Title: White Party '99 - Saturday
Author: Paul Plesko
Email address: pplesko@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: White Party '99
Character/Pairings: Brian/Ben; Brian/other
Category: Drama, POV, episode-related
Rating: NC-17
Date: Dec. 7, 2002
Summary: This story depicts four days in late November of 1999 …the 15^th annual celebration…and Brian Kinney's first visit to the party he had heard about for the entire gay portion of his 28 years. It was like a pilgrimage to Mecca…a child's first visit to Disney World…or an itch that cannot be scratched. It was a compulsion, pure and simple, for a man who followed wherever his compulsions led.
Spoilers: Episode 212
Warnings: None
Author Notes: Two days in Miami… and two more to go. Brian has been enjoying himself in ways we haven't seen when he was in Pittsburgh. And the 'Party' is still heating-up…

White Party '99 - Saturday
by Paul Plesko

My first sensation was the warmth on my soft cock… and the moisture…and the suction. Lying on my back, I slowly opened my eyes to find a shoulder blocking most of my view… and a head hanging over my pelvis. Dark hair… dark tan… muscular body… I began remembering last night.

=====

As I had walked past the pool on my way to my bungalow, I realized that the pool had been designated "Clothing Optional" after 11 p.m. There were several guys swimming in the glass-clear water, lit dimly by more subdued lighting than was usual. I stopped to look-over the prospects… then decided to take a dip because I was still covered with salt and sand. I was wearing just the damp jeans, so it took only a few seconds to strip… and I dove into the cool water from the edge. Even before I rose to the surface, I realized that someone was nearby.

"Hi," he said as I surfaced, opened my eyes, and brushed the water off my forehead. He was about 25, with longish black hair and an incredible over-all dark tan… a little hairier than I usually prefer, but athletic and tall… lean and muscular… a perfect specimen. The water droplets trapped on his long, dark lashes looked like jewels. He smiled with perfect teeth as he shook a cloud of fine spray from his hair.

"Hi," I said. "Did I almost dive on top of you? I didn't see you."

"No," he answered. "I saw you dive in, and I took a running leap myself. I've seen you from my balcony up there." He motioned to indicate one of the rooms facing the pool. "But you haven't been around the pool much. I've been watching for you… hoping to meet you."

"I went to the Seaquarium Party tonight," I explained. "Very hot." I was remembering the blond Marine I'd fucked so brazenly… so different from this dark beauty.

"I'm from Tampa," he said, offering his hand. "I'm Jake." Shaking hands while naked seemed strangely formal.

"I'm Brian… from Pittsburgh," I replied. "And what do you do, Jake?"

"I'm a bottom, mostly," he began. Then, realizing I meant his profession, he seemed charmingly embarrassed. "Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?" He laughed. "I'm a beach volleyball player… on a semi-professional team."

"I didn't know you could do it for a living," I said. "But you must be pretty good." I was imagining him jumping and spiking… and then I was imagining him sucking and fucking.

He laughed again. "Well, it's better than being a beach-bum… which is what I was before I started playing volleyball. My partner and I… a professional partnership only, I might add… we go from tournament to tournament, living off the generosity of friends and sponsors. It's hardly a "living"… but it sure beats working at McDonalds."

We were both bobbing chest-deep in the shimmering water. "You sure don't get that all-over tan playing volleyball," I said. "Unless you play in nude tournaments."

He smiled. "It's my one luxury," he said. "I own my own tanning bed. It's in the trailer we use to go from town to town. It's part of the image, I guess."

He was charming… gorgeous… and available. "Care for a nightcap?" I said. "My bungalow is …"

"Right over there. I know." He looked down, almost shyly… and then he looked me squarely in-the-face. "On one condition," he added.

"And that is?"

"That you fuck the shit out of me before you send me home."

"I couldn't have expressed my intentions more clearly," I said, reaching for the back of his neck to guide him to the ladder. "Right this way…"

I stopped to pick up my clothes at the pool's edge, so he met me at the door to my bungalow. The maid had left a dim light on and had turned-down the bed. He went straight into the bedroom and onto the bed leaving a trail of water across the carpet.

"How does Jim Beam sound?" I called into the bedroom.

"Perfect. Make it a double."

He lay on the bed with one arm behind his head and with his other hand stroking his cock which rose stiffly from his pubic bush. I stepped to his side of the bed to hand him the drink. Instead, he leaned over to take my cock into his mouth. The drinks were ignored as we accelerated into a fuck-marathon that lasted into the wee hours.

=====

And here he was on my cock once more, sucking me to hardness from the full-limpness of deep sleep.

"MMMMMmmmm… I love to feel your cock get hard in my mouth," he murmured as he released it momentarily. "It gives me such a feeling of power… to arouse you like that."

"Your mouth is surpassed only by your ass," I said. "After the third round of drinks, you had me fucking out-of-my-mind."

"You were like a fuck-machine," he joked… "or like the Olympic Fucking Team all rolled into one person. So many different positions. I didn't know it was possible to cum so many times. You musta been saving it for a long time there in Pittsburgh."

If he only knew. "Get over here," I said. "I want that ass one more time before breakfast." I pulled him toward me and slapped his ass hard. He moaned, as if it were a hardship… then quickly moved into position. "Lie on your left side," I said. "I'll show you a new one." I lay behind him. "Pull your right knee to your chest." I slipped the condom on quickly and planted my cock-tip in his crack. "Now lift your knee toward the ceiling. Open up…" I continued. I straddled his straight left leg as it lay along the mattress. As he raised his right, his hole opened beautifully; I wedged the tip into him. I gripped his right ankle and began to straighten his leg, eventually moving into position so the inside of his thigh was against my abs and his calf rested vertically along my chest and shoulder. By pushing against him with my chest, I could open him even wider and slide into him as deep as in any other position. He moaned as he felt me fill him.

