FUN NIGHT AT JACKS
PART ONE
"Jacks" was a Glasgow club for mainly middle-aged gay guys to meet up, socialise and generally enjoy themselves. Usually between ten and twenty guys would turn up, mostly in their forties and fifties, but some well into retirement. They used to arrange strip shows occasionally, when of course there would be maximum turnout, up to forty guys all there to leer and drool over some hot guy taking it all off for them. It rarely went much further than that, but they all revelled in seeing some cute 19 year old stripped down and naked for them. They had a stage, podium, curtains and lighting especially rigged up for these once fortnightly extravaganzas, and generally there would be four or five performers a night.
It all went horribly wrong one evening last year when a group of young lads raided the club, there were five or six of them, and they burst in halfway through the show, wearing masks and balaclavas and hurling homophobic abuse and hatred at the club members, who were completely terrified. A couple brandished knives, another started kicking and punching, and still more started smashing up the place. It was a horrible end to the evening. One of the club members later found out that the intruders were connected to a stripper who held a grudge against the group because he had been sacked for a couple of non-appearances. All those involved were later traced, charged, and brought to court. That is when the fun started. The guys were all given suspended sentences, but, the judge in the case having been one of the club members, allowed this only on condition that they agreed to provide "entertainment" for the club in a manner of the club's choosing. The brats had no choice in the matter, and in the courtroom a number of the club members were chuckling and murmuring about the prospects of a great show, since all the guys were aged 18 to 22 and rough, good-looking, cocky types sure to have plenty to show off. The lads were all ordered to report to Jacks at 9pm on a Saturday night a few weeks away.
The members were determined to ensure that they had the best possible night, the sweetest revenge and humiliated and embarrassed the lads soundly to get their own back. They spent a lot of time thinking about how the evening would go, and went out to select jockstraps, speedoes, a gold posing pouch, wrestling singlets, soccer gear, anything they thought the guys would give a good show in.
Finally the night came, and all six of the guys turned up, well on time, to report to the court judge who, of course, none of them knew was a club member too. A number of club members had devised a series of games, humiliations and performances for the guys to go through, and the club was packed with about forty of them when the show started at 11pm. The audience were calling, wolf-whistling and hollering for the games to begin. A number of them were quite wealthy, and had put a lot of money towards buying equipment and gear to ensure a really good night. Disco lights and strobes swirled, loud music boomed, and smoke effects covered the stage, which was about 6 yards square, raised 8 feet off the ground with a small 5 foot across circular podium at the front. At either side of the stage were four foot deep tanks, one filled with water, one with some other kind of liquid. At just gone 11pm, the compere emerged, resplendent in bow tie and tails, and recounted the events that had led up to this magical evening. He explained that, given the circumstances, the police were going to turn a blind eye to whatever the guys were mad to do, and, in any case, not only were a couple of them in the audience, but the place was securely locked and bolted for the duration. But the audience shouted and screamed for the show to start.
"So, without further ado," the compere announced, let me introduce our first performer, the adorable Ricky, from Carolina USA, who is 19, and a US marine." Ricky was an athletic, cocky dude with plenty of attitude, a small metal earring in his right ear, cropped dark hair with a barbed-wire tattoo around his right biceps, a thick, chunky silver chain around his neck and right wrist, and a gorgeous pouting face. At 5 foot 7 inches tall he was positively bite sized. None of the audience knew what kind of show he was going to give, but suddenly the music changed to the quiet, soft, girly "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy", the curtains parted, and revealed the gorgeous Ricky totally humiliated and dressed as a five year-old girl in a pink party frock, frilly satin knickers and red party shoes with ankle socks. The whole thing topped off with a pink ribbon in his crewcut hair. The audience roared with laughter. Around his neck he wore a cardboard sign saying "I'm a little sissy", and was forced to pirouette, as instructed, to the music.
"Say hello to the boys and girls and do your dance", went the compere, and Ricky, looking very embarrassed indeed, performed the curtsey he had been told to do at each side of the stage, revealing both front and back, which didn't require much effort, as the party dress only came down to his waist anyway. When he turned round the audience saw that the panties had slid so far up his bubblebutt that both his globes and his swimtrunk tanline smiled out enticingly. The audience cheered. Some of them, armed with bottles full of oil, squirted it towards him and, as well as making the stage mighty sticky, looked like he had had wet accidents everywhere and started to make his muscled legs gleam.
"Before he dances for us," the compere beamed, "little er Jessie here is going to do a little spelling test, aren't you darling, to see whether you dance with knickers on or knickers off."
