Road Rules belongs to MTV and Bunim/Murray Productions. Not me. These men, as far as I know, are straight (except Shane, he's out and flaming, God love him), and I'm not trying to suggest they are otherwise. This is all a fantasy. Practice safe sex, eat your vegetables, be over 18 if you're reading this story, make sure you ask me first before distributing this story.
I've been amazed and pleased by the response to the last few chapters. This one is kinda rushed, due to time constraints, but the next chapter will be a bang-up read, I guarantee you. I think you'll like some of this one, and I hope to hear from you.
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A chaotic mixture of disco, techno and hard rock blasted from the hotel bar's sound system. Christena, Cara and Mary Beth had hit it off immediately with Shane, and with his mischeivious encouragement, had persuaded the guys to use a portion of their hard-earned $5,000 to book two suites in a nearby semi-posh hotel. Despite Dave's half-joking protestations, the boys were going to sleep in one suite and the girls would share the other.
The hotel stay was the first part of "Operation Depants Dave", Shane's plan to get Dave, who had been cordial to him at best, in the sack. Shane had outlined several details (most of them involving "then I sit on Dave's face and he eats out my hot butt while the stubble from his cheeks against my cheeks makes me spray my load in his hair") to Chris while they cleaned themselves off in that crappy little bathroom, and as mostly het as Chris considered himself, the idea of queeny Shane plugging his royal scepter in Dave's straight boy hole or digging his ass deep on that talented Dave tongue had driven him so crazy that he'd yanked his pants back down and shot another gallon of his frat boy seed down Shane's eager throat.
Fast forward a few hours. The girls and Shane were boogying on down. Chris and Dave participated for a few moments, but preferred the company of a bottomless mug to humiliating themselves on the dance floor. Shane, on the other hand, apparently had no problem humiliating himself on the dance floor.
"I thought gay guys could dance," Chris snickered into Dave's ear. Dave smiled back at Chris, noticing how close their mouths were and how the mood lighting brought out the most beautiful glint in Chris' stormy eyes.
Dave headed to the john to get himself together. Chris watched him concentrate on walking in a straight line. That alcohol really must have been taking effect.
When Dave returned, his good pal Chris immediately slung an arm around his shoulder, leading him to the dance floor. Dave was no dancer, but he liked the feel of Mary Beth next to him, and got lost in the sensations. As his hands glued themselves to her shapely waist, he lost himself in the sensations. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Shane's lanky, perspiring body was too close for comfort with Cara. They weren't quite fucking with their clothes on, but their hands were in some questionable places. They were kissing, simply a peck at first, then Shane craned his seemingly boneless neck and went deeper. By the time they'd almost gotten to tongues, they pulled apart, blushing and laughing.
Dave's eyes bugged out of his head like a cartoon character about to fall off a cliff. Chris was not quite as shocked, but he had to admit a makeout session with a gay guy and a straight gal wasn't quite what he expected. He wished he'd worn jeans as baggy as Dave's, but judging by how quickly Dave had sprinted to the bathroom again, maybe those jeans weren't much of a defense either. As the song ended, Chris tugged Shane off the dance floor.
"I think Shane's going to call it a night," Chris flatly muttered to the girls, who, in their enslavement to the music, barely had the time to wave him goodbye. Shane led Chris to the elevator bay, wiggling his butt all the way.
Chris was trying to not fall into the trap of casual sex, but Shane shaking his butt, Shane and Cara and their forbidden touches, Shane so fucking drunk and radiating sex, only inches away from him. Shane's eyes sparkled with this unholy glee that would be frightening if he weren't so damned cute.
Chris hit the stop button midfloor. This would only take a few minutes anyway.
"I'm sorry, pal, but I have to do this."
Shane smirked against the wall, jumping at the bluntness of the hand squeezing his swelling jeans bulge, yanking his jeans down, sliding his oozing manhood up and down the wall as the other hand carressed his smooth pubic area.
"Me and the straight girl got you hot, huh? Thought that'd work. Ya'll straight boys are so easy. I know Dave is gonna fuck my ass tonight. I'm glad you'll break me in. Nobody dicks like you do."
Shane's senses were reeling, but he saw a small device lodged in a top corner. A video camera. Shit. Shane merely winked at the video camera, then stroking his bobbing meat and doffing his shirt to pinch his erect nipples. Why not put on a little show?
"OH GODDDD...are you sure you're straight, sweetie?"
His question was in response to Chris diving tongue-first into his bubble butt. "Sweet" was the operative word, because Shane's ass tasted damn good. And when he unzipped his slacks and released his fat fuckstick, he knew he was going to hit that ass over and over again. He just hoped he'd get another crack at Dave's crack before the night was over.
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Once Dave shut the door behind him, he immediately threw cool water on his face. His dick was about to explode through his shorts. He didn't have any problem with homosexuals, but Shane was so...in your face...and Dave didn't understand why he was attracted to his brashness or his prancing. Chris was very manly, low-key, and straight. Shane was a brass band. Why did he want to taste Shane's pouty lips, feel those soft fingers on his bare skin, taste that jutting rear end?
"What's wrong with me?" Dave cried, hitting his palm against the forehead.
"Nothing. You're the greatest guy I know."
An audience. Just what Dave needed. He was about to go back to the bar when he saw the man behind him in the mirror. His eyes welled up. His heart sank to the floor. His knees wobbled. Miraculously, he managed to whisper out one word:
"Abe."
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Quite a cliffhanger, huh? I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas.