Branch Bingo

I ran my tongue up the length of his cock, moving slowly so I could enjoy the groan it dragged out of him. Upon reaching the head, I toyed with the ridge of his glans a bit, sliding my tongue around the edge and wrenching another moan from his throat, before I wrapped my lips around it and started swallowing him down. One slow, smooth glide took him down my throat to the root--the minor downward curve of his shaft made it easy--and I held it for a moment, watching his body arch against the wall, his eyes rolling up, before pulling back until just the head was left resting on my tongue.

"Holy shit," he panted, "Fuck, Dante, that was amazing."

Was? Oh, you dear sweet boy, I thought, I'm just getting started.

And boy he was, or at least seemed to me. He had to be 21 to get in to my club (at least without a pretty good fake ID), but he was as babyfaced as they came, all big blue eyes and smooth cheeks I doubted needed to see a razor more than once a week. His body was pure man, though, six feet of dense muscle that stretched his olive green US Army shirt. Dog tags jingled in the valley between his pecs every time he squirmed.

I intended to make him squirm a lot.

My tongue was already right there, so I got to work on that one little spot just below the head of his cock. He made an undignified noise and sagged his shoulders back against the wall of the alcove, though he was careful not to pull his cock out of my mouth. With my lips, I teased the ridge of his cockhead, still working the frenulum with my tongue, and brought my hands up into the mix just to see how googly his eyes could get. His balls hung low, heavy and hairy, and I started rolling and playing with them with one hand while the other held the base of his cock, keeping it steady for my mouth.

His groans ratcheted up as I began really sucking him again, bobbing my head rapidly and keeping steady suction as I slid his cock down my throat again and again. While above average in length, his cock was not especially thick, so given the downward curve it was almost effortless to deepthroat him over and over so fast he didn't have time to finish one moan before starting in on the next. He was making a near-constant low keening noise that abruptly cut off when a voice spoke from behind me.

"Hey, is someone--oh, shit!"

In hindsight, perhaps I should have taken my young companion around the corner of the L-shaped alcove (I'd designed the place specifically with numerous secluded nooks like this all over the building, for just these sorts of occasions) rather than getting things started before we were out of public view, but in my defense he was hot and I was horny, so petty details didn't really factor in at the time. Plus, if we hadn't been visible, no one would have come to investigate, and in this case that worked out pretty well.

Slowing but not stopping my oral assault, I half turned to get a look at the guy who'd stumbled upon us. He was mostly a silhouette in the dimness, a large dark shape occasionally outlined by the whirling lights of the dance floor beyond him. I caught glimpses of broad shoulders and close-cropped hair, of muscled arms and a chiseled jaw, but it was all piecemeal, random bits in the wrong order.

"Kinda busy here, man," grunted my companion.

The newcomer held up his hands. "Right, sorry. I'll just...be on my way. As you were." It was hard to see his expression, but were his eyes lingering on where my mouth continued to slurp and swallow at the young soldier's cock? He started turning to leave, and a passing beam glinted off the telltale metal of dog tags hanging around his neck, then illuminated a tattoo on his shoulder, exposed by the tank top he wore: the eagle and anchor of the Marine Corps.

Inwardly, I grinned.

Pulling my mouth off my companion's cock with a pop, I reached over and snagged the newcomer by the belt buckle. "Nonsense," I said, letting my inward grin become external. "The more the merrier." Ignoring their paired exclamations of surprise, I drew both men around the corner into the better concealed end of the L-shaped alcove, pulling one by the belt and the other by the dick. The space was fairly narrow, containing only a bench along one side. There was just enough space for me to sit on it with the two brawny men shoulder to shoulder before me.

It was even darker here, with the corner blocking the direct light from the club proper, so I had to pull open the marine's pants largely by feel. He didn't seem to mind my hands wandering all over his midsection, so I wasn't about to raise the issue either. Soon enough I had a second cock in my hands, already at half-mast and swiftly growing as I greeted it with a few introductory strokes.

