Date Night 1

by Emile, 2010

Usual caveats apply.

---

Penn was right, Trent's date was gorgeous.  Not just a muscle himbo, but a blonde chiselled rugged Abercrombie type.  He had turned up in a loose 80's tank and satin shorts, gym bag slung over his shoulder, and introduced himself as Nico, or "Nick" to his friends.  Despite the winning smile and firm handshake, that made his tanned pumped skin flex erotically, Trent could see it made him a little uncomfortable offering that intimacy up.  But this was a special date, he'd been told.  "So, Nicky" Trent responded, "How about we grab some Thai up on Brent Street?  The studmuscle paused, his deep voice rumbling.  "Uh, I thought you might wanna go someplace private...".  Trent shook his head, and the guy reluctantly smiled, tension rippling over his body, as he acquiesced.  As they walked up, Trent placed his hand on Nico's shoulder, massaging the scapula, tracing the lines of the tattoo.  It was more of an arm sleeve really, starting under his right armpit, long overlapping feather shaped slabs of black ink fanned out like plumage, spreading over his back to cover the shoulderblade, arching up over his shoulder and cascading down his right pec.  The design also flared out in the other direction, wrapping around his shoulder and bicep, the long black fingers reaching down his forearms, stopping at the wrists.

It was impressively large and bold, but Trent knew it wasn't just a pretty decoration, and casually asked Nico what the tattoo was for.  He squirmed a little under Trent's grip, stammering as he talked.  Penn had told him  to be as honest and detailed as possible.  "Well, uh, the design is Penn's actually..." he began. Trent smiled, egging him on.  "Each uh stalk is a guy I've slept with..."  Trent played dumb.  "What do you mean, sport?" he urged, still squeezing his well inked arm.  "Uh, well like I got to remember the length and girth of every guy who, you know, uh, fucks me.  Or, um, like get the guy to line it up ... like after he's done and it's still all thick and stuff ... and trace around it in marker or something... And, well, then Penn gets me to add a stalk the same length and girth to my tattoo..."  He trailed off, embarrassed by the admission, clearly uncomfortable about how much he'd been dicked.  Trent was loving it, and traced down his exposed arm, where some of the longer quills ran half the length of his arm.  "Wow, you've really been dicked by some monster prongs, haven't you."  He felt the soft blonde wisps of hair stand up on Nico's arm, but the kid didn't respond.  "So, where's this masterpiece end?"  Nico looked at him, his grey blue eyes glassy and confused.  "Uh, do you mean now or like, where will it..."  Trent just smiled.  "Well, uh, my arms all covered and I guess they reach like *here* on my chest", pointing to the deep crease below his heavy pecs.  Penn had clearly kept him busy, Trent thought, those monsters would be the same ones starting on his shoulderblade.

"Jeez I bet you get covered in all sorts of drippy shit when they hang over their junk and trace around it..." Trent needled.  "Um, well, I get pretty sweaty so, uh, sometimes it takes a few gos".  "You mean fucks?"  "Um, yeah.  Oh but don't worry" he said, eyes staring hard at the ground now "Penn says if I don't get it the first time, those ones are free.  Plus we got all night..."  Trent tousled his hair.  "Actually, all day too, Penn said I could take a full 24 hours.  I have some plans that might make you a little sweatier than usual".  Nico looked up at Trent, his placid eyes wide now.  "Oh.  I, um, okay, um, I just need to make a call..."  Trent smiled, slipping his arm around Nico's waist.  "Oh, don't worry mate, I know you're straight, you can say girlfriend.  But I'm sure she can figure it out, no need to bother her. Now, we're almost there, hope you have your party face on!"  They were almost there now, and the sidewalk was more crowded now, mostly gay boys out to party, so conversation would be difficult.  He could see Nico getting skittish already.  "So, I guess that question will need to wait then" Trent said cryptically "Although I imagine with Penn, that thing could easily end up snaking down your leg..."  Nico shuddered.

Of course Brent Street was packed with gay guys, many checking out his dazzling blonde date with open lust.  Nico was uncomfortable, especially when Trent picked a small table near the front, where their knees had to interlock to fit in.  He buried his head in the menu, trying to look inconspicuous.  Trent looked down through the glass table, trying to work out if Nico was wearing any jocks.  He nudged his thighs apart, the dickbulge now dangling, pushing up the fabric with the curve of his cock. "Nick" he said sweetly "would you slide your shorts up a little, so I can see if you're wearing jocks.  He winced reflexively, quickly checking his embarassment with a smile.  "No, no, I'm not" he answered.  Just like Trent had ordered. "Sure, but I'd like to see that for myself".  Nico was ashen.  He was facing towards the window, so it wasn't just Trent and the neighbouring tables that might see, but anyone passing by.  He reached down, subtly tugging at the silky material, bringing the shorts up an inch or so.  Trent could make out the dark shadow of his cockhead just behind the hem, already glistening a little.  "Maybe just a little bit more" Trent coaxed.  He shifted slightly, unable to close his legs with Trents own in the way, before casually wiping his hand on his shorts, forcing them up another inch or so.  Trent glimpsed the cockhead before the satin slipped back down to its former position.  Trent smiled, caressing Nico's hand.  "Nice" he said.  "But I really want to see it while we're eating.  Tell you what, why don't you just tug that leg up to your waist, just for me..."

