Never Comes the Day

Conklin guessed my mind, and smiled affably while saying, "It's not going to be like that. Today was special, because it was an initiation. The group's get-togethers are usually a bit more...normal, if you know what I mean. Oh sure, we'll probably end the evening with a nice little jerk-off session, or a little blow here and there between the other guys. What's the fun of being a guy and single if you can't do that? That aside, however, mainly it's just barbeque and a ballgame. Red Sox are playing the Yankees. You a Bosox fan, Jeff?"

I wasn't really a baseball fan at all, but told him the Yankees since it was the only team I was even remotely familiar with.

"Yankees fan, huh. You and Pete will have a lot to talk about. What do you say? Is it a date?"

Thinking better about it, I smiled at him and took the memo with his address.

"Excellent! Come by around five. That will give us enough time to have a few drinks and eat before the game starts."

********

When I got to Conklin's apartment, I still held out hope that this would be a 'normal,' social function—beer, brats and a ballgame—just like he said. I don't know why. It was probably the same reason I got caught perusing inappropriate internet sites at work, and then blackmailed into this 'jackpot' in the first place—because I'm stupid.

The idea that this would be a 'normal' get-together was quickly dispelled after I entered Conklin's apartment.

The 'Group,' as Scott called them, was all about Conklin's age, maybe ten to fifteen years my senior. Scott kept his arm around me as he introduced me to the others.

There was Clyde, of course, dressed in casuals this time, and not his uniform. Standing next to Clyde, and towering over him at six-five, was Pete Miller, who also went by the moniker, 'Pistol Pete.' With a wink, Conklin said I'd find out why, later. I remembered from my first conversation with Conklin that Miller was head of our HR department.

Conklin's little cabal became more clear to me when he introduced Glen 'something or other,' and Larry 'another something or other.' Not good at remembering names, I took to calling them 'The Giggler,' and 'Mr. Intense,' respectively. You'll see why shortly. Anyway, both Glen and Larry work in IT. In fact, Larry ran the department.

So there they were, chicken hawks all—or so I guessed—and all representatives of important company departments: security, human resources, and internet technology. Just the group someone like Conklin would need to snare stupid, little twinks like me into his web of homoerotic fun and games.

As each of them was introduced, they would gather around, shake my hand or pat my back in welcome, all while ringing me into a tight semicircle with me in the middle. And as I stood there, grinning like an idiot, shaking their hands, my old man's words came to me:

Jeff, someday you might find yourself in a high-stakes poker game. If that happens, make sure to look around the table and spot the chump. If you can't find him, then it's you.

I looked around at the guys, trying to discern maybe even a faint glimmer in their faces that this wasn't going to be just a cabana boy gangbang. All I saw staring back at me was a pack of ravenous wolves...or should I say hyenas, given Glen the Giggler's penchant to laugh through any and all situations.

Say hello to the chump, fellas, dinner is served.

I didn't even have time to prepare myself to the 'coming' onslaught—pun intended.

Without a word or sound on their part, rough hands latched onto my arms and legs. Lifting me up, they suspended me spread eagle above the floor. Only when they had me so indisposed did they began to laugh and hoot like a bunch of drunk cowboys.

I swayed back and forth between them, as each pulled me to and fro, using me like human rope in their gay, tug-o-war games.

I made like I wasn't having any fun, and resisted a bit. Telling them to stop and put me down while half-heartedly trying to pull out of their grip, but it was all for show. They seemed to like me putting up a fight—fake or not—it made them laugh and hoot even louder.

I could feel the blood leaving my head as it rushed into my groin.

Hands gripped the front of my shirt, right before I heard it rip...

Hey, that was new, you assholes!

...and they continued to rend at it until it was in pieces on the floor.

After my shirt, it didn't take much for them to split my lightweight, khaki pants down the zipper and in half...

Those weren't new, but the ride home on the Metro will be interesting.

Even before both halves of my pants joined what was left of my shirt on the floor, the Giggler stepped between my spread legs and ripped my boxers away. He did all this as he merrily laughed, of course.

Now that I was suspendedand naked, there was no use trying to fake resistance. It was plain for everyone to see that my cock was already three-quarters of the way to a full blown hard-on. Trying to act noncompliant when obvious facts stated otherwise would just make me into some kind of punk-ass, whiney cock tease.

