Power Outage

As it transpired, I did. "There's a place called Charlie's on the outskirts of Front Royal. Usually not more than ten minutes away from here, maybe fifteen minutes in this weather."

"Sounds good," Ed, the Hispanic, said. "Two fifty from each of us?"

Shit, they took me for hooker, not just a slut. A little tingle of pleasure went up my spine. This new and dangerous game really had me hard, as Ed could attest, as his hand was still on my basket and the pull of my zipper still between his thumb and a finger.

"For what?" I asked.

"For it all. Whatever we want. And we play together. They have a taxi service or something around here to get us to the Charlie's place? One of our trucks would be a little conspicuous."

"I have wheels," I said.

"Fuckin terrific," Ed said. Sami, the dark, hirsute, sultry Turk was turning my head toward his, and we kissed. When he released me, Anthony, the blond, hunky Greek, with the chiseled features, turned me to give him a taste of me. Ed was rubbing my cock through the material of the jeans with his thumb. As I came out of the kiss with Anthony, Ed pulled the zipper down, pushed his thumb into the fly and pressed it to the base of my cock. My moan was audible to all three of them.

"You want me, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes." I couldn't lie, and it went with the role I was spinning.

"You like the strong outdoor man's man, don't you? It takes a lot of strength and moxie to climb those poles and lay out that wire, especially in weather like this. You like it rough, I'll bet."

"I like what I see."

"Lots of muscle, right, and that one big muscle hanging between our legs. Lean over here. Get a feel." Sami and Anthony put their hands on my shoulders and leaned me forward. I reached out on my own as Ed unzipped himself, took my hand, and stuffed it in his fly.

"Shit," I exclaimed. He was big and in erection. He wouldn't have done this, of course, if he wasn't hung like a bull,

"The three of us are going to lay you out and fuck you good."

"Yes. Do you still want to go to Charlie's or do you have a room here you want us to go to?" I asked.

"Charlie's first; room later."

Fine. Three hunks would rough fuck me—gangbang me if they wanted; I certainly let guys do that in the athlete fraternity I'd been in at Chapel Hill. That's how I got into the fraternity—by lying down and opening my legs for any of the jocks who wanted to get their rocks off that way—singly or more than one at a time. I'd fucked around since then, but not three at once. Not big, rough men like this. And they'd be gone, up north, tomorrow morning. A one-stand experience for me to savor. I'd be a bad boy, a rent-boy for the night. I'd enjoy me some blue-collar cock and be paid for it to boot. I trembled in anticipation. The rubbing of Ed's thumb on the base of my cock was driving me crazy. I liked to think I was doing the same by pulling on his cock inside his fly. But Anthony and Sami were getting their fingers inside my fly, touching my cock, too.

"You boy's going to double me?" I asked, panting.

"Maybe," Anthony said. "Does that scare you?"

"Yes, a little," I answered.

"Just a little. You've had two before?"

"Yes."

"Good," said Sami. "Gotta keep you on edge. Want our money's worth."

* * * *

I was glad I'd driven the old Land Rover rather than my Lexus down the mountain today. This seemed more the power linesmen's style. I wanted them to keep thinking I was a rent-boy ready to be manhandled to earn seven fifty. I hadn't been rough used since college. I missed it occasionally. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to miss getting it tonight.

Charlie's wasn't crowded. It was the proverbial dark and stormy night—or had been. By the time we were driving into Front Royal, the storm, which only brushed by us anyway, had moved on, although it still wanted to spit as us from time to time. We were still in the phase that the foliage was covered and weighted down by ice. Trees still could fall. They were set well away from Route 522 into the town and out to the southern fringe, though, and this was a piece of cake for the Land Rover.

There was no band at Charlie's this night—just the juke box, and no dancers. A young rent-boy named Jimmy was holding down the end of the bar where he usually sat, and there were a few other couples—all men—sitting around and mooning over each other, but the place otherwise was sort of dead. I put money in the juke box and did some dance moves, with my mesh muscle shirt off, for Ed and Anthony, who sat by the platform at a table and chugged Coronas, while Sami, who had taken a shine to Jimmy, went into the back, beyond the beaded-curtain-covered doorway, with him and the rent-boy gave the Turk a blow job.