"Oh, your cock feels so good," he moaned. "I want it in me forever."

I gave him a jab, letting him know this was only the beginning. Rocking back and forth, I could slide out of him all the way… and his body guided my cock back into his hole on the in-stroke. Slowly at first, and then faster… I fucked his ass, still stretched from last night.

He moaned his approval. I gripped his left nipple with my right hand and twisted. He moaned again, tightening on my cock on-cue. I could abuse both his nipples in this position, alternating from one to the other. Each new attack brought a louder moan.

When his nipples were red and hard, my hand moved to his cock, swaying wildly with each thrust. "When you cum, I'm gonna stop fucking your ass," I threatened.

"I'll try to make it last all day," he whimpered.

I jacked him firmly. I was ready to cum… and then to go eat breakfast. Rapid hand action… plenty of friction… a thumb brushing over his piss-slit… all the things it would take to break his resolve and make him shoot… a battle of wills.

My hand was a blur… pounding against his ballsac… then pressing his shaft up along his belly as if to fuck his navel. His eyes opened wide… his mouth sagged. He was losing it.

"Fuck!" he yelled… "I can't hold it!" His jizz shot up his chest to his shoulder. The rope of pearly liquid sagged onto his obliques as the second shot followed the first almost as far. My own cock shot its load into the tip of the condom buried, throbbing, and quivering, in the depths of his ass. I turned him onto his back by letting his leg slide off my shoulder; I left my cock buried inside him as he pivoted on the impaling rigidity. I bent down to plant a row of kisses from his sternum to his lips. He moaned as our lips finally met. "That is what I wanted from the moment I saw you in the distance," he murmured as his lips fluttered against mine. "Just watching you walk gave me an erection."

I kissed him hard until he opened his mouth wider and submitted to my tongue exploration. He shuddered in pleasurable arousal as his hands traversed my back and shoulders. "If I had seen you earlier, I wouldn't have waited so long," I answered as I broke the kiss. "And last night wasn't enough. I'd had a long, hard day… with the emphasis on 'hard'!"

He laughed. "I think everybody came to Miami to fuck their brains out. I know I did."

"I've pretty much fucked most of fuckable-Pittsburgh… but this place is incredible. Every gorgeous guy within a thousand miles must be here." I gave him a jab with my semi-hard cock just to show him I was ready for more… and I felt him tighten in-response. He was ready to go again. We began the process more rapidly this time… already aroused… already lubed… already protected. We fucked again until we lay trembling in each other's arms.

=====

He was from Tampa, I remembered, as I lay there alone after he left. He had forgotten to pick up his swimsuit or towel as he headed for my bungalow, so he had to borrow a towel to wrap around himself; the pool was already filled with the die-hard lap swimmers. But, what was his name? I was taking a mental inventory of all the guys I'd fucked in the last two days… and there were still two more days to go.

=====

The major event of Saturday was the Muscle Beach Party from noon to sunset… just two blocks down the beach from my hotel. I left the Delano through the rear and walked along the boardwalk toward Lummas Beach, better known to the locals as "Muscle Beach" in the heart of the gay community. I wore the black, baggy shorts over my Speedo and carried my tanktop over my shoulder. The boardwalk was crowded with guys… all sorts and types… but everyone was cruising everyone, like Saturday night on Liberty Avenue. As one group of rowdy guys passed me, I stepped aside to avoid a collision… and I suddenly got a hard blow to my shoulder that spun me around and almost knocked me down. In a clatter of skates on wood, the guy who collided with me slid onto the rough wood with bare legs. A few guys helped him up. He skated slowly and painfully back to me.

"Are you OK?" He asked. "I was doing a stupid trick and didn't see you… caught you with my elbow. Sorry if I hurt you." He was gripping my shoulder for support, but pretending to examine me for injuries.

"I'm OK," I said quickly… "but you look a little the worse for wear. That's a nasty scrape."

"That's just part of in-line skating," he said, shaking his head. "I fall all the time… mostly because I'm trying dumb shit… mostly tricks that should be done on ice." He straightened up, finally, and looked me straight in-the-face. Strongly chiseled features, about 30, probably… smooth and muscular, very tan, gleaming like polished marble… dark, curly hair plastered to his forehead with plentiful sweat. I looked down at his long, muscular legs streaked with blood. "Hey… you're pretty gorgeous. Ya know that?" He grinned like he thought his remark would embarrass me.

"You're not bad yourself… if we cleaned you up a bit," I said with a chuckle.

He winced as he tried to move. "Here, let me help you," I said, taking his arm and putting it over my shoulder.

"Do you wanta dance… or fuck?" he said with a laugh as he put some of his weight on me.

"One thing leads to another," I teased. I wrapped my free arm around his waist and felt his obliques harden as my fingers touched them.

"Sometimes accidents turn into happy events… and some accidents may not totally be accidents at all." We reached a bench and he lowered his lanky body onto its seat. "I noticed you earlier," he said. "I hadn't planned to hurt you, just bump you a little… but I caught a wheel in a crack just as I got close, and the rest is… painful," he said with a cute smile as he brushed some splinters off the side of his calf. He looked deep into my face again. "Has anyone ever told you that you have gorgeous, sad eyes?" he continued as he watched my expression change. "Behind that hard exterior, there's a thoughtful, loveable guy just busting to get out."

