Previously…
CHAPTER 9: TERMS OF AWAKENING
WE ALL THRIVE IN AN ECOSYSTEM that’s built on the whole of the human experience, and that’s exactly what this room was. Human connection—except it was in the form of heat, bodies, proximity and all the things that make us feel warm and fuzzy inside. That feeling you get when everything starts to make sense—when everything start to awaken.
That is exactly what’s happening now. All these guys and they have a singular objective, to fuck this guy, Jimmy, who’s bent over a couch into oblivion. And so far, that’s been nine guys—with number ten, a lumber jack of a man doing just that. Only he hasn’t said a word since he plunged his cock in Jimmy’s hole—Jimmy’s hole—who am I?
“Ah, yeah, fuck! Fuck me—fuck me!” Jimmy pants, trying to catch his breath but unable to and I see why—he’s got Paul Bunyan’s cock somewhere between his spleen and large intestine.
Then he shifts his stance, forces Jimmy’s face downward, and uses his legs to spread Jimmy’s knees apart. He wants more access. As he stuffs his considerably large dick back into Jimmy’s ass, Jimmy nearly forgets how to breathe. The couch creaks under the added force, leather sticking and releasing in small, sharp sounds, and Jimmy lets out a breathless “fuck!” that gets swallowed by the room’s steady hum—low voices, shifting feet, the faint rattle of glass somewhere behind us.
I can’t really tell if Jimmy’s in pain or on cloud nine. Either way, there are two guys in front of us, and Paul Bunyan is making the usual tics of a person on their last leg in the fight against orgasm—hips stuttering, breath hitching, a tightening through his shoulders that ripples down his back.
I take in his body for a moment—the whole sight. This guy is large—well over six feet tall. His frame is built like a guy who spends the bulk of his time in the gym. His thighs are—well, damn—thighs. I can make out the muscle pattern in his thighs, his back, even his shoulders—and as he fucks Jimmy, I watch his ass constrict on each thrust and his large, heavy balls swing back and heave against Jimmy’s balls, the sound of it a dull, rhythmic contact that blends into everything else happening in the room. Yeah—they’re that big that they miss his taint completely and just smack into his balls again and again.
Jimmy has muscles, but not like this guy. His body is much leaner, but still very well defined, the lines of it tightening and releasing with each movement as he braces himself against the couch, breath uneven, skin flushed under the low, uneven lighting.
And then a man from behind us—
“Fuck, I want in on that.”
He walks across the room, stripping off his clothes as he makes his way to the couch. He’s built a little bigger than Jimmy, but not by much. What is it with these guys and their tight bodies that hits me like this? For a moment, I forget I’ve been married for ten years—to a woman. And as much as I find her attractive, as much as I’ve enjoyed making love to her, there’s something about this room that’s working me over from the inside, and I haven’t even done anything yet.
He drops his pants, revealing a tight, compact ass, then climbs onto the couch beside Jimmy. Jimmy tries to lift up for a breath, but Paul Bunyan forces him back down into the cushions. The new guy glances toward the line, catches one of the men’s eyes, and hooks a finger to call him over.
“You gonna just stand there, or come over here and fuck me?”
The man in line doesn’t hesitate. He’s already stroking, pushing his pants lower as he steps in.
“Hell yeah,” he says, closing the distance.
The room thrums on around us—Jimmy’s moans breaking into soft curses, the slap of skin as Paul Bunyan drives into him, the wet, rhythmic sounds folding into the low murmur of voices. Off to the side, a couple of guys wipe themselves down with towels or the backs of their hands; near the door, others jerk off in place, watching. And then there’s me and Sergio. I glance over and see his hand buried in the front of his pants, his eyes half-lidded, his breathing uneven. He’s not hiding it. He’s jerking off.
The man behind the new guy steps in, grabs the lube from the couch, and works it over his cock. It’s average-sized, veiny, shaved clean like the other guy’s, which somehow makes it look bigger. I’ve never been a fan of the shaved look, but it works on him. The guy on the couch spreads himself, exposing a flushed, tight hole that puckers as the lube is worked in.
