Chapter XX
Michael's Party
The venue for Michael's party was an industrial estate a couple of miles from the flat; Michael drove in his battered Vauxhall Nova that shuddered as he roughly changed gear and swung the twenty-year-old vehicle into twisting bends in London's suburbia.
The black and gold tracksuit he lent me, was shiny and had a plastic feel to it; the sportswear logo dominated the jacket front while white stripes lined the trousers that came down to the white socks and borrowed trainers.
I was commando; the smooth fabric rubbed against my exposed cock and I slipped in the torn seats of my new friend's vehicle. He was dressed in a matt navy tracksuit bottoms with a white singlet that left much of his muscular body on view.
We heard the feint noise of the music before we arrived at the club; the deserted estate was almost eerily quiet as the car roared and spluttered down the main thoroughfare.
I must admit I was nervous; for all my fun and games with Michael and other men, I still thought of myself as more straight than gay. I loved my wife more than I loved Bryn and I adored feasting on cunt. But for the first time I was going to "gay" party. Although Michael was bisexual, as was I. He guessed that while there would be wall-to-wall sucking and fucking, most of the participants would be returning home to a girlfriend or wife.
In truth, I didn't care too much about that: I was fairly secure in my sexuality and no amount of rampant buggery was going to turn me off the delights of the female form. However, all my interactions had been with small groups of people, or even one-on-one, and I had never been to a sex party before. It was daunting. I was pensive and quiet while Michael found a small parking spot for his tiny boneshaker.
He gave my cock a squeeze as the engine flicked off. "Shall we go have some fun?"
I smiled, feeling his cool hand slip into the waistband of my trousers and stroke my cock. I sighed as his grip tightened around my shaft and his eyes twinkled. Beautiful, mischievous brown eyes that captivated my attention as he gently stroked me. A warm smile as he watched, letting me sink into his seats with my cock sizzling with arousal.
"Later," he teased, withdrawing his hand as I neared my climax; my erect cock tented the loaned tracksuit which felt wet in the crotch.
The bouncers on the door nodded respectfully as Michael approached; he passed them a ticket and they said nothing as he opened the windowless green door, stepping into a poorly furnished reception area.
The music hummed behind a half-naked man, sat behind a desk with a sheet of names in front of him. He looked at Michael and sized me up before passing me a clipboard to fill in. Temporary Member.
It was standard stuff: name, address, next of kin, date of birth, and Michael made idle chatter with the receptionist as my pen scrawled across the page. "Enjoy yourself," we were told after they accepted my registration and we had paid the £10 for me to enter as Michael's guest. My first thoughts were that it was expensive: my first look at the main room changed my mind.
A giant hot-tub filled the first room as heaters blazed overhead. It was warm, and dozens of men were naked in the water, kissing and touching as others milled about in tracksuits and football kits, singlets and boxing outfits.
Others were naked with big cocks flopping as they walked. I admired the hairy chests and the smooth chests; I ogled at the swinging balls and muscular thighs. I smiled at the firm buttocks and cute smiles. My eyes took in the delightful feast of male sexuality and I was briefly overwhelmed as my hard cock responded to the smorgasbord of gorgeous masculinity.
A couple in the corner were fucking; I'd have guessed the top was still a student, ramming this youthful cock into an older gentleman, probably old enough to be his grandfather. They grunted and cried together, the submissive bottom squealing with every thrust in his butt. It was erotic; I wanted to join in. My cock was desperate for it, watching the student drive his prick underneath his football shirt into the jockstrap-clad aged man.
"Come here," Michael demanded. We walked past the entrance to the showers and into the lounge area. Gay pornography played on the screen, while an array of soft drinks were lined up on a table in the corner.
Two dozen men were congregated on sofas chatting and talking; many kept glancing up at the giant television, filling the room with the sounds of desperate fucking. A couple of guys were playing on the far settee, cocks buried into mouths as the two men sucked each off simultaneously.
Their passionate grunts and squeals beguiled my lust addled mind. The feverish motions of the hips from the naked gentleman on top, thrusting his cock deep into the throat of the tracksuited lad underneath him, was enthralling.
I stared at the bare buttocks; so smooth and pale. So enticing. I envisaged the fun we could have; my imagination was desperate, bringing erotic mirages to my eyeballs. I wanted to run my hands over the young man's posterior as he face-fucked the man underneath, sliding my fingers over his crack and pushing against the knot of his sanctum.
I wanted to run my tongue over his sweaty flesh, relishing the dirty, filthy taste of the muscular top. I wanted to listen to him groan as my tongue rimmed the puckering anus. I wanted him to push his butt further into my face, burying my tongue further and further into his arsehole before sliding forwards to ram his cock into the sub underneath.
I imagined all of this as I watched, almost open-mouthed at the amazing sight a few metres from me. I smelt the sexual tension in the air, barely noticing Michael shake hands with a small group of men on the sofa.
"He's away with the fairies," Michael said loudly.
"Aren't we all!" One of the men quipped and I turned to face them; suddenly aware I was the butt of their jokes. I was standing not sitting; staring and ogling the sight of rampant debauchery, while tenting my shiny tracksuit bottoms
"It's seeing a blowie!" Michael replied. "It gets him all hot." His eyes met mine and he stood up, grabbing hold of the back of my neck and thrusting me face first into the lap of his friend, a naked man. Gasping, I felt the softness of his warm cock land on my face. "Suck him!" Michael demanded, holding the back of my neck and pushing my face into his hairless crotch.
They laughed; not cruel laughter but a relaxed bawdiness that was enjoying my humiliation. I tasted his sweat, feeling his cock over my mouth, I licked at his shaft, sucking gently on the smooth skin.
He grunted. "Faggot's sucking me!" He said, and Michael released the grip on my neck, stepping back as I withdrew my face to stare at the ripples of muscles that adorned the well-built man. He leant back on the fabric sofa and stretched his legs out, winking at me as I admired his manhood.
"Had a waitress bouncing off that last night, a housewife the day before and some sissy called Jason the night before that. Fucking gorgeous piece of cock that is. Fucked half of the sluts in London."