Ricky nodded shyly, looking like he wished the wet stage would swallow him up.
"What do you think, boys and girls?". "Off or on?" he teased the audience. "Off", they all squealed.
"No, first we have the test. Can you think of a word easy enough for little Jessie to spell, so he can be saved this punishment?". One of the guys suggested he try to spell the word "Supercalifragilistic". Ricky looked horrified. In any case, however he chose to spell it, he was bound to be judged wrong."
"Go on Jessie," coaxed the compere, as more oil soaked Ricky from the audience.
"S-U-P-E-R..." went the dumb jock, and er "K-A-L-L-...". The audience roared with laughter as Ricky looked amazed that he could have been found wrong.
"Oh dear, sweetheart," cooed the compere, "looks like those panties are history". So lets see you do your dance without them".
Ricky turned around shyly and shucked his panties off. At least I'm rid of them, he thought. The music started up, as Ricky's buns were flexed towards the crowd, his dress billowing right up above his waist in the breeze. The music was, in order to fully embarrass the marine, Village People's "In The Navy". Ricky swung round and started to dance clumsily on the oiled up stage. His cock swung into full view, and began to harden as it slapped his thighs backwards and forwards. The guys in the audience started to yell enthusiastically at the sight of the guy's cock hardening, along with some insults about little girls not behaving as they should. Poor Ricky was in their total control and just wished it would all end, but of course it wouldn't. At the end of the song, with now a three-quarter boner, Ricky was made to do jumping jacks, 50 of them, with his dress on of course, which was a very demeaning sight. By the time he'd finished, the friction had given him a total hard-on, his knobhead visibly dripping precum and shining in the light.
"OK," the compere commanded, "you're no little girl, you're a horny, punky marine, we can see from the size of your dick!", He joined in the audience's laughter. "We can see you need to release some of that spooge inside your big boy's tool, so let's all see it!". "Yeah", "Wooooh!", "Let's see that fucker cream," yelled the audience.
Ricky was led briefly backstage to get out of the demeaning frock, and unknown to him, the next stage of his punishment was being wheeled out. Another club member, a glazier, had rigged up a six foot square plate glass window on a long wooden block and four wheels. This was carried and deposited centre stage, as some of the club members sprayed oil over the glass facing backstage.
Ricky was brought back out, handcuffed behind his back, and wearing the sexiest black army boots and white socks imaginable. Apart from his chains, tattoo and earring, he was otherwise completely nude, still with the hard, keen, dripping cock. His snub nose and pouting lips now leered full of attitude at the thronging queens below. He had no idea what he had to do. His hairless, muscled body gleamed in the light. His crystal blue eyes stared out front stage.
"OK Jessie -- I mean Ricky," joked the compere, you have just 10 minutes to get yourself off for the audience",
"You mean I gotta cum? Here?"
"That's right, Shoot your wad. Right here."
"But I ain't got no hands."
It still hadn't occurred to the dumb boy what he had to do.
"You will gyrate and throb your hips against the oiled window until you get yourself off. But if you don't manage it in ten minutes, you go on to the next humiliation."
The audience, somewhat smarter than the stupid marine, had guessed this was going to happen, and laughed uproariously as they saw the realisation on the jock's cute little face."
"Jeez, I have to jerk myself off by friction with an oily window, just for these assholes?"
"That's right, isn't it, assholes," the compere explained to the audience. "On your marks, Ricky, get set, go."
Blasting rock music started up as a digital clock was lowered and visibly clicked away the seconds. Ricky got going, suddenly remembering he was against the clock, and desperate to get his load shot before time ran out. He jiggled his dick backwards and forwards, grunting and looking more and more desperate as he humped the slippery glass. Soon his cock, shaved balls and torso were completely slicked up. He had a full, throbbing hardon, but there wasn't quite enough friction to get the poor fucker off. More and more frantically he made love to that screen, quite forgetting his embarrassing predicament and no longer hearing the hysterical laughter and catcalls from the crowd, who were simply loving seeing this rough young cutie brought down a peg or two. With two minutes to go, it looked as if he was never going to make it, still jabbing his cock at the screen, precum drooling down. A photo of a naked girl was held up at the side of the stage by one of the assistants who had taken pity on the guy, in an effort to get him off. The audience loved this confirmation that the sexy dude was straight, and therefore doubly humiliated. The photo seemed to do the trick, as Ricky quickly approached orgasm with one minute to go. Suddenly, he yelled, threw back his head and hollered "Oh fffuuuck", as jet after jet of hot cream whapped out of his dick, jetted right across the oiled screen and splattered everywhere. The third jet squirted up, back, right in his face, and speckled his crewcut, which still bore the ribbon. They had cruelly left it in to remind him that this was his humiliation. The audience screamed. Several had taken their dicks out for a pounding. They applauded loudly. It was nearly midnight and still another five guys to get their punishment. It was going to be one helluva night. As Ricky looked sheepish, still in handcuffs.