Best to be thought a slut, than known as a tease. It's more fun, too.

So, I let my body go limp as my cock went hard. Letting them have unfettered access, I closed my eyes to the growing, sexual chaos.

Actually, it was a liberating; letting my pride go, while letting them have their way with me. Better, I didn't have to think about what I should do, or how I should act, which always is tiresome when it's fake. Instead, I just drifted on the currents of their desires like drift wood moving alone the surface of a swift moving stream. I didn't know or care where I would end up, just making sure to stay afloat as I move with the ebb and flow.

Their hands were all over me, playfully and sensuously caressing my chest, stomach, thighs, everything. Those that could reach, slid their hands around the base of my cock, caressing both of my cock and balls at the same time. Others took to gently and playfully slapping my cock between them as if they were playing a lewd game of ping pong.

There were a few, breathless comments about my physique, about my face and hair, and, of course, comments about the size and firmness of my erection. Brief, quiet comments uttered along with their gentle, sensual fondling, and all stating they liked what they saw.

The Giggler took a particular liking to my ass, as he kneaded it roughly, spreading my cheeks far apart while gently touching his fingers to my asshole. Each time he touched me there, I felt my cock twitch, and each time it twitched, it would send him into another fit of giggles.

I felt Scott's warm breath at my ear, as he whispered, "Glen used to be low man in the 'pecker' order, just like you are now."

That explains the giggles, I guess he's ecstatic about being a top.

Scott continued to whisper into my ear, "Eventually, you'll move up in the 'pecker' order as well."

I still had my eyes closed as I asked, "Is that why that Gary fellow you keep talking about left, too long as low man on the totem as he serviced everyone's pole?"

He didn't answer me right away. Instead, I felt him trace his finger along the profile of my face, as if feeling for any imperfection. Finding none, he answered, "It wasn't like that at all. Gary's mother was having health problems, so he moved back home to be closer to her."

I was going to ask him something else, when I heard the Giggle say, laughingly, "Hold him steady."

Right after hearing his command, I felt him lower himself. I wasn't sure what would happen until...

Oh, fuck yeah!

...I felt something warm and wet darting across my perineum.

I never realized how sensitive that area was until I had someone tickling it with their tongue. The sensations Giggler imparted stiffened my cock further. When he slid a little higher, roughly licking and sucking on my balls using long, wet bites with his lips and tongue, I became rock hard.

"That's right, get that little puppy ginned up," I heard one of the others say.

With that, I felt Glen's hands firmly grip my buttocks, spreading them apart. He paused for a moment and giggled, before branding my asshole with his hot tongue.

Oh, fucking fuck yeah!

At first, he just flicked a quick tongue across my asshole while occasionally shifting higher to attend to my balls. During this time, the others continued teasing my cock by running a finger or two along the shaft, or gently batting my cock back and forth between them with soft slaps. So many erotic sensations flooded through me, some subtle, others more intense, and all born from the different techniques each of them used with either tongue or hand.

Then they increased the roughness of their play, some slapping my cock harder, while others cupped my balls, squeezing them gently but with a firm grip, or totally enclosing the top of my scrotum with fingers and pulling them away from my body. Giggler had settled exclusively at my asshole, and was pushing and prodding his tongue and fingers in and all around my opening.

My whole body tightened as I fidgeted once again against their hand holds. However, this time I wasn't fighting against them in some mock display of resistance, but because they were ever so slowly bringing me toward climax. The slow climb was maddening, and I couldn't keep still.

Just as the blood left my head, I heard Conklin say, "Not too much ginning now. We don't want the little pup making a mess too soon. Put him down."

With my head and body still reeling from all the teasing sex play, I found myself on my knees on the carpet. The others stood around me, ringing me in a tight circle as they stared down at me.

Then, one by one, each undid their pants, letting them slide to the floor. All of them, that is, except for Pete, who took a seat on the couch to watch. The rest stepped out of their pants and closer to me, putting their hard cocks scant inches in front of my face.

Of the three I hadn't seen before, Giggler was smaller than me, probably six inches but unusually thick for its length.

