against me, unable to help himself and still perched half up on his knees. “Oh, Twinkle,” I said, freeing his left nipple and sliding my mouth across his chest to the other side. “I think you want to be nice for Santa, don’t you? Very nice indeed...” He shivered again, but when I gave his right nipple a stronger bite, his whole body shook and the groaned into the ball-gag and my fingertip slipped into his pucker. I rubbed at him for a few moments while I chewed on him, and he groaned and writhed against me, his legs now quaking with the effort to stay upright against me. His hands gripped at my shoulders, now a bit damp with sweat, and I growled as I bit and sucked and licked at his nipple. I slid my finger further into him, prodding a little further, and he groaned again. Enough. I pulled my finger free – he let out a small moan into the rubber ball. I dropped the lube, gripped my dick, and reached up to the back of his neck and pulled him back down, aiming my cock upright between those pert round ass cheeks, right at his pucker. He cried out into the ball-gag, but gravity was against him, not to mention a big bear with a strong arm. He sank onto my dick and I felt that tight bubble butt open for my cock a few inches. He tried to brace himself against my shoulders again, and his head hung, his eyes clenched shut, while he grunted and groaned into the ball-gag. He was crouched, half-buried on my cock, his lean thighs shaking with the effort. “Oh, fuck yes,” I growled, and gave him a little buck. He cried out into the gag again, and squirmed on my dick, which only made my cock go in deeper. He whimpered and I pulled on him again. “Come on, boy,” I said. “You know you want Santa’s dick... that’s a bear dick sliding into you, boy...” I bucked again, and he cried out again, his legs shaking, and another inch of my cock slid inside him. He was so fucking tight. His voice was perfect now that it was silenced by the rubber ball-gag. “Oh, that’s a nice boy,” I growled. “Santa wants you to side down on his lap, and then you can ask him again, like a good boy...” Parker whimpered into the ball-gag, but his legs were shaking from his awkward crouch, and his ass was sending his brain the feedback that all good bottom boys get when there’s a dick half-way up their hole. He sat down on my dick, his cheeks speared on my dick, and his own dick hard and poking out now from the pouch of his green jock. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing in sharp puffs from his nose, still crouched above me, his calves now bearing his weight but his legs still half-bent in a squat. “Look at Santa, boy,” I said. He opened his eyes, and met my gaze. I nodded, and slid my hands down to his waist and gave him a sharp tug towards me. My cock ground around inside him, and his surprised yelp into the ball-gag made it obvious that my cock was rubbing him just right. Typical twink bottom boy – get some meat into him, and he just can’t help himself. “Okay, Twinkie. You want Santa to give you presents, don’t you, boy?” I tugged him toward me again, my cock hard and buried balls-deep up his ass. He groaned wildly, and nodded. I smiled, and ground my cock into him again, then reached over to my bag – not the Santa bag this time, but my own – and pulled out the cuffs I’d put in there. Parker didn’t notice at first, he was enjoying my dick rubbing him as I tilted, but when he saw the cuffs, his eyes widened. “First present, boy. Hands,” I demanded. He was shaking, but he held his hands out in front of him, obeying. I cuffed his wrists together, and then pulled his arms over my head, his cuffed hands now trapped behind my neck. Then, with no further pause, I started to jerk him towards me with rough tugs to his waist. He groaned and grunted, crying out, and I felt his hands twist and writhe behind my head. “Yeah, that’s a good present for you, boy, isn’t it?” I growled, and when he didn’t answer, I slapped his ass with my hand, hard. He yelped into the gag. “Isn’t it?” I asked again. He nodded, making inarticulate noises into the gag as I ground my dick in a slow circle inside him, rocking him to the left and the right. “Hold on, boy... This hairy bear has another present for you...” I gripped under his legs, and rose from the chair. My cock, buried in his tight pucker, must have speared him as I slowly rose to my feet, and he moaned, his arms tight around my neck, his back arching, and his legs wrapped around my waist. He was helpless, hung around my neck, impaled on my cock, and totally at the mercy of his ass, which was definitely clenching around my meat. He groaned and grunted as I managed to grip his ass in one hand to hold him in place while my other shucked the oversized red pants down. I stepped out of them in nothing but the black boots now, and then walked with the young man riding my dick all the way to the one solid wall of the little hut – the one built against the back of the escalators in the mall. I shoved him into the wall, and buried my dick into him hard. He cried out again. “Okay, you little shit,” I growled into his ear. “You’ve been a pain in my ass for weeks, and now I’m going to take it out on your ass in trade.” I slammed him again, burying myself deep. “With interest.” I pressed him against the wall, and used one hand to tug his head to the left, so I could rub my rough beard all over his smooth neck before giving him a rough bite and other three hard thrusts against the wall. Parker whimpered and moaned and cried out into the ball-gag. “Such a fucking whore, aren’t you?” I snarled. “High and mighty, but put a dick up your ass and you’re nothing but a chew-toy for the bear, aren’t you?” I squeezed his ass cheeks so tight it would bruise, and rammed him again. He cried out into the gag again and again. “Aren’t you?” He nodded over and over, agreeing as his skin grew wet with sweat. My wife-beater was getting wet with my own sweat, and