"My, my, this little girl has made one nasty mess of our window. Look at all that juice everywhere. Did little missy spill her milk bottle?"
No reply.
"What did little missy do, tell uncle Charlie," teased the compere. "Why are there nasty stains all over the nice clean window?"
The crowd fell silent, wondering if the dumb guy would answer these ridiculous questions.
"Well, man, I was told I had to empty my nuts. I ain't come for two days. My girlfriend ain't in town and ... ".
The guys loved that he'd answered the questions seriously, and ribbed him for it.
"Well then, if our hands are tied, we'd better lick it up, hadn't we my dear!"
"But it's my balljuice, sir. Ain't never eaten my own balljuice."
"Oh I'm sure it's full of protein", and very good for you. Some joker in the audience volunteered to step in and lick it up, cos he was thirsty.
"Let's get you started, " sniggered the compere, as he scooped up a handful of spunk and slapped it on the marine's shaven head. "There you go, soldier boy." It started to trickle into his eyes and that got another good belly laugh from the audience. Embarrassed once again, the lad licked away at the window, grimacing as he tasted his own cum, swallowing hard.
"Enough!" shouted the compere, "he's earned his rest for the moment. Take a bow Ricky, you gave a great show." Ricky smiled stupidly and bowed, like he'd just won an Oscar. Which, in a way, he had. "It's time for the next showman to come right out here on stage -- we'll maybe see some more of Ricky later, when he's recharged his guns. Which shouldn't be long at his age...". With one more chuckle from the audience, there was a brief pause until the next "act" of the night...
PART 2
The music from the side of the stage started to play a disco version of "Send In The Clowns", and the audience, having gone to the bar to get extra beers, started to whoop and holler in anticipation of the next "act" to get thoroughly humiliated. They had been primed to stand by with custard pies, foam sprays and other circus tent material in readiness for act No.2.
"Ladies, ahem, and er, gentlemen, please put your hands together and give a big circus tent welcome for our chuckling clown this evening, who I'm sure is going to give us all a big laugh, it's Custard "Cutie" Pie, Andy. He's 19 years old and he's from London. Come in Andy and give us your show. Andy was another cocky, know-it- all, seen-it-all (or so he thought he had) type from South London; this time smooth and blond, a baseball cap wearer with a No.2 crop, lightly muscled 5'9" tall, with an angelic, smartass face, piercing green eyes, and three or four silver neck chains jangling for position on his hairless but delicately tattooed chest. A real show off, he had a delicious amount of fuzz around his balls, but neatly trimmed above his cock area. He had been one of the most violent intruders on the fatal night, so deserved an especially demeaning role play punishment in the eyes of the club. Unknown to most of the audience, he had been told that he had to come on stage dressed as a clown, and perform a sex education class for kids -- except it had to be done in front of forty leering gay men and it had to be done for real, or little Andy would go on to more and more unpleasant and humiliating events.
As Andy emerged his embarrassment at his predicament was to die for. A stool awaited him centre stage as he emerged between the curtains, again, to swirling smoke effects. He wore a blue and white striped overall with large red clown's boots, and a big sissy bonnet with the word "Andy" across the top. His face was made up delightfully with a red rouged spot on each side of his face -- which, thankfully to him, covered his real blushes. He looked so cute as he emerged and the audience hollered. He had been well tutored for his role.
"Hello Andy, you're up late tonight," joked the compere, as the audience sniggered. "What have you got to show for us this evening?"
"Good afternoon boys and girls," stammered Andy, who had been told that it was imperative he played this for real for the complete amusement of the guys, "my name's Andy and I'm going to teach you all about sex and my little winkie".
The guys thought this was fantastic, and hooted their approval. A couple almost collapsed with laughter.
"Well, Andy, we have a few of your friends tonight who want to ask you a few questions and see how you cope, don't we boys and girls?", said the compere, somewhat mysteriously, as the guys had no idea what was about to happen.
"We have some girls who are eager to learn what you have to teach them." And with that, he introduced four real 16 year old girls from Andy's school, all of whom had picked him out as sexiest guy from photos the previous Thursday, in what they thought was a school male beauty pageant. They had been told that their prize would be to see Andy perform live on stage, and there was no denying to all looking that this guy was one real hot piece of young shit. They had expected to see him in a local singing Fame Academy or some such, so little did they know that this degrading performance was their prize.