The cute asian waiter couldn't stop staring through the table top as he took their order.  Nick's junk was on plain display - the whole curve of his dong jutting out and dangling down, his smooth ballbag all plumped up against the chair, like a packed lunch laid out on the cloth, the root barely covered by the bunched satin dragged up to his thigh.  And packed he was, his cock was 8 or 9 inches soft, and thick, a real prize find. Nick tried to hide it with his elbows on the table and menu spread out in his hands, but it was still visible, and when the waiter took away his menu, the fuckbulge was obvious.  Some of the other diners had noticed too.  Nico whispered "Can I cover it up now".  Trent shook his head.  "Don't worry, they'll just think your shorts got caught when you sat down.  Pretend like you don't realise.   He fidgeted as the food came.  He was so flustered by the cock show, he hadn't listened at all to Trent's ordering for the both of them. Now as the food arrived, he tensed again.  "Uh, I can't eat spicy food, it really makes me sweat and I get cramps..." he mumbled.  "I know." Trent replied.  "But sure you can" Trent replied, ladling out the curry.  "it's this or water, and 24 hours is a long time..."

Date Night 2

by Emile, 2010

Usual caveats apply.

---

Nico really struggled with the food, he was sweating just thinking about eating it, so Trent thought he'd distract him with conversation.  "So Penn tells me you're a real leaker" he began, making Nico almost choke on his ladle.  Trent had been a bit loud, and a couple of diners glanced over, eyes zeroing in on Nico's fat helmet.  A few droplets of sweat glistened, having splashed off his chest, and even though it wasn't leakage, he still turned red with embarrassment.  "Tell you what" Trent continued, "you look pretty cut up letting your junk hang out like that, so how about you take this bowl to the bathroom and milk me out a couple of droplets.  It'll give you an excuse to cover up that salami roll."  Trent took the little bowl gratefully, sliding off his seat so fast he was half way to the bathroom in two strides.  Lots of guys checked out his swinging package and buttcheeks in the shorts, now he was hot and sweaty, but when he got to the cubicle, Nico realised the real test was in his hands.  The small bowl had been for extra chilli sauce, and the base was smeared with the leftover scraps.  If he got his dickhead too close, the burning pain would be excruciating.  But then aiming for a tiny porcelain dish more than an inch away would be hard, especially if he had to beat off enough to leak, but not so much he'd keep dripping and hard.  Of course the task was impossible.  He had to shuck off his clothes (his tank was getting soaked already), and half squat facing the toilet lid, the dish on top, hovering his mushroom head over the rim, trying to squeeze out cockjuice.  The first few droplets missed, and then clung to his pisslips stubbornly, forcing him to squat further and try and transfer it to the bowl.  He got too close, pisslips swabbing the chili sauce, making him jump back as the burning began, frantically rubbing his cockhead to get the stinging juice off.  After a moment, only a slight sting remained in his inner cocklips and he had to try again.  Not taking risks, he began pumping properly, his dork soon stiffening to its impressive girth and beginning to leak profusely.  He quickly filled the dish, ropes dangling over the rim, and overflowing onto the seat.  But he couldn't just switch it off like a tap, and despite letting his throbbing dork go, and controlling his breathing, it remained stubbornly hard, cocklips welling with strings of goop every time he wiped it off with his hands.  He slowly waited and sweat it out, his dork beginning to droop to half mast, when a loud rap at the door forced him to spin around.  "It's Trent.  Time's up, I've already paid.  Open up." he barked.  He had no choice, not even attempting to grab his clothes, he unlatched the door, letting Trent barge in.

"Nice" Trent commented, eyeing his square chest and dangling cock.  He tweaked a nipple with one hand, and fingering his cockhead with the other.  The unrelieved dork throbbed in his hand, stiffening up and leaking furiously.  Trent leaned forward, still fondling him, and gave him a strong kiss.  "More of that later" he growled, handing him his shorts.  Pulling them up, there was no way to hide the dripping monster now, and all the guys would see his fuckbulge as he walked out.  Trent grabbed his tank top, balling it in his fist before Nico could take it.  "Just lick that dish clean and we're leaving" Trent commanded. With a gulp, Nico lifted the dish to his lips, using his long tongue to clean off the tangy juice and unwanted chili sauce. 

Trent led him out through the kitchens, to Nico's relief. He could deal with a few waiters and chefs ogling his pumped inked body, at least it wasn't the hundreds of gay guys in the front and on the street. They got out into the cool night air, and at the back, a town car was waiting for them.  "Get in" Trent barked, and Nico gatefully opened the door and slid over.  This he was used to, and as much as it humiliated him to reveal himself as a fuckdate to some chefs or drivers, at least they'd soon be in private.  But Trent wasn't one for waiting.  As soon as he scooted in, the car took off, and Trents hands were all over Nico, pulling his rugged body on to Trent's lap, peeling off Nico's shorts and buck forward, spreading his thighs wide against the back of the seats, forcing his sparsely covered cockroot up and forward towards the front windscreen.  He guided Nico's hands up against the roof of the car, humiliatingly putting his whole body on display to the leering driver, and anyone who glanced in the windscreen.  Trent whispered in his ear "Time to fuck that straight arse of yours!" 