I could smell us as I fucked him like the cheap little shit he was. “You ready for your last present, boy?” I snarled at him, reaching up and gripping his chin with one hand, and making him face me. His eyes were wide and they fluttered when I rammed him again and again, the friction magic with the lube and his tight hole. “Boy?” I growled. He nodded. I reached under him, and unsnapped the cockring. My balls ached with the urge to spunk inside him. Then I reached back up gripped the back of his head. I picked up my pace, ramming him ruthlessly. “Here’s your choice, boy,” I said, voice even. “You can let me breed you boy – fill you right up with my dirty bear cum and give you the gift that keeps on giving – or you can have your clothes back. Your choice.” His eyes widened as what I was saying made it to his foggy getting-fucked brain. I laughed when I realized it took him so long because he was so close to coming himself. “I’d say you’ve got about six or seven thrusts from this bear dick before you need to choose...” I undid the snaps on his ball gag and tugged on the ball-snapping it free. I rammed home again. And again. “Please!” he gasped. I rammed him again, grinding him against the wall. “Please what, boy?” “Oh!” he gasped, “Oh, oh fuck! Please! I need... I can’t...” I fucked him again, and his moan seemed to come from deep in his stomach. “What do you need? You need me to fuck you and fill you up, don’t you boy?” I rammed in hard. “Yes! I mean, oh, I mean...” His head slammed against the wall with every thrust, and reached up and gripped his head in both hands, spearing him against the wall with one last rough lunge as my balls unloaded deep into his boy-ass. His eyes never left mine, and he cried out as his own dick spurted between us, slick against his smooth stomach and rubbing into my damp wife-beater. I stayed buried inside him while my cock surged twice more, and then ground myself into him a little bit before I pulled away from the wall. His arms tightened around my neck, and he let out a little choked sob. “You want your clothes now, boy?” I asked him. My cock slid free from his ass, and I felt some of my sperm drip onto my thigh as he shifted to stand on his own feet, his arms still around my neck. I fingered his slick hole, and he whimpered a little. “What’s that?” I asked. “Yes please,” He said. I smiled. “Good boy. And then Santa will give you a ride back to his place. He’s gonna fill your chimney with presents all night long, boy. You like that idea, Twinkie? This bear is gonna tie you down and you’re going to learn how much you like a hairy man who can plow you so hard you’ll be begging to pass out. You want that for Christmas?” Parker looked at me, and swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.” I smiled. “I like your attitude.”

Waiting for the rest the guys wearing the diamonds briefs to return, I looked around the well appointed room and at the men gathered. Again, I was struck by the casual air of the evening. No one seemed at all phased by the half-naked guests, the masks, or the reality of the sexual play happening through the archway. I picked up a glass of water and drank deeply. It was bubbly, like Perrier or something. I shook my head, a little overwhelmed at just how strange this all was, but still reminding myself 'A thousand dollars,' - even if building on two fours wasn't the strongest start. The burly host raised his hand once the last couple, a sandy haired young man in diamond briefs and the stocky smooth man in spades who had returned with him, came back into the room. The young man showed his cards to the dealer, and the man made a note. The stocky guy who'd returned with him received a card to put into his pouch. The math of the evening gelled. With two dozen of us, there would be enough cards in a deck to replenish those gathered by the diamond boys from the men we had chosen. I looked, and, sure enough, saw the photographer whose cum I'd just swallowed standing among some of the other men. We all fell silent as the host cleared his throat and asked the dealer ""How are we doing?" "We have one diamond who has chosen to hold," the dealer answered, "and another has doubled down, but no blackjack." One of the diamonds, the red head I had noticed before, smiled and nodded. I assumed that meant he was the one holding. He'd gotten a good draw right away, maybe a nineteen or a twenty? Either way, that meant first place just got that much further away. The host nodded, and moved over to the side of the archway, where I noticed for the first time a wheel decorated with the four suits. He spun it. It clicked through its orbit a few times, and settled on clubs. The men in the (outfits) murmured. I watched my photographer 'friend' and he smiled widely. "As discussed gentlemen, line up." They did so. The host, in spades, waited for them for a moment to organize themselves then tapped the first man on his shoulder. He was tall, bald, and barrel-chested, with a walrus mustache. He was definitely built strong, but he had a gut to him as well. He walked right up to the sandy haired young man in the diamonds briefs and whispered into his ear. The young man nodded. "Good," the host said, smiling through his beard. He tapped the next man, a wide, thick-necked man with greying hair buzzed short, an impressive chest and equally impressive arms, who honestly made me think of a bouncer, walked over to me. I tried really hard not to tense-up when his eyes, also a grey shade of blue, looked me up and down as he leaned over and asked in an even, conversational tone, his voice close to my ear, "You been fucked yet tonight?" "No." "Good. I don't mind sharing, but I like to be the first in a boy's ass of the night. I intend to bend you over and fuck you." I looked at him, feeling an odd flutter in my stomach at the bluntness of his words. He was masculine, solid, and judging by the front of his cotton