"So, let's welcome on stage, Suzie, Karen, Melanie and Hannah." The four girls emerged from backstage to a huge round of applause and sat cross legged in front of Andy, who looked completely amazed and wholly astonished, as he recognised all four girls from class.
"Well, Andy," the compere went on, "we're all dying to learn what you have to show us, aren't we girls?". "Sure thing. Yeah! Woooo!", chorused the four girls on the stage and the other forty in front of it. The four teenage girls were really getting into this quickly and had obviously been given some idea of what to expect from the guys backstage."
"Well, boys and girls," choked Andy, as childish clown and circus music struck up, "I want to tell you and show you here today all about boys and their winkies".
"I don't think Andy sounds very keen, do you boys and girls?" teased the compere. "Let's get him to do it again, with more feeling. Go on, Andykins."
"I'm going to show aaaaalll you lovely boys and girls all abooout my wee willie winkie," said Andy, forcibly smiling, but playing along valiantly. He danced around a bit, showing how incredibly tight the blue and white smock overalls were against his beautiful butt.
"Would you like to see what lickle Andy has under his overalls?"
"Yeeah!"
"All right then, I'll just unzip my outfit," said Andy, by now humiliated beyond measure as the guys laughed and sniggered at him. The front was unzipped, showing him nude underneath, and the shoulder straps of the overalls flopped forwards. His torso was visible right to his waist, when one of the school girls asked a question --
"Can we see your willie pleeease mister Andy?" cooed Hannah. "Yeah, right show us dick," said a member of the crowd to more applause."
"Andy pulled his overalls down to reveal the suggestion of a huge soft but hardening dick, about 5 inches long, hidden behind what looked like a plastic diaper."
"Of course, er Hannah," spluttered Andy, as he shucked down the overalls to reveal the slimfit, adult diaper in its entirety.
"I think Andy needs to take his overalls off, he's very hot, aren't you Andy?" said the compere. Glaring at him, Andy stripped down until he was only wearing the diaper, the big, ludicrous clown boots, orange socks and the hood. What a sight.
It was a delicious sight, in fact. "I have to wear these in case I have a little accident", said Andy, "but it's quite safe, I can take them off now, I promise I will be a good boy." He stuck to the script like he'd been told, and then, "oh, but sometimes I can't contain myself". Again, according to script, the compere brought on a baby's potty and Andy stood over it saying, "I need to have a wee wee, do you mind, children?". "Noooo!" came the reply, with more laughter, as Andy ripped off his diaper and let a searing gush of piss flow out into the bucket. The girls arched back as they had never seen so much piss come out of a boy before. But then again, he'd been given two pints of lemonade an hour before the show started.
And then "Oh, and I need to do poo poo," remembered Andy, as he swung round and crouched over the pot. For this purpose, and for other purposes later in the evening, a camera held by one of the front row zoomed in and took a close up of Andy's gorgeous ring, which was displayed in glorious technicolour on a giant screen above the stage. As Andy grunted, in line with previous instructions, a huge turd started to emerge from Andy's tight, hairless hole and gradually forced itself out into the bowl."
"What a disgusting, dirty little piece of shitface you are, Andy," admonished the mocking compere, as he flung the filthy bowl off side stage in the tank of water to his left. The turds bobbed to the surface to the amusement of those who could see what was happening in the front row.
Andy swung round, "right, now, boys and girls, I'm ready to show you what my pee pee can do," he said, almost forgetting himself for a moment.
"If I touch my pee pee like this, " he enthused, wagging it before the girls, "it starts to get bigger and sends lovely tingly sensations through my nuts, which are the two sacks dangling beneath my pee pee," he said, suddenly remembering he was supposed to be giving a sex eductation class, as it were.
"What does it feel like", asked Karen, genuinely interested. Indeed, all four girls virtually had their tongues hanging out at the sight of this gorgeous young guy virtually wanking himself off for their education and entertainment.
"Yeah, what's it feel like, big boy?" chuckled a middle-aged guy of about 50, craning his neck to get a better view of the whack- off. "Have some of this," said another, tossing him some lube.
"If I spread this slippery jelly on my pee pee it feels all mellow and hard, like I want to have babies," said Andy, as simply as he could. "Look, the head goes a sort of purple color, and if you look real good now, you can see a little pearl of moisture coming out the end." The girls bent over for a better look as he showed them. In fact, he was getting off on the fact that the girls were there, which wasn't quite what the compere had planned, so he started the next part of the entertainment.