Usually the guys waited til they were in private, or at least had a privacy screen in their cars, but not here.  The solid looking driver had a box seat, and kept glancing in the rear mirror to catch the action.  Having peeled off his short, Trent soon was pumping Nico's bone, stopping only to unzip his own pants and line his cockhead up with Nico's well fucked hole.  Even so, Trent was thick, unlubed and forceful, and Nico was unready for the grinding fuck that Trent inflicted on him as they bumped along the road, forcing Trent to keep bracing against the ceiling as he got plouged deep as a broadacre field.  He hated how he felt being fucked up and down on Trent's stalk, how his own needy stalk throbbed and dripped and ached at the stimulus, and how the driver kept staring at his exposed body as he was ridden hard.  Since Penn had first shaved his nuts and cockroot, he'd been pretty embarrassed to show his junk in public, and now, knees spread and jammed behind the front seats, crotch open and exposed to Trent's stroking, and the driver's view on every upstroke, he felt dirtier than ever before.  Trent was a master fucker, and despite being brutal to his date, he knew how to get himself turned on, and to get off, like a pro.  Ten minutes into the ride, Trent bucked violently, nearly driving Nico into the roof, lifting them up as he shot squirt after squirt of hot juice up Nico's crevice.  It wasn't sex, it was fucking man rape.

Nico bucked and moaned in time, as much from his own pain and fuckneed as his training, but as soon as Nico had unloaded, the cock pumping stopped, leaving him exposed and juiced but unrelieved.  Trent calmed down, cock still buried up his hole, slowly letting their sweat combine as he lazily reached over and then wrapped his fingers around Nico's veiny shaft.  Nico bucked at little against the hand, grateful at least this time his date would get him off, but he felt a tightening and glanced down to see Trent tying a cord around his cockroot instead in a double knot, binding it hard and throbbing, like a cockring.  The cord wound around his ballbag, and Trent finished it off by looping the loose end around his cockhead, tugging tightly so the shaft bent a little, before tying it off.  Nico grunted at the exquisite denial, his trussed cock now throbbing against the cord, but Trent ignored him, ferreting around on the seat nearby for more.  Nico couldn't see the rest of the seat without arching his neck over his broad back, and he was too exhausted to try, still bracing against the roof, until he felt Trent lift him up again with his pelvis and slide his hand under his leg.  Something else, cold and smooth, was pressing against his love nub, worming into his tightly suctioned sphincter below Trent's softening porker.  "Just relax" Trent murmured as he tried to pull away, holding Nico down with a hand on his shoulder as his other hand worked the unseen tool in a little further, stretching him wildly.  There was no way the fake prong could go further, it felt huge, and he was already stuffed.  Expertly, Trent began withdrawing his cock with a sucking sound, pressing the fake prong as he did, so the real and fake cock slid past each other just along his arsepucker, leaving the fake dong plugging his arse.  Nico realised why he'd done this - the fake dong was at least as big as Trent's own fucker, and would have been a tight fit if he hadn't just been fucked, in fact it still was.  "I want you stuffed" Trent grunted, testing the invader by pressing against the base.  Nico ground against it like he was trained, hoping he could get a bit more comfortable (if such a thing was possible), but the fucktool was massive and his chute was stretched tight around it, so the pressure just made it feel worse, like he was permanently chock full.  He'd never been dildo fucked before, and the hard unyielding surface, and feeling it permanently inside him, were unbearable.

The car slowed down.  "Okay we're here" Trent announced, and Nico glanced out the window for the first time, still distracted by the mega dildo.  His stomach lurched in his throat, and he felt like puking.  The car was slowing down near a club he knew - not a gay bar but a regular dance club, a packed one at that.  Lots of his friends went, and although it had a reputation for 'anything goes', his reputation was still of a macho ladies man, outside his secret dates.  He quickly squirmed off Trent's lap, hugging his legs in his arms on the seat next door, begging Trent to take him someplace else.  Fear sparkled in his blue eyes.  "Hey hush" Trent said, kindly, "I wouldn't send you in there naked!  Here, I got something for you..."  Nico couldn't believe his eyes.  It was a green silk thong - well a prick pouch with straps.  The material would barely contain his bulge, let alone the drippy head pressed against the easily stained silk.  The back was a triangle of material, like a girl's bikini, barely enough to hide the dong wedged up his crack.  "Please" he begged, desperate, but Penn had made it clear there'd be hell to pay if the date went wrong, so when Trent just smiled and said "Hurry up, we're almost at the queue", he reluctantly wiped back his tears, grabbing the strap and sliding it quickly over his legs, enveloping his tackle in the pouch.

It was worse than he imagined.  The cord tethering his cockhead made it thrust the material up and out, so his cockhead stood inches away from his body like a bath spout.  The material tucked under his ballbag and cockroot like a glove, forcing the material to fan out from the pisslips, stretching and creasing as his nuts swayed, giving everyone a clear view of his large porker.  Feeling around at the back, the triangle was stretched into his crack, the thin edges barely covering the rounded edge of the prong he could feel inside. It was shoved far enough in to be inconspicuous, but not invisible, especially if his walk was any indicator.  "Hey hey, don't be so skittish" Trent said, stroking his pec gently, "we're going to the VIP area anyway.  That balcony is pretty far from the crowds."  The car had stopped next to the queue, and even with Trent's assurances, he'd still have to run the gauntlet of the crowd, under bright street lights, to get to the VIP entrance.  "Now" Trent continued "if you behave, and walk slowly with your hands by your sides, then you can come straight up with us.  If not, I'm making you join the queue and find us inside.  So put on your party face again, and act like you're enjoying this.  Oh yeah, and the bouncers - they're the friendly sort - so don't act all surprised if they get a bit touchy-feely..."  Nico glanced outside as the door opened, spotting two rugged mates in the crowd.  They were talking to their girlfriends, but as he stepped out, revealing his tanned naked body to the crowd, he heard the intakes of breath, and "Nico?" in a loud female whisper.  "C'mon" Trent called, his hand pulling at Nico's armpit "just a few more minutes and we're in..."

