The Christmas Gift

bentover4u1972 · February 27, 2021

I recently took a new job and while the company is located in my current city, the office is located on the far other side of town. There is no easy (or quick) way to get from my old apartment to the new company, and so I moved to a shiny new apartment after Thanksgiving. The move puts me an easy walk from the office, but it had the side benefit of putting me within walking (or stumbling, depending on how much alcohol I've had!) distance of one of the city's best-known all-male 'fitness' clubs.

While I had certainly heard about this place, its distance from my old apartment made it impractical for me to visit. Besides, there was a bookstore with booths and an adult movie theater near my old pad, and I used to frequent those. I had lots of luck there, too. On a typical Friday or Saturday night, I could count on going home with at least two and usually five or six loads in my hole. In all the years I've visited those places, I've never really cared about my HIV status, but I got tested two or three times a year and was always surprised when the results came back negative.

You see, I'm a total cumdump slut. I prefer my encounters to be anonymous and raw, and once a cock is in my ass it isn't allowed to pull out until it has filled me with its load. I was always satisfied with my visits to the spots close to my old apartment, but I had heard the stories of the club near my new place. Tales ran rampant of guys leaving there with 20 or 30 loads in a single night, of bottoms spending hours in slings with lines of tops waiting their turns to use them, and of huge bareback orgies that lasted all night.

I'd be a liar if I said I hadn't wondered about this place. I'd be an even bigger liar if I said that it wasn't one of the reasons I selected my new building when I moved! So, first chance I got, I went to check it out.

My first visit was on a Friday night in early December, about a week and a half after I moved to the area. I was determined to get unpacked and settled in my new apartment first, so I could throw myself headlong into trying out what I hoped would be my new nightly haunt. I walked the quick 10 minutes to the club, and as I turned the final corner I was shocked to see a huge line waiting outside the door. It was only 10:00 pm! There must have been fifty or sixty guys waiting to get in, of all different ages and races and builds. My hole twitched involuntarily at the thought of this testosterone smorgasbord, but I couldn't help but wonder if I would get in. Two huge attendants in muscle shirts stood outside, patting down each customer before letting them through the doors. They weren't turning anyone away or making people wait, so I assumed the club must not have been at capacity and eagerly got in line.

There was a couple in front of me in line, both average built guys in their early 30s. One had his hand discreetly down the front of his partner's pants, and I could see the movement of his hand gently stroking up and down. They smiled at me and we struck up a conversation.

"I'm new here, haven't been before," I said. "Is it always this busy?"

"Not always," said the guy stroking his partner's cock. "It gets busy, especially on weekends, but December is a special month."

"Oh?" I asked.

His partner chuckled. "You'll see," he said, a knowing grin on his face. The two of them turned to face the front of the line and he slid his hand down the back of his partner's jeans.

Mercifully, the wait was not long. I got to the door and one of the attendants patted me down. Feeling the bulge of my little brown bottle in my pants pocket, he stopped and pointed.

"Take that out," he ordered." I complied, and satisfied at what he saw, he motioned me through the door.

The inside of the club was exactly as I expected. It was dark, the walls painted black. A rope of blue neon circled the room just below the ceiling, and black lights mounted in the recessed ceiling fixtures made the whites and fluorescents worn by some of the customers stand out. Loud music thumped in my ears as I proceeded to the desk, where a slender, hairless twink in a thong addressed me.

"Here for the evening?" I nodded. "Locker or room?"

I opted for a room, paid, and received the key. As I made my way to the third floor, I passed dozens and dozens of men, all milling about in a frenzy of color and dark under the black lights. My room was located down a narrow, dimly-lit hallway. Several of the other room doors were open as I walked past. A few were empty, and in others there were men sitting around, talking. It felt odd. Only in one room did I see any action going on. An older, chubby guy was ass up on the bed, with two younger guys spit-roasting him. The top who was fucking him gave his ass a mighty slap, so hard that I heard the smack over the constant beat of the music. He didn't skip a beat - the old man kept sucking the other guy while the top continued to pound his ass.

Reaching my room, I unlocked the door and went inside. I shut the door long enough to strip down and hide my belongings in the combination-controlled drawer in the nightstand. Then I opened the door, took a big huff from my brown bottle, and climbed onto the bed on all fours with my ass facing the door. I was determined to make the most of this visit, and hoped that a passerby would be attracted inside by my pink fuckhole.

Not two minutes had elapsed before I felt a hand softly caressing my ass. A finger found my hole and slipped easily inside. This was it, I thought, and I steeled myself for what I hoped would be a rough anonymous fuck. But instead, a face appeared in front of mine - the bottom from the couple who had been in front of me in line.

"Hi there!" he shouted over the music. "Mark loves your hole. Normally he'd fuck you while I watch, but there's something downstairs you're not going to want to miss!"

Intrigued, I stood up. Both he and Mark were naked. I could see now that Mark had a gorgeous 7-inch soft cock dangling between his legs. My hole twitched again as I thought of that cock pressing its way deep into my guts. But before the fantasy could go any further, his partner spoke again.