pants, he was well on his way to aroused. I nodded, not quite trusting myself to speak, and the host repeated "good," before tapping another of the clubs on the shoulder. A thousand dollars, I again thought. Since one of the diamonds had held his hand, I wondered what would happen to the sixth club, but when a the young Latino guy in diamonds shook his head at whatever the hairy goateed bear in clubs suggested, the host moved on. The bear who didn't get a partner and the Latino was chosen by my photographer friend. We left the room for the hallway of bedrooms. The man who’d chosen me kept one hand on my shoulder for the duration of the walk, and gave me a little shove when we got to the first unoccupied bedroom, asking “You want lube, or spit?” Again blunt and to the point. adding “Lube, I leave the door open. Spit, I close it.” I glanced at his wide chest, thickly muscled neck, and the obvious tenting in his cotton pants. “Lube,” I said. He smiled briefly, and left the door open. He was true to his word and attitude – he walked over to me, took my shoulders and turned me around, walking me to the foot of the bed. His hands slid down my arms and he pushed me until I was bent over, and moved my hands up to grip the bedpost. He reached down to my waist once I gripped the wooden pole, and slid his fingers into the edge of my shorts and then tugged them down. My dick was already a little hard, somewhere between having just enjoyed the blow-job I’d given and knowing that I was about to get fucked. I stepped out of my shorts, and his hands gripped the inside of my thighs, pulling my legs a bit further apart, and then making me step a half-step back, stooping and leaning and gripping the pole. “Mmmmm,” he grunted. Then he walked over to the 'toys' chest and flipped open the lid. I looked over my shoulder and, as he returned, saw there was already a man watching from the doorway. It was the large goateed bear who’d suggested whatever it was to the diamond who’d turned him down. Then the grey haired man returned, a bottle of lube in hand, ordering me "Face front.” I looked ahead. The lube was a cool shock with the first squirt, but then the older man started rubbing his finger up and down between my cheeks, and soon I was rubbing back against him. He dipped just a fingertip against my pucker, and I let out a little breath. I could hear his breathing behind me, growing a little faster with every stroke and tap of his slick finger, and he added more lube, and another finger, and I was soon pushing back against him. “Nothing but a whore, aren’t you?” he said, his voice pitched very low, continuing with "a chance at some money and you’re bent over and waiting for it, aren’t you?” I bit my lip, and he gave my pucker a little push with his fingers. “Aren’t you?” “Yes,” I said, feeling my face burning. Hell, it was true. “Alright then, whore... here you go.” He shifted behind me, and a moment later the unmistakable feel of a cock was pressing against my hole. For just a second I was too scared to move, and then the older man’s strong hand gripped my side as he aimed his cock into me and slowly pushed. I couldn’t help but let out a moan, and when his other hand took my other side and he continued to push into my ass, I groaned a bit louder. He had a long cock, that was for sure. “Love to get ‘em while they’re still tight,” the man said, and then with no further discussion, he started to fuck me, shifting behind me to slowly draw his dick almost all the way out before burying himself back in, this time to the balls, with a long steady stroke that made me groan a third time. He picked up the tempo quickly, and I gripped the bedpost and pushed back against this thrusts as the older man proved to be as strong as he looked, and possessed of a great sense of rhythm. His dick seemed to hit me just-right, and if it had been a while since I’d been dicked this deep, it was coming back to me why I liked it so much. I began to grunt and gasp as he fucked my ass, and he shifted his grip, sliding his hands up and down my side, and once or twice gripping the back of my head for a series of particularly sharp thrusts that made me curse out loud. My dick was hard again now, no half about it, and I gripped the pole with both hands lest I lost my stance. I wanted to jerk off, but I knew better than to risk my balance. “Here it comes, boy,” the man said, and it was only as my ass filled with hot thick ropes of heat that I realized he wasn’t wearing a condom. I gasped, and swore again, but his grip held me firm until the last surge of his spunk erupted in my hole. When he pulled out, I turned around to face him, more than a little shocked. “No condom,” I said, as I felt some of his sperm leak from my ass. My cock, though, was still rock hard. He regarded me with thinly veiled amusement. “I didn’t say I’d use one. Don’t worry though, you’re safe with me.” He looked down at his dick, still slick with lube and spunk. “You should clean up the mess, boy.” I looked past him at the men outside the door. The goateed bear was there, as were three others, and then slowly I sank to my knees. More of the man’s spunk leaked as I put his dick into my mouth, and savored the taste of spunk for the second time that night. A thousand dollars, I thought. But it sure as hell wasn’t without risk. I’d have to be smart. Smarter. I licked and sucked the remnants from his cock, thinking to myself that he really did have a long dick. He nodded once, undoing his little pouch and handing me a card without showing what it was to the men outside. Eight of clubs. That made twelve. I took a deep breath, rising to my feet. The grey-haired man handed me a wet wipe from the chest and I awkwardly wiped at my ass while he pulled his cotton pants back up. By the time I was done, he’d left, and I walked alone back down the hallway and through the arch to report my card to the dealer. Twelve. It wasn’t enough.