Date Night 3

by Emile, 2010

Usual caveats apply.

---

Nico had completely freaked out, and refused to leave the car.  Finally, Trent relented, and closed the door, ordering the driver to go 'to their usual spot'.  Nico was sure a couple of his friends had glimpsed him in the car, but he managed to pull back, and out of Trent's grasp, slide his sweat shorts and tank top back over his lithe body, giving his meat rack and fuckslab a small semblence of decency.  Trent just shrugged and left him stewing, arms crossed against his beefy chest, thighs apart to give his thong encased ballbag some room, and ease pressure off his stuffed arse hole.  It was a pyrrhic victory.  Finally the car began to slow, near where some of the trashier rent boys hung out.  Finally Trent found what he was looking for, a guy about the same height and build as Nico, wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a low slung tank that read "fuckboy" across the chest, retro 80's style.  Trent told the driver to stop.  Nico got ready to bail out, clearly humiliated that he was being replaced by a male prostitute (since he still thought of his escort job as something more than just a fucktoy), but Trent pushed him back to the seat with a firm hand on his solar plexus, just as the door opened and the teen punk climbed in.

The teen punk was clearly familiar with Trent and climbed over Nico with barely a grunt, revealing his dense packed chest in the low slung neckline as he leaned across, and a seamy cumspattered skin.  Nico was shocked - he was a model escort, with his preppy looks and rich clientele - and kept his fragile ego intact by pegging himself and his line of work above rent boy sluts.  Sometimes the illusion was tenuous, when a john was rough fucking his hole and talking trash, but it was shattered now, being 'traded down' so easily.  He found himself wedged between the two of them.  Trent slammed the door closed and told the punk that Nico was about to leave, but first he had to give Trent back his thong and dong.  The punk smiled evilly, and Nico's cheeks burned hot.  Before he could react much, Trent and the punk each took his arms and slid them behind their shoulders, leading him powerless to participate. 

Nick sat there dumbly as the punk slid his shorts down, bucking a little as his hands enveloped his straining dork.  The silk thong followed, and soon his horsecock was bobbing in mid-air.  The punk sat back, and with a nod from Trent, they slid his thighs as wide as the Transvaal, Trent fingering his nipple while planting a hot deep french kiss on his lips, while the punk toyed with his aching meat until it began to drip again.  Trent broke the kiss long enough to tell the punk to "get the plug", and the kid began pushing on his stomach again, telling him to 'shit the fucker out'.  Agonisingly, while he was still being frenched by Trent, Nico was forced to push the dong out, clenching his arse and grunting as the massive buttstuffer slowly worked its way out.  But when it reached about four inches, the punks hand shifted, stopping the progress of the dong, and slowly, relentlessly forcing it back in.  Nico couldn't speak, and Trent, still devouring his mouth, saw nothing, so he had to try and eject it all over again.  The punk played this game a few times over before gripping the base and beginning to fuck the dong into Nico with long brutal thrusts.  There was no mistaking what was happening now, but Trent didn't seem to care much, now fingering the punk and drawing his mouth in to kiss them both as the boy continued to ram the fake dick in and out of Nico's tender hole.

All the kissing and prostrate massaging was making Nico horny, and he was getting on the verge of cumming.  Just as Nico began to groan, the load building in him, the punk kid sucked the dong out of his hole, letting it drop to the floor, and the two let go of his body, kissing each other inches from his face.  He gasped and panted, his whole naked body glistening with sweat, his foreskin retracted and pearls of precum dripping down the shaft.  But spread wide and naked, without skin on his body, he couldn't cum, and as the two continued to tonguefuck, his whole body heaved with the tingling feeling of being on the brink, but not quite cumming.  Soon, his ballbag began to pulse and throb, sending a dull ache up his spine, his dick half drooping like a weight had been slung off the head.  The two finally broke off their kiss, staring down at Nico.  "Look at you, you horny slut" Trent snickered, "you might think you're straight and macho but your hungry hole is pussifying."  As if to emphasise the point, the rent boy rubbed two fingers along his distended arse lips, before plunging them into the gaping hole.  Nico gasped, the stimulation jerking his wet cock back in the air.  It was true, his hole was getting more sensitive, but he flushed hot, angry at the idea that being fucked - being forced to fuck for money - was turning him into a pussy.  Angry and frustrated, because he couldn't deny it either, naked and cock-crazy at having just been dildo fucked.

"Tell you what Nicky" Trent began, idly fingering his nipple again, keeping him on the edge of arousal. "Even though you've lost your thong and dong, I'll give you one last chance to make this date work.  I mean I'd hate to go back to Penn telling him you were a lousy fuck.  Nico's cheeks were red hot now.  "No, like I said, I wanna take it slow, get to know you, really let a relationship blossom. Who knows, if I like you enough, we could be regular fuckbuddies..."  Nick's heart sank at the thought, he just wanted the date over, but he knew better than to object. "So, you want to please me? Do you Nicky?  I'll tell you what.  Why don't you borrow this kid's clothes, and we can go out again, start afresh. How 'bout it?"

