First Fantasy The Gauntlet

"What are you doing?" The question rings out loud but only I can hear it. Above the rush of blood in my ears, I realize the query is just inside my head. It's me questioning myself. I was far away, drifting in a waking dream. My mind had temporarily sought refuge from this surreal and strange reality, wanting to distract itself from what is happening. But now I'm jerked back into the present moment. I can't believe I going through with this. I'm nervous as hell.

"Six hundred nine Ocean Spray Drive." The car pulls up abruptly, as my Uber driver announces my stop.

"Thank you, have a good evening" I stammer, as I close the door and the car pulls away. I turn around and face the house. From the sidewalk where I'm standing a stone walkway cuts a neatly recessed path right through the middle of the emerald lawn and up to the front door. Solar lights flood the grass and enhance it's hue. It feels like the warm spring night beckons me to that door. But I hesitate for a moment.

Days earlier I would have never imagined what was due to transpire. I'm a loner. I've been alone a long time now. I generally stay away from people, and enjoy the pursuits of an introvert's life. The hurt and the pain are long gone now, and all the years of inner reflection and absorption of outer information are fully synthesized and integrated. At least I tell myself that. What I know is that I can survive and I am ok. The only thing that lingers from that earlier time, when I would come home and cry, and then masturbate in a hot bath, is these damn fantasies. I do wish that someday I could resolve them, perhaps fulfil at least one of them in my lifetime. But after all this time they've become merely that - just latent fantasies. So I was really surprised that morning, a few days earlier in the Starbucks.

"Hi!" I glanced up, irritated. My caramel macchiato is my only friend these days, and we enjoy our quiet solitude together.

"Um, hello?" I respond, hoping my icy retort will soon dispatch this unwelcome interruption. Above me stands a professionally dressed young man, fully more than a decade my junior. He's smiling and friendly, which just bugs me even more.

"What's he selling?" I snap back to my internal self. I know sales, I learnt all the tricks, so I'm ready for the pitch!

"I've seen you here a bit, but you're always on your own." I'm taken aback. This guy is disarming, but I'm still suspicious. Occasionally I'll meet people, but I never initiate it. People sometimes just seem to gravitate to me after awhile. They want to know what the mystery is. But there's no mystery. It's just a life lived from forced extremes. All these lessons that seep in, and for some reason people want to know. If they ask, then I'll inevitably have a huge conversation with them - and they'll come away impressed. Perhaps that's all this guy wants.

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Free country" I shoot back sharply. I always start out tart. Defensive is the best strategy. But even though I permit him to sit at my table, I still just want to be alone. He talks for awhile about himself, but then as usual the topic turns to my epic journey. I find myself, typically, giving more away than I should. Now he knows about my marriage, and all that pain and loss, and how I've been on my own for some time now.

"Never got with another girl?" he asks.

"Nope, don't need 'em!" I say.

"You don't get frustrated?" I find myself, surprisingly, opening up to this friendly younger man. He has a way of putting people at ease, that I just can't put my finger on. I tell him, in the rough and couched language of another generation how that, of course I masturbate. And then I relate the couple times I went to a nudist club, and how great that was. But it was just all friends. Well, at least until I met that girl that one time in the pool! His eyes widen. And then, relaxed, I let my guard down and throw in something spicy just for the heck of it.

"Yer, I've basically always been like that - since I was a kid. I've always wanted to get naked in the wild, and I even fucked a couple of my women like that. Even hoped that I'd get caught and someone would see." I'm enjoying the delight on his face, as I relate my exploits.

"So you're an exhibitionist?" he asks.

"Yes, I suppose. Closet one, I guess" I say.

"Ever done anything else?" he asks.

"Like what?"

"Anything wild?" he suggests, his eyes wicked. I halt for a second, reading his expression.

"Oh no, no, no!" I reply emphatically.

"Not even thought about it?"

"Well I have had fantasies." Oh my god. I can not believe I am telling a complete stranger this!

"You never like got naked with a guy and tried to jerk each other off?" I feign shock at his question, but my mind races with how to respond. This is a public situation, and he is a stranger, and I have to protect myself.

Yet strangely, in the back of my mind I find this stranger intriguing ... if not somewhat appealing. Wow, did I just think that!