"I'd like to see you dance like that with more than the shirt off," Ed said to me while Jimmy was off blowing Sami. "You've got a mighty fine bod."

Yes, I did, and I knew I did. "I can do that if that's what you want." Would they lay me out right here on a table and every man in the place who wanted to would screw me?

"Maybe back at the hotel after Sami's done in the back. We'll want to fuck you as a finale of the dance. Then we'll be in for the night. Gotta get rolling early in the morning." He looked at me to see if I'd object, but I didn't.

"He means we'll be in you for the night," Anthony said, laughing at his own joke.

I didn't object to that either. Sami was coming out of the back, zipping himself up and buckling his belt, so I picked my red-mesh T off the floor, pulled it on, and we were ready to drive back to the hotel.

"It's dead here," Ed said as we were leaving. "We can party better in Anthony and Sami's room."

"It's usually livelier," I said. But it's not a night to entice guys to come out.

"They need to be men of steel, like me and the other linesmen. Nights like this are what we're made for—what real men are made for. Men with cocks of steel. You gonna spin on our cocks of steel, Blondie, and then you'll know what real men are."

I shivered, but it's what I wanted from the night—cocks of steel inside me, making me feel it. As we walked out of Charlie's, Ed grabbed one of my buttocks cheeks and squeezed. He left it there as we went to the car. There was a light rain. Some of what was coming down was ice pellets. It was making what little snow we'd gotten disappear. Of course, that was down here in the valley. There were several inches of snow on the mountain when I'd driven Marianne home. It undoubtedly was still there.

It wasn't several inches of snow I was thinking of as we approached the Land Rover for the drive back to the hotel, though. It was the several inches of cock I was going to be taking from these three rough studs. Several inches of steely cocks. I didn't think they'd be delicate about putting it to me. I was theirs for the night. They were going to get seven hundred and fifty dollars-worth of fuck out of me.

Maybe I'd regret this after all.

"Me first. Now," Ed whispered in my ear as his hand on my butt steered me to the back door of the vehicle. He voice was thick with lust, a lust I'd seen build up in his eyes and expression as I danced for him on the stage. It was all for him. I'd let Anthony and Sami fuck me, but Ed was "the man." I knew without a doubt that when Ed fucked me, I'd be FUCKED. It was a whisper, but it was loud enough for both Anthony and Sami to hear it. I knew they would have no objection to Ed taking his piece first. We all knew Ed was in charge.

It started in the car. They knew the way now. Ed took the keys from me and handed them to Anthony. Sami sat up front with Anthony. Ed covered me on the backseat, knees between my thighs, my white jeans and silky briefs on the floor, my toes scrunching up as they pressed into the ceiling and the back of the passenger seat headrest to hold me steady and for leverage, while Ed fucked me with eight inches of thick steel.

Eduardo treated me like the slut I'd let them think I was. At no time did he give me any regard at all. It was all about him and slowly getting himself off royally. He didn't ask me if he was hurting me or if he should take it slower or not thrust so deep. He took what he wanted, vigorously and with the stamina of a fit, rough outdoorsman. It was exhausting. It was glorious.

His jacket and T-shirt were off; my jeans were off. I dug my fingernails into his bulging, hard-as steel biceps, his berry-brown torso covered in a swirly pattern black-ink tattoo, my nails pressing in, matching the rhythm of the thrusts of his shaft, as he chewed on the hollow of my throat and hummed his pleasure, muttering, "Take it. Take it, bitch. Open up. Give it all to me."

I loved every stroke of the cock of steel.

Anthony parked on the outer edge of the hotel parking lot, beyond a sea of Dominion Energy bucket trucks, all identical except for a vehicle number, until Ed was finished. Ed took his time; I lost track of how long he pounded me. He paused occasionally, and I took over, leveraging off of my feet on ceiling and headrest to move on the cock of steel, as I murmured, "Yes, yes. Fuck you're big." Ed laughed at my easy and total surrender. Anthony and Sami both were screwed around in the front seat, watching us in the back, smiling, anticipating their turns.

I came out of the car stumbling and had to be helped upstairs in the elevator. As they were helping me to their hotel room, which Anthony and Sami were sharing just as they were about to share me, Anthony whispered in my ear, "Our turn now."

Yes, I groaned.

"You're one sweet piece," Sami said. There was awe in his face. They probably didn't get someone as young and good-looking as me very often—or as easy.