It was promise of 'prize money' that brought me here, although I knew damned well what I was doing would qualify me as a whore, but college didn’t come cheap, and neither did anything else: my crappy apartment, gas, you name it. Frankly, everything was starting to look more and more desperate, so I agreed to put my looks to use with some shady Craigslist 'photo model' request stuff. Although one of the four times had been a guy outright looking for a hook-up for cash, one of the other three had led to this. The photographer had taken some pretty racy photographs of me, bent over and naked, blindfolded, that sort of stuff, but he had kept my face from being recognizable in any of the shots, just as I had asked. The money had been decent, not great, but decent. The photographer was an older guy, maybe in his forties, but he was in good shape. And, although I’d definitely gotten the gay vibe from him, as he apparently loved looking at my ass, he hadn’t made an overt move. So long story: for the first time in ages I was able to pay the rent as well as put some food in the fridge and still have a little bit of cash left over. A few weeks later I received a message from the photographer inviting me to a 'blackjack night'. At first I almost dismissed the message at face value as the last thing I wanted to do was gamble away what little cash I had, but then I’d read on and saw that it wasn’t what it sounded like. In fact it was way more than that. “I’ve shown your photos to a friend who hosts play parties at his home. Handsome young men like you willing to take a risk or two can win big cash at his ‘blackjack nights,’ up to $1,000 for the first prize. It’s consensual. It’s absolutely R-rated and involves what you’d imagine. Don’t worry, though, if you choose to come, you’ll be able to stop at any time.” I let the e-mail sit for quite a while, but a thousand bucks is a lot to a guy like me, so finally, I replied, and asked for more details. Annoyingly, there weren’t many. “I can’t tell you much more,” the reply came from the photographer, who added “I’ll be there, and I’ve been to them before. You’ll need a rudimentary understanding of blackjack, and there are usually three or more cash prizes, as well as various other gifts given to some participants. You’ll be popular, if you decide to go, I’ll tell you that. Up to you.” I replied and said I’d go. The 'home' the host lived in was large and far enough out of town that I was a bit worried as I drove there in my clunker, but once I arrived I parked in the large curved driveway that led to the place and went for the door, invitation in hand. I had a good body, I liked sex, and I could use a grand. I had no real illusions about the night beyond that, and that was fine by me. At the door, I was greeted by a guy in a nice suit, who took me to a small side-room, where he took my coat, keys and my invitation number, and then traded my printed invitation for a small white envelope with the same number on it. He led me to a door and knocked once before opening it and looking inside, then nodded to me saying “You can go inside to change. The envelope will show you which bag to use.” I frowned, but he left, so I went into the room as he’d said. There were about two dozen bags lying around, each with a single card attached to them from a deck of cards. A few were mostly empty, though most had piles of regular clothes inside them. I opened my envelope, and pulled out a four of hearts, and a small slip of paper in which were printed these directions: “Dress in the items in the bag matching your card, and then put your clothes into the bag. They will be returned to you afterwards. Then move through the door opposite that through which you entered this room.” I stripped down, found the bag marked with the four of diamonds, and found that inside, there was only a pair of white briefs with a red diamond printed where my left butt cheek would be. I exhaled. I’d known this was basically going to be that sort of evening, but the reality of holding very little cloth in my hand made it pretty obvious. There was also a small card-holder on a Velcro strap, just the right size for the four of diamonds that had come in my invitation. Inside of the card-holder were instructions that told me to secure the card-holder to my arm with the strap, and to keep my card inside. I did so. Wearing only the briefs, which, by the way, were very snug and left nothing to the imagination, I took deep breath and pushed through the door. The room had quite a few men in it already, and I felt my stomach clench a bit when I stepped through the door. Everyone was wearing white – there were already four other guys like me in little white briefs with diamonds on the back of their asses, but there was an obvious division beyond that. Some of the men were wearing white wife beaters and white cotton pants through which it was obvious there was no underwear, and they had the black 'clubs' symbol from a deck of cards on the back of their wife beaters. The 'spades' were all wearing white athletic lace-up shorts with the spade across the right side, and no shirt. The 'hearts' wore similar cotton pants to the 'clubs' but no shirts, with the heart design at the front right where a pocket might otherwise be. Only the diamonds like me didn’t have masks. Everyone else wore a plain white mask that covered his eyes, lending a sense of anonymity. The guys ranged in body types quite broadly, although it was obvious that other than the diamonds, these men were in their forties and fifties. They obviously, however, took care of themselves . And every one of the men wore a Velcro pouch strapped to his arm. A waiter, full uniform, and mask, slid over to me and offered me a drink. I took one, waiting nervously. One of the clubs walked up to me, and when he spoke, I recognized the voice of the photographer. I had thought he was in good shape, and I’d been right: his chest was wide, he had thick arms, and under the edge of the wife-beater, I could see the start of a dusting of dark hair on his chest. “Glad you could come,” he said. I smiled. “Thanks.” The door opened a few more times while we chatted about nothing, and finally, one of the men in the Spades outfits, a bit of a musclebear, really, hairy and thick chested and definitely built strong, stepped to the middle of the room and raised his hand. The room fell silent. “Thank you all for coming,” he said. “As you all know, the game tonight is blackjack, or twenty one. Those of you playing for the prize money, that’s the diamonds in the room, will gather cards from those with whom you choose to...” he paused, smiling behind his short beard, “...interact.” He paused, and looked around. “The only rule, of course, is that no one can tell each other what card he is handing out, though the suit might be obvious.” Again he smiled. “Remember, you are gambling with yourselves, and