With the kid fingering his hole roughly while Trent spoke, and still throbbing and sweating like crazy, he had trouble focusing on Trents words, and only realised what Trent was asking of him at the end.  He had to wear the punk rent boy trash clothes?  And that was a favour?  He cringed, and wanted to curl up in a ball.  But there was no chance for that, especially not with the kid already pulling the tank top over his head as Trent spoke.  There must've been a tacit agreement between the two of them to do this often, because the punk kid stripped to his ripped jock in a flash, and reaching over for Nico's sports bag before he could say anything.  He knew the drill, pulling on Nico's expensive gymwear, and helping himself to the Nico's wallet while he rummaged around.  Nico saw it all, and tried to protest, but Trent held a finger to his mouth when he first uttered a sound - all but shoving the digit over his tongue - and telling him actions spoke louder than words.  His other hand was still pushing down on his chest, rendering him immobile, except his hands still slung on the set backs.  Last, the kid grabbed his gym jock and thong, and jumped back out of the car with a whoop, while Trent handed him a couple of crisp hundred dollar bills.

The door slammed, leaving naked Nico and Trent together, and the car leapt forward, racing back through the streets.  Trent pulled out his finger with a slurp, and Nico almost choked on his words as he told him how the kid had lifted his wallet.  Trent shrugged indifferently, only saying he'd be docking him for the cost of his help.  Now Nico was left not just naked, but with nothing to wear but the filthy trash the kid had left behind.  Struggling to keep balance as the car swerved and turned, Nico struggled to pull on his clothes, while Trent idly told him how he owed him a favour for this second chance, while copping a feel of his tackle and arse as he wormed around.  The kid had narrower hips than Nico, and he had wider shoulders - in fact a much bigger rack, so he quickly discovered it was impossible to get the clothes to fit him.  The jean shorts barely pulled over his arsecrack, the fly impossible to button over his horsecock and balls, especially inflated and distended as they were. The tank hugged his body, the thin arm straps cutting into his chest, exposing his nipples and most of his sleeve and body tattoo.  The waist clung to his abs, pulling the hem up above his belly button.  It was completely obscene, not the gear of an escort, but a fully fledged male hooker.  Finally sick of his twisting and pulling, Trent leaned in, shoving his hard cock down with a painful thrust, so it stretched out the right leg of the shorts.  His ballbag was mashed between his thighs, and his cockroot and bush still showed between the unbuttoned fly.  The car jerked to a halt, back outside the club where they'd been not an hour before.  If anything, the crowd was thicker now, people almost touching the windows of the car.  "Okay rosebud, now are you ready?"

Date Night 4

by Emile, 2010

Usual caveats apply.

---

Nico had never been so exposed in his life.  They'd first gone up to the VIP balcony, where the writhing crowds dancing to the blaring music below were still close enough to see and be seen from.  All the other guests were well dressed - chinos and collared shirts, and cocktail dresses - and then there was Nico, his tanned blonde body strutting around like a fucking Playgirl model.  He got plenty of looks, all of them silently screaming "trash" at him - either in disgust or carnal lust.  Nico clung tight to Trent, who casually grabbed a gin and began chatting to other regulars, propelling them close to the railing.  Trent didn't like him hovering in the background, so barely interrupting his conversation, he pushed Nico forward to the edge of the balcony, clearly visible from below, and told him to "dance or something like you're enjoying yourself."  They pulled back a little, leaving Nico out there on his own.  He knew the gig, whatever pride he had he needed to swallow if he was gonna get paid tonight (or on any trick).  He plastered on a vacant smile and slowly began swaying, lifting his arms up and moving to the music, pretending in his mind this was just like some kind of hens night show or something, that he was playing to the crowd.

The jeans riding his buttcrack, grazing his gaping fuckhole made it difficult, both pain and electric pleasure at once, and as he bumped and grinded, his cock lurched and began to moisten.  Sure his friends might see him, he could always pretend it was a gig he'd agreed to do for the club or something - yeah, like modeling.  And his friends did see him, but from their vantage point below, their eyes were transfixed by his swaying jutting fuckslab, and the growing wet patch that flashed in the strobe light, beginning to drip towards the crowd.  In fact his whole body was dripping - still sweating and cramping from the spicy food - but their lasting impression was of their friend dressed like a go-go boy, getting off on thrusting his mega porker at the crowd.  The guys and girls might have joked about cock size and sexy dances before, but this was way to twisted for them.  In the weeks to come, Nico would feel an unmistakable chill from the guys at the surf club, his circle of friends - from everyone - as they silently judged him, never mentioning why, or giving him a chance to explain.