"That's not what my friends say… and they should know," I countered.

"Your friends are the last to know," he said philosophically. We sat silently for a few seconds. I couldn't think of any response.

"But that's not why you're here, is it… for a personality evaluation? I'm just an intuitive guy… and I'll bet I can guess what you WOULD like."

I laughed, because one didn't need to be too intuitive to figure out what most of the guys on the boardwalk wanted… and it was only noon. The day was young.

"Here's the plan," he said, talking rapidly as if he had someplace to go. "I want you… you want me… that's a given. We don't need to discuss that further. And the only thing left to discuss is the time and place. Right?" I smiled at his frankness; he sounded like I did back in Pittsburgh. He didn't wait for me to answer, but kept talking. "You're staying near here, I'll bet. Well, tonight… at midnight… walk south from here… along the beach…" His arm swept off in the direction I had been walking. "…a few more blocks… away from the park… and sorta along the middle of the beach. Watch out for the police. There's a big clump of mangrove down there. I'll meet you there… and we'll show each other a good time. I don't care what you do… what you like… what your fetish is… I just want a piece of this," he said, putting his arm around my shoulder again and shaking his head in disbelief that things were working out so well.

"It's a deal," I said as he pushed himself to a shaky stand on his skates. "Twelve o'clock… south of here… I'll bring…" He was gone down the boardwalk, hell-bent, weaving among the strollers. He had caught me off-guard with the "loveable guy" remark… and then the split-second switch to a pick-up line. The guy was either an air-head… or a clairvoyant. I liked him immediately. The smell of his sweat clung to my body like a heavy perfume. I tasted my shoulder absent-mindedly where his armpit had rested. He would be with me all afternoon… in my anticipation of the night.

The "Beauty Pageant" part of the party had already begun when I arrived. A dozen embarrassed "twinks" were on the stage in the first round of competition. All were less than twenty… and a few looked as if they had lied about their ages. Most of them looked embarrassed to be posing in nothing but their tighty-whiteys with a thousand pairs of male eyes viewing the merchandise. But a few of them were beginning to enjoy the attention, it appeared, from the tents and bulges in their baskets. The crowd applauded wildly for each one as he turned and pulled down his briefs to show his ass. It was impossible to pick a winner. "Bubble Butt Bingo," said the emcee. "Now show us your dicks," he said, "but just through the fabric. We don't want to get raided by the Vice Squad."

"Oh, yes we do!" shouted a few audience members.

The participants fondled themselves enough to show an obvious winner… and he was given a chest-sash and a crown.

"Next, the Beauty-Boys," said the emcee. These were the male-model-type, lean-to-muscular, with gorgeous faces, perfect bodies, and egos to match. I watched for a few minutes, then left to get a rum-punch, the specialty of one of the sponsors of the event.

When I returned, the Jocks were taking the stage. Each carried the symbol of his sport and wore the skimpiest part of the uniform. And there was my fuck-boy from last night… the guy with the all-over tan… wearing a canary yellow thong and caressing a volley ball as if it were a scrotum. He didn't win, but he looked damned good. The winner was a basketball player, probably a guard, wearing only an oversized basketball jersey; the guys in the front row got a good look at what was underneath.

"Leathermen… onstage!" the emcee shouted… and sixteen of the most luscious leather-clad guys strolled onto the stage to glare at the audience. They wore everything from leather jockstraps to simple leather harnesses to elaborate leather pants and unzipped motorcycle jackets over bare chests. The winner had stripped off his ass-less leather chaps to show he was wearing a leather cod-piece underneath. When he bent over to unzip the chaps, the emcee practically fainted.

Next were the Slaves and Masters… usually younger boys who were paraded, nearly naked, across the stage by guys in leather, although some Masters were nearly naked too. The winning couple got a huge round of applause when the Master stopped mid-stage, unclipped the leash from the boy's studded leather collar, and re-clipped it to the chain connecting his nipple rings. I had worked my way to the edge of the stage so I got a good look at this group… and even spoke to some of the contestants as they left the stage.

Next came "Bears" and "Men Over Fifty"… two groups that did nothing for me, so I went to get another drink. The combination of heat, sun, and alcohol was turning the mob into a rutting, sweating herd. Sliding through the crowd was like a busy night in the health club's steam room… skin-on-skin… heat… and wet.

By the time the last two groups were to be judged, I had returned to my place by the stage. "Musclemen (Under 220 Pounds)" and "Musclemen (Over 220 Pounds.)" The quality varied, but some of these guys had gorgeous physiques which had taken years of training, sculpting, and discipline… not to mention hours of oiling, shaving… and possibly enhancement surgery. I picked about six of the 30 participants that I mentally fucked right there on the stage. And I spoke with two of them afterward… but nothing clicked.

As I left the beach party, I saw Ben sitting on a stone wall talking to two guys our age. His face brightened as I approached.

"Hey, Ben. How's tricks?" I said, eyeing the two good-looking men.

"Fine… wanta join us? We were just heading to Gordon's room (tilting his head to indicate the brunette) for a drink and some recreation. You'd be welcome to join us." The other two guys looked me up and down and shook their heads affirmatively. "I've told them about you, actually," he continued.