"Cakes ahoy!" yelled the compere, and the big creamy custard pies were hurled from the audience at poor Andy, covering him in custard cream, strawberry and foam cream, knocking him off his stool and onto the floor, still slippery after Ricky's show just before. "Woah! Way to go!", hollered the audience again, revelling in yet more embarrassment for our poor,horny, sexy hero.
Andy knelt up, continuing the demonstration as if nothing had happened, as he had been instructed. Cherries and cream flopped down his red face and onto his chest, and his ass flopped in a pile of creamy goo.
"If I keep waggling my pee pee, eventually I will spray a jet of baby jelly out of the end, and sometimes there's quite a lot, but I don't want to make too much of a mess, so I'd better stop now."
The compere glared at him. The audience yelped at the thought they might not see the young punk squirt, and screamed at him to go on. "Oh yes, Andy, we want to see your baby um jelly", said Hannah, keen to see what was going to happen next, as she'd never seen a young boy like Andy squirt jizz out of his dick.
"OK,, but you might get a little bit wet, " boasted Andy. "Ooooooh!" went the audience, as the boy skeetered up and down on hi slick shaft and approached his ecstasy. "If...if.. I k-k-keep going l-l-like this I will have an oooooh..." and with that he lost control. Big splats of boycum arched out of his prick and splattered two of the unsuspecting girls in the face. They couldn't believe it, and scooped up gobs of it to sniff and taste it. They weren't disappointed, of course!
"Tha-tha-that's my baby j-j-juice," stammered Andy, "I hope none of you boys and girls got t-t-too wet, because a lot of it comes out of my pee pee when I get r-r-really excited," drivelled Andy, the dumb shit still keeping up his ridiculous act well past his cream, much to the crowd's amusement.
"Well, I hope you've all learned something from young Andy," sniggered the compere, as the audience roared. There was so much slick oil and cream on the floor that with one push of the compere's foot, the hapless young lad slid across the stage floor and splashed into the vat of cold water at the side of the stage. "That's what you get for showing off in front of the girls, you hopeless piece of shit," howled the compere. "And thankyou girls, you've seen quite enough of the big boy showoff for one evening, I think it's time you hurried home. Your parents will be wondering where you are."
"Yes, mister," and "Thanks Mr Andy for showing us your baby juice," they chorused as they were ushered out of the building. The audience lapped it up, enjoying the delicious extra layer of embarrassment and humiliation the lad had had to suffer in the girls' presence.
"A big hand for Andy Conran", our big boy clown for this evening, "wasn't he adorable, and didn't you all learn a great deal from this great showman?" teased the compere, as Andy scrambled out nude from the vat of turdy water, onto the stage, and had his arm lifted into the air like a championship boxer. His dick, half-hard, but cleaned of pie and cream, still oozed cum.
"Just look at this big baby and his drooling dick, guys. Look at that drool creaming out of his dick and down his fucking leg! Who wants a lick of that?"
"Me, me me," shouted the audience, as clear goo strung out of the boy's piss-slit and bounced two feet below it before pearling off onto the floor."
"OK Andy, they're not going to eat you just yet," came the comforting voice of the compere, "you can go and have a shower backstage while we wait for our next showboy." Relieved, Andy scuttled and slid off centre stage, his glorious globular glutes wobbling and getting a back view cheer from the guys." What an evening to remember it was turning out to be.
PART 3
"OK gentlemen," said the compere, "calm down a little now, and lets move on to the next part of the show. Please give a big warm welcome to our next two lovely guests." A murmur of appreciation went through the club at the thought of two boys on the stage at once, and what punishments and humiliations they'd have to go though, as a large metal box on a table was wheeled in to the left hand side of the stage.
"Gentlemen, please put your party hands together for our youngest, but still hunky, showoffs here this evening, the gorgeous, cocky, 17 year old Luke and the adorable, cheeky, toughboy, 18 year old Chris."
Applause gathered round the club as the two guys entered centre stage in their specially designed (i.e. tight and with shorts much too short) claret and blue West Ham United kits. They were allowed high-top sneakers, rather than soccer boots, of course, for ease of movement and, not least, added sexiness. Luke was clearly muscled and athletic, with a real footballer's thighs. He stood 5'8", had a perfect smooth body, short blond hair gelled up into spikes, a cute gold ring through the corner of his right eyebrow, and a chunky gold neck chain. He winked and smiled cockily at the audience, thinking he was just here to be ogled and admired. It didn't seem to have occurred to him that we they all there to see them get humiliated good and proper. 18 year old brickie Chris was a real dreamboat. He had beautifully muscled biceps, again smooth, with a far away eyes look as his deep hazel eyes stared out from his bowed head. His hair was bright blond, very short at the sides, the top gently ruffled into a straw-like effect. He stood 5'6" tall and moved assuredly and cockily from one foot to the other, the sinews in his thigh muscles flexing in the arc lights. Boy was it going to be fun to take these two jocks down a peg or two.