"I'm Mark," shouted Mark's partner with a smile. "We're 'the Marks'."

"Hi!" I shouted over the music. "I'm Jay."

"Come with us!" Mark yelled, and the other Mark motioned us out the door. We walked back the way I had come, down the hallway and back down the stairs to the main floor. The three of us were naked, and I could see we were not alone. Most of the guys there had shed their clothes. I was surrounded by all manner of manmeat, from the short and thick to the long and slender. White cocks, Black cocks, Hispanic cocks. Some shaved clean and some almost lost in the pubes that surrounded them. A cornucopia of cum. And I wanted it all.

Bottom Mark grabbed my hand and led me through the crowd, chasing after Top Mark. We turned a corner into a large, open room, and I stopped and stared in amazement.

A man dressed like Santa Claus sat on an elevated chair in the middle of the room. Some men sat on the steps at his feet, others crowded around him. Still more lined the walls. Almost all were naked.

I grabbed Bottom Mark's arm. "Who is that?" I asked.

Mark grinned. "That," he said, "is Santa Poz. You're going to want to meet him."

"Santa -?" I stammered. Mark simply nodded in reply, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Come on, I'll introduce you!"

Not sure what to make of the scene, I followed Mark through the crowd toward this man on his throne. He was naked from the neck down save for his big, black boots. His long white beard rested on a solid daddy belly. Top Mark stood next to him, bent over and saying something in his ear. Santa Poz nodded and Mark scanned the crowd, found Bottom Mark and me, and motioned us over.

Nervous but curious, I followed Bottom Mark over to where this man was sitting. "He's known as Santa Poz because he has a 100% hit rate. If he gifts you, it takes. Every Thanksgiving he goes off his meds and lets his viral count climb. By December first, he's ready. He gifts one bottom a day through Christmas Eve. Twenty-four guys a year."

As we drew closer, I saw a huge slab of man meat protruding from his lap. No wonder he had so much success! He probably tore apart every hole he fucked. I kind of wanted to see what it felt like to have suck a massive member buried in my guts.

Top Mark leaned back over to speak to Santa Poz, motioning to me. "This is Jay!" he shouted. Santa gave me a silent nod of acknowledgement, then motioned for me to turn around. I slowly pivoted 360 degrees, letting him ogle my body, and returned to face him. He smiled, then stood and raised his arms, motioning for everyone to be quiet. His cock hung two thirds of the way down his thigh. It was at least 10 inches soft, and almost as thick as my forearm. It was framed by two huge, hairless balls.

The music stopped and the crowd parted. A king-size sleigh bed appeared in the doorway, pushed by the two Marks who had somehow slipped out of my sight as I was modeling for Santa. Casters were mounted to the underside of the bed frame, and they rolled it through the crowd and stopped in front of the throne. Then Santa spoke.

"Friends," he began, "you all know why we're here. Each night in December, I offer one man the opportunity to join the poz brotherhood."

Wait, WHAT? My mind started spinning. Surely he didn't mean me!

Yet he pointed to me. "I have selected this man to receive my gift, should he wish to receive it."

I was reeling now. Was this happening spontaneously, or had the Marks singled me out in line? Did I fit a particular type that this Santa Poz preferred? What the hell was I doing?!?!?! I had resigned myself long ago to the idea that I would eventually become poz, but this was so explicit, so in-your-face, that I simultaneously felt titillated and repulsed. I couldn't think clearly. I wanted that cock to split me open, to tear my asshole and leave me a gaping, cum-dripping puddle of sweat in the middle of that bed.

But I had never - in all my years of taking raw, anonymous cock - ever knowingly taken a poz load. Could I?

I felt every eye in the room on me. Everyone watched and waited for my response. I looked at the two Marks, then at Santa Poz, and that huge slab of man meat hanging between his legs. I was torn, I was confused.

And then my body began moving toward the bed, as if I were being guided by an invisible hand. Was this really happening? Was I about to go through with this?

I climbed on the bed. The crowd cheered and applauded. The two Marks were grinning wildly. Santa Poz had a look of contentment on his face.

"Let us prepare this man to receive my gift!" he cried, and the cheers and applause grew louder.

Once on the bed, I assumed the ass-up position, offering my hole to this man with the huge cock and the balls full of toxic cum. Top Mark approached with a bottle of lube that had a nozzle screwed on in place of a cap. Inserting the nozzle into my hole, he proceeded to empty the contents of the bottle into my rectum. Next, Bottom Mark picked up a rather large plug from under Santa Poz's throne. He came to the other side of the bed and set it down next to me. Each of them then produced a small brown bottle and simultaneously held one under each of my nostrils. I inhaled until I couldn't inhale any longer. My head swam from the effects, but I exhaled and took another hit anyway.

At that point I felt pressure on my hole, and assumed that Bottom Mark was inserting the plug. I glanced back, only to see the plug still on the bed beside me. Was this Santa Poz? No, he still sat on his throne, watching these men prepare me for him.

