Hey buddy. Close the blinds. Pull down the shades. Get a couple of cold ones from the fridge. Find the poppers. Fire up a joint. Get your dick out...
STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR
Ben tried, once again, to concentrate on his paper. Two days. No more extensions. Fuck. And he was trying to get serious. But oh God he wanted to shoot cum from his cock! Again.
He had hoped to get it over with, for a few hours at least, before leaving for the undergraduate library that Saturday morning. The usual--paper towels from the kitchen, a fuck tape in the VCR, a fast jackoff . He loved to jack off. His cock had quickly curved back, tight and tangy. His fist flew up and down pumping in a blur as his ass tensed up from the couch and he snapped forward to fuck into the paper towels. But no time to bliss out afterwards. Ben had pulled his jockeys back up to let the aftercum soak into the pouch and headed out, ready for the world.
But once again that low-level lighter-than-air quiver radiated out from his butthole, warm waves vibrating through his thighs, his balls, his dick. Weird shreds of old dreams flitted in and out of his mind, shadowy figures he never quite recognized fucking casually as if the other passengers on the bus couldn't see exactly what they were doing... Ben's eyes wandered around the quiet end of the library where he had found an empty carrel. He liked the library's hi-tech look, its exposed catwalks, the open steel mesh stairway leading to rows and rows of stacks on the mezzanine just below him. Ben had the place to himself.
Well, almost to himself. A guy was squatting on the mezzanine, examining the titles at knee level. What an ass! Latino maybe, or Arab. The guy's tightened jeans cupped and separated tight bulging mounds that grazed the carpet. >From his carrel Ben did a virtual sniff expedition, his nose pushing insistently into the guy's crack as Ben blended stink-memories of past butt nuzzles and kept rooting toward the addictive aroma he knew came from--where else?--another male shithole.
Ben knew he had to buckle down and get to work. But then how often do you get a look at an ass like that? And who knew how long the guy would be there? Ben did have all day to get to his paper... And besides, the show was starting to get good. The guy was stretching to peer around the edge of the stacks, checking the corridor in both directions. Nobody. It obviously didn't occur to him to look up. The coast clear--as far as he could tell--he grabbed at his crotch with one hand and rubbed his ass with the other. "Ah," Ben murmured, "the old double grope." A guy who loved to get it in his ass and his cock at the same time! Ben watched him jouncing his ass up and down on his rigid fingers. So what did he really want poking up into his hole? As if Ben didn't know the answer to that: anything, man! The big male secret: "Plug my hole while I fuck! And stick something into my mouth!" The guy checked out the corridor again.
"What now?" Ben wondered. The answer came quickly. Ben heard the long, rumbling rip of a major fart, the kind you let only when you're sure you're alone. And then the guy just stayed there, squatting. Ben's dick twitched. Into it! Oh yeah! For a moment Ben considered tiptoeing down and squatting near the guy as if he had to search for a book himself. The longer he stayed, the surer the signal would be. The guy would know. They would both know. That might even be worth flunking the course. But then the guy stood up and walked away. Ben stared after him to memorize his ass.
Suddenly Ben knew he had something else to distract him from his paper. He had to go, big time. His morning coffee had kicked in, and a deadline nobody could postpone was approaching. He carefully worked a hot, silent one out to buy a little time. Lucky he was really alone. He headed for the elevator.
The men's room was three floors below, in the basement of the library. Ben wasn't the only one. The guy from the stacks was waiting there at the elevator. Soft brown bedroom eyes. An Italian rosiness edged his deep tan. Large mouth, full lips. He smiled shyly at Ben, but Ben could see he was eager for that elevator to appear. It came, the doors slid open, and the guy bounded in and slapped the "Basement" button. Ben stepped in behind him. The guy noticed Ben didn't choose a floor and shot him a knowing glance. Three guys were already in the elevator. "Holy shit!" Ben thought, "must be hunk day." A young blond guy from the library staff with a cute Irish monkey face was managing two upright rolls of furniture pads. The other two guys exuded the warmth of just having finished a workout. Together? One was a tall Black dude with the chiseled features of many racial strains. Ben wondered why he would even have bothered with college. A guy like that could make a fortune as a model anytime. The other stud had a baby face turning lean and a friendly glint in his eyes. He looked like he always enjoyed doing whatever he happened to be doing. He must have been one of those little kids who knows by instinct that the world existed for his pleasure, and made it that way for everyone he came across. The expressions on the faces of the men on the elevator never changed, but an awareness still registered, somehow...a tiny rise in temperature, maybe, or even a subtle odor humans had long since learned to ignore, and five cocks quietly saluted each other.