"No… but thanks. I'm saving my 'energy' for tonight… the Maze Party, 'White Heat.' I think I'll just head back to my hotel… take a rest or get a massage… and replenish the jizz-supply. You look like you can handle the situation by yourself," I said with a wink. He smiled, indicating that he intended to give it his best shot… or two.

"I've heard that the Spa at the Delano… on the roof… is a great place to meet guys. But I figured I wouldn't encroach on your territory," he said with a grin. "Enjoy! I'll see you tomorrow night."

As I left, they headed off in the opposite direction… Ben with his arms over two shoulders.

I hadn't paid much attention to the exercise facilities at the hotel, but it sounded like a good place to work out some kinks and pump up a few muscles for tonight. I decided to visit the Spa. As I walked around the pool, headed upstairs, I met Luis who was carrying a tray of liquor bottles and glasses.

"I don't usually do bar-service," he said almost apologetically. "But these guys are special… like you." He grinned that wide-open seductive grin that I remembered.

"I'm headed upstairs to the Spa," I replied.

"Oh, very good," he said. "Get a massage. Ask for Sanchez. Tell him I sent you." His lips tightened into a knowing smile. "He's a good guy," he added. "Give him a BIG tip." I nodded as I headed for the elevator.

The receptionist looked at me over her glasses. "Whatchya want, Luv?"

"A massage," I said. "With Sanchez. Is he available?"

"He's got someone right now," she said, examining the book. "But he should be done in about 20 minutes. Why don't ya have a seat… or try some of the equipment?" The place was nearly deserted and she looked like she wanted to watch me stretch a few muscles.

"Sure," I said. "Hold it for me."

"Oh, I would… hold it for you, I mean," she said with a sensual smirk. "What's your room number?"

"104," I said. "Bungalow 104."

"Name?"

"Kinney. Brian Kinney."

"Just checking," she said. "There's a charge if you're not a guest."

I stripped off my tanktop, knowing she was watching me, and began the Nautilus circuit… Quad machine, Overhead raise, Calf cruncher, Biceps bulger, Ab punisher… my nicknames for the various exercise machines. My muscles screamed from a several-day lack of exercise… they burned with the punishing white-heat of pleasure… my skin flushed and gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat.

"Brian… Sanchez is ready for you now," called the receptionist. She pointed to the door behind her. "Down the hall… he'll find you." I gave her the Kinney-smile and walked through the door.

It was a long hallway with a few doors on each side. As I walked slowly, one of the doors opened. I approached and looked in; a young guy wearing only white shorts was adjusting a chocolate-brown sheet on the elaborate chrome massage table in the center of the room. "Come in," he said. "I'm Sanchez. And you're new here." He was about 5-feet-nine inches… of slight, boyish build… lean but not muscular… only a hint of his Hispanic ancestry in his face… soft eyes, almost feminine…

"Luis told me to ask for you," I explained. His eyes brightened in recognition.

"I'll have to thank him," said Sanchez.

"I should have showered," I said, "but I wasn't sure when you'd be ready for me."

"That's okay," he said. "You can shower afterward… if you can still stand up," he added with a smile.

"I'm not sure what I'm getting into," I said. "Luis just said to ask for a massage."

"Well, we'll leave out the facial and the manicure," he said… "if that's OK… and just get down to business. I think I know what a guy like you needs after two days of South Beach."

I wondered how he knew that… about the two days. I could have been here the entire week.

"Just strip and lie on the table… on your back," he said almost like a doctor preparing for an examination. He turned to prepare some supplies and equipment. I dropped my shorts and the Speedo I was wearing underneath and climbed up to sit on the table. The metal frame was cool against my heated skin.

"While I get ready, drink this," he said, handing me a frothy glass that seemed to materialize from nowhere. It was a fruity, creamy, rum-based drink with some unusual flavors.

"What is it?" I asked suspiciously.

"Rum… with some restorative herbs," he said reassuringly. "Nothing dangerous. Just island voodoo medicine. It makes you powerful… como un stallion," he added with a big smile.

I sipped it again suspiciously… but what-the-Hell! I'd done more dangerous shit before. "For tonight," I thought. I drained the glass.

"For tonight," he added. He removed the empty glass. "On your back," he repeated.

"Well, I've got a little problem," I said with a slight smile. "Something has cum-up…"

"I won't even notice," he said. "I'm a professional."

I stretched out on the table, appreciating the softness of its cushion… a pleasant mattress surrounded by a heavy chrome frame resting on an adjustable pedestal with several controls to lock it into various positions… a neck-rest and pillow behind my head. My cock swayed semi-erect above my lower abs. His hands traced softly over my body… feeling my firmness… assessing my muscularity… evaluating my skin-tone and hair-quality. He pinched one of my nipples gently and watched my cock bounce almost imperceptibly.

"Hmmm… just as I thought," he said as he went back to his exploration. "If I do anything that you don't like… that doesn't feel good… just wait a few seconds to decide… then let me know… and I'll stop," he said in a soft, comforting voice. "My treatment is meant to relax you… to replenish you… to prepare you for another night… like you spent with Luis and Armando. They told me about you… and I feel privileged to have you on my table." He smiled again and reached for my cock, pumping it tightly a few times. I'm certain my eyes widened in surprise… and arousal.

"Just one more thing," he said, reaching below the table. He swung a fur-lined plastic cuff on a short chain attached to a track on the table's edge. "Just to keep your hands out of the way," he murmured.