I felt a searing pain in my hole and knew what the pressure was. A brush. They were scratching up my insides to make sure his gift took. Bottom Mark offered me a brown bottle again and I inhaled mightily as Top Mark began to work the brush in and out. My hands gripped the bed sheet as I endured this onslaught. After just a few moments, he was done, and Top Mark removed the brush from my hole. He held it up to show the crowd, and they cheered. Then he placed it within my view, and I saw that it was a standard-looking bathroom brush, about four inches across. The normally white bristles were red with my blood. Lube dripped from it as he placed it on the floor beside the bed.

The crowd began to chant. "Santa Poz! Santa Poz!" The brown bottles appeared under my nose again, and I took two more long deep breaths. My head was swimming and my poor scratched up hole was throbbing, and I hadn't even gotten to the main event.

Bottom Mark inserted the plug next. It felt larger than it appeared, and my hole spasmed a bit around its girth. He slowly worked it out, then slid it back in until my sphincter slammed shut on the base. Over and over he continued, until my hole had loosened to the point where he could move the plug in and out with ease.

Then the crowd went quiet. Another hit on the brown bottles, and I felt the pressure of another body on the mattress. He pushed my ass down so I was laying on my stomach, my legs together as he straddled them. This was the first time I noticed that despite all the poppers, my cock was rock-hard. I felt the wetness of my precum on my stomach as I pressed into the mattress.

"Spread your ass," Santa Poz ordered me, and I complied. I heard the click of a lube bottle, then a few drops dripped onto my ass as he slathered his giant shaft.

Then it was time. He shifted on the bed to line up, and positioned that massive missile over my already-abused hole. I was breathless in anticipation. He was gentle at first, working the head of his cock into my ass. I opened easily and my hole greedily consumed it. He rested like that for a moment, gently rocking on his knees with just the tip of his shaft inside me.

Then without warning, he plunged balls-deep into my tight, sore ass. Every last inch was suddenly and unexpectedly inside me.

I screamed in pain. I writhed in pain. I tried futilely to get away from the burning, searing torture he had brought upon me. The two Marks held me in place as Santa Poz leaned forward and placed a hand on each of my shoulders, pressing me into the bed. With that, he began to work his hips back and forth, sliding his cock in and out and stretching my hole like it had never been stretched. Once he had me held in place, the two Marks brought the brown bottles back to my nostrils, and after a few more whiffs I was able to begin relaxing.

The fucking was relentless. This man's cock was easily 13 inches long and eight or nine inches around. It filled me like I have never been filled before or since. The head of his cock may have bounced off my diaphragm for all I know. I could neither think nor speak with that monstrosity inside me, and I was only vaguely aware that the crowd now surrounded the bed, watching and cheering and yelling as I submitted to my fate. A few times, he backed almost the entire way out before slamming balls-deep again, and for a brief moment each time, everything went dark.

Finally, Santa Poz leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "It's time for your Christmas gift." I was surprised to find that I was sad this amazingly intense experience was coming to an end, and that I was oddly excited for the outcome. Almost automatically, I replied, "I want your poz gift, Santa. Please give me my gift!"

A few more mighty thrusts, and he froze. His hips bucked as he pumped his toxic seed deep inside me. When he finished, he collapsed on my back, panting. The crowd cheered. It was all so surreal to think that I was now almost certainly poz. But somewhere in my clouded mind there came a sense of relief that it was done, that I knew it was done. The waiting was over.

Santa Poz finally got up, his now flaccid but still huge cock sliding slowly out of me. I felt a sudden sense of disappointment; my hole felt oddly and sadly empty after having been so full. He walked to the head of the bed to show me his cock. It was covered in lube and cum and yes, my blood as well. I leaned forward and took what I could into my mouth, then ran my tongue back and forth along his shaft, cleaning it off as best I could. I savored the taste of his fluids and mine mixed together with the sweetness of the lube.

As I slowly regained my composure, Bottom Mark appeared again, this time with an even bigger plug than before. "Keep this in for the rest of the night," he advised, as he worked it into my gaping hole. I suddenly felt full again. He helped me to my feet and then he and Top Mark escorted me back to my room. I thought briefly about offering to blow them both in thanks for the evening, but I was exhausted. I got dressed, and they walked me out of the club and put me into a cab for the short ride home. I vaguely remember some of the club patrons coming up to me as we exited, congratulating me and telling me how hot it was to watch me get pozzed.

By the time I got home it was nearing 4:00 am. I stumbled into my apartment and collapsed on my bed, where I had a deep and dreamless sleep until 2:00 the next afternoon. When I awoke, the plug was still inside me from last night and my hole had started to tighten up again, so it took some effort to get it out. When it emerged with a "pop!," a puddle of cum and lube and blood gushed out of my hole and onto the bathroom floor. I cleaned up the mess and then, assuming they had meant for me to keep it as a souvenir, I washed off the plug and placed it in my nightstand. Then a long, hot shower and a cup of coffee to wake me up.

I looked at the clock; it was almost 5:00. Time to grab some food and get ready to go back to the club. "I wonder who will receive Santa's gift tonight?" I thought to myself. One thing was for certain: I would not miss being in the audience to watch tonight!

It's been two and a half months since I met Santa Poz, and I got the call today. His success rate remains steady at 100%.