Larry, Mr. Intense, was bigger than Clyde, but not as big as Conklin. I'd say he was eight inches to Conklin's nine, and well proportioned. His balls were large and smooth, and hung down obscenely low. So much so, it looked like the top of his scrotum strained at their weight. Looking at them on my knees, I had to fight off the sudden urge to put them in my mouth. He stared down at me with this weird intensity, a strange combination of having a furrowed brow combined with a glazed and vacant look. I couldn't tell if he was in deep thought or sleep walking.

As for Pete, still sitting on the couch and fully clothed, I could only guess what was between his legs.

Saving the best for last, I suppose.

No one said anything as I continued to stare at the hard cocks pointing at me. The rank scent of supercharged testosterone, sweat and pre-cum, flooded my nostrils. I thought back on what I said before, about not wanting to be just a cum dump in their cabana gangbang. I was so wrong.

Who the fuck were you kidding, chump?

I grabbed Mr. Intense by his hanging balls because they made such an erotically appealing target, and juggled them in a hand. I loved how his scrotum would crinkle up and tighten when I traced a finger along each of his balls.

I played with the Giggler's cock with my other hand, running teasing fingers up and down that chubby shaft. His cockhead grew purple, and a small drop of pre-cum emerged and twinkled at me from the overhead light. I smeared the drop all around his cockhead, making him moan and giggle at the same time. He stepped even closer to me, nearly touching that fat cock to my lips.

He so much wanted me to draw him into my mouth, but before I could greedily comply, Conklin turned my head around with a hand and pushed his cock into my mouth. Still holding my head firmly, he slid his cock back and forth past my tightening lips using a fucking motion.

Soon, I felt more hands gripping my head, as each pulled me toward them, and took their turn fucking my mouth.

The loud revelry of before had returned, as they all laughed and hooted watching me suck on one cock, then the next. Whose cock I serviced depended entirely on which one wrested control of me from the others.

I heard Conklin say as I chugged on Clyde's dick, "That's right, twink, it's our time to get ginned up. Suck on those poles good, like I know you can, my little cock slut."

Their play was becoming rough and frenzied. So much so, I had to put a hand on the two guys flanking my sides, Giggler and Conklin, in order to maintain my balance as each thrust hard into my face, and almost knocking me backwards in the process.

After a while, none of them needed to lay hands on me to direct me to their cocks. On my own, I took quick turns on each of them, clamping my lips around their shaft, pulling them in as far as I could and sucking hard, all while slowly bobbing my head.

"Hungry little bitch, isn't he?" Mr. Intense said, as he held his cock steady while I sucked thoughtfully on his pole.

"Look at those jaws work," Giggler said, laughingly, "Tighten those lips around his shaft, bitch. Yeah, that's it."

"A real, natural born cock sucking cock slut if ever I saw one," Conklin intoned with a rasp as I clamped my lips around his cock.

"Best damn cocksucker I've ever had," answered Clyde, "Here bitch, my turn."

I was rock hard and filled with overwhelming desire at all their dirty talk and rough play. I had become their tool, and loved being one.

The best little cocksucker this side of the Mississippi. Come on boys, let me have it. This bitch wants your cum!

With my arousal redlining higher than I thought possible, I clamped my hands on Clyde's tight ass and pulled him hard, full into my mouth when I heard his demand. I choked on it at first...

Easy there, cock slut. Don't spoil the rhythm.

...but quickly recovered. I started a nice, slow blowjob, moving my head just enough so that I could feel his cock sliding in and out of my throat, and ending each time with a little tap to his balls with my chin.

"Holy shit!" was all he said, as his knees began to wobble.

I neglected the others for a moment to concentrate on Clyde. I knew he was close already, and I wanted him to shoot his load down my throat, to quench the growing fire deep within me.

Just when I thought I had him, he pushed me away, saying, "Damn, not yet bitch."

I heard the Giggler laugh, while saying, "Ha, he almost had you. Clyde should have let it ride, but then he would be low man again. Ha, I think I want to have some of that, now." Grabbing me by the hair, he pulled me over to the couch while saying, "Come on, bitch, time to get the party started."

Sitting on the other end of the couch from Pete, Giggler pulled my head into his lap. I didn't need any encouragement or direction as I took him into my mouth.