"I don't think you need those," I said. "But I'll try them… and if I don't like them…"

He ignored me and put the cuffs on both wrists. "And now these," he added, bringing up a pair of ankle cuffs. They were on before I could decide whether I wanted them. I could move a little… both wrists and ankles had about six inches of 'play'… and the cuffs weren't tight… but they had an effect on my cock which was at a steeper angle now.

He stepped away for a moment; the lights in the rest of the room dimmed and an overhead light brightened on my body. There was soft Hispanic music in the background.

"Are you Cuban?" I said, trying to make conversation to distract myself from this erotic scene.

"No!" he said emphatically. "Dominican. Most people guess 'Puerto Rican.'" He spit out the last words like poison. "We're different."

"Now, let's get ready," he said. With his hand apparently on one of the controls for the table, he gave a short push… and my wrist-cuff chains slid toward my shoulders along a track in the table-edge until my wrists were drawn close to my head with my elbows splayed outward. "Nice," he said, stroking my pecs… "but too hairy for South Beach. We'll fix you up." I had actually shaved my chest a time or two during my college years… because John preferred a hairless, muscular boy… but I hadn't done it for several years.

Sanchez stepped away from the table and returned with a container of shaving soap and a brush. "You'll like this," he said. "There's no feeling better than being shaved by someone." I smiled and nodded. I'd only experienced it once before… and that experience flooded back into my memory for a few moments…

"Lie back," he said. "I want you smooth… so I can draw you that way… totally smooth… makes your cock look even bigger." He held a straight razor a few inches from my nipple. I remember gulping… because I had never really seen a straight-razor up-close. "That's its beauty…" he said, reading my mind. "It could slice you into pot-roast in a few seconds… but it's caress is like a thousand lips on your skin. It glides, cutting everything in its path." I was afraid. He had been drinking. I wanted to please him. I didn't want to show fear… or distrust. He would be angry.

Sanchez spread the soft soap-foam over my right pit and then the left. With the straight razor poised, he turned to me. "You okay with this?" I nodded and closed my eyes as I had done before.

Two long swipes of the blade over the gently concave skin, scraping harder on the muscular boundaries. Then a few short, touch-up strokes to get the remainder. His fingers brushed softly over the bare skin to assess the smoothness. "Yes," he said. "Perfect."

He did the same to my other pit… same strokes… same testing… same response.

I opened my eyes as the foam caressed my nipples. "There's not much here… just a hair or two… but now you will be perfect." He did the same with the few hairs over my sternum… then dry-shaved the almost-invisible fuzz off the remainders of my pecs.

"Your chest is so fine," he said. "Like a statue."

My belly tightened as he slopped the foam onto my navel and lower abs. "No 'treasure trail,'" he said. "Low-class… not refined… not the best. I am preparing you like a warrior… for battle."

"You aren't going to shave my pubes, are you? I don't want to look like an overgrown ten-year-old."

"Well, I would," he said… "to be perfect… but if you don't want me to, I won't. Can I thin and trim them a bit? You have such a big bush…"

"Go ahead," I answered. "It grows like fucking weeds."

He shaved my lower abs, then shaped my pubes into a broad half-oval and shortened them with scissors and fingers, managing to stroke my cock occasionally as he worked. "Increíble. Usted tiene tan un pene agradable. Hermoso." I figured out the part about "incredible, beautiful cock." He lifted it to one side, as his other hand moved to another lever. The ankle cuffs moved slowly toward my ass, bending my knees and planting my feel flat on the mattress. He reached beneath the table and the lower section suddenly folded downward, giving him direct access to my ass and balls hanging over the edge. His fingers stroked down my inner thigh to my ass-crack. "Nice," he said. "Lots to do here."

He slathered my balls and crack with foam faster than I could respond. The menthol on tender skin gave a slight tingle, making me suddenly aware of the vulnerability of that portion of my body.

"Be careful down there," I joked nervously. "I'm told those are my best features."

"And I will frame them like fine art," he said with a smile, looking between my knees. "Open wide," he added as he pushed my knees farther apart.

The sensation of having one's balls and ass shaved defied description. The combined danger and pleasure… the soft manipulation… the warmth of fingers on skin recently chilled by air-exposure… the indignity of having one's balls hanging pendulously over the edge of a table.

"Smooth as a baby's butt," he said conclusively as he gave my balls a heft. "And now for the massage." He returned my ankles to their original position after raising the leg-section of the table. "I would even shave your legs… if you belonged to me," he murmured.

"I don't 'belong' to anyone," I stated. The warmth from the drink was spreading over my body like a pool of warm wax.