you may stop at any time. There will be an opportunity for many draws, but don’t forget you will not wish to bust,” he said, smiling again. This time, he pointed at a door. “There is a special room for those who ‘bust’ but would like to deal themselves back into the game.” A few of the men laughed, and standing next to me, the photographer smiled. I felt somewhat nervous. “As always, negotiate as you will, and remember, the first place prize is a thousand dollars for the lucky diamond who achieves 21, or closest to that number without going over. Otherwise, all the rules of blackjack apply. We’ll begin with the diamonds making their choices, but after our first round, we’ll move through the suits accordingly. Diamonds – if you could line up, please?” We did. My stomach clenched and unclenched, and I decided right off that I’d pick the photographer, who was not only hot, but someone I knew. There were five other guys with me in the 'diamond' group, and I saw that there were the same number of hearts, clubs, and spades. I did the math: there were two dozen men in attendance. I swallowed. Our host continued. “The private rooms are through the archway there and up the stairs. They’re marked with diamonds. Feel free to leave the doors open or not as you wish,” he grinned. “Some do enjoy watching.” I swallowed again. The host tapped the first diamond on the shoulder – a lanky red-head with a lean body and freckles – who nervously approached a salt-and-pepper daddy type in hearts. As soon as they started to speak, the host tapped the next diamond, who was beside me, and he went to talk to one of the clubs, a larger black man with very thick arms. Then it was my turn. I went to the photographer, the only one I knew, and he smiled at me. “I’d hoped familiarity would be a good thing,” he said. I smiled at him, feeling myself blush a little. “Yeah.” Once all six diamonds had chosen, the host said, “Okay, gentlemen. You may now let your diamond know what you intend, and he may accept or make another choice.” I looked at the masked man who I actually did kinda-sorta know, and he smiled at me. “I intend to fuck that pretty face of yours and make you swallow every drop,” he said, leaning in. I felt my dick harden in my briefs. I loved to suck dick, and as far as whoring myself out, sucking cock seemed a pretty small price to pay. I nodded. Four of the six diamonds seemed to like what they heard, since we all left for the archway and the four rooms. Two stayed behind, to make a new choice, I assumed. I led the older man into the first room with a diamond on the door. The room was richly dressed, with a bed decked out with fresh white sheets and pillows, as well as a small chest at the base of it labeled, helpfully, 'Toys'. When I went to close the door, the photographer took my wrist saying “I don’t mind an audience,” as he undid his cotton pants. He was facing the door, and he pulled one of the pillows and tossed it onto the floor at his feet. “Kneel there,” he said. I’d have my back to the door. I knelt, and he tugged down the pants to reveal a thick cut cock already growing hard. He took my head in both hands, and pushed my face into his crotch. I licked and rubbed my face against his hardening dick, and he chuckled. “I knew you were a cock sucker the moment I took that first picture. Lips like yours?” he laughed again. “Cocksucker lips.” Frankly, I agreed, and set to work whole-heartedly. His cock was salty with sweat and I loved the taste of pre-cum that drooling from his cock head almost the moment I swallowed his length. He hardened quickly in my mouth, and his grip on my head was strong without being too harsh. He fucked my face, short thrusts in and out of my mouth, without letting his dick come free. I gripped his thighs after a time, realizing quickly that he was the one in charge here, and wanted to enjoy knowing that fact. As his dick hardened, he grew a bit more forceful, but it wasn’t the longest dick I’d sucked, even if it was one of the thickest, and the reality was I was enjoying myself. My own cock was hard, proof that I loved to suck dick, and doing so was a quick way to get my own dick hard, and I let one hand go to reach down and tug my own dick free from my briefs. “You can pull it out,” he said, in a low voice, “but you don’t get to jerk it. Hands back on my legs.” I obeyed with a little grunt as he pushed his dick into my mouth, freeing my cock but not being able to tug on it. I decided to go balls deep on him, and surprised him by swallowing his full length and pressing my face into his pubes for a long moment. “Oh, fuck yeah,” he groaned. Behind us, someone added, “Nice!” I shivered, but pinned on the man’s cock, it wasn’t like I could turn around and see which men, or how many men, were watching. I moaned though, aroused despite myself. “Fuck.. Fuck..” the older man said, and gripped all the tighter for a moment. “Swallow it all, boy! Swallow... it... all!” he grunted, and my mouth filled with his spunk in three sudden spurts. I swallowed spasmodically, narrowly avoiding choking as the thick liquid hit the back of my throat, and managing to get the rest down in two more swallows. I slurped at his dick, tonguing the head of his dick and then bobbing again up and down the full length of him. He let go, and I took a few more moments to lick and suck at his balls, making sure to get him spit-clean. “Damn,” he said, once I leaned back on my heels. “That’s good service.” I smiled up at him, my lips feeling a little raw. He tugged me up, and we turned, our backs to the door, although I glanced and saw there were three men watching. Then he undid his pouch, pulled out a card, handing it to me. I looked at it. Four of clubs. That made eight. That sure wasn’t going to win. Still, I smiled at him, and put it into my own little Velcro carrier as he pulled his pants back up and I tucked myself back in, and then he led me back to the main room. There was a new man there now, in a 'dealer’s' outfit like at a casino, and he walked up to me as we arrived. “Your cards?” he asked me. I pulled them out of the Velcro case, and he pulled out a small pad, asking “Do you want to double-down?” Oh shit! I’d read up about blackjack, but I’d forgotten this rule when I’d gotten the second four. If you get dealt the same card that you already have, you have the option to split it into two hands. I’d basically be starting over again with two hands of four. If I wasn’t mistaken, everything I’d read said it was the smart thing to do. “How does that work?” I asked. The dealer didn’t seem phased by the question. “You’ll build one hand until you hold or bust, then the other. It will make for a longer night,” he said, without a hint of a smile, though I could have sworn I heard some amusement in his voice. I took a deep breath. “I’ll double down." He nodded. And we waited for the rest of the diamonds to return.