"As I said ... I've had fantasies ... but I've never done anything" I manage to bumble out.

"What if you could? Would you? I have this other guy friend, and we do this little thing sometimes. We invite another man occasionally, to just play around. You said you were an exhibitionist, and you do fantasize. Would you like to try something for real?"

I can't believe the way the conversation is going, but I also can't deny the bulge in my jeans under the table. And I'm so glad he can't see that.

"You mean like one of those 'Circle Jerks' or something?" I ask him.

"Sure" he says. "But we get bored whacking off each other, so sometimes we find someone else we can trust to spice it up".

I'm floored! This stranger is asking me if I want to get naked with him and this other guy friend and jerk each other off! I've never done this in my life, and I'm terrified of putting it into action. But the blood in my body screams to not miss this opportunity, this chance to finally satiate a long time fantasy.

So it turns out that I accept Trane's, as he's called, invitation to meet with his friend Dram at their house. The conversation ends abruptly as Trane rises to leave, gives me a wink and hands me a piece of paper with an address and a day a time on it.

Now, days later, here I am, out in front of this house!

But my legs almost won't go. And my heart is jumping around a bit. So I force myself to walk up that stone walkway to that welcoming door. It's actually pretty cool. The trellises of ivy across the front patio are lit with soft purple down-lights that add a reassurance to the entryway. And the evening air adds to the sense of being spellbound.

There must have been a hidden security camera, because the wooden door opens before I can knock. There stands a tanned woman in an overly filled bikini top and a flowered dark wrap draped under her firm belly. Yet I'm looking directly in her green eyes and symmetrical face. My mouth is open, but I have nothing to say, except ...

"Hello, I'm ... um ... Grey."

"Hi, I'm Martha" she drawls. "Trane and Dram are waiting for you downstairs, but first we have a couple rules." She's so pretty and hot that I'm willing to do anything she says! The atrium is darkened, save for more purple down-lights that just barely light the space immediately around us from above.

"I have to take your clothes" she says firmly, as she gestures to a rack along the wall just inside the door. I gulp. "Don't worry", she says, "it's fine." But it's not fine, I think, as I glance involuntarily down to the bulge already formed in the front of my pants.

Yet she's already expertly at my belt buckle and zipper, as I then eagerly kick off my shoes. And then I'm not sure who does what, because we both have me naked in a minute! She neatly holds and places all my clothes on the rack, and turns back to my rock hard member sticking straight out in front of me - and only a foot from her. It flashes through my mind instantaneously that I really want her to touch it right then and there, and she smiles back knowingly.

"Now remember why you're here?" she reassures suggestively. "Trane and Dram are going to be ready for you."

"Ok" I respond, turning around to face away from her and toward the center of the room. "But where are they?" I'm still nevertheless excited to fulfill my fantasy, but that's now mixed in with subconsciously wondering what this lady is going to be doing too! I can sense the precum welling out of my tip.

I'm naked in the middle of a strange house, I think, as my excitement builds for what's ahead. Then she places her hands on my hips, and a chill runs through my body.

"Now, here's the rest of the rules ... and if you want to be with the guys tonight you have to follow them to the letter" she explains firmly.

"Ok?" I say. "I'm all ears." She grips my hips, and spins me around, while still holding on. The center and opposite end of the room lights up ever so slightly. As I peer into the still darkened space, it is brightened only by little reflectors that glare out at me in parallel lines. And it to occurs to me that I'm looking at what appears to be something like a floor-recessed models' catwalk. Except this seems marked out by the lights in a steeply sloped and seemingly small hallway, travelling down and away from me.

"To get to the guys, you to have to walk 'the gauntlet' she instructs.

"Wha-at?" I ask, confused.

Then the ambience of the ceiling lighting comes up ever so slightly, and I can see a little more clearly. The hallway stops sloping downward when it drops below what would be about waist height. And then it travels along flat for about for what is a rather long twenty feet, the atrium being quite large. At the end is a doorway, reached through a short set of steps that brings one down finally to an accessible head height. Funnily enough, the steps to it and the doorway beyond appear to widen out dramatically at the end. It's a curious optical illusion. Finally, above the lintel at the top of the doorway another soft purple light completes the comforting ambience of the entire 'catwalk' scene. I have never seen any internal room construction like this before and, although it is strange, I know what it is I am supposed to do.

