Making Music

Making Music

From Mark: This happened last week…

I wandered upstairs as the throbbing lights added to my headache. Despite the hint of impending headache hell, my blue balls ached for release. In fact, I knew partial cause of the pounding in my cranium might be due to a backlog of sperm. I needed relief. Satisfactory relief.

My last visit to this sanctuary of late had been disappointing as tops one after another expected service and I found bottoms being picky instead of accommodating to the crowd of hard cocks. I’d finally succumbed to a sucking, small-handed cutie who tried his best but his lightweight oral skills didn’t have enough to get me to pop, so I jerked onto his tongue. He seemed appreciative, but fucking hell if I didn’t leave all that satisfied.

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I looked down a dead-end hall and saw a man on his knees sucking a nice-sized cock on a good-looking guy. I’m a polite guy and never invade action unless invited, so I stayed away, but I was disappointed a little. The good-looking guy let a troll suck his cock and that evening (at least it seemed to me) we were flush with better choices.

Sometimes, though, trolls are good at suck jobs. They know the score and understand that, on the hierarchy of the sex club, they rank at the bottom.

As I made the rounds, I ended up in a booth with a nice bearded man who did me the favor of getting me nice and hard so I could leave with a bulge. He’d bolted as soon as I’d reached my full seven inches for fear, I believe. He’d touched my cock with uncertainty through the gloryhole and I could feel his hand shake nervously. But even if he left because I didn’t meet his size-queen requirements, I didn’t care.

It’s always helpful to get inflated since some are not patient to bring me to full mast and now that I was there, I could proudly walk around and show off a bit. I didn’t bother zipping up but my loose jeans did well enough covering.

As I rounded through the downstairs, a few stares checked the bulge, just as I’d hoped, but no one offered and it seemed to be the common eye darts down then up. The nice beefy tank top guy ignored me completely, even though I knew later he’d be screaming someone’s name as he rode a cock on a gloryhole. So obviously a bottom but acting butch. He wanted a daddy to out butch him.

Hated that shit.

After a while of playing tag with a cute, young, married business man who couldn’t make up his mind, I wandered to the darkroom to hang out a bit. As I leaned against the wall and my eyes adjusted to the darkness, no one else was in the space. Within a few moments, two other men joined me — neither of particular interest and standing far away — then shortly after, the good-looking guy from the dead-end hallway showed up. He positioned himself near me.

Another guy showed up and went for one of the guys to my right. I shifted to the good-looking guy who moved toward me. Within moments, both our cocks out and in each others’ hands. A little longer than mine and tapered, I was thicker. Soon, the guy to the right was abandoned and stepped toward us with a larger, thicker cock. I had both cocks, jerking in sync before the crowd invaded and suddenly we were surrounded by too many men. Both the good-looking guy and I had the same thought and, fighting a little claustrophobia, tucked our cocks away, zipped up and left.

It took a bit, but we were eventually upstairs together in a room where he — interestingly enough — turned up the lights. As we jerked each others’ cocks with a delicate touch, he got on his knees first to suck mine. His technique proved quite good. Teeth far removed and lightly working me with instrumental flow and tongue action. When he stood, I would reach under his shirt to tug at his nipples, which were nicely tough. He offered absolutely no response, but in those moments, I noticed the mascot, high school name and the word “music” underneath.

A high school teacher — how naughty he was being.

As I knelt to suck him, I tickled his balls and worked back a bit to see if his asshole was accessible, but those buttcheeks were clamped tight. How disappointing. Still, something said to keep going, so I did and eventually stood in the surrounding silence and let him go back to sucking me with the skill of someone who knew breath control and how to use his lips and tongue.

When it was my turn to kneel this time, his cheeks were not so clamped and I could tickle his hole. While the sphincter seemed shut for good, I knew it was a good sign. As I knelt the third time, I licked my fingers and they were deep in his ass within moments.

I’d fuck this music man.

And when I stood, he didn’t even attempt to kneel. I shifted around and soon he reached into his pocket. No condoms but a nice tube of lube. Soon he had his hands on the bed frame, I had my hands on his hips and he was easing back on my bare cock.

The smooth entry felt as if the prelude to a symphony were beginning. And as I would fuck, the pace would pick up and slow down. I would snort my poppers and fuck at a nice pace. His inside chute heating up from the friction, the lube becoming almost watery. Never changing my pace, I let myself ride the wave of music in my head, as the cymbals crashed and the drums rumbled, I shot my cream into his ass, thick and gooey.

He seemed to feel it, but still turned around and spoke for the first time ever, “Just don’t cum in my ass.”

I wanted to say, “Too late.”

But I didn’t. I maintained the charade and about three minutes later, pretended to cum, pulling out and flinging Santorum onto the floor.

We zipped up in silence. I don’t know if he came. But for those moments, our duet made beautiful music.

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