Just about perfect, he'd called it - the older man I'd gone home with had tied me up to his headboard, positioned my ass up in the air, and had fingered me rougher than I'd ever had before until I'd come. The lube he'd used had grown warmer and warmer, "his own recipe" and my ass and dick felt hot to the touch. Then he'd beaten my ass with a paddle - there was no other word for it - and declared me "just about perfect." I squirmed. This had started out with a simple game from an online buddy - I was to answer any yes or no questions with a pattern: yes, yes, no. Over and over again. I'd done so, and this was where I'd ended up. And a part of me was still playing the game. The last question had been hard to answer with a gag, but I'd nodded. I'd said "yes." And even as the hairy older man had been paddling me, I'd been holding onto that moment in my head to remember - I had to agree to the next thing, then say no, then it was back to my first agreement again. The man's rough finger slid between my cheeks, probing just a little at my pucker, which was still sore and hot from his lube and hard fingering, though now the lube had mostly worn off - beaten away by his black paddle. I squirmed again. He leaned over me, his hairy chest pressing against my shoulders, and I felt the hard heat of his dick against my leg as his mouth brushed my ear. "You're ready to make daddy happy, aren't you?" Yes/no question. I nodded vigorously, absolutely ready. I was sore and my skin burned and my dick - tied off in a cockring - was again hard. I wasn't sure when that had happened, and wasn't sure what that meant about me. He laughed, and reached up around my face, undoing the snap and pulling the gag out of my mouth. Saliva dripped down my chin. "Does daddy need a rubber not to catch anything from your ass, boy?" Oh god! I froze, my mouth still aching from the gag, lost for a moment. I was clean, I knew that, had been tested just last month, but I never played raw... And yet... He was asking me if he'd catch anything from me, so... "No," I said, answering the question the way I was told to by my online friend. My cock throbbed. I'd never played bare. I'd never dared! The big man's hand gripped my chin and he was nearly growling when he spoke into my ear. "Oh, you little impatient fuck, you want to feel daddy deep inside, don't you?" "Yes!" It was more an exhalation than anything else. "Daddy is going to fill you right up, boy. Give you everything he's got." His hand slid down my neck, and the under me to my chest. He squeezed a nipple and I yelped. He chuckled. "You need that gag put back in, don't you, boy?" I hung my head. Took one shaky breath. "Yes." "Boy, daddy is about to fuck you like the goal is to snap you in half, and I'm going to ruin your hole for other men. You want to pick a safety gesture first?" "No." Yes! I didn't know, and it was too late. The gag went back in, and he was quick about it. Then he shifted on the bed behind me, and his hands slide up and down my back once, then twice. Then he gripped my waist, hard, and squeezed so much I yelped again into the gag - a pathetic noise. He shook - I could tell he was laughing to himself - and one hand let me go. A moment later, cool slick liquid was pouring between my ass cheeks, and I heard him aim another squirt of lube onto his dick. It wasn't the thick "heat" stuff he'd used before. He rubbed his finger up and down my between my ass cheeks, and then I felt his hot, hard dickhead against my pucker, raw. I was shaking, and no doubt he could feel it. In the back of my mind, I was holding onto my place in the mental tally - two more agreements next, then a refusal - but beyond that was almost white noise and a hypersensitivity to every detail of his touch. He pushed forward almost leisurely, and the groan that came out behind my gag was low and needy, even to my own ears. It hurt - his fingering had seen to that - but I was so incredibly turned on, and the sensation of his hot skin inside me was intensely terrifying and arousing both. He pushed on, surprising me by taking his time, lowering each inch of his dick into me with a constant pressure while I shifted awkwardly from my prone and bound position. My knees shook, and my bound hands gripped at the headboard impotently. When his hairy stomach pressed against the small of my back, he gave a little shove, and his balls brushed mine. I groaned again. "Boy, you may be a fucking impatient little whore, but you fit daddy like a tight fucking boy should..." He said, and his voice was gravelly. He took my waist in his hands again, squeezing hard until I let out a strangled cry once more, and then he began to fuck me violently. There was no warning - first he'd slid in, and after that, he was suddenly all-out ramming my ass with deep strokes that brought his thick raw dick nearly all the way out of my ass before plunging back in. I was left to gag and gasp for breath as he rocked me to the left or to the right, changing the way his hard cock pounded into me and setting off new and ever-more-heated friction inside me. The fingering had already left me sore, but the way his cock battered my ass was a kind of hot torture. He fucked me from behind, shifting his angle left and right, for a good while. Sweat formed, on both of us, and soon I could feel his sweat spattering on my back with every thrust of his hips. He was almost snarling as he plotted me, over and over, and his grip tightened and tightened as he drilled. Finally, he shifted me further than before, and I started to lose balance and fell over onto my side - he shifted all his weight to land hard on me and bury his dick deep again inside my ass as I twisted under his grip, rolling me onto my side and lifting one of my legs high