"The first part of our game with you two lovely guys is called "Know Your Friends", teased the compere, a 44 year-old whose real favourite types these two little punks were. Chris was led off backstage by an assistant and the rules of the game were explained to a confused but keen looking Luke.
"OK, Luke. Now, Chris won't be able to hear your replies to these questions, but I'm going to ask you eight questions, four about your mate and four about yourself. You need to give the most honest, truthful answer, or face the consequences. Do you understand?" This last question was a dangerous one, given what we know about our heroes so far.
"Yes," replied Luke, without the slightest idea of how embarrassing or impossible to answer the questions were going to be.
"Right, question one." The guys in the crowd stopped sniggering and laughing for a minute and fell quiet to make sure they heard the amplified answers loud and clear.
"How many times a week do you masturbate, Lukey?"
"Oh, fuck do I have to answer that? That's embarrassing." The compere, Jim, pulled the back of the boy's shiny, purple Adidas shorts up into a wedgie, exposing Luke's ample packet at the front. "OK, OK, about twice a day." Cheers and hollers from the crowd.
"Question two. This is multiple choice. How far do you usually shoot? Up to your belly button, up to your chest, on your face, or over your head."
"Aw fuck, Jesus. I usually shoot up to me nose and it gets in me eyes quite often. Me girlfriend thinks it's fucking funny." So did the guys in the crowd.
"A different subject now. What's your favourite dessert?"
"Oh, easy, strawberry trifle and custard."
"And the last question about you is what kind of underwear are you wearing?"
"Red briefs. Look." And he shucked down the rear of his shorts to prove that, yes indeed, he was wearing a very brief pair of scarlet briefs, linked by only an inch of material at the sides. The guys lapped it up and chanted out "Off,off,off,off."
"Shhhh guys, not so fast, all in good time. The last question for you is `What is the capital of Wyoming'."
"Don't even know where Wyoming is mate."
"Is, unsurprisingly, the wrong answer," teased Jim the compere.
Now, questions about Chris.
"How long is Chris's dick when it's erect?"
"Christ, you don't mess about, do ya? Never fuckin' seen it. Er, fuck knows. 7 inches."
"What is Chris's favourite dessert?" "How should I know? Cream cakes. His girlfriend's tits. God knows." The wiseguy answers were making everyone anticipate the pending downfall all the more.
"Next. Is Chris a natural blond?"
"Don't know. I suppose so. Ask him."
"I'm asking you, that's the point of the game, boy. I'll take that as a `no'."
"Lastly, does he eat his own cum when he whacks off?
"Urgh, gross, fuck no, I hope not. Disgusting."
"Right, thanks for those answers, Luke. Now, let's welcome Chris back on stage to see how well he does. A big hand for Chris." Wolf whistles and applause as a blindfolded Chris is led back on stage. Luke too is blindfolded as the compere explains that this is so they can't cheat.
"I'd like a couple of volunteers from the crowd to help with any er forfeits, should Chris's answers not match." Laughter from the guys, who sensed straight away that the chance of matching answers, especially as Luke hadn't paid much attention, was pretty low."
Jim selected, from the willing volunteers, the two keenest he could spot, a couple of fat old guys in their sixties, who sauntered forward on to the stage to help out with the admonishments. They looked pretty keen, virtually drooling, to see what was in store for these cheeky brats, who'd frightened them to death when they raided the club all those weeks ago. One was assigned to Luke, and the other to Chris, and they stood beside their charges.
"Right, Chris, question one. How often does Luke here whack off?"
"What?"
"You heard correctly, how often does he have a wank."
"Erm. God. Three times a day?" Hollers and whistles from the audience.
"That's the wrong answer, I'm afraid Chris. He can only manage twice. Time for a forfeit guys, of your choosing, naturally," he said to the two sixty year old "assistants". They both spoke to each other and decided they wanted to see the lads without shirts. Quick as a flash, they whipped them off. They also decided they wanted to tie the guys hands behind their back so they would behave, and handcuffs were instantly provided. Standing in just their tight shorts, soccer socks, now halfway down their calves, and high top sneaks, the guys looked delicious. Sweat glistened on their chests as their nips stuck out proudly.