But Trent was easily bored, and soon he came over, putting his arm over Nico's shoulder in a possessive fashion.  'Whoa man you're soaked' he grunted, as he twisted a slippery nipple hard, coaxing him to haul the tight tank off, revealing his sexy inked torso to the crowd.  "Here" Trent demanded possessively, grabbing the tank off him, and tugging it through one of the rear belt straps, hauling the waistband down another inch or so, so the half moons of his bubble butt were showing. Now he looked more like the druggie dancing queens, only stone cold sober, and grinning, arms in the air for another man's pleasure.  To emphasise the point, Trent plunged his hand down Nico's arsecrack, two fingers scraping against his brutalised hole in an uncomfortable gesture of dominance, that a fair whack of his friends caught a glimpse of.  Hauling Nico against his body, he pulled him away from the balcony, whispering in his ear how edible he was.  "Okay candy boy, now it's time to see the real VIP section..."

That was hours ago, and Nico's mind was a blur from what he'd had to do that night, in public, in the car, on the balcony and now in the special member's room.  Nico's legs were spread wide as the Transvaal, the blonde ringlets matted to the tanned skin with exertion from holding his thighs so far apart.    The pretence of a prickpouch that had enveloped his dong as they chatted to the bouncer and walked upstairs was gone now, leaving his laced veiny fuckslab on full display, still arching out of his smooth crotch obscenely.  If the buff hunk wasn't naked and spread over the counter, he could have passed for any of the striking call boys lounging on the leather seats in the VIP section.  But instead of designer jeans slouched over timber armrests, or open necked shirts revealing glimpses of chest hair, there was nothing hidden about Nico - even his buttcheeks were pushed forward to the edge of the bench, rendering the dildo visible, while the curved arch of his back underlined his fat pec crease, despite having to keep his arms back against the wall.

But he wasn't just sweating from being on display, in fact the grinding humiliation of being so exposed to the VIPs and their tricks was receding behind his more immediate concern - avoiding being hit.  The club had a version of Dodgeball, played by the call boys for the VIPs entertainment, and Nico was learning how to be played.  They'd set up a tennis ball cannon a few feet away, and guys had a choice - either load the barrel with a tennis ball, or a nice full condom stuffed with their dickbatter.  If they loaded dick batter, they could aim above the belt, if a tennis ball, below.  Of course Nico could barely move more than an inch either way, and for the last few rounds, Trent had told him to keep his jaw wide open. The gut wrenching dry heaves if they smacked his ballbag and tackle, or degradation if they spattered his face and filled his mouth hole was their reward.  But if they missed completely, then they'd have to take his place.  Not only were these rent boys cruel, but their special diets made them cum fountains of thick viscous cream.  So despite being hit in the nuts, twice, Nico's main humiliation came from cock spatter coating his face and hair, filling his mouth and drooling out the sides, coating his pecs and shoulders like glue.

It hadn't started this way.  He thought back to when they got out of the car, Trent got talking to the bouncer, so as they stood at the head of the line, all eyes on them, they chatted away, the burly dude occasionally brushing against Nick for a grope or squeeze.  Half a dozen party goers could all see at the man's meaty fingers slipped under the stretched prick pouch and fondled his curving prong, and Nico had no choice but to stand there, arms by his side, letting himself be touched up.  Finally, they'd talked enough, and Nico followed Trent up the stairs, leaving the crowd, and his friends, with one last glimpse of his broad muscular back and arsecheeks as he went in.  There was no way they hadn't seen him now.  He was pretty shaken, and upstairs he coyly followed Trent as he chatted to his friends, and let Nico dance his slutty dance, and get felt up again in front of his friends.  Then, when he'd ruined his reputation, Trent dragged him upstairs, safe from the judging eyes of the silent majority, and there found a comfortable booth to watch the floor action.

Action there was.  A big black dude was being pummelled with dodgeball-juice, and Nico saw the game with a shudder, glad not to be the centre of attention.  He eased into the booth, allowing Trent to grope him openly now.  He closed his eyes, pretending he was just at the beach with his girl, but the roving hands and occasionally passing gasps didn't let him keep that illusion for long.  Trent had ordered drinks and he sucked away at his cocktail, eager for something to take off the edge.  Another round and he was a bit buzzed, more than a couple of drinks should do.  In fact, he was quite woozy. Friends of Trent kept coming up, doing high fives and other lame 'bro' gestures, shooting he shit while they kept downing drinks and popping pill and snorting powder.  For all their 'gansta' style, the most mobster thing about them was how they kept their fuck dates hanging.  Whatever their hold over their dates - wealth, power, knowledge or - like for Nico - a perverse combination of all three, each of the guys managed to have a hot trim young plaything at arms reach, wowed and eyes dazzled, or kow-towed and eyes frazzled, depending on how much the fuckjobs were now in their debt.  But Trent was holding court, and Nico was clearly the prize catch - older, hotter and beefier than the others, and more fucked in every way.  As if to nail the point home, as Trent shovelled more coke his way, he heard him joke to a friend - "I better keep tabs on how much the dickditch hoovers, before he guzzles his way through his rent cheque.  I mean, fuck, he's gotta earn something..."  Inside, Nick wanted to scream, he was sore and blasted and he really just needed the money, and more than anything, he was angry and humiliated, clawing at the inked mega tattoo like he wanted to pull the scar of his fuck history away.  But like the damage to his mancunt, the damage they'd done was indelible, and visible to all.  Trent was a bit angry when he saw the dude kneading his chest - I mean he wasn't supposed to play with himself unless Trent told him to, so he asked him what the fuck was wrong with him.  Nico managed to splutter out that he wanted it to stop, he didn't want everyone to see him like that.