as my wrists crossed at the headboard and I finally got to look up at him. He was looking down at me with lust, and a kind of possessive amusement - sweat dripped from his chin and his hair - even his body hair - was dark with it. He met my gaze so openly, and continued to use my leg as a lever to bury his dick inside me so hard that I looked away, actually ashamed of how I was letting his older man - a complete stranger - use me for his own pleasure. He reached out and slapped my chest, hard, and said, "look at me!" I obeyed. "Yeah, that's right boy, you look at daddy." He pushed my leg until my arms were crossed above my head and I was now flat on my back, his dick had corkscrewed inside me as he'd rolled me over and he'd barely missed a thrust. He let go of my legs and shoved forward hard, making my back arch and my legs spread wide to accommodate him. He shifted his knees, thrusting into me, and his hands landed hard on my chest, gripping my flesh so tight in each hand that I cried out into the gag again. He continued, relentless. He rolled me back again, until I was dragged by him back onto all fours while he fucked me from behind, then rolled me back onto my back a second time. My own cock, trapped in the cockring, was hard, but I was whimpering and blubbering behind the gag now, lost to the relentless piston of the older man's dick. Sweat burned in my eyes. He leaned over me, his hands again squeezing and crushing my chest. "You ready for it, boy?" He growled in my face. Some of his spit landed on my cheek. I nodded, desperate for relief. It was meant to be that I was supposed to agree, because I wanted him to get off so badly - and I wanted to jerk my own cock and then curl up in a ball and not move for days, so sore was I inside and out. His left hand snaked up and snapped the gag free from my mouth. "You want daddy to breed your worthless sorry fuckhole, boy?" He yelled. "Yes!" I begged. "Yes, please! Fuck me! Breed me!" He snarled, unsnapped the cockring form around his own cock, and as he shoved into me, his hands once again grabbed my chest again so tight I cried out. His cock erupted inside me - one, two, three and then four hot surges of slick heat filled me, soothing the rough fire from where his dick had ravaged me for what felt like at least an hour of the roughest sex I'd ever had. He ground in to me, and then collapsed on top of me, breathing hard and slick with sweat. I cringed beneath him - again his dick had found a new angle to inflict on my ass. Slowly, he recovered, and when he finally slid out of my hole I whimpered again. He nodded at me. "Best fuck of your life, boy. You got no idea, do you?" I remembered just in time to say "no." He laughed, and rolled off me, then reached over my head to undo my wrists. "I'm gonna have a shower, and then I'll give you a ride home," he said. He was done with me, that was for sure. He left through the door that I assumed went to the bathroom, and I lay there, stunned. I undid the cockring, and with four quick jerks, I came all over my stomach. Then I could barely move. "Get fucking dressed," I heard the man yell. "I gotta get up early and I ain't gonna wait for you." I heard the shower start and then tried to sit up. His cum was leaking from my ass - so much of it that I couldn't help but leak on his blanket, and I grabbed one of my socks, wiping my stomach and my ass - I'd go barefoot, and started to struggle back into my clothes, my skin raw from his manhandling, and my ass on fire from the beating and fucking. It took a while, and I was struggling to rush. When I pulled up my pants, my cell was in my pocket, and I fished it out. The shower had just stopped, but there was no sign of the hairy man yet. I opened the app, and sent a message to my friend who'd dared me to start this evening, and whose game had left me in this position - I was sore, inside and out, and had cum leaking into my jeans from a stranger who's name I didn't even know. "You have no idea what just happened to me." I typed, and hit send. The cell on the bedside table buzzed. I glanced at it, without thinking, and saw my on-screen alias appear. My message appeared, with a notification from the app that a message had been sent. I froze. The older man's cell went dark. "I got fucked better than ever." I typed, my hands shaking. I hit send. The message appeared on his screen, from me. "Oh my god," I said. His laugh surprised me, and I turned, yelping. He was wrapped in a towel, and looking at me with amusement. "Well," he said, "guess that means I don't have to play the steps where I dare you to meet me again." "I don't... I don't understand..." He laughed. "Yes you do." He shrugged. "I like fucking cheap little fucks like you, and cheap little fucks like you need encouragement." My mouth opened, closed. He smiled. "You want to read my real profile?" He asked, and then grinned again - it wasn't friendly. "And don't forget, I know what your next answer is supposed to be." Right, we were back at agreement. I couldn't speak, but I nodded. He led me to his computer, and loaded up his real profile. It was a headless pick, though it showed his hairy body and thick cock, and he was holding a pair of handcuffs. It said: "Want a rough dick so far up inside you you won't walk right for days? Got a boy's ass and an urge to please? Hit me up. I'll tie you up and hit you inside, hard. Bareback only, so if you don't want to get the bug, move right long, baby." I was shaking so hard I could barely remain upright. More of his cum - his poz cum! - was leaking out of my ass. He put his hand on my shoulder, and squeezed enough to make me cry out. "Same time next week, boy?" There was only one answer. (End)

I haven't given up, I promise. Just buried alive lately.

