Sacrificed

Doug had been conditioning me for months. We had met at the gym, and several weeks after we'd become regular spotting partners, he revealed to me, almost in an off-hand manner, that he was bisexual and that he actually preferred gay sex. He didn't come on to me—at least not directly—and I consider myself fairly open-minded, so I continued with our informal spotting arrangements, him monitoring me as I worked the weights and him doing the same for me. I also had an insatiable curiosity, and Doug was quite clever about exploiting that curiosity. He wasn't the one who said or did anything about my trying out the gay lifestyle; he just responded to my natural curiosity.

Sometimes after we'd worked out and showered, we'd go someplace together for a drink before going our separate ways. As time went on, I started asking him about his life and about the whole gay scene. I don't know why I did this—or didn't know at the time. Looking at it from hindsight, he obviously had seen the curiosity in me for all sorts of things and had played on that from the beginning.

Regardless, the more he didn't push the topic, the more curious I was, the more I asked about it, and the more I became interested in it. After a while, he wasn't at all shy about watching me in the shower, but I guess I wasn't all that shy about watching him either. He slowly made his interest in me known in no uncertain terms. I remember going weak in the knees the first time I saw him hard in the shower. He must have had at least ten long, thick, hard inches jutting out from his balls. He was a good eight inches just dangling. I hadn't been even vaguely interested in men in terms of sex before I'd met Doug, but now my curiosity was entertaining all sorts of "what ifs."

During that period, Doug didn't touch me with anything but his eyes, however, and the longer he went without trying to make a direct move on me, the more curious I became about his lifestyle and the more attractive he himself appeared to me. He had the blond good looks and robust, big-boned and heavily muscled physique that went with his Nordic heritage. His broad, open smile and ready humor also came straight from Scandinavia.

Whenever I was well into quizzing him about the gay lifestyle and why he was like he was, he would insert the hint that I might like to try it, and I'll confess that the more we talked and socialized with each other, the more curious I became about what he saw in this gay business that was better than a good fuck with a hot woman. I'd seen the way the women eyed him in the gym, so I knew that his lifestyle was definitely something he preferred and had chosen. I also saw how some of the men ogled him, and this only served to stoke my own curiosity. But still, no matter how closely we spiraled into trying it together, he never laid a hand on me in those early days other than to keep me from getting hurt from a falling weight during a gym workout.

That was until I fell from the rings one evening and he caught me by the crotch with one hand and his other hand slid up under my T-shirt and cupped one of my pecs. We stayed in that position perhaps for a second or two longer than was necessary, and he could hardly avoid noticing that my dick came alive under his touch. I could tell that he was impressed with what he'd felt by the look he gave me when we parted.

That evening, after our workout, while we were drinking beer in our usual bar, he finally moved in on his pitch. I don't remember how he maneuvered me into the proposition, but it was I who asked him if he'd do it with me just once so that I'd have some idea what his attraction to it was. By not making a direct move on me, he had caused me to start to doubt my own attraction and wondering if someone like him just didn't want someone like me. But, when I brought it up, he came alive and put on that broad smile, and I knew that he had just wanted it to be me who made the proposal.

Strangely, though, we didn't just go off and do it then. He went to great lengths to ascertain that I'd never done it with a man before—that I hadn't been fucked before and hadn't so much as let another man touch my cock or balls.

This seemed a little odd to me; I assumed that all gay men fucked indiscriminately like rabbits, but I did assure him that I was a virgin in the sense of any kind of sex with a man.

This declaration pleased Doug greatly, but again, strangely, he didn't suggest that we march off and get it on right there and then but suggested that I go with him to a private party the following week after our gym workout, where there would be a room we could use for all night if we wanted to. He pressed me for assurances that I really was interested in doing this, and I told him that the only reservation I had was that I had seen him hard, and I was scared about making ten inches disappear up my ass. He had smiled and said that I must really be terrified at the thought of thirteen inches then, and we had both broken down into laughter.

I hadn't had any idea how much my curiosity had worked me up for this, but I walked around with a hard on and a vision of those ten inches at Doug's midsection for most of the week in anticipation of having this experience with Doug. My butt twitched from the very thought of it, even though I was giving equal thought to the certain pain and possible pleasure of the experience.

On the night of the party, I trembled through our workout so badly that I couldn't half manage to complete my routine. Doug kept clucking and smiling at me and telling me that it would all go off just fine. He did hand me a small bottle and tell me to use it to take an enema and to shower really well before we went to the party, though, saying that good hygiene was a turn on and my virgin ass canal was going to get quite a workout. Not having the vaguest notion what men did to prepare to have sex with other men, I found this instruction alone so sexy that I almost creamed myself as Doug watched me shower.

We left my car in the gym parking lot and took Doug's. It was a dark night, and he soon had me lost in a maze of unlit streets in a far suburban section of town I'd never been in. At length, we turned into a drive and up to a set of large gates that opened to a clicker Doug pulled out of a compartment in his dashboard, and we slowly swept up to and parked on the grass beside several other cars in front of a large Georgian mansion.

The party was men only, as I had anticipated, and the entertainment rooms were heavy with smoke, not all of it from cigarettes, booze, testosterone, and the heavy musky smell of men in heat, on the edge of busting out in full rut. I don't know why, but this excited me and made me determined to drop all of my inhibitions, if at least for this evening. As Doug and I moved through the crowd, I cupped one of his butt cheeks in my hand, but he took my hand in his and moved it away from his body.

Uncertainty. He had told me that he was going to make love to me this evening, telling me in very detailed terms about his favorite sidesplitting position, and yet he still was avoiding intimacy.

He took me to a sofa toward the back of one of the many lounge-type rooms on the mansion's ground floor, somewhat away from the swirl of men around the floor, and we sat down. He did put his arm around me then.

But almost immediately after we sat down, my view of the room was cut off by an older man, probably somewhere around forty but in very good shape, who came and stood directly in front of us. Doug introduced me to the man, who turned out to be the host of the party. I was told his name was Donatien. I raised an eyebrow at the fancy French name, but he just laughed and said I could call him Don. My first impression was that he must be a dancer. He was lithe but well muscled and moved with a smooth grace. He was dark and hirsute, with a close-cut mustache and beard that came to a point below his chin, heavy eyebrows twisted up at the ends, and long hair that came down below his shoulders. The most striking aspect of him was his eyes; they were violet and piercing. I felt that he could look right through me and discern my thoughts—or at least to completely undress me.

Don sat down beside me, so that I was closely sandwiched between Doug and him. And, although Doug kept his arm behind my neck and his hand with a tight hold on my bicep, it was Don who started to make moves on me there on the sofa.

I had fully intended on having sex with Doug at this party, but this was something entirely new, something I hadn't bargained for or agreed to.

But Don was mesmerizing. He had his hand on my thigh, holding it in a firm grip with long, elegant fingers, and all the while he was telling me how beautiful Doug had said my body was and that he could see now that Doug hadn't been exaggerating. He mentioned that Doug told him we worked out together and his hand fluttered over my chest and down my abs and across my belly briefly as if he was checking out what Doug had told him, and then it went back, higher on my thigh. The hand went between my legs, and he pushed them apart, and I involuntarily found myself accommodating him and letting my legs spread. I had no idea what I was or was not supposed to be doing in this situation. I was entirely flustered and was angry at Doug for just sitting there, holding me in place for this assault, but not making any moves on me himself. I had come here for Doug's touch, not to be handed over as a party favor.

Don was turned to me now and had managed to get me to make eye contact with him, and I was lost in those violet eyes. As he murmured reassuring flattery to me, his hand went to my basket and traced my lengthening and thickening cock through the thin fabric of my pants and briefs.

I could feel Doug trembling beside me and wondered wildly why he wasn't doing anything. I could tell that he wanted me by the way his pants were tenting at his crotch. I moved my hand toward his basket, but he quickly grabbed it with his hand and held my hand immobile between us. My other arm was trapped behind Don's back. Between them, they had me pinned to this spot.

Don's hand snaked up under my shirt tail, and he tested and prodded my belly, abs, and pecs and squeezed my nipples gently. I began to breathe heavily and tried, in vain, to writhe away from his searching fingers. His hand slid down across my belly and continued under the waistband of my pants and found my dick and balls. Meanwhile, his other hand had slipped behind me and down my spine, and a long finger was snaking its way down below my waistband, between the crack of my butt cheeks, and rested very near to my asshole. I shuddered and gave a little moan.

He broke eye contact and his lips went to the side of my neck, where my carotid artery was pumping blood through my body at a rapid rate. I felt sharp teeth scrape against my vein, but he hesitated there just a few seconds. He gave me a sucky kiss there and then lifted his head and made eye contact with me again.

Staring deeply into my eyes, he started quizzing me in a low voice, just as Doug inexplicably had done a week before. Was I virgin to the touch of men? Never been touched by another man or touched another man before just now, let alone been kissed anywhere on the body, sucked off or given suck, or fucked? Was I quite sure?

My halting and bewildered answers seemed to satisfy him, and suddenly he had pulled his hands away from me and was reaching for the drink he had put on the floor next to the sofa before he sat down. He took a long swig from the drink, and then, turning to me, he held my face between his hands and forced my lips open with his and went into a long, deep kiss. His violet eyes held mine enthralled, as his tongue pushed deeper into my mouth.

But it wasn't just his tongue. He had transferred a couple of capsules to my mouth with his, and he was forcing them down my throat with his tongue. I gagged, but I swallowed them. There was nothing else I could do. They immediately started to have an effect on me. I was blacking out, as I had the sensation of both Don and Doug rising from the sofa and Doug hauling me over his shoulder like I was a sack of seed.