Trent signalled something to the waiter, and leaned in to Nico, cradling his muscular body in his arms.  Nico crumpled, semi-foetal in Trent's embrace.  "Man" he said gently "maybe you just need something to occupy your hands".  His tone was soothing, but then there was a pause, and Nick looked up.  The waiter was leaning in, half bowed, proferring a tray before them.  There, at eye level, the biggest, knobbliest black rubber dong he'd ever seen.  "What, but.." Nick began to blubber, but Trent just took his hand, guiding it towards the silver tray.  "Ssh, shh, just take hold and work that floppy dong up your buttcrack, like a good boy."  Gently, Trent wrapped Nico's blunt fingers around the prong - or almost around it, since it was thicker than the reach of his hand.  It didn't take Trent and his friends long to shuck down Nico's jean shorts, so his fat meat sprung free, and then grab a thigh each, pushing his legs apart like scissors, and guiding his hands, both wrapped around the mega tool, towards his winking trench.  "Shit, his cunthole's pulsing like a target", and "Holy crap, that thing won't fit" they said, relishing the site of the whacked out gay-for-pay stud try to work a slippery flexible tube of soft plastic  into his well fucked slot.  It took a while, a lot of grunts from Nick and hoots from the guys, plus onlookers, and more than one helping hand, usually of the pushing kind.  It was a mean beast, which was crammed with all their might up his sloppy chute, stuffing him fuller than he'd ever felt before, more exposed than ever, and embarrassingly stiff and leaky to boot, in front of all the guys.  Trent rammed it home with a slap, sending Nick into convulsions, and finally he sagged in his seat, tackle front and centre, buttstuffed and helpless.  The party drugs were wearing off a bit, and the coke was giving him an uncomfortable clarity, keenly aware of every eye's graze, every tiny hair left on his denuded skin, every whisper of a touch, from the shooting cramps to the tender stretch of his thighs, in technicolor.  He was, truly, fucked.

"Hey matey" Trent said as Nico slouched in the seat.  "None of that now, there's a long night ahead.  Here, come over, there's a game we can play.  All you gotta do is jerk off your beautiful prize prong in a dicksheath..."  Nico was still confused, but also horny as all hell, and in moments, Trent had unlaced his prick, handed him a condom, and he was jerking off like a bronco.  Each thrust made the arse splitter pummel his insides, his hand stung, his horsecock was lacerated, but he kept pulling, still drawing quite a crowd.  In a few minutes, he came with a roar, filling the condom with quarts of dickjuice.  The scum overflowed, coating his hand and crotch, and leaking down towards the rubber invader.  When he calmed down, still sweating, Trent was forcing him up, tottering, now walking naked through the club, where everyone, even the other rent boys could see his swinging tackle and horsey gait.  Trent guided him to put the cum clotted sheath in some hole.  He could barely see straight, and the crowd was close on all sides, pressing on his sweet skin.  "Uh, Trent, I don't feel so good, can I just sit a while?" Nico begged.  But Trent half propped him up, guiding his hands to some lever, and while the world wheeled around his sweaty naked body, he pressed down.   'Whooee' he heard in a thick southern accent.  The black dude, coated in white jizz, came into his vision, still dripping.  "You missed, chump, and I'm taking the first answerin' shot.  I haven't unloaded these fuckbags in hours.  Here, let me help you up to the stage..."  Slowly it dawned on Nico what had happened.  "Oh, no, please, I'm sorry.  Please, I don't wanna play..."  But it wasn't his choice, anymore.

It'd be another half an hour, and two direct hits to the ballbag, that made his babymakers swell and throb in agony, before he finally got his release.  The guys had tired of him for a while, leaving him up there to ache and throb in his humiliating spreadeagle, the cum slowly clotting and drying on his flawless skin.  Then a cocky dark haired eurotrash callboy unloaded his thick yellowy cream into a thin condom and aim for Nico's chiselled jaw.  Nico jerked his head away, and the cream spattered on the wall behind, sending a spray of dickcheese across his face, but still officially missing.  The callboy was in shock, and then bolted towards the door, never having imagined that the sick game could turn on him.  In the shadows, a concierge buzzed into his sleeve, to alert the doormen - entry to the VIP section came at a price, and the Eurotrash guy was about to discover there were much worse things than Dodgeballjuice, in the unseen back rooms of the club.  But for now, the game was over, and two striking muscled guys helped Trent's dripping fuckspattered date down off the podium.    They walked (well hauled) him over to Trent, since his muscles were aching and numb from the stretched position he'd had to hold, one arm under each pit so he barely touched the ground.  He desperately wanted to cover his fuckslab, not just because of the pain of his tackle tugging at his crotch with every movement, but at the humiliation of being fully exposed, even now.  But they guys' shoulders kept his arms aloft, and when they brought him to Trent, they kept him there.  Trent was talking to a bunch of guys, his friends evidently, and they all grinned when he came over.  "Ah back so soon" Trent jibed.  "So my friends here don't get to play that game, so we thought we might start one of our own."  Nico visibly recoiled, almost crawling out of the guys hands, who held him firm.  Trent stroked his cheek tenderly.  "Aww, don't worry, it's a different game, look..." 