I hung there, hands cuffed to the headboard, still gagged, my pucker a little sore from the rough fingering I’d just received, and my balls aching from the load I just blew. I was just breathing, my head low, until I realized the older man who’d just gotten me off so quickly was now moving around the room again. I turned my head and saw him go back to his drawer, and he pulled out something wide and black – I didn’t get a good enough glance at it before he put it on the bed behind where my ass was still aimed high. My ass was growing warmer still – whatever was in the thick lube he’d used, it was like one of those “warming massage oils” or something, because my skin was tingling both in and out of my hole – and my cock, too, which he’d jerked with a handful of the stuff. He moved again, tying a cockring around the base of my cock and my balls. I squirmed a little at his touch – his fingers were rough and he wasn’t being gentle in the slightest. He let out an amused breath, and tied it in place. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he said. I craned my head and saw him leave, and heard a sink start. He was washing his hands, I figured. When he returned, he was naked. The dark hair and the five-o-clock shadow should have been a clue that he was a hairy guy, but without his shirt, I was treated to the sight of a very burly and very hairy man. Dark hair covered his chest like a pelt, and his forearms and thighs were similarly covered. His dick, which was semi-hard, was uncut and thick and already one of the larger cocks I’d seen. With my neck craned almost painfully, I saw it crow a little harder – and saw the cockring he wore – before he climbed back onto the bed behind me. When his rough hands rubbed across my ass cheeks – one hand each – I nearly whimpered. By now, they weren’t just warm, they were almost hot. His touch felt amazing. “Daddy’s turn,” he said. “And time for the bad boy to be punished.” His hands let go – I whimpered again – and then, without warning, something hard and flat struck my ass, hard. I yelled into the gag, and tried to whip my head around to look, and caught a glimpse of the black thing he’d pulled from the drawer, raised up to the side in one hand. It was a paddle. He’d said he was going to take his time and that the second time would be on his terms. As I chewed hard on the gag with every strike of the paddle against my already hot ass, I started to realize just what he’d meant. Each strike of the paddle was placed differently from the one before it, and I couldn’t get used it or figure out what to expect. I twisted and writhed, but I was propped up and handcuffed to the bedrail, and had nowhere to escape to. “Yeah,” he grunted. “Get that ass ready for daddy. Ten more, I think.” I whimpered, hanging my head. Ten more? Tears filled my eyes. “Ten,” he said, and the paddle hit me harder than before. My ass stung, and I cried out into the gag. “Nine,” he said – other cheek this time, and from slightly below. I felt my legs strain as I tried to shift more to the right – even though I knew that was pointless. “Eight. Seven. Six. Five.” Every word, another stroke of the paddle, and another white burst of heat on my ass. “Four. Three.” He said – the next two hits of the paddle were incredibly strong. I yelled into the gag. “Two,” he said, and I heard the paddle whistle as he drew all the way back and hit my left ass cheek so hard my legs nearly gave out from under me. “One,” he said, and reversed his assault to do the same to my right ass cheek. I did collapse this time, a little bit, and he chuckled as I heard the paddle fall to the floor where he tossed it. His rough hands gripped my waist, and pulled me back up, tucking my knees lower and making my beaten and battered ass point up into the air. “There,” he said. “That’s just about perfect.”

"Now then," he said, his voice low with a grim amusement. "That's just the way to have an impatient boy ready to go." He took a breath, and then his rough finger rubbed between my ass cheeks with one smooth motion. I groaned. He laughed, and once again he moved from the bed and went to the drawer. I turned my head and saw him pull out a large brown jar. He moved back behind me and I heard him unscrew the lid. A moment later, his finger was once again touching my ass, and it was slick with a thick, wet, viscous liquid. "My own recipe," he said. "For bad impatient boys." I groaned again, and he began to rub globs of the stuff up and down between my ass cheeks, his fingers teasing my pucker and smearing the stuff liberally. When his other hand joined - his palm wet with the stuff - and gripped my cock from beneath me, I didn't so much groan as cry out. "Oh yeah," he laughed. "Boy is impatient all right." His finger began to probe my pucker, pushing in just a little at first, but with each successive movement, going just a little further. My skin felt warm where the thick lubricant was slathered, and his hand on my dick began a slow stroke. I whimpered. When he buried his finger to the furthest knuckle, he exhaled. "Okay," he said. Then he started to finger fuck me with three of his rough fingers, with hard, deep thrusts of his hand. At the same time, his grip on my dick with his other hand tightened, and he began to jerk me with hard strokes that made my whole body shake with desire. My skin where the thick liquid had touched it was warm and flushed, and inside my pucker there was a deep heat that was spreading through me with every jab of his fingers. He twisted and fingered me with obvious skill, and I was nearly hyperventilating against the gag. In a time that was incredibly brief and yet made all my body tighten and then release - I came. My load shot from my dick as he jerked me furiously, his fingers diving into my ass on the counter stroke. He milked my cock, tugging and pulling at me until every surge of my load had shot across the pillows and blanket. I whimpered into the gag, and he laughed, letting go of my cock and pulling his fingers out from my ass. "There we go," he said. "That should make the impatient boy happy, eh?" My head sagged between my shoulders, my hands bound to the headboard. I nodded - yes. His voice grew lower. "Now it's daddy's turn."