"Are we seriously going to...fffuuuuuck...." The young soldier's words trailed off in a groan as I took him back into my mouth, swallowing him down once again. Motion above me drew my attention, and I glanced up. Through the shadows I could just make out the way the soldier's hand had--perhaps involuntarily--grabbed the marine's shoulder for balance as he sagged in bliss. The marine slid an arm around the soldier's waist to help support him, pulling them even closer until they were pressed together from knee to shoulder.

That worked out great for me, since I was able to start alternating between them. Holding a cock in either hand, I'd first suck on the soldier, then switch to the marine, back and forth until both cocks were coated with my saliva and both men were groaning their pleasure. The marine's cock was thicker and straighter than my original companion's, without the downward curve that made deepthroating him so easy in this position. I had to work a bit harder to get it down, but I pushed as far as I could while holding the base.

Not that he had any complaints.

Noting the way the young soldier's legs were shaking, I decided to bring things home with a bang (as it were). Pulling my mouth off his cock for a moment, I drew both cocks together, rubbing their spit- and precum-slick heads against each other in a slippery little dance that had both men gasping and hanging onto each other to keep their knees from buckling. Then, just for good measure, I opened wide and just managed to get my lips around both cockheads at once, slithering my tongue all over them even as I continued to slide them against one another.

With a guttural cry of "F-fucking shit!" the young soldier came at once. Given how everything was positioned, his load shot simultaneously into my mouth and all over the marine's cock. My original companion was now all but hanging off the burly marine, apparently struggling to remain upright while he shuddered through his orgasm. The marine, one hand on my head and the other still wrapped around the soldier's waist, held him up without visible effort while gently thrusting his hips, grinding his cock against its twitching, pulsing counterpart.

By the time I finished cleaning up his load with my tongue, the soldier was on the verge of collapse, but the marine (who of course hadn't been involved as long) was still going strong. With the soldier's cock softening away from the mutual clench, I gently pulled him down onto the bench beside me. Drawing the marine forward by the cock, I guided it to a position between us, and the soldier got the message right away. We set to it together like we'd practiced for years, four lips and two tongues working over the marine's cock in unrelenting tandem.

His heavy breathing rapidly devolved into ragged gasps under our combined assault, his hands braced against the wall behind us and his neck apparently unable to decide whether it should sag forward or loll back. When the full-body quivering started, I knew he was close. I moved to lick at his balls, rolled up tight to his body, and my young partner took the marine's thick cock fully into his mouth, just in time. Biting his lip to muffle the deep groan that rumbled up from his chest, our unexpected playmate went rigid, his body locked except for the shuddering twitches of his cock as it unloaded into the young soldier's mouth.

I don't think either of them noticed when I slid out from between them and made my way for the mouth of the alcove (after a discreet readjustment to my trousers). It was a bit disappointing to hold my own load back, but I had big plans for the evening and didn't want to burn out too fast.

I paused at the entrance to the alcove, the pounding music of the dance floor already overpowering my erstwhile playmates' heaving breath. "Enjoy your night at Club Inferno, gentlemen, and thank you for your service," I called over my shoulder into the shadows of the alcove. As I walked away, I was just able to hear the young soldier's reply.

"Uh, yeah, thanks, Dante, that was incredible!"

The marine's deep voice came after. "Did you say Dante? As in, the owner of the club?"

"Wait...he owns the club?"

Chuckling, I left the mezzanine where that particular Canoodle Corner (which is what I call them in my head) was located and moved up onto the third floor. Club Inferno was arranged in a series of concentric circles, naturally, though there were only four (there simply wasn't space for nine, try as I might). At the bottom was the Pit, the dance floor where even now several dozen people gyrated to the pounding music. Encircling that was the main floor, containing the two primary bars and a smattering of tables. Above that was the mezzanine where a soldier and a marine were probably trying to put their clothes back on (or maybe not, more power to them), complete with galleries overlooking the dance floor. At the top was the VIP floor, which had a private bar and luxurious lounge space, as well as the admin offices tucked away in the back corner.

Stepping inside the office, I found my manager, Glen, precisely where he usually was: at his desk, diligently taking care of all the mundane minutiae involved in running a business I can't be bothered to handle. Glen is a slim, precise little man, thirty-five going on eighty. He glanced up as I strolled in, raising an eyebrow.

