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Chapter Review
It's now 10 weeks into Mike's agreement with Jim Cartwright, the night manager of the Intercontinental Hotel in Buckhead, Atlanta.
10 weeks ago, when this all started, Jim was able to line up 4 men for Mike's first session this evening that lasted about 2 hours.
Those men were:
Clark, with his 11-inch uncut monster.
Tyrus, with a gym body, a shaved head and a 10-inch uncut cock
Jerry, with tightly cropped hair and beard and 8 inches but gigantic balls.
Cal, a quiet man, with a shaved head and beard, he was 9 inches but the thickest of them all.
Mike let all 4 men fuck him as a group for the last 2 hours. Most of them came twice; Mike swallowed them all.
As Mike's desire grew, Jim Cartwright lined up 4 more men to add to each gangbang session. The new men were:
Ray was Mike's first top; he was 6 feet 8 inches tall with a 9-inch cock.
Leo is the hotel chef; he has a nice 8-inch cock.
Roger is the hotel engineer; he has a 9-inch cock and he's the only cut cock in the group.
Ed is Mike's favorite bartender; He has a massive 13-inch cock.
Mike agreed to take the men in 3 groups of 3. That way everyone could spend the most time fucking vs standing around and waiting for one of Mike's holes to become available.
For the first month, all the men attended every night Mike was in town. But as weeks passed, men started dropping off the roster. Mike was still taking dozens of cocks a week and swallowing at least that many loads of cum, but he was disappointed that he couldn't keep all the men interested.
After 8 weeks, the gang was down to only 3 men, plus Jim Cartwright who always showed to collect on the two blowjobs a night that Mike had promised to deliver.
We join Mike's story on Sunday afternoon as he arrives for his 10th week on the job.
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Back for a New Week in Atlanta
As soon as I landed and got situated in my hotel room, I threw on my golf shorts and shirt and headed over to visit Ed at my favorite dive bar. I needed a dry martini and some advice from the most well-hung bartender in Atlanta.
Even though it was late autumn, Atlanta was experiencing heat wave. I was working up a slight sweat on my walk over to the bar. Soon, I was at the door and entering the cool, dark bar that I'd come to know and love.
"Hey Mike," Ed smiled, "back for another week with your nose to the grindstone?"
"I think you know where my nose will be," I smirked and took my seat at the bar.
Ed handed me my martini in a chilled glass. He even poured a little extra into a sidecar for me to enjoy as I waited for my second drink. I haven't paid for a martini here in months, ever since Jim added Ed to my roster of "guests" that I entertain in my room.
Ed was still a faithful regular and hadn't missed a session since he first started joining them. He didn't care that the group had dwindled, it gave him more access to me and I think he liked how I took his big cock with abandon.
"How was your weekend, Ed?" I asked, "anything exciting I missed?"
"You should know that you create most of the excitement in this town, Mike," Ed laughed, "are you looking forward to your week?"
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that, Ed," I replied, "it seems like my little hotel side hustle is losing steam."
"Why don't we go down to the quiet end of the bar to discuss," Ed said as he gestured with his hand to the open seats at the far end of the bar.
In Ed We Trust
I grabbed my martini and headed down to the far end of the bar and grabbed an empty seat.
"Let's get your food order in before we get lost in what I think is going to be a longer conversation," Ed suggested, "you want your usual?"
"Yes, please, Ed, thanks," I replied, "thank God for this bar, or I'd go nuts in this town."
"So, what did you want to say about your hotel parties?" Ed asked with a concerned look on his face, "you aren't thinking about ending them, are you?"
"I don't think so," I replied, "but I'm just not getting as much action as I need, and Jim can't seem to muster up a large group anymore."
"Mike, at the peak, you were taking more black cock than any white guy I've ever even heard about," Ed consoled, "you had to know that intensity couldn't last forever."
"I get it," I replied, "but I kind of got used to the sexual overload. Most nights I would go to bed pretty beat up with two dozen or so loads in my belly. It was kind of incredible."