"I have to go through that door?" I affirm, as I turn my head to her to ask.

"Yes, but ... you have to walk down to the door, back up to room level, turn around, and go back down again!" she explains. "Only then will the door open - there's a security camera - and your friends will meet you on the other side." She seems quite emphatic. "And you have to do it all slowly, without panicking - otherwise you fail the test" she says resignedly.

It sounds like others have failed. But how bad could it be, I think. Then I get, deliciously, to play with two naked guys' cocks. I find my mouth and throat are dry at the prospect, but I feel my balls grind in my sac in front of me, and my member stands proud and rock hard and ready. No question that I want to fulfill this fantasy now.

The woman moves closer to the back of me, her soft wrap dress swishing over my ass, and her fingers tighter on my hips. This is surreal, with the kind of anticipation that comes from sheer disbelief.

By now I'm able to peer more clearly into and along the 'catwalk', my eyes having adjusted to the lower levels of light. I jump, as the woman presses hard up against me, still from behind. She wraps her arms tightly around my belly, each set of cool fingers reaching over to the opposing hip. They rest lightly on the bare skin in front, bare inches from my pubic hair and erect phallus - which causes it to jump too. But the emotion is a strange mix of lust and terror. Because at the moment in which I do perceive what I can actually see, I know now why she is being so firm! And I also know what she/he is not. I'm overwhelmed with sheer panic!

On each side of the catwalk, in what formerly just seemed to be shadows, the forms are now clearly defined. They are men, naked men! From the point where the recessed hallway flattens out at the bottom, all the way the twenty feet or so to the steps by the door, nude men are arranged.

They stand side by side, ten across, in a row at each edge of 'the walk'. With their toes positioned curled over the edge, there's no mistaking the purpose of all of this. They are all erect, some cut and others with peeled back foreskins - yet all are hard, very hard. Each man is uniquely muscled, and each erect cock stands out facing and over into the space of the hallway. I now realize that the hallway is in fact very narrow and that there is no optical illusion. It is only sufficiently wide enough for me to walk through sideways! The importance of this is stark. All of the men, each Adonises in their erect magnificence, momentarily fail to register as the same to me. I only know fear!

"Go on", she/he says from behind me, her soft lips caressing and whispering into my ear and over my neck. "But three times one way you have to walk, slowly, and turning to go again, before you can see your friends. Her big hard he-cock presses through the soft fabric of her wrap, and into the crease between my butt cheeks.

I'm caught between the reality of what is now ahead of me, and the realization of whom she/he is behind me. Stuck against my ass is a cock, and in front of me beckon twenty of them. I'm frozen in confusion, my sexual identity assailed, and my body both assaulted and being readied for further assault. I can't even compose any coherent thought, nor figure out the emotions I'm feeling.

"It's ok" the 'wo-man' soothes from behind. "C'mon, show me how brave and strong you are? Go get your reward through that door!" she challenges. Her fingers slip back to my mound, tug at my pubic hair, and then her hands caress up across my abdomen and over my nipples. Strangely, my labored breathing slows, and I'm calmed ... if not erotically teased. She withdraws her arms, then gently presses her hands into the small of my back - pushing me forward a little. I stand not a foot further ahead of her, her cock no longer in my crease, but the dew from through her dress now wet on my ass.

"Off you go" she urges, her husky voice barely audible. Suddenly I have so much excitement now for everything that is happening, but do not understand why. My cock pulses with a hardness more than I've ever felt. Yet calm and steady on my feet now, in this enchanted projection of a moment, I pause - just to look down. It strains out like it wants to pull off my mound, and a fine string of sticky clear syrup drips away from it.

Transfixed, my will seemingly not quite my own, I'm resolved to play the scene out. Like a stringed puppet, controlled by someone else, I edge forward. Yet I'm the controller as well as the controlled. Mentally, I stand outside my body, as I watch myself proceed.

When I reach 'the gauntlet', it's a reminder first that I have a few feet to descend before I will be waist down in the sunken hallway. And before I will reach those lines of men. I can see that they all stand almost completely upright, feet slightly apart - with those toes curled over the edge. Now I see that, hard cocks pointed out, every one of them has their arms up to their heads with their hands clasped together on top.