"I take it you were successful, then?" he asked in his signature deadpan.

I grinned. "Two for the price of one, in fact. How'd you know?"

He tapped his cheek, then looked back to his work. "You missed a spot."

I checked, and whoops, I may have just walked through half the club with leftover semen on my face...but really, this place has seen worse from me. Glen handed me a tissue without looking up--he's efficient like that--and I cleaned up as I walked over to the big whiteboard on one wall of the office. Glen keeps a neat schedule for the staff there, as well as various managerial bits and bobs, but I'd erased a swath across the center for tonight's event. Written in large letters were the five branches of the Armed Forces, also known as my targets for tonight:

ARMY - NAVY - MARINES - AIR FORCE - COAST GUARD

With relish, I drew a line each through Army and Marines. "Two down, and it's not even nine yet," I said. "That might be a personal best."

"Congratulations," Glen said, his voice as flat and dry as ever. "We're all rooting for you."

"Your support means the world, Glen," I laughed. "So, how are we doing for the fourth annual Veteran's Day Dog Tag Dance?"

"Numbers are up from last year," he reported. "We're filled to capacity, and more than a third of current occupancy came in with military IDs, either active duty or veteran status. Mostly Army, to be expected with the base right outside town, but decent numbers of Navy and Coast Guard up from the port as well."

I pumped a fist. "I knew the social media campaign would do it. Free cover and half off drinks to anyone in dog tags for Veteran's Day. Word of mouth works wonders." I'd tried to add in that drinks would be free for anyone wearing *only* dog tags, but Glen wouldn't let me. I suppose that could have gotten out of hand. "Any update on the evening's objective?"

"As a matter of fact, while you were...otherwise engaged...the doorman called up to tell me we have an Air Force veteran in the building who might fit your...criteria."

I rubbed my hands together. "Score! We almost never get any. Show me show me show me!"

He gave an almost imperceptible sigh, then rose and moved to the security monitor on the wall across from the whiteboard. He pulled up a feed from the dance floor. "As it happens, I anticipated your request and had security note him." Glen indicated a solitary figure whirling and gyrating in the center of the Pit. He seemed to be dancing alone, or possibly with several people at once, it was hard to tell.

"Well, then I suppose I should go greet him personally," I said casually, my eyes fixed on the man on the screen. "Make sure he feels welcome at Club Inferno."

"I rather suspected you might." Glen was already behind his desk again as I strode for the door.

The Pit lived up to its name, sunken several feet below the level of the rest of the club. Currently it was a seething mass of bodies, all flailing limbs and thrusting hips, rife with the smells of booze and sweat and less innocuous things. Multicolored lights whirled and strobed above it all, painting the madness in otherworldly hues.

Naturally, I dove right in.

I only got groped twice and elbowed once on my way into the center, which might be a new record. I actually missed my target the first time I found him in all the chaos, glimpsing him over the muscular shoulder of a distractingly shirtless dancer I'd swung around, literally, in my search. I gave him an apologetic smile--any other night, I'd have been all over that, but I had a mission--slid beneath one of his brawny arms, patted his taut ass a friendly farewell and circled back toward where I'd last seen my objective, but he'd vanished in the press.

Then lean, strong arms slid around my waist, followed shortly by an equally firm body pressed to my back, still moving in time to the music pounding around us, loud enough to vibrate inside my chest. A voice purred in my ear, barely discernable over the music.

"Looking for someone?"

I turned and found myself nose to nose with the man I'd been searching for.

I grinned. "Not anymore." I twined my arms around his neck, locked my hips to his, and matched the rhythm of the dance he'd never stopped. He smiled back--it was a nice smile--and off we went, whirling into the crowd like no one else was there but us. Now able to see him up close for the first time, he was more striking than traditionally handsome, his face all sharp angles and hard lines--except when he smiled. His smile was pure sultry seduction, though it was as much in his eyes as his mouth. Getting that close also let me discover that his shirt, which looked solid from afar, was a semitransparent mesh. Every move he made gave me tantalizing glimpses of smooth skin and lean muscle, which went well with the way he was moving against me.

Shit, but he could dance.

