There are moments of dubious consent or non-consent in this story. If that type of element offends you, or is problematic, do not read.
Note: Chapter 3 take place immediately after the events of Chapter 2.
*~*~*~*
I barely recognized the shell-shocked man staring back at me from the bathroom mirror as clouds of steam billowed from the glass shower stall. I ran my hands through my thick, dark blond hair and then over my stubbled jaw. What the hell just happened? Was that really a dream?
I looked at my discarded briefs on the bathroom floor to confirm that yes, I'd had a wet dream. At my age. And apparently I'd come a bucketload because I could see what looked like a puddle of still-wet cum in the pouch.
I shook my head and slipped into the shower. I rested my forehead against the cool tiled surface and, as hot water sluiced down my backside, thought back once again to that fateful night two weeks ago when the nightmare that was now my life had first begun.
Physically I'm not a weak guy. Jon and I hit Equinox three or four times a week after work, often times sparring in the boxing ring. Up until last Saturday I'd considered myself equally as tough mentally. Now I wasn't so sure.
Yes, I'd been drugged. There was no question about that because Jason even bragged about it that night. But I was still struggling to come to terms with it. Intellectually I knew what happened to me wasn't my fault. That it had been out of my control. What had been in my control, and what I still couldn't understand, was how I'd let him get so completely into my head the way he had. If I'd followed my first instinct and left the party instead of continuing to accept drinks from him - hell, if I hadn't gone at all - I wouldn't be where I was now.
And the drugs he'd used - GHB, Viagra and Baclofen - weren't anything that should've made me act the way I had. I've been a cop for fifteen years so I know my drugs and their effects pretty well. Everybody knows what Viagra does. GHB is basically a date rape drug - victims can become incapacitated and unable to resist sexual assault, and in higher doses it can cause amnesia. Except, until Jason took me back to my condo, I remember almost everything about that night. So, it couldn't have been a big dose. In fact, I even remember him saying he'd given me just "a little."
I recall my limbs felt sluggish, but that was most likely due to the Baclofen - I'd had to look that one up. It's a muscle relaxant which, in combination with the GHB, was probably why I couldn't fight him off. Not that I really tried, though, as I recall. So, what it boiled down to was I was high and had a hard on. It doesn't explain why I'd participated in and enjoyed - yes, enjoyed - what he did. What then?
It's bad enough that I'd liked being fucked, but why did the subsequent humiliation turn me on? I got hard every time I thought about it - and I thought about it a lot. How, after he'd fucked me, I just lay there naked and stinking of sweat and spunk as a room full of guys I didn't know looked on and laughed at me.
How, when I started to get dressed, he'd told me I couldn't put on anything other than my underwear. Did I tell him to fuck off? No. Did I get up and leave? No. What did he do? He handed me another drugged drink and I drank it down. And then I'd let him parade me through the house and around his front yard like I was a possession on a leash.
I was soaping up my cock as I remembered that walk of shame. How he'd led me down the hall wearing only my briefs to a room full of people who'd laughed at me. And what had I done? Popped a fucking boner.
Suddenly it was that night and I was back in that house... Austin was across the room talking to Ryan, who I hadn't seen since we were all watching the game what felt like hours ago. They'd changed into running shorts from the sweats they'd been wearing earlier and must've gone for a run or something because they both looked sweaty. In fact, when Austin had come in with that last drink a few minutes ago I recall he was practically dripping.
I suddenly remembered being in the bathroom with Austin earlier. Remembered him undoing my shorts and taking my dick out and holding it while I pissed. Then how he'd shoved my face into his stinking armpits and held it there.
I'd felt my face go beet red and worse - I'd felt my cock give a big lurch in my briefs.
They came over to where Jason and I were, in the center of the room, in front of everybody, and got right in my face. I'd tried to avert my eyes but they stayed right there, tracking my movements, invading my personal space.
"Is this what you want, Kev?" Austin had asked. He'd raised his left arm and shoved it in my face. I'd turned my head but he grabbed me by the hair with his other hand and yanked my face down into the dark hollow of his armpit.
