As with the previous chapters, the following disclaimers/conditions apply: This story is a fictitious account. Any relation to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This story contains male-to-male sex between consenting adults. If you are under the age of 18, or if it is illegal in the area in which you live to read such materials, please continue no further. This story is copyrighted by the author, and no portion of this story may be copied, distributed or republished without the author's express, written consent.
Author's Note: For those who have been following this story, I do apologize for the extended delay in posting the latest chapter. Writer's block can be a real pip sometimes. I have worked hard on this chapter, and I hope that you will find it enjoyable. As with all other chapters, feedback is definitely welcome, be it good, bad, or indifferent. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
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"Are you calm now?" Shiara asked, gliding across the floor towards Brad. Her long, slender legs moved effortlessly, and it seemed more as if she were floating across the floor rather than walking. Brad couldn't help but stare at the beautiful woman that approached him. She was magnetic and he couldn't take his eyes off her. He didn't know all that was going on, especially with what he just saw in the last few minutes, but he felt unreasonably calm and safe with her here.
"Who -- what... are you?" Brad asked, incredulous.
"As I have told you, my name is Shiara, and I am the mistress of the goddess of the earth. Normally our existence would be held secret, but we have seen the purity of your heart and there is much that you need to know. There is much you need to choose."
"I don't understand. I don't understand any of this."
"I know you don't," Shiara said. She was now standing next to the bed, and she grabbed Brad's head and pressed him firmly to her chest. Her skin was soft and warm, and her manner was very nurturing. She stroked Brad's hair gently as she spoke again.
"You have been through a very traumatic experience, and your mind is not allowing you to forget it. You are a strong human being, much stronger than we could have expected someone of your ilk to be. That is why the creature sought you out. He wanted your strength for his own. That is also why you survived his attack. You are the first to do so."
"The creature? I -- "
"You don't understand. Yes, my child, I know. You need not speak. Your mind is an open book to me. I feel your fears and your concerns. Know that everything is going to be made clear. Ask any question and it shall be answered."
Brad tried to organize his thoughts. Everything was just so surreal. As he looked into Shiara's glowing eyes, he felt his mind calm. Everything seemed to fall into place and he could think easily now. He looked to the man standing at the door. His arms were folded harshly across his chest as he leaned against the archway. He did not seem happy at all.
"Who is he?" Brad asked, nodding to the man at the door.
"He is the man who saved your life and brought you here. In fact, he saved your life twice. The first time was when the creature attacked, and he saved you again by rescuing you from your seizure of a few moments ago."
"I thought I was dreaming. I saw him in my dreams and he reached for me."
"Yes, that's what we call 'pulling'. There are various streams of consciousness that a telepath knows how to manipulate. His telepathy is not his strongest power yet, but his mind is stronger than you or even he could possibly imagine. The shock of the sudden memory was causing you to have a seizure. Your heart was freezing in your chest and your lungs were collapsing. There was nothing wrong with you, but the intensity of your nightmare was shocking your psyche, and that psychic shock was convincing your mind that you were dying. Your body does whatever your mind tells it to. By invading your mind at the base level, that man over there was able to give you something on which to focus, to calm you down. By reaching for his hand, he was able to pull you from your dream and save your from yourself."
"Wow," Brad gasped, astonished. As unreal as all of this was, it sounded pretty fascinating. He looked over at the man who was now staring at the floor. He seemed embarrassed at becoming the focal point of the conversation.
"Yes, he is very shy," Shiara said, pulling the thoughts from Brad's mind. "He does not like to take much credit for the things he does. You see, he feels that it is his fault that you are in the position you are in. He also hates that he lied to you. He was trying to keep you safe, but he detests lying."
Brad continued to stare at the man at the door, who was now shifting back and forth, almost fidgeting. He was clearly uncomfortable, and he looked as if he would turn and walk away at any minute.
"What... is he? Does he have a name?" Brad asked, staring with more wonder.
"His human name was Kenneth, but it was changed when he ascended to our realm. His Eternal name is K'neth. He is The Guardian. They are a race of people -- K'neth being the only human exception -- who have been protecting humans and other beings alike since time immemorial. He is a man of incredible passion and love, and he is destined to become the greatest guardian ever," Shiara gushed. She was incredibly fond of K'neth, as was the goddess. He was their greatest servant, serving faithfully and loyally without question, despite all the hardships he faced and endured.