The guy with the friendly glint turned to the staff guy and asked him if they had remembered to restock the men's room with toilet paper. The staff guy was apologetic: "Oh, I'm sorry, man. I didn't notice it until yesterday afternoon, when I had to go in there myself. I know, it's embarrassing. You just have to hope nobody gets too close until you get a chance to take care of it. Just my luck, I haven't been able to use my own shower all week."
"You too?" the guy from the stacks asked. "Mine has been out for two days now...I wouldn't mind, but I really sweat in this heat."
"Know what you mean, man," Ben chimed in, "you just have to hope people will understand." The other guys nodded in agreement. A common problem.
It took the guys a moment to notice that the elevator had come to a halt between floors. They waited calmly, gazing straight ahead.. But the moments stretched out. The guy from the stacks moaned through clenched teeth, shifting his weight: "Shit, I gotta get to the men's room!" He joined the others in glancing inquiringly at the staff guy, who responded by reaching forward and jabbing buttons. Nothing happened.
"Try the intercom," the Black guy suggested.
"Yes?" a voice crackled,
"Len, it's Frank. Look, number three stopped between the main floor and the basement. How do we make it go?"
"Let me see," crackled the voice. "Hold on." Like they had someplace to go... The voice came on again: "Frank? Frank?"
"Uh, right here, Len," Frank said, rolling his eyes at the other four passengers.
"Sorry, Frank," Len crackled, "but the elevator guy's gone for the weekend. We're trying to see if we can reach him at home. Anybody else in there with you?"
Frank glanced around. "Yeah, four other guys. And hey, we're all headed for the basement, you know...?"
"Oh jeez," the voice came back, "sorry about that. Well, try to hold out, OK?" The stacks guy groaned again, a whimper of fear in his voice now.
The friendly guy spoke up: "Hey man, don't suffer. If something's gotta give, it's gotta give...we won't keel over."
"He's right," Ben said, "an emergency is an emergency. I've had some close calls myself. No sweat, OK? In fact, I might just be next."
"You gotta admit," Frank commented, "it's kind of funny when you think about it."
"Funny for you, maybe," the stacks guy muttered, turning red.
"Hey man," Ben tried again, "it's not like we all haven't stunk up the place with some pretty ripe ones now and then. It's just natural, just food digesting." But the guy just hung his head.
"Oh fuck it, man" said the friendly guy. "Look, my name's Tom, and just so you won't feel so bad...get ready, guys..."
Tom wasn't kidding. It was like smelling a roomful of people all chewing on peanuts. "Whoa! Holy shit, man!" the Black guy moaned.
"Well," Frank said, "now that somebody else has gone first..." He leaned forward and blew one that would have brought down the walls of Jericho.
"All right, I take that as a challenge," said the Black guy. "Brace yourselves for the black death-ray. By the way, that's my name: Ray."
At that the stacks guy gave it up, crying, farting, and giggling all at the same time, letting the pressure off his bowels at last. "Maybe we can make the elevator float up," he said sheepishly, "I'm Alex."
"And I'm Ben," Ben added, "looks like we're gonna shit in alphabetical order," which struck everybody as funny.
"Well, we're still alive," Tom ventured after a few moments of silence. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm getting hot." The others glanced at him. "I mean, I'm taking off my shirt."
"Not a bad idea," Ben said, aware for the first time he was sweating. He rolled his T- shirt up over his stomach and yanked it over his head and off.
"Might as well be as comfortable as we can," Alex added, pulling his off. The other two guys took their shirts off.
The reaction to Ray and Tom was swift. Frank said it out loud: "You guys sure are in great shape! I'm gonna start working out again first chance I get. Soon as I get out of here, anyway."
"You guys don't look all that bad," Tom replied, looking around. "At least we're not stuck in here with any ugly guys. And, you gotta admit," he added, "we know everybody's well fed," which set off a round of wry chuckles and nods.
"Hey Frank," Ray said, "wanna give that intercom another shot?"
Frank pushed the button. "Yes?" the voice crackled.
"Still here, Len."
"Look, man, I'm sorry," Len crackled back, "but we're having no luck here so far. How're your guys doing?"
"Getting ripe, man," Frank admitted, "but I guess we're OK otherwise. I mean, considering..."
"OK, hang in there, buddy--we really are working on it. But it looks like another, say, two hours."
"Two hours!" Alex whimpered. "That fart helped, but..shit..."
"I know what you mean, man," Ben added nervously.
"Hey guys, we were all on our way to the can," Ray reminded them.