It was wet and sticky and rank, and I'd tried to struggle, but he'd held me in place. He was a few inches shorter than me so I was bent over and my butt was sticking out. Somebody, probably Jason, had given my ass a hard smack and I yelped, which drove my face even deeper into Austin's ripe armpit.
"Mmpphhh," I'd muffed, and laughter from the room filled my ears.
"Look at that fuckin' boner," a voice shouted and I wanted to curl up and die.
The next thing I knew somebody was pulling down the front of my briefs. The elastic had caught on my erection and when my dick was finally freed, it had slapped up against my belly with a loud thwack. More laughter.
Jason had pressed up close behind me and wrapped one arm around my waist as he ground his bloated crotch into my ass. My waistband was tucked under my nuts and he grabbed my hard dick.
"You like this, Kev?" he'd asked in a raspy voice as he started to jerk me off. "You like what a real man smells like?"
I couldn't think straight. Austin still had me by the hair and was mashing my face around and around in the musk of his sweaty, gamy pit. I'd tried to hit him, but Ryan had ahold of both my wrists. Then Austin had slid my face across the sweaty lawn of hair on the thick slabs of his chiseled pecs, to his other damp, slimy pit.
"Yeah, Kev," Jason had whispered as he continued to masturbate me, "feels like you really like this." He was pumping my dick really fast now and I knew I couldn't hold out much longer.
My head was swimming with whatever had been in that last drink and I suddenly found myself going crazy all over the fetid funk in Austin's pits.
"Mmmm," I'd moaned and fuck if my tongue didn't slip out of my mouth and lap up and down the length of his underarm, swirling through the thick rat's nest of armpit hair as my nostrils sought out the source of that strangely savory reek.
"I knew it," Austin had snickered, yanking my head back to show everybody the pit grease on my face and how my tongue was flicking out for more. There was more laughter and he'd shoved my face back into a heady hollow that seemed so full of marsh gas it made me dizzy. Why did it smell so fucking good? And taste so good-!
I don't know how long I was there, rooting my face deep in the steel wool of his sweet, sweaty pits, when I'd felt a hand slip down the back of my briefs and somebody began to finger my hole. There was a tingling in my balls, and when Jason's thumbnail slipped inside my piss slit, I'd come undone. I shuddered and came all over his hand.
I gasped, suddenly back in the present. I opened my eyes. I was in the shower at Jon's parents' house and - what the fuck? My hand was wrapped around my throbbing cock and my creamy load was sliding down the subway tile. I couldn't believe I just fucking spooged in the shower!
I quickly rinsed and stepped out of the shower. I toweled off and was putting on clean briefs when I caught my reflection in the mirror; I looked tired and there were dark circles under my normally bright hazel eyes. I shaved quickly and then rubbed a bit of styling gel through my hair and blew it dry. I noticed it was getting long and made a mental note to make an appointment to get it cut.
I swiped deodorant under my arms, for some reason giving each a quick sniff as I did. When I squirted toothpaste onto my toothbrush, I realized I was hard again.
*~*~*~*
Jon was in the kitchen when I walked in. His broad, muscled back was to me as he stood with hands braced on the carrara marble counter, doing modified lunge stretches as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing.
He'd showered but hadn't shaved - Jon's that guy who actually looks better with a little scruff - and was shirtless, his low-slung grey sweatpants exposing a couple of inches of his black underwear.
I froze. Black underwear... the dream... Jon? No. Not Jon. No fucking way. It was a dream, for fuck sake. Obviously the underwear in my dream was because in real life I knew Jon sometimes wore black briefs, and the dildo was because I'd been looking them up online the other night. Textbook Psych 101.
I don't know how long I stared at that black Calvin Klein waistband as he continued to stretch, but I was jostled from my trance by a couple of sharp snaps of his fingers. I looked up quickly and surprised an odd, slightly bemused expression on his face. He smiled and poured me a steaming mug of coffee.
"Would you like cream with this?" he deadpanned as I took the cup.