Is this the way it will be, I wonder. No answer ensures from those twenty ripped statues, each staring intently ahead into the hallway.

"Slowly", I hear a voice whisper from the darkness behind. Ahead I advance. In measured and careful steps I enter the hallway, and find quickly that I have to turn side ways to descend. As I sidle down toward the edge of the parallel lines of men, it is apparent why I am now approximately waist deep in this long narrow pit.

I close my eyes, and my mouth, and take a breath. And I edge side ways, slowly as instructed, past the first man. His long thick cock is the only thing that could be causing that brushing feeling against my eyelids, my nose, and across my lips. Precum slips onto those lips now. I press my mouth even more tightly closed, and turn around in reaction. On the opposite side of the pit another cock slaps my cheek, then slides across the entire length of my closed mouth. It's juices leave me with a moustache on my upper lip. The smell is strangely musky - not at all feminine. My heart is racing, as I'm trapped in a wall of cocks with only one way out.

In an irrational effort to chart a course, having now only navigated two of the twenty men, I turn my head to the side and slowly open my eyes. Now, while my body is positioned side ways, my face looks forward. In a false belief that somehow this will avoid most cocks, I am to be disappointed. This is why it's called 'the gauntlet'. Cocks of all forms stand erect and proud beyond - and level with - my face. It is a tent of protective spears, crossed, and almost tip to tip, that I must traverse. The hallway in this section is perfectly level, which means I will have to encounter every phallus. So, resignedly, I begin to move forward once more.

Cock after cock after cock slaps my face from both sides. Veins of all angers throb in my vision, and precum of many kinds slurps over my cheeks, nose, and lips. Cocks point into my eyes, which I have to close momentarily to avoid, then spring backwards off my cheekbones before leaving their clear jeweled deposits somewhere lower on my face or neck. Invariably, they get a brief shot at my mouth.

I'm now in a movie, where I'm watching myself from the beyond, yet becoming less accustomed to reticence. My jaws relax, and my teeth and lips involuntarily part a little. And I find that the slapping cocks take their turns darting briefly into my open mouth. Some bounce in, and out again. One big fat cock beats out the opposing thinner one for a turn. Many dive in, then slide out leaving their deposits. I realize my tongue is tasting, and my mouth is watering to savor each new spice of husky juice. I'm shocked at myself. Again, there's a raving surge of gender identity crisis that pulses briefly through my brain. But it subsides quickly.

I find I'm at once appalled that the concept of enjoyment has crossed my mind, while I'm similarly enraptured in how each cock smells - and tastes - a little bit different. Heads and glans are dry-tasting, shafts are silky and soft, and tips ooze out such different flavors. Strings of pearls adorn around my lips and cheeks, each viscous cord laying ownership to my flesh. Subconsciously, my tongue darts out to clean them up, and my mouth relishes flavors from strong to sweet. Each phallus has something to offer.

Then it's all over. I'm through! I feel caught between exhilaration and relief. But no, it's not quite over yet. I hear that she-he voice from the darkness again, from over by the front door.

"Turn around. Go back again. Slowly!"

This isn't so bad, I think. Just a couple more times. Now that I'm comfortable with it, heck - maybe even enjoying it - oh my god, really?

Once more I realize that my nipples are as taut as ever, and my cock has never been this hard. A large string of precum has strung itself out, broken off my tip, and landed as a gob on my foot.

I turn at the steps and prepare myself. But what greets me is more terror. The twenty men still stand there, but each now has only one hand patted on the top of his head. The other - being either left or right handed - slowly strokes his own cock. Quiet murmurs slip through from the group. I hesitate.

"Go!" says the voice from the darkness again, urgent this time.

As my heart pounds once more, thoughts of preparation and of what to do pop out of my brain and vape into thin air. I'm at a loss. The only solution is to just walk that trance-like scene once more. Only disembodied can I make it through.

Ahead I go, body side ways, face forward so as to minimize ... what? Nothing can minimize this! No point in closing my eyes this time. I just proceed. The tent of angry dripping spears has now transformed into a confusion of melodiously yanking pistons. Each throb to their own tune, but all synchronize in time to the music in my mind from a film I once saw ... Ravel's 'Bolero'!