Sami had gotten his blow job at Charlie's. Anthony got his from me in their hotel room. First they made me strip and they put their hands on me until we all were panting. Then they found something approximating bump and grind music on the room TV, and I danced for them, first in front of them and then giving Anthony and Sami lap dances, all of us naked, the two guys rising now and then to bump and grind with me, touching me, kissing me, worshipping my body—the body they would violate.

Ed didn't want a lap dance. He sat off to the side, slit-eyed, a small smile on his face, stroking himself, and watching his buddies play with me. Anthony's lap dance ended with him pushing me to my knees and making me take his cock in my mouth and suck him off to an ejaculation, his cum dribbling down my chin. I didn't hold back. I gave them whatever they demanded.

While Anthony recovered, I gave Sami his lap dance, which ended, after I had rolled a condom on his shaft, in him bringing me down on his lap and his erection, and, grasping my waist between his strong, callused hands, bouncing me up and down on his shaft until he too came inside me. He was one and a half my size—each of them was. He—and the other two—manipulated me like I was a rag doll.

Then a recovered Anthony fucked me in a missionary on the bed and Sami fucked me doggie style there as well. Their evening ended with Sami on his back on the bed, with me straddling him in a cowboy position and then Anthony saddling up behind me, penetrating me above Sami's buried cock, and the two working me together in a DP. They obviously had done this before. They were as much into each other as into whoever they were sharing at the moment.

I don't know how many rubbers they used before Ed growled, pulled me out of the mix, took me to his room, tossed me on his bed, slapped me a couple of times to ensure I'd be docile for him, and fucked me and fucked me and fucked me through the night.

At some point, well after midnight, we both dozed off, exhausted and satiated. The alarm clock showed 5:30 when he shook me awake, standing over me, fully dressed.

"Time to move on. We'll rolling out here within the hour. You need to be out of the room."

He didn't know if I had a room of my own here or not. He didn't care. He didn't praise what I'd done for him or give me a critique. He and the other guys had paid their money and got their slice of the slut's tail. I groaned and rolled over, but he slapped me hard enough on my butt to get me rolling out of bed, grabbing for my clothes, and leaving the room.

And that was that. When I woke up in my own room and stumbled downstairs for breakfast at 8:00 a.m., all of the Dominion Energy bucket trucks that had been in the parking lot were gone. My night with the hunky linemen studs was over.

It had been memorable. I'd had my night as a slutty rent-boy. And I had $750 I'd deposited at the reception desk to put in their safe for me to show for my performance.

* * * *

The New Year's Eve party on top of Blue Mountain went just fine—up to a point. Perhaps the punch was a bit too spiked, though. That certainly made my evening more difficult, in the form of Admiral Julius Melton.

I knew the admiral had a hunting lodge on the mountain and therefore was a sometimes neighbor and that Marianne, who knew him well through her father, would have sent him an invitation to the party. But he'd owned up here when we'd had our previous parties. Indeed, he'd owned up here a lot longer than we had. He was a name from my past—completely separate from my wife's father being a friend of his—that I was avoiding. When I'd come to Washington, D.C., for the first time, I was just a sailor—in the Navy—fresh out of college and naval ROTC. I was a Lieutenant JG at the beck and call of the big brass. My first job in Washington, at the Pentagon, was to be Admiral Julius Melton's driver and gofer.

I was an ambitious boy. It wasn't long before the admiral was driving me with his thick gearshift, and he became so taken with me that he pulled strings and gave me a leg up in the Navy—for letting him put a leg over me. As well as getting his exercise by doing pushups on me in bed, he put me on a fast track on a masters degree at the Navy's expense. I didn't stay in the Navy, nor with my legs open to Admiral Melton, but if he hadn't pulled me up, I wouldn't be where I was today in the U.S. government. Through him I met Marianne's father and then Marianne, and, at twenty-three I was married into financial comfort and on my way up in the government.

I'd remained respectful and polite with the admiral. He wasn't the type of man to want to have as an enemy in Washington, but I'd also maintained my distance—until the night of the New Year's Eve party on top of Blue Mountain in a snow and ice storm where punch that had too much alcohol in it was being served. Marianne was trying a new punch recipe. It certainly had a punch. There were people at the party letting their hair down and pursuing possibilities that they never would do sober. Timothy Barnes kept nosing around me, but we couldn't get alone. It was a good thing we'd taken our slice of each other before party night.