“Fuck, you gonna pound this ass good?”
Before answering, the man presses a finger inside him.
“Shit!” he moans, grip tightening on the couch. “Fuck—fuck!”
“You’re ready for this dick?”
“Yessir,” he says.
And just like that, he drops into it—no hesitation, no resistance. The man behind him slaps his cock against his ass, then drags the head, thick and flared, along his opening before pressing in.
“You gonna be my little bitch boy?” He thrust inside, grabs both his hips and drives in again.
“Ah—ah—fuck! Fuck!”
“What was that?” He asks, slowing his pace.
“I wanna be your little bitch boy,” he moans, “fuck!“
He slides his cock out, the man moans, his head turns just as the second man pushes his cock back inside.
“You like that?” He says, pulling his cock free again.
He’s toying with him and for some reason, I’m here for it. The second man does a few more times, sliding his cock all the way in only to pull it free. The guy on the couch, you can tell, he’s hungry for it.
“Fuck that’s hot,” says Sergio.
I go to respond but before I do, Paul Bunyan grunts. He queued up and ready to blow. It’s the first real noise he’s made since he started fucking Jimmy.
The second man has lost his restraint and this time when he pushes in, he drops into a steady rhythm, fucking the man in earnest.
“Uh, uh, ah—fu—fu—fuck! Fuck me! Make me—uh—make me—your—uh—uh—little—fuck—bitch boy—uh—fuck!” Each thrust knocking loose another syllable.
“Damn,” I say.
“Yeah,” Sergio replies.
Just then, Paul Bunyan lets loose a powerful grunt, followed by a low growl and another rough exhale that rumbles through the room. The second man isn’t far behind him; his body starts to tense, shoulders tightening, breath catching in short bursts that cut through the steady noise around us.
“Fuck! I’m close!”
“Yeah? Give it to me!”
“Where do you want it?”
“Breed me! Fuck—breed this little bitch hole!”
“You want my seed?!”
“Yeah! I want it so bad!” he says, trying to catch his breath, words breaking under the strain.
“Then take it, you little bitch!” the second man says, thrusting twice more before going still.
My head snaps to Paul Bunyan, his large hands locked on Jimmy’s waist. He’s making a low, primal sound—something closer to instinct than language—as he drives into him once more, hard, and then he, too, stills.
“Fucccckkk!” the second man groans. I turn just as he folds over the guy beneath him, spent. “You get all my seed.”
“Yeah—fuck—you just filled me up!”
They’re both breathing hard, the air thick with it. Nearby, someone shifts, a bottle knocks lightly against a surface, and the low murmur of the room resumes its rhythm. Then Paul Bunyan pulls out, his cock slick with his own cum and the cum of the nine men who came before him. He grabs the marker and slashes through the fourth set of marks—that makes ten. He passes the marker to the second guy, who pushes himself upright, reaches down, and draws another line across the left side of the guy’s ass before dropping it next to the bottle of lube.
Jimmy lifts himself up from the couch, shoulders rolling as he catches his breath.
“Fucking hell—that was intense.”
“You good?” he asks the other guy.
“Better than good,” he replies.
“Adam.”
“Jimmy.”
So now we know he has a name.
“So who gets who?” Jimmy asks, glancing between us.
“I want him,” Adam says, pointing straight at me.
Sergio looks at me.
“Looks like we’re up.”
And with that, he drops his pants, his hard cock still in one hand.
Damn.
Okay, so a few things. Number one—I’ve never fucked a guy. Number two—I’ve never fucked a guy with an audience. Number three—I’ve never fucked a guy.
But that isn’t what scares me. What scares me about all of this is that I want it. I want it enough to know I might not last. I went from being the guy sitting across the room on a chair that was savagely uncomfortable to standing in the middle of what I can only describe as a bacchanal, surrounded by some of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen, my dick rock hard. There are two tight asses right in front of me. Sergio—and his monster cock—is standing right next to me. More guys are filtering in through the door, the room never really settling.
And for the first time in my entire life, I feel like I’m wide awake.
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