Brad got up off the bed and walked toward the door. He looked at the man standing before him. He could feel the heat radiate from his body. Brad could tell that there was an incredible amount of strength and power in this man. He was also incredibly beautiful, his ebony skin as smooth as silk. Brad reached out a hand to touch K'neth's face, but K'neth grabbed his hands.
"Don't," K'neth said, releasing Brad's hands.
"I'm sorry, I just -- "
"Yes, I know what you wanted to do, and I cannot allow that. You gratitude is appreciated, but it is wrong for me to allow you to show your appreciation that way."
"I'm sorry. I really am. I just wanted to thank you."
"You're welcome. It was something I had to do. It is my calling." K'neth looked at Shiara, and then at Brad, and then he turned to leave the room. He stopped short when Shiara gasped.
"Oh, no," Shiara whispered. K'neth was by her side in an instant. Since there was no longer a need for the charade, he was free to use his powers as he saw fit.
"What is it, Shiara? What's wrong?" K'neth asked, grabbing Shiara by the arms and turning her to face him. He could see tears begin to form in her eyes.
"It's... it's... Elira."
"What? What about her?" The guardian reached out his mind into the cosmos, searching for Elira's mental and physical signature. At first, he couldn't find it, but once he increased his concentration and intensified his psychic probe, he was able to find her mental trail.
"I can't get a good lock on her, Shiara," K'neth said, releasing her from his embrace and rubbing his temples. "Her mind is... different somehow. Something has gone wrong."
"It's Him. He's gotten to her, I fear," Shiara cried, wiping the silver tears that slowly fell down her cheek. "He's either killing her, or he's --" she stifled back the sobs -- "or he's changed her."
"Oh, no. Poor Na'mor," K'neth muttered under his breath. He could sense Na'mor's heartache now, as well as Na'mor's anger towards him. Na'mor was secretly blaming K'neth for what happened, and K'neth was blaming himself for what happened, too.
"Shiara, I must go to Na'mor. We must try to save Elira before it's too late." K'neth turned to Brad, who was watching the two of them with wide-eyed, child-like wonder. "Worry not, Brad, there is nothing that you can do to help... nor is this your fault."
"But how did you know --" Brad began, but before he was finished he was dazzled by what he saw. K'neth's body seemed to be consumed in light and fire, and in the next instant, he was no longer there.
"He's kind of mysterious," Brad said, turning around to face Shiara. "Does he always act this way?"
Shiara had regained her composure. The sudden shock of Elira's psychic outcry and seeming destruction was overbearing. Now that she had composed herself, she was ready to continue with her reason for being here.
"His burden is greater than he can bear at times, and his heart is constantly heavy," Shiara told Brad. "There is more to him than meets the eye, my child, but now is not the time to tell you his story. I need to explain to you what happened to you, as well as a very important decision you need to make... one that will change your life."
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"Gone... she's gone," Na'mor lamented, standing in the middle of the street as the rain poured down upon him. He had managed to teleport his charges to safety as the local fire department scurried to the top floor to investigate the sudden and strange fire. They were working hard to extinguish the flames, and Na'mor was certain that no one saw him and his four charges escape.
He looked at the four men as they shivered in the rain. The rain was not necessarily cold, but he knew that they were in shock. He did not have the power to erase their memories, and he wondered what would happen to them. Elira was supposed to...
"Oh, Elira.... I have failed you." He watched idly as his four charges wandered about the street. He should tend to them more, he knew this, but he was in no mood to do so. Na'mor tried hard to fight the surging emotions, but it was useless. He ducked his head low as he disappeared in the surging rain, tears streaking his face.
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Patrick sat on the bar stool, sipping his beer uneasily. It had been nearly three hours since Bill left with that... thing, or man, or whatever the hell it was. Bill had tried to convince him that there was nothing wrong and that he was going to be okay, but Patrick knew better. Patrick was now convinced that he saw something... inhuman, something evil in that man's eyes as he left with Bill. Now, two hours after Bill was supposed to return, Patrick was beside himself with worry.
"Hey, you look like you could use a little company," a voice called out from behind. Patrick swirled around on his seat and was taken aback by what he saw. It was the black man he saw earlier in the evening, the one he saw come in with that blonde girl and that thing that Bill left with. Now this man was standing here talking to him.
"You okay, buddy? You're staring at me kind of funny," the man said again, his grey eyes sparkling.
Patrick struggled to gather his thoughts and calm his panic. "Yeah, I'm fine," he uttered through clenched teeth. He stumbled to his feet and his head began to spin. He had drank a few more than he realized. The man in the Timberland boots caught him and steadied him on his feet.
"Hey, easy guy. How many have you had?"