"Give us a twirl and wiggle those pretty butts, boys," instructed the compere. "Put on a lovely show for us!" Nervously, the stupid, slightly less cocky punks obeyed, and jiggled their asses about for all to see, which got a nice laugh from the audience.
"OK, OK face the front. Now, Chris, next question, how far does Luke normally shoot?
"What, his spunk?"
"What do you think?" More laughter as Jim read out the options.
"I would say he'd get right over his head. I can hit the wall when I..."
"OK, OK, enough bragging, too much detail, we'll ask about you in good time," teased the compere, enjoying every minute as the audience laughed at the boy's desperation to get all the details right and gave his own statistics away in the meantime.
Chris looked forlorn. "Is it to be another item of clothing gents?"
"Yes, yes yes," cheered the crowd, as the two assistants grabbed the boys' shorts by the waistband and shucked them down to rest around their lower thighs, like the naughty schoolboys they in fact were. A wet patch was clearly evident at the front of Luke's red, brief knickers and Chris's pristine white jockstap was revealed to oohs and aahs, with much giggling, of course, from the audience."
Next question, Chrissie-boy. "What's your mate's favourite dessert?"
"Fuck. Er, ice cream and caramel, how should I know."
The compere whispered something to the two assistants who gleefully strode over to the metal box on the side of the stage. "Er, no, the wrong answer, but we do have a range of puddings for you to try, don't we guys?"
"Sure thing," chuckled the pensioners, as they rummaged around in the box.
"Good thing, I'm fucking hungry," shouted Luke, in a misplaced moment of defiance.
"Good," encouraged the compere. "We have plenty." Let them have some tea, guys. With that the old men came back with various items from the box. One opened a can of syrup and poured it between Chris's pecs, making him flinch, as the cool, oily liquid slowly trickled down into Chris's jockstap. Then he took a can of whipped cream, tipping banana custard all over the dumb shit's head, spraying cream on each nipple and then a huge amount right inside the jockstrap, which was soon bulging like a cream puff. The older guy squeezed the pouch and cream squirted out comically in every direction. The embarrassed, defeated look on the once cocky brat's face was a picture. Then the other guy got to work on Luke. More banana custard inside the briefs, along with a penile banana and plums, which looked hilariously suggestive. Luke's briefs sagged with the weight, showing the hairless, shaved root of his cock. Chocolate sauce was poured all over his head. Both Chris's jock and Luke's briefs became virtually translucent, as they were made to parade in the sticky, fruity mess all around the front of the stage, showing off their delightful predicament. From behind, Luke's briefs had ridden down almost halfway down his bubblebutt, giving a luscious view of curvaceous asscrack. The guys out front lapped it up.
"OK, OK, guys, please stand here centre stage facing the left wing of the stage. Gunk still dribbled down the guys bodies, which glistened on the perfect athletes they were. "Now a question about undies." Much laughter as, even though it was now obvious to all what colour his friend's underpants were, poor Chris couldn't see them.
"Black," guessed Chris, hoping he might be right and stop all this embarrassment. "No, afraid not, he's gone for the red ones today," chirped the compere. The two assistants told the guys to walk forward to the side of the stage. After five steps blindfolded and handcuffed, splash!, into the foamy bath tub at the side of the stage the guys went. More hysterical laughter as the guys, taken completely by surprise, bobbed about in the soapy water and were encouraged to clean up so we could see their buffed, cleaned up bods in all their glory. After five minutes of splashing about, they were invited back up on stage. Neither had expected this, quite, and whilst washing had lost their underwear completely in the soapy water. Drenched, they crawled out, wearing only their soaked socks and sneaks, as their not so glamorous assistants enjoyed towelling them down and drying them off for the next stage, paying plenty of attention, of course to their pretty, teenage, uncut cocks and plump, firm, juicy asses. Both cocks were now on full view of the audience. Chris wore a tight brass cock ring around his dick and balls which made the package stand out nicely, cupping his balls for all to see. The boys and their long but still flaccid cocks flopped back to the centre of the stage to face the music again. The boring question about Wyoming was asked, and since neither British guy had a clue even where it was, the dunce caps were carried on from the side of the stage on silver trays. The assistants gleefully placed a tall pointed dunce's cap on each boys head, the big letter "D" and underneath it "DUMB AS FUCK" written in black print to add to the guys' humiliation.
Then the hilarious question about Chris's hardon. Yet again, the wrong answer, of course, as Chris smirked and claimed to have an 8 inch boner. Luke grimaced and moved from foot to foot as he had been an inch out. It was so amusing to see these stupid toughies taking these answers so seriously. They were the only ones in the hall not literally rocking with mirth and enjoyment. No evidence of the boner ye though.