"Not yet," he said. He turned toward me again holding one of those electric, variable-speed massage units they use for deep muscle injuries of athletes. It resembled a reciprocating sander, with the sandpaper replaced by a black, soft, naugahyde-covered pad to use on bare skin. One had been used on me once… when I injured myself while running. "Just lie back and close your eyes. We'll start slow." The gentle whir of the machine started close to my ear, then moved to my shoulder as the pad descended onto my pec. Its soft trembling went deep into my chest, rubbing muscle against bone… jangling bones in their cartilage… opening capillary beds for expanded blood flow. He turned-up the speed as he slipped over my nipple. It felt like a thousand lips sucking me… with a direct link to my shaft. I heard him chuckle at my reaction, as he turned it even faster. He worked the vibrator over my chest and abs, as if he were sanding a large plank of wood… pausing in some spots which were particularly sensitive… my pits, my navel, the soft skin of my inner thighs. He even passed the pad over my lips once, leaving them numb and tingling. "Now for some fun," he murmured. He lifted the pad from my body; I opened my eyes just in-time to see it descending on the shaft of my cock… lengthwise… pressing it against my abs. He rocked it back and forth and from side to side… then lifted it so that it just rested on the tip. I began to moan, I remember… uncontrollably. The level of stimulation was so great, I was writhing in pleasure. He turned the machine to a higher speed. My body tensed… almost ready to shoot. "Not yet," he whispered. "Armando suggested this." He stepped away a moment and returned with something I couldn't see… but I could feel it soon enough… as the pad of the massager returned to my cock… a vibrating dildo slipped into my ass… jerking me back to full arousal… muscles spasming… head tossing from side to side spraying my shoulders with sweat... four huge convulsions as my abs contracted uncontrollably… and then a flood of cum which bathed my chest from neck to navel. And he didn't stop. He left the vibrators running at full-speed. "Muy agradable. Ahora, otra vez." He pressed harder, grinding my cock-tip against my smooth abs until the skin was almost raw. My muscles tensed, arching my back off the table as I shot a second time. He left the vibrator on my cock until the last drop of cum was wrung out of my gonads. "There," he said. "You will sleep now while the herbs do their work. Go to your room. Luis has prepared it for you. Sleep for a few hours. You will awake a new man." He tossed a towel onto my chest, released the cuffs, and left the room. I fumbled to get into my clothes. My cock was still large, even though soft… it was hard to stuff into my Speedo. I needed to use both walls as support as I made my way down the hall to the Receptionist's desk.

"Feeling better?" she asked. I took my wallet out of my shorts and tossed a fifty-dollar bill on the appointment book. "For Sanchez," I gasped. I barely remembered getting back to my room, or into bed.

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Luis had apparently set the alarm so I'd wake for the next party. I dressed in my usual black and walked ten blocks to the Maze nightclub. The place was packed… the music was loud… the guys were hot… the atmosphere was electric… but somehow I couldn't get the beach off my mind. My cock maintained a semi-hardness that bulged the basket of my jeans and got lots of comments and feel-ups. My muscles felt pumped; my senses were heightened. What had Sanchez put in that drink? During a pause, I shared a joint with a guy, leaning against the wall as he kissed my neck and tried to sweet-talk me into letting him blow me. I ended-up smoking most of it. All of this simply seemed preliminary to what would occur later. I was restless and full of anticipation.

I left at around 11:30. The deafening music made the streets seem unusually quiet as I walked back east toward the beach. The ocean breeze was still warm. I decided to stop at my room to change into something more casual that my Babylon-costume. My boots weren't suited to the beach either. I removed my jeans (no underwear underneath, of course) and put on my loose, black exercise shorts again…and added a pair of black sandals. Black seemed appropriate for a nighttime rendezvous. I headed for the beach, half-expecting to meet Armando again. My ass twitched at the thought. I couldn't take a pounding like that two nights in a row. It was only a few minutes before midnight as I reached Muscle Beach. I would probably be late reaching my destination. And I didn't know how far I had to go. "Several blocks," he had said.

The beach was crowded near the park… left-over, hung-over celebrants of the Muscle Beach Party, I guessed. The crowd thinned as I walked further down the beach. Couples were lying together in the darkness or walking slowly together, hand-in-hand. Only their silhouettes against the moonlit waves indicated that I was not alone. And a bank of clouds was settling in; it would be a dark night on the beach. Blazing hotel lights on my right in the distance… black ocean to my left… my liaison before me in the darkness. I trudged faster through the dry sand. What was his name? I don't think he ever told me… and he certainly didn't know mine. How would I know he was the one?

"Hey… Buddy… Wanta pet my Chihuahua?" The voice was unmistakable.

"Here, boy… here, boy…" I called. "I've got a bone for you."

He laughed and stepped out of the darkness… naked, if my dark-adapted eyes weren't deceiving me.

"I knew you'd come," he said as he stepped closer with his arms extended. "I don't throw myself on the boardwalk for just anyone." We embraced as our lips met. He tasted of wine. "You've had a joint," he said. "And here I came prepared with my little stash… to loosen you up." He laughed as if he knew I'd be loose from the beginning.

"Why-in-the-fuck didn't you invite me to your room?" I said. "You got something against comfort and privacy?"

"Out here, it's dangerous… and I thought you were the dangerous type. You get off on danger. I don't know how I know. I just do." He guided me further along the beach and then up-hill to the rocky margin where it apparently met some open land. There was a large stand of mangrove trees… with twisted trunks looking grotesque against the blue-black sky. "Come in and meet a few people," he said. As he spoke, two shadows emerged from the trees and stepped behind me. Firm hands slipped beneath my tanktop and stripped it off quickly. They were naked as well; I could see the sharp contours of dim light on lustrous skin and muscle; I could feel their warmth as their hands brushed over me. A hand slipped from my hip to the bulge of my cock under the thin shorts… and simultaneously, someone gripped my wrist and guided my hand over a bare, fully-hard cock rising almost vertically against hard abs. With my free hand, I pulled my shorts down, exposing my cock to the exploring hand. Other hands pulled my short to my ankles and helped me step out of them. Arms wrapped around me from behind as my cock was licked and sucked… wide tongue along the length… then passed to another tongue which swirled around the tip. A mouth surrounded the head and swallowed half of the shaft, while other lips vied to take their place. I was pulled backwards against a bare chest… arms stroked me from neck to pelvis… a mouth on the ridge of my shoulder… firm hands on my biceps, which slipped down my arms as the torso receded. My arms were pinned behind me by strong hands. Another hand snaked between my legs from behind and lifted to grip my balls in a tight squeeze. My muscles tightened then, stretching my torso and struggling against my captors. "Hold on, big fella… we won't hurt you," the strange voice whispered in my ear. The mouth on my cock was replaced by another then, as the original kissed its way up my center-line to my jugular notch; a wet tongue explored its concavity before tracing a snail-trail of saliva up my neck to my chin. And then hard, demanding lips covered my mouth as if eating a juicy peach. The intense stimulation made me respond in-kind… licking and kissing as if to eat my assailant. And suddenly, they were gone into the trees again… only one hand led me through an opening between two trunks. I brushed naked bodies as I passed; they lined the way to the interior where I could see a faint light…just the light of a small flashlight shining on a t-shirt stretched between two branches, but it gave sufficient light to see roughly a dozen men in various stages of undress and in various sexual positions. The hand that led me belonged to the Skater. I turned to him in the dim light and placed my hand on his chest, then slowly moved it up so that my fingers encased his throat. He closed his eyes and trapped my hand against his shoulder with his cheek… then twisted his head to suck my fingers… a preview of what he would do. He dropped to his knees then, gripped my cock at the base, and swallowed it completely in one thrust. I shuddered and let-out a moan. His hand on my cock was replaced by another hand that competed with the mouth to see which could serve me best; another explored the curve of my ass and dipped into my crack with two up-curving fingers. The nails scratched seductively over the soft lips of my anus. Another man stepped forward to suck my left pec… his hands on my hips rocked me forward and back as he pressed my hardening nipple against the backs of his teeth with his tongue. My cock leapt in the unknown mouth. "Suck him," someone said. "I want him too," said another. I reached out to grip someone… anyone… beginning to reciprocate. Finding a face in the darkness, I pulled it close to kiss hot lips... a thin moustache against my upper lip... my fingers encountered long, curly hair which I gripped in my fist to better guide the mouth to mine.

"Suck me," someone said… and before I could reply, three pairs of hands pressed me to my knees… a pelvis thrust before me drove its cock between my lips… I sucked hungrily, showing them I could give just as well as take. The soft, velvety head against the roof of my mouth… the bulb occasionally filling my throat… my nose brushing dense pubic hair. He pulled out before shooting… saving it for later… just wanting to try every mouth… counting the moments of pleasure.

"Mmmmmm… man, come to me."

Before I could rise, I felt a tongue in my ass-crack, probing deeper. I reached back to spread myself in welcome. He pushed my hands away and replaced them with his own, widening the crack to a chasm as me pressed his entire face in deeply… penetrating me first with his nose and then with his tongue… lapping the perimeter, then burrowing deep like a small animal squeezing into its tight burrow. I reached for another body in the darkness.

Hot sex… hot anonymous sex… where my participation was simply for the sheer pleasure of it instead of being some kind of trophy for a Babylon boy who would brag about it for the rest of the evening. Hard, demanding sex… where men meet their needs and satisfy their dreams… where the air is electric with danger… where age and beauty and personality never enter into the pairings… where Lust is King… where Compulsion holds the whip… where men's cocks and mouths and assholes become the sum-total of their being.

"Give it to me. Fuck me harder!"

Standing again, I was fucking someone… bent-over to grip his ankles as he sucked another guy… and someone slipped his cock along the cleft of my ass as if he wanted to enter. I reached back to press him into me. Taking all cummers…

"I want you next. Show me that ass."

I was kneeling, sharing a cock with another mouth as I lifted my ass up and down on a penetrating shaft… milking him with my ass-muscles… attempting to suck him inside-out, if possible. He gripped my shoulders from behind and slammed me down onto him, harder with each thrust.

"Fuck… oh, fuck… oh fuck!"

I was standing then… feet wide apart as I held a boy's head between my palms and fucked his throat like a tight asshole… making him gag on it for my increased enjoyment. A hand gripped my wrist, lifting my arm above my head… his tongue licked my smooth pit as he inhaled deeply. I forced my arm down, trapping him under my arm… then forced his face down my side in a long row of wet kisses. He slipped behind me, tonguing the double dimples above the beginning of my ass-crack… then he dove where other tongues had been before. I pressed him into me; I wanted more. "Deeper," I moaned.

I was fucking someone who was fucking someone else… driving my cock into him with such power that his partner could feel the impact… my arms wrapped around his chest… squeezing the breath from him… hard muscles clamping him in the Death-grip.

I stopped to watch a young boy being fucked. He looked familiar from the Muscle Beach Party. "Let me have him," I said as I pressed against the fucker's chest with my palm, shoving him backward and replacing his cock with mine. The boy let-out a moan as I filled him. "Teach him how to take it like a man," someone said as they slapped my ass on the in-stroke.

"Fuck his ass… he loves it."

"Shove it in him. I did!"

"Take it, fucker! Make him take it."

I paused mid-stroke and pulled out of him; his hole gaped open like a deep wound. I dropped to my knees and rimmed him inside and out, tasting his sweet, musky flavor… the taste of slightly burned food… and earth. I kissed his wide-spread hole like a sweet boy's mouth. After savoring and arousing him to babbling incoherence, I plunged into his orifice to finish him. I shot my jizz-load deep into his quivering hole as he cried-out in ecstasy. Three more hard pumps and I shot again, this time pulling out just in time to spray my splooge along his spine. Other hands spread it over his back from shoulders to ass.