One of those people on the make was Admiral Julius Melton, and, fortified by the punch, he was pursing me. Everywhere I looked, there he was, leering at me, giving me meaningful smiles and signals—lowering his hand to dangle in front of his crotch. He was a hung man, to be sure, and he obviously wanted me to remember that.

And he wanted to hump me—tonight. Now.

His chance came when the ice storm brought the tree down a couple of lots down from us again—at the Barneses again—thankfully up the road from the only entrance onto our ridge road. It brought the powerlines down and put the party into near darkness. The fireplaces were going and there were lots of candles around, so we weren't totally blacked out. Anyone with any chance of hooking up with someone else at the party had a perfect opportunity to do so—if they got right to it. It would be a couple of minutes before the generator kicked in.

Admiral Melton was near enough to me at the time to latch a strong grip onto one of my wrists and pull me down the stairs to the lower level and back down a hallway to what had been a servant's bedroom when the previous, richer, owners had built the place. We didn't have any live-in servants. But there was a single bed in the room. The admiral was strong, determined, and although nearly drunk, not so drunk that he couldn't get it up or that he didn't remember what to do with it. He'd had it up for an hour or more. He wanted to put it in me in the worst way.

I didn't want to make an enemy of the admiral. When he had me in his grip from behind, bent over the bed, and he'd pulled my trousers and briefs down, I surrendered and let him have what he wanted. He mounted, penetrated, and rode me from behind and I held still and steady, taking his cock, letting him fuck me, going with the rhythm once he'd settled in, rocking back on the cock and going with the fuck.

When Marianne floated through the house, calling out "Gordon. Gordon," which was my real name, "where are you? Taylor called the power company and they're sending a truck up," the admiral had a hand over my nose and mouth, controlling my breathing, keeping me from answering her call, although under the circumstances I most certainly wouldn't have answered her call. He was a virile old man; he didn't miss a beat in his strokes. I just held there in his embrace while he fucked me hard and deep in a doggie and got it out of his system.

He was thick and didn't have anything at hand to prepare me other than his spit, so the opening was difficult and painful, but once he was in, it was like old times. He knew all the off-beat cadences that made me shudder and shimmer while he was destroying me deep in my core. I was a slut for it; once he was well-saddled inside me, I settled down, moaned deeply, and went with him in the ride. When the danger of discovery by Marianne had passed, he took his hand off my mouth, ran his fingers into my golden curls at the back of my head, cruelly arched my head back, and rode me hard as in memorable times of the past.

The admiral gave extremely good fuck.

Taylor was the right guy to call Dominion. He was on their board of directors.

After the admiral breeded me, he let me fall onto the bed and he disappeared. I didn't see him again that night, although I was sure I'd be seeing him more often now. I couldn't avoid him and I couldn't deny him. The most I could hope for was that he was content with keeping his cock just between him and me and that he'd be discreet about taking his opportunities. I had forgotten that he was a good cocksman—that he had a good, steady thrust, so I didn't regret the encounter—as long as no one else learned about it.

When he was gone, I managed to make it to the downstairs mudroom, where I kept boots and a heavy coat. I pulled them on, went out the lower level, slid around to the stairs that went up to the upper level, which was on ground level at the front of the house, and came back into the entrance foyer. There I belatedly answered Marianne's call. When she appeared, I said, "I went outside when the power went off to check where the lines came down. They're down at the Barnes's house a couple of lots up. A tree's down across the road with the lines under it. Has anyone called the power company? I'll go down toward the entrance to the road and see if that's clear."

The generator had kicked in. The lights were on in the house, and the party was swinging again.

She told me that Taylor had called Dominion and they were on their way. I went back out and walked out toward the entrance. Two Dominion Energy bucket trucks met me on the road right at our lot line.

Ed, Anthony, and Sami came out of the trucks, smiling and waving to me.

"Well, lookee here," Ed said. "Fancy meeting you here, Craig. You all having a nice party? Sounds like that house there is rocking with party."

I stood there, dumbfounded, unable to think of anything to say.

"If they've got great rent-boys like you on offer at the party," Anthony rang it, "It must be quite a gangbang."