One of the guys had brought over the equipment for this game, and sure enough it wasn't tennis balls and condoms, but a container of bulldog clips of various sizes.  Trent grabbed a little clip, and opened the savage teeth, holding them about in inch away from Nico's pouty left nipple.  The cum had dried and flaked on his left side, exposing the tender flesh below.  "So this game is truth or dare.  we ask you questions, and if you don't answer them to our satisfaction, well.."  He squeezed the clip a few times for emphasis.  Nico tried to speak, coughing up a ball of rentboy sperm as he did so, begging to just go home.  He didn't care about the promises to Penn, the pay, anything, he was just desperate to leave, and put this behind him.  Somehow, the first chance he got, he would skip town, make a new life.  If he could just escape the horror.  "Ugh, please, how can I make it stop?" he mumbled. The guys grinned.  "Oh Nicky, don't you worry your pretty head about details like that, just play the game.  Now, I didn't like that answer, so here's clip one."  Nico bucked as he clipped the first nipple, but couldn't escape the hold.

"So, first question - tell us about the first time you were fucked."  Nico sucked in breath, pain radiating out from his chest, but saw Trent holding a similar clip over his right nipple, so he quickly sputtered out "It was Penn!".  "More information" Trent prompted.  "Uh, so I was seeing this chick, and we were both pretty broke, so we crashed college parties - lots of food and booze.  Went to this one, and Penn was there - I didn't know who he was then - but he just walked right up to Cindy and tweaked her nipple - my date, and while I had my arm around her and all.  I got angry and went to fight him, but Cindy stopped me, mumbling something about working with him to get some cash..."  He felt the clip savagely bite into his nipple, before slipping on balljuice and shooting back off his skin, bounding off on to Trent.  For that he received a stinging slap to the cheek, while Trent wiped off the cum from his chest, savagely clipped a bigger bulldog clip on, taking a big pinch of pecflesh with it, and stuck his cum coated fingers into Nico's mouth, choking him off his story.  "Yawn, we don't give a fuck about her, just get to how he managed to pop your cherry!"  Nico flushed, and when Trent withdrew his fingers, he started speaking again.  There was a tear in his eye now, but that could've just been because one of the guys had grabbed his low hangers and was tugging down on the tenderised sac while he spoke.  "So after they went off, I hung around the party and got plastered - like I could barely see anymore.  I was trying to find the front door and I could just hear people laughing, and then someone kinda grabbed me and led me toward a door.  I thought they were helping, but then instead we ended up in this bathroom, the guy shoving me against the vanity.  It was Penn.  He pushed me up on the sink, grabbing my jeans and pulling them down off my arse.  They were pretty old, so they slid down, and I was freeballing, so my tackle just flopped out there, and my buttcheeks touched the cold porcelein, my knees straddling him in the narrow washcloset.  I thought he was trying to help me piss or something, I tried to explain I just wanted to go, but then he leaned forward again, and I realised he'd hauled out his own fucker.  Maybe cause I was drunk, but it looked huge, thick and veiny, and it just hung there between us.   He leaned in, forcing his pelvis between us, and planted his hands on mine, trapping me there.  I just stared in shock, but he leaned in, rubbing his horsecock on mine, planting his tongue down my throat and roughly making out.  My head hit the mirror and I freaked out, but I was too drunk to do anything, and he just kept roughing me up until I hyperventilated and started getting dizzy.  Seeing the chance, he leaned back and grabbed the back of my knees, lifting them up to his waist and scooting me forward.  With one free hand, he lined up his mushroom head against my hairy pucker, and then leaned back forward, putting his paws back over my hands, trapping them there with my wide spread thighs between our arms.  I think that's what sobered me up - it was like a cold shower.  Suddenly, I was staring straight into his eyes, his chest pinning mine to the wall, and I could feel every cell on his cockhead as it pressed against my sphincter.  Time stopped for a second, and I willed it to stop forever, but then my pucker betrayed me, unclenched, and he rammed into me with force.  It was like he punched me in the gut.  He whispered into my face that he usually lubed up for virginal fucks, but that he had wanted me to remember this one.  And then as I opened my mouth to scream, he faceplanted himself again, cutting off my screams with his tongue, as he slowly punched his ramjet prong up my chute, ripping and gripping my arselining with every thrust.  He fucking raped me, that was the first time - it was rape!"

Trent withdrew the bulldog clip, and Nico relaxed a little, maybe now the worst was over.  Suddenly he felt a sting at the base of his cock, and he almost clawed up the two guys holding him, his toes dancing off the ground.  One of the other guys had grabbed a small clip and had tugged down a fold of dickskin, punctuating the end of the story with the clip.  The weasly guy that had done it just shugged, sneering "well he didn't tell us how he came or anything!".  Trent ignored it, leaving the clip in place, and Nico was now sweating from the points of pain.  Trent rummaged around and found a large bulldog clip, and reached towards his foreskin, stretching the hooting flesh wide and feeding the clip in one side at at time.  The shape meant the skin was stretched either side - turning his flesh cigar into a hammerhead shark.  Trents fingers were still on the levers, and he opened the jaws a crack inside his foreskin, so his dicklips brushed against the teeth of the clip.  It was like having a blade held against him.  "Okay, second question, a little harder now.  What made you become a male fuck whore?"  Nico groaned, the twin fears of revealing his inner secrets, and of having his previous body tortured, hovering over him.  "Oh, and 'Penn made me do it' isn't enough" Trent offered.  Nico let out an inhuman moan of anguish, but the guys just leaned in closer.  "C'mon now" one said, fingering one of the titclamps "it's, like, question two!"