"Well, if just the volume of guys is what your seeking, I can help with that," Ed offered, "but Jim won't let most of the guys I send over into the hotel. They are just not suitable for that upscale venue."
"Yeah, Jim holds the reigns tight on attendees," I agreed, "what kind of interest do you think you could generate?"
"Have you ever heard of a Queen of Spades?" Ed asked, leaning in so he could talk quietly.
"Yeah, white women who prefer black dick, right?" I replied.
"Exactly. Well, the male version of that is a Jack of Spades," Ed explained, "that's what you're turning out to be."
"That's exactly what I am," I replied, "I only give it up for black cock."
"This bar has almost a dozen Queen's of spades that frequent," Ed confided, "I've even tapped a few of them myself."
"Wow, really?" I asked, "do they meet guys here?"
"Yes, but most of them are known to be Queens, so everybody knows they are here looking for cock," Ed clarified, "you could meet a lot of guys here, but nobody knows you're a Jack of Spades, so you need to get the word out."
"Ed, you know I've got to be discreet; I can't have anyone at work finding out about my cravings," I scolded, "how do I get the word out without risking my job?"
"I can make some quiet introductions," Ed suggested, "I've got something you can wear that will let people know your desires. It's subtle but it's effective. I'll go get it."
Mike is about to become Jack
I sipped on my martini as Ed disappeared into the back room. Ed's other bartender, Ned, stopped over to grab my glass and make me a fresh martini. Ned, knew that I was Ed's friend and that I never paid for cocktails. However, I don't think Ned knew that I was effectively Ed's bitch when I was alone in my hotel room.
Ned was in his late 20's, he was about 6 feet tall and built like an athlete. I'm sure he caught me looking at him from time to time when I was enjoying my drink at the bar.
"Here you go, Mr. Adams," Ned smiled as he handed me a fresh drink, "on the house as usual."
"Thanks, Ned, you're the best," I said as I smiled and pulled the fresh cocktail my way.
I wondered what he would look like naked. I had a pretty good picture painted in my mind, but that didn't stop me from leering. While I was daydreaming, the waitress stopped over and placed my dinner at the bar.
"Here you go Mr. Adams," she said, smiling, "don't you ever get tired of us?"
"Never, Brittany," I laughed and smiled, "I love this place."
While I was eating, Ed returned from the storeroom and caught up on a few drink orders from regulars. I finished eating and slid my plate back and pulled my martini back into the center of the bar. Brittany removed my empty plate, so my bar space was again clear. Ed stopped back down with something in his hand.
"Here, try this on," Ed said, handing me a leather bracelet, "you might want to drop your hands under the bar and be discreet."
The bracelet was black leather with 3 black spade trinkets hanging off the leather bracelet by a small gold chain. I draped the bracelet around my right wrist and closed the clasp. I rotated my wrist and let the little trinkets swing around making a slight clinking noise as they did.
"So, this is a signal that I like black cock?" I asked Ed.
"There's a story behind this bracelet, Mike," Ed said, "you should probably know it."
"Ok, what's the story," I said.
"Well, before we met, I used to have a Jack of Spades that became devoted to me," Ed started.
"What do you mean, devoted?" I asked, "you mean he was like your bitch or something?"
"He was my bitch, Mike. That's exactly what he was," Ed smirked, "I hope you don't think less of me."
"So, since I'm wearing this, am I your bitch now too?" I asked.
"That's a fair question," Ed replied, "if you wear this at the active end of the bar, men will know that you're looking for black cock. But they will also assume that you're my new bitch."
"Did your last bitch, entertain black men he met at the bar," my inquiry continued, "I'm just trying to get an idea of the persona I'm stepping into here."
"He was quite popular, but he was nothing compared to you," Ed said, smiling, "you'd be very popular with this crowd. You're good looking, and you're well groomed. Nothing hotter than a rich white guy who wants to be a bitch for black cock."