New arrivals needed to be stripped and shared. Some men, who had apparently had enough gathered their clothing and left. There was a continual flow of guys into and out of the group as assholes were invaded and cum-loads were expelled.

"Get those clothes off of him. I want a piece of him."

My cock stayed stiff and gently curved… just right for plowing the next new boy. I felt invincible… on a higher plane of arousal… ready to take on all cummers.

A hand encircled my dick and stroked it as if I were a new arrival. I let him play with it before I forced him to his knees and shoved it in. As he was gurgling on my cock, I pulled out and spun around… another ass was being spread for me to fuck. He was bent-over, sucking someone who leaned forward and pulled his ass-cheeks apart as an invitation. "Fuck him," the sucked-man said, "He's been talking about you all day." It was the skater waiting for my slam-fuck. I pressed my thumb into his ass and rotated my hand almost 360-degrees, reaming him open and dragging my thumb-pad over his pulsating prostate. He was ready. I gripped his hips with both hands and drove it in full-depth; he gagged on the cock he was sucking as he tried to inhale in order to scream. The sound of my pelvis slapping his ass could be heard over the grunts and moans of others. Others watched as I pummeled his ass… stroking their cocks… urging me onward. Sprays of cum showered his back as he reached to jack himself. His hand was forced away… a mouth took its place to suck him to completion. The guy he was sucking came first and pulled out in-time to spray his load all over Skater's face. Blinded by the cum in his eyes, he lunged forward to grip two tree trunks for support… and I lunged forward to replace my cock in his ass full-depth. Cum dripped onto my hip as the observers gathered closer, sensing a climax. I roared and shoved them away. "Get the fuck AWAY… he's MINE!" Leaning forward, I gripped his shoulders and used my arms as levers to invade him the last few times. "Give it to me," he cried. "Fuck me… fuck me… fuck me…" Someone shoved an open half-pint jar filled with amyl-soaked tissue over my mouth and nose. I inhaled deeply, welcoming the searing vapor and its promise of release.

Slow-motion… time came to a halt… sounds withdrew into the distance… and then I heard it, the rush of release… the ringing in the ears as one sinks into unconsciousness… the slow descent into that solitary pleasure one can experience only rarely… the arching-rise of a rocket, then the extended weightlessness of free-fall… the cataclysm of senses, exaggerated, co-mingled, confused… tastes, smells, sounds, and blinding light… the feeling of flying apart into atomic dust… cosmic annihilation… oblivion.

I came to my senses slowly. Men frozen into exaggerated postures began to move slowly… like a film shown one frame at a time… and the movements sped-up until motion was restored. Many of them were watching me. I was suddenly aware of hands supporting my body… supporting and stroking… milking my cock for the last drops. Tongues licked my skin, the cleft between my pecs, for the pheromone-laden sweat of erotic rapture. My muscles were slack, my breathing shallow, my skin suddenly cool in the ocean breeze. They lifted me and carried me to the center of the circle where they lay me on the warm sand. Each stroked himself… the slap of fist against flesh in twelve different rhythms… the rising tide of moans of pleasure… the chorus of group-orgasm… the cries of release… the warm spray onto my body… covering me from a dozen cocks… the chosen one.

Afterward, the guys separated into pairs and threesomes again as the action continued. More new-comers arrived. Either this was a regular spot for orgy-action, or Skater had invited the whole Muscle Beach Party!

I got to my feet slowly. He pulled me up by the hand. "I thought you'd like this…" he said… "the moment I saw you on the Boardwalk. Let's get outa here before the police show up. They usually start hassling people after 1:30 or 2:00, I'm told."

"I need my shorts, shirt, and sandals," I said. "Can't go back to my hotel like this."

He laughed. "You'd have a parade of guys behind you if you did." He handed me the flashlight, throwing the grove into total darkness. I found my clothing quickly, even though it was widely scattered. I was still damp with cum, so I didn't put on the shirt.

"Are you through for the night?" I asked the Skater.

"Do you mean here? Yes. Do you mean… with you? No… not until you kick me out of bed."

"Consider yourself invited," I said as I draped my arm over his shoulder and turned northward.

We walked up the beach, which was almost deserted now, in the direction of my hotel.

"That was quite a scene," I said, breaking the silence.

"It's why we all come here, I think," he said in his philosophical mode again. "This is my third year. It's the outrageousness… the anonymity… and yes, the sex. Some people come to contribute to AIDS research… and that's good, too… but sometimes I feel constrained by relationships and responsibilities… and I feel myself getting older… and I want that feeling again… of being desirable… of being immersed in pleasure so deep I have to struggle to avoid drowning."

"I know," I said.

"I saw it in your eyes," he said. "The hunger for something new… the delight in being one-of-the-crowd. Guys like you become trophy-fucks… and sometimes you just want to get down-and-dirty with the rest of us." There was a knowing smile in the tone of his voice; I didn't need to see it. "And now," he said, "we're here." I hadn't realized we were standing before the Delano. We paused looking up at the partially-lit hotel. He took my hand. "I don't want a trophy," he continued. "I just want to spend a night with you… perhaps not even to fuck again… but to lie beside you and listen to you breathe… to hold you in my arms as you reciprocate… to connect with you in a way two men seldom do. That's all I ask."

I was tired. I was drained. I was satisfied. "You really CAN read my mind," I said. "I want that too."

Go to part 4 - Sunday

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