Now that a break had occurred in the action, my over burgeoning arousal abated some. As such, I wasn't hot to trot to make him come too quickly, like I wanted to with Clyde. Now, I wanted to take my time and enjoy what was going to happen next. So, I set about sucking on his cock with slow thoughtfulness, taking long and easy licks and sucks to his perky chubby, getting him nice and slick with my saliva.

As I serviced him, I got a chance to look over at Pete for the first time since they had me in their circle jerk. He sat nonchalantly, watching me with one arm over the back of the couch. He was sitting with one knee resting flat on a cushion and slightly turned in my direction so that I could almost see his whole front. Although he was still fully clothed, I had no trouble seeing the great bulge in his pants. It must be a massive tool, much bigger than Conklin's by the look of things.

Oh yes, saving the best for last, indeed.

Immediately, my arousal went back up to redlining just thinking about his cock, and what I wanted to do to it.

I then felt cold fluid followed by a dual finger probe. I stopped sucking on the Giggler's cock for a moment to enjoy the blissful euphoria. I wasn't sure whose magic finger's they were, until Clyde spoke up, "Hey Glen, if you think the little twink's mouth is the bitchin' end, just wait until you slide into his tight ass."

Giggler answered, laughingly, "Yeah man. Can't wait." Then he said to me, still giggling, "Come on bitch, throat my cock like you throated Clyde."

I heard the ripping of foil and the unrolling of rubber.

I sank all the way down on Giggler's chubby just as I felt Clyde pushing his cock into my ass. For whatever reason, maybe because I knew what to expect, there was no pain, just intense, blissful euphoria as Clyde slid all in.

He started with a nice, easy rhythm, taking long slow strokes with his cock. I mimicked his rhythm with my own on Giggler's cock, slowly pulling him all the way in, then out, while sucking hard behind tightened lips.

Giggler liked what I was doing, and arched his back, forcing his cock further into my mouth each time I drew him in.

Looking back over at Pete, I stared at him, doe-eyed, as I bobbed up and down on the Giggler. He was staring back with intensity. The scene must be getting to him, because he lost the nonchalant body language, and took to rubbing that great bulge of his. It was much bigger now than when I first saw it. As he slowly rubbed a hand across it, I could see a very visible wet spot forming on the front of his pants.

I smiled to myself.

Oh yeah, the best little cock slut this side of the Mississippi, for sure.

It was at this time that I heard Conklin say, "Okay, switch."

I felt Clyde remove himself, as the Giggler pushed me off him, saying, "Back off, bitch," before getting off the couch.

I didn't have to wait long to figure out what was happening, as Clyde sat on the couch where the Giggler had just been,sans rubber. His hard cock, slick and sweaty, pulsated in front of my face. I then heard the Giggler put on a rubber and felt more lube being applied just before he entered me. He let out a low groan as he tapped my ass with his pelvis.

Giggler chuckled, "You're not kidding. He's got a very sweet ass." He accentuated the last part by slappingit, my sweet ass, hard, while saying, "Giddy up, bitch," before setting off on a quick pumping action.

"Would I lie to you?" Clyde answered with a smile, and then said to me, "Okay bitch, start sucking that black mamba just like before."

As I pulled Clyde all the way in, feeling his hard cock inching deeper into the back of my mouth, I saw Conklin out of the corner of my eye. He had moved up closer beside us. A camera was in his hands, and he was recording me as both Giggler and Clyde's dicks slid freely in and out of me.

"Hope you don't mind," He said as he continued to shoot, "We always film our group get-togethers. Don't worry, this stays with me. It's only for us to view. We like to play it back at the end of the evening or before the next gathering."

I should have been worried, or, at least, a little bit anxious, I might end up on the internet as a new star attraction on some gay amateur website, but I didn't care at this point. Quite the opposite, it turned me on in the extreme, being 'filmed' as I was getting fucked at both ends.

Jesus, I am a slut, and a stupid one as well.

It wasn't long before Clyde pushed me off him, saying, "Not yet, bitch," then getting off the couch like the Giggler had done, before.

Seconds later I hear the unrolling of another condom, and felt more lube being applied to my ass. The Giggler was back on the couch, his cock without protection. Taking a firm hold of a lock of my hair, he held my head steady as he slammed his cock in and out of my waiting mouth. I then felt Clyde ram his cock into my rear. The pace and force of their thrusts were increasing.