"Assistants, the oils, please." As the lads squirmed nervously, the assistants were told to oil up the two exposed cocks.
"You will now both get hardons, and we will see which if you is telling the truth," laughed Jim.
"But I ain't got no hands!" smirked Luke.
"Well, you have each other's oily, slippy dicks to play with!" laughed the compere. "You have just five minutes to get hardons, which you must then maintain for the duration of the show." The audience loved it. "You may only use your own dicks, rubbing against each other, to get each other hard." Desperately, rubbing their cocks together, the two guys tried to get each other hard. The slick, dripping dicks gradually worked their magic, the rubbing and the sliminess quickly having the desired effect, and within three minutes both cocks were waving hard, rock hard in fact, and dripping with anticipation. The boys were desperate and exhausted, as the guys in the audience, cheered their appreciation and moved closer to the stage for a better view. Hard-ons at the ready, the compere asked the next pudding question, and again, Chris gave completely the wrong answer.
"Raspberry and cream." No, wrong. Another forfeit. The old guys looked in the box again and came out with babies' pacificers and bibs. A pacificer was stuffed in each punk's mouth, and a prissy bib with bunnies and teddies, one pink, on blue, were tied round each toughie's face as they stood there in their hightops and hardons.
"Look what big boys you are. You're much to big for baby things, but you must be taught a lesson." This was possibly the humiliation high point of the evening.
Suddenly, out of the blue, Chris actually got a question right. He was a natural blond. Difficult to tell with no pubes, and given the pacifier in his mouth, he could of course only nod the answer, but given the 50/50 choice, even the dumbest of jocks stood a chance.
"So, onto the last question, which we will answer by demonstration." We were going to see, of course, if cutie, pouty, Chris, ate his own cocksnot after cumming. On to the side of the stage was wheeled a set of medieval type stocks, the type where the guys were restrained in a sitting position, legs outstretched, arms in a bar in front of them, legs shackled around the ankles. They were led over to this contraption, which accommodated two miscreants, still with dunces caps, bibs and pacifiers, their hardons bobbing expectantly as their blindfolds were taken off and they were forced to come to terms with their predicament. The assistants got them into position. A greased rubber pole about an inch thick was slotted in just level with the frenum of each boy's cock. They were told that they had to cum in this position, but were unclear how. The compere arranged for the spotlights to shine on the stocks, and an electric motor started up. It was gently vibrating the pole suspended in front of the guys' cocks. As the giant screen above the stage portrayed events, they were told they had 10 minutes to get off by rubbing the tips of their cocks against the pole.
"The bibs will keep you two filthy, dirty babies clean when you squirt, and also stop you slopping any mess over our nice shiny stocks. Right, start the clock," intoned the compere, mock seriously. The boys rubbed away and moaned and grunted, desperate to shoot their wads and get off that stage. The vibrating pole made their dicks dance and quiver hilariously, their knobheads glowing purple and showering out rivulets of teenage precum. It was a delicious sight, as the lads groaned and grimaced. Suddenly, Luke's cock twitched, and six huge ropes of boycum spattered out of his flaring piss-slit, showering his face, and whapping all over the woodwork of the frame, which rocked back and forth. Two splats audibly landed behind him, and a lake of warm spooge covered the bib, as Luke writhed and rocked breathlessly and excitedly. "No hands!" laughed Luke, proudly and arrogantly. Just at that moment, Chris too bucked like a bronco, pushing his athletic hips powerfully against the rubber, which was just rubbing away at that most sensitive spot below his glans. His dunce cap toppled with the movement and slid over to a 45 degree angle, as he opened his mouth, spat the pacificer out, and keenly stuck his tongue out as huge jets of sperm fired out from his cock. The crowd roared and laughed as, proving that he was a cum eater, he tried to catch as much as he could in his pretty manboy mouth. His head darted back and forth, catching much of it, which he swallowed greedily and desperately. Other streaks of cum landed in his eyes and up his nose, and he smirked away, proud of his show as the orgasm subsided. What a pair of little exhibitionists these two turned out to be.
"Please put your hands together for Andy and Chris," as the two hapless cuties were led to the front of the stage to give their bows. "What a lot of spunk these two young baby boys had!" Smirking, defiant, and still undefeated, the lads turned, mooned their butts at the audience, and wiggled off backstage. And so the third act of the evening was successfully concluded.
"I'm sure that, after that, we could all do with an intermission!" went the compere. Drinks at the bar. Show to resume in 30 minutes.