"Anybody got any water?" Tom asked. "Anything? Juice, coffee?" The guys looked around and shrugged, palms up and fingers spread in the universal gesture of empty-handedness. Several minutes passed.
"I know this is going to sound really weird," Ben began, "but I read somewhere that if you absolutely had to, you could drink your own urine."
"I've heard that, too," Alex said. "Anybody got any cups or containers a guy could use if he had to?" Again, nobody had gotten on the elevator equipped for anything besides relieving themselves in the men's room.
"It was an idea," Tom shrugged, and began loosening his belt.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Frank asked.
"Well, at least I'm going to get as comfortable as I can," Tom replied. "It's hot in here. As long as nobody minds..."
"Why not?" Ray asked, and began to unbutton his 501's. Shrugging, the other three joined in. They were beyond ceremony
Frank had an idea: "Know what? I could open these furniture pads and spread them on the floor. That way we could at least sit down and take a load off. So to speak.." The guys rolled their eyes at the unintended joke, but accepted the comfort of sitting down once Frank spread the pads on the elevator floor, adjusting themselves in front to preserve whatever shreds of modesty were left.
But Ben couldn't resist a comment as he looked directly as Ray's crotch: "At least now we'll get a chance to see if what they say is true."
Ray was up to it: "All right, men, step right up and have a look at Jake the deadly black snake!" and pulled down his shorts with a ta-da flourish.
"Damn!" Frank whistled, "that is some piece!"
Inhibitions were fading fast. The other four guys followed Ray's example and soon stepped free. Tom was irrepressible: "Now I see what they mean by `let it all hang out.'" This time the other guys groaned and landed playful punches on Tom's bare shoulders as he raised his arms to shield himself: "Ma, they're hitting on me!"
Dead silence.
A line had been crossed. The line.
No one wanted to risk stepping away from it, toward it, around it, anywhere. But the longer the silence, the louder it spoke. Finally, to no one's surprise, Tom couldn't stand it any longer: "Hey, come on, we're not little kids. Stuff happens... A guy can't help wondering what it might be like...sometimes..." His voice was getting smaller. Even he had his limits.
Ben tried to help: "Look, whatever somebody enjoys doing it's nobody else's business." Nods all around.
Tom looked sharply at Ray. Ray shrugged, and Tom said: "Well, there's two of us right here.'
"Make that three," Frank said in a relieved voice.
Ben laughed nervously: "Four."
"Five!" Alex added, "I thought I saw dicks getting hard!"
That somehow made it OK for all five guys to lounge back and slowly reach down as if protectively, each one fondling and groping his cock and balls just for something to do as he quietly thought his own thoughts... Ray began making a project of exploring his inner thighs with his fingertips. His hand slid down under his balls, and then he arched upward slightly as his hand moved further underneath himself. Guys watched lazily as a few minutes later he brought his hand up to his face and lightly feathered his fingers under his nose.
"Hey man, take it easy, OK?" Alex protested, "That's fuckin' hot!"
Ben's cock had stiffened and curved back as he watched Ray pleasuring himself on his own spice. Ben had always prided himself on his sense of discretion. Sure, he loved to fuck. Sometimes it felt like the only reason he existed. But he knew he would always be the one to decide who knew that, and when and where they would know. No would ever see him secretly arranging every male in his surroundings, setting up group scenes with everybody plugged in and fucking happily. But ass was Ben's weakness. He even loved the word, the way its wide-mouth bray ended in a sizzling hiss. Way-out-of-proportion double bulges with hollows on the sides puckering them straight out in a tight jut made him helpless, famished to jam his face deep into the warm split. Ass made Ben's mouth water, made him want to slowly choke on yards of turd. Plain looks were good enough if a proud butt stuck out to him from across a room, and movie-star looks didn't count much if the space between the guy's back and legs was hardly more than pelvic bones. His own ass was his sex organ, his dick just the tip of a hungry lust that radiated out to the world from deep in his bowels. Alone and hot, Ben would rape his ass with both hands, kneading and finger-fucking. His favorite shoot fantasy was his nose torpedoing into a dirty butt, deeper and deeper as the hot, moist crevice became sticky and brown with concentrated stink that cut like a knife.
"This is getting like a fantasy," Tom murmured. "I mean..hey, you know...five guys..."
Frank's cock had grown as big as Ray's, straight up and swaying slightly with the rise and fall of his breathing. "God I love stink," he moaned.
"Me too," Ben said softly, and, what the hell, brought his knees back toward his chest so he could poke two, then three, fingers into his slick hole. Open season now. Guys reached back with both hands, pulling cracks open, exposing holes, digging in, thrusting upward.