I mean, I can dance, but this guy could DANCE. Every motion was sinuous grace from start to finish, flowing from one to the next and all but dripping sex with every step. I was hard as a rock after about ten seconds, and I made sure he was too before long. It was sweaty, breathless, and probably the hottest dance I've had in years. Ten years ago I might have come right there in the Pit just from dancing with him. Eventually, I stepped in close, mirroring the position he'd used to introduce himself. Sliding my arms around his waist, my erection pressed firmly to his ass so there would be no mistaking my intentions, I murmured in his ear just as he had.

"Want to go somewhere more private? There are some moves I'd like to show you, but we probably shouldn't in this crowd."

I felt his smile more than saw it. I definitely felt him grind his ass back against my groin in obvious invitation.

"Fuck yes!" he said, "Your place or mine?"

"We're already in my place," I replied with a chuckle, "how about upstairs?"

His confusion only lasted until the bouncers opened the way to the VIP level for us without a word, just nodding to me as I pulled him along. I'd considered just heading for a Canoodle Corner like I had earlier, but I had a feeling this particular pairing would get...rambunctious. No, my private VIP booth, enclosed and largely soundproof, was the superior choice here.

My companion was looking at our luxurious surroundings with slightly wide eyes, some of his smooth confidence cracking. "So, when you said we were already in your place..."

"I was being literal," I said, drawing him into the booth. "I'm Dante, I own the club."

The Master's Suite, as I refer to it (mostly just for the look on Glen's face when I do), is tucked away on one end of the VIP level, near Glen's office. It's mostly just an especially well-appointed booth, but it has misted glass walls and a sliding door with a latch to ensure privacy when I want it. Technically it's for making important business deals or whatever, but mostly it's just a fantastic place to, say, bring a guy you met on the dance floor for a good time.

Especially since I keep the good lube in there.

It's always a bit surreal to step into the booth after the noise and chaos of the main floor. It's soundproofed, technically, but the kind of music that plays in my club vibrates through the walls and floor, so you can still feel the beat even if you can't quite hear it. The fogged glass provides privacy, but the whirling multicolored lights outside dance across the walls continually, which turns the place into something of a psychedelic fishbowl that throbs continually with unheard music.

He was on me almost as soon as I latched the door, sinuous body sliding up against mine even more aggressively than on the dance floor. His lips found my neck, his hands working their way up my torso before latching onto the buttons of my shirt. He kissed his way down as each button opened, exploring my chest and abs with lips and tongue until he was crouched before me, face level with the tent in my pants.

He had them open before I managed to toss my shirt aside, and shoved them down (no underwear, naturally) to my ankles with gusto. My erection leapt free, almost hitting him in the face, not that he seemed to mind. He all but dove onto it, grabbing the base with one hand and eagerly wrapping his lips around the head. A sigh escaped my lips as he started sucking hungrily. My cock is not a small one, but he got most of it down in short order, bobbing his head as he swallowed much of my length again and again.

Leaving my pants in a pool on the floor, I stepped out of them and drew my eager airman back so I could sit on the plush, semicircular bench of the Master's Suite, legs spread to give him access. He paused only long enough to pull his own shirt off, at last exposing the lean muscle and flawless skin I'd been catching glimpses of. In the better light of the booth, I could tell he had the olive complexion and wavy dark hair of the Mediterranean, all bottomless dark eyes and smirking full lips.

The lips in question were drawing ever closer to the root of my dock, each bob of his head pushing farther down the shaft. Damn, I'd needed this. Getting those two off earlier without finishing myself had me all kinds of worked up. I didn't want to blow in his mouth, though; all that time on the dance floor with his beautiful, toned ass grinding against me had left a different goal in my mind.

I slid my hands through his silken hair, gently pulling his mouth off me. "Your turn," I said, "take those off and lay back." He stood up at once, fingers scrambling at his belt buckle. It took him a second--the downside of pants that tight is removing them in a timely fashion--but soon they were piled around his ankles, his dripping erection standing free and proud. A little shorter than mine but thick and uncut, it filled my hand pleasantly as I used it as a lever to guide him down to the seat beside me.