Alex sounded worried: "I don't know, guys. I'm afraid to get too relaxed..."
"Don't worry about the pads, man," Frank panted, "it wouldn't be the first time. Guess how I know that."
"Sounds like my kind of scene," Tom said, breathing heavily.
"Yeah," Ray agreed, licking his lips, "maybe we could all make sure nothing got on the pads..." Tom was thumping spastically up and down now, groaning, his cock red and glistening as a fine, silvery thread stretched from its tip to the center of his stomach.
"Ooo..ahh..ooo," Ray pursed his lips and moaned, cupping his right hand around his crack and squeezing, "I've got a load in my butt too."
"I told you not to order a big breakfast, man," Tom panted, adding for the others' benefit that they always stopped at the same fast food place after their workout.
"Yeah, right," Ray shot back, "as if you could keep your mouth off my hole when you know I have to let one go."
Their domestic dispute continued, with Tom firing back; "You can always do what I do, babe, and hold it till it's a nice, big healthy one...like right now...Feels so good when I finally squat and just keep sliding it out and sliding it out...I step up away from the bowl and it's all curved around in a long, tan coil..."
"The bowl!" Ray snorted mockingly. "You do it in the bowl too?"
"Hey, man, you don't have to tell them our whole scene!" Tom pretended to protest, as if he couldn't hear the other three guys panting and couldn't see them jerking big boners back and forth as they listened.
"I can't even take a chance on a fart," Frank whimpered after a few minutes, recovered from his reverie and with a worried look in his eyes. Alex crossed his legs tightly, his eyes darting desperately around the elevator as if a doorway might suddenly materialize if he just looked hard enough.
"I just thought of something." Ben said, "There's only two stalls down in the men's room anyway. How would we..." his question trailed off, and each one quietly began to work on the logistics of that.
"You know, I'm hot enough to drink my own piss," Tom said to nobody in particular.
"You better have good aim, man," Alex offered, and Frank said:
"No, it's easy. All he has to do is raise his legs way up and rest them against the wall so he can point his dick down towards his mouth. Then you just open your mouth, cut loose, and slurp away."
"How do you know that?" Ben asked as if shocked.
"Oh, I guess I must have read it in a book somewhere" Frank answered with a grinning innocence. "We can help you." Frank said to Tom, shyly, "That is, I mean..if you want anybody to help..." Tom just smiled and twitched his hips upward several times in reply.
"Hey, know what?" Ray said thoughtfully, "piss is piss, right? I mean...one guy's piss must taste like any other guy's piss...maybe.."
"You're reading my mind, dude," Alex broke in on him. The other guys nodded.
"Piss.." Alex said dreamily, gazing around at his companions.
"Yeah," Ben sighed , and nodded: "...piss..."
"Hot piss!" Tom added, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leered at the other four men while Frank writhed on the floor, his cock stabbing randomly at a roomful of imaginary fuckholes squatting just above him as his bare ass thumped against the furniture pads on the elevator floor.
The five guys gradually got very quiet.
They stared at each other, realizing that, without moving a muscle, they had all traveled together to the same, rare altered state. They knew they were now beyond the smartass coy flirting that gay guys do as naturally as breathing. They stared, amazed, criminally hot and losing control.
Frank reached toward Alex and took hold of his hips, guiding him so that Alex's hole was positioned directly over his rigid, red cock: "Shit on my cock, baby, oh please, shit...right..on..my..cock!"
"You sure, man?" Alex demanded, "you sure that's what you want?"
"Oh, yeah, please, please man," Frank begged, almost in tears, "Oh please take a shit on my dick!! Right now!"
The air in the elevator began to reek of raw, hot stale turd as Alex announced "Here it comes!" Alex strained and groaned, totally absorbed in his own bowel movement. Cocks glistened and drooled. Suddenly, the elevator light flickered, then went completely out.
Complete darkness. Only sounds and smells now, as five men rolled toward the center of the elevator, free to do what they'd never do if the lights were on, swerving like otters to avoid stray elbows and knees, human sewage systems draining each other and lunging against each other in shuddering spasms. Slaps, loud panting in breathless jerks, animal screams, spattering liquid, rumbling farts, loud thumps against the elevator walls, whispers and shouts: "Fuck me! Fuck Me" I'M SO FUCKING HOT! Piss in my mouth!! FUCK! UH! UH! Fuck! FUCK!!! ALL I WANT TO DO IS FUUUUUCKK!
Appreciate your comments. Bkcycler@aol.com