"Enough."
"Yeah, I would agree. Do you have anyone here who can take you home?"
"No... Yeah", Patrick corrected. "My friend Bill was supposed to be back a few hours ago. He left with that guy that you came in with. He was my ride back home and he hasn't come back yet. You wouldn't know where they've gotten off to now, would you?" Patrick was becoming a little more belligerent as he pushed the man away and leaned himself up against the bar. The bartender started to make his way over, but the caramel-skinned man in the Enyce sweater waved him off.
"Hey, pal, calm down. It's all good. My friend Damien's a good guy. I'm sure they're just having a little more fun than they planned. Damien likes to go at it three or four times before he gets his fill. He really knows how to fuck an ass," the man said, sliding close to Patrick, who was leaning heavily against the bar.
"Dude, you look like you could use some air. Why don't I walk you to the street? You can use my cellphone and call Damien's crib and talk to Bill yourself. You'll see that everything is all right. Okay?"
Patrick looked at him warily, his vision a little blurry. He had definitely had too much to drink. This guy was starting to make sense to him. He could feel his panic slowly slip away. The man flashed him a brilliant smile, his white teeth gleaming against his bubble lips. The man had deep dimples and his grey eyes sparkled even more when he smiled. Even in Patrick's semi-drunken stupor, he knew a hot guy when he saw one.
"Yeah. I guess that would be a good idea. Okay," Patrick said, putting one hand on the man's shoulders. The man was a few inches shorter than Patrick's 6'4" frame, but he was solid muscle. He was very stocky and Patrick guessed the man was probably even more muscular than he was.
"All right, come on, let me help you out of here. My name is DeShawn, by the way," DeShawn said, wrapping his strong arms around Patrick's slender waist. He left a $100-bill on the bar underneath Patrick's glass and led Patrick to the exit.
Once they were back on the street, he led Patrick down the alley way past all the other bars to a deserted spot. There were lots of cars parked here, but there was no thoroughfare nor were there any passersby. There weren't any lights on this part of the street, either. It was quiet and deserted.
DeShawn pushed Patrick up against a side wall and held him up with his right hand. He reached his left hand in his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. The keypad lit up neon green in the darkness, and Patrick could hear the melodic tones as DeShawn dialed. The fresh air was doing wonders for Patrick; he could already feel himself making the long journey back to sobriety.
DeShawn held the phone to his ear for a few moments and then Patrick heard a muffled voice from the other end.
"Yeah, sorry to bother you Damien, but I got this guy here who needs to speak with his friend... you know, the one you took home with you tonight. Yeah, I know you guys are busy, but apparently y'all were supposed to be back a while ago and this guy is drunk and freaked out. So -- yeah, I'll wait."
DeShawn mouthed "he's getting him" to Patrick and kept his ear to the phone. A few seconds later, Patrick heard a voice on the other end of the phone again.
"Hello? Is this Bill? Yeah, hi, this is a friend of Damien's and I have your friend here and he really needs to speak with you. Yeah, hold on, I'll put him on." DeShawn placed the phone at Patrick's right ear, still holding Patrick firm against the wall with his right hand.
"Hello? Bill? Is everything okay, man? I'm getting kind of freaked here. You were supposed to be back hours ago. What's going on?"
A voice came on over the end of the phone. "Patrick, I told you there is nothing to worry about," the voice said. "I'm fine. I'm just having a little more fun than I intended to have. It's not a big deal. Just chill out and enjoy the rest of your night, okay? I'll be there soon."
"Yeah, all right. Just try to hurry, bro. I think I'm a little more drunk than I intended to be." Patrick was wobbling back and forth, and if it weren't for DeShawn's hand holding him up, he would have fallen over.
"Yeah, dude, I can hear that in your voice. How many have you had?"
"Enough. I'm not feeling so great, so can we please go soon?"
"Patrick, I'm in the middle of one hot fuck. I know you want to go home, but this guy is doing things to me that I haven't felt... well, ever. And, to be completely honest, dude, you're totally killing my hard-on. I don't want this guy to lose interest. So, stop acting like my father. I already have one. I don't need two. Just chill, okay? I'll be fine and I'll be back before you know it. So sober up and go fuck someone yourself, all right man?"
Patrick could hear the lighthearted teasing in Bill's voice. He could tell that Bill was getting frustrated, the same way every man gets when he fears that his trick is about to end due to some overreacting, hyper-emotional friend that needs help. He didn't want to ruin his boy's night. He could wait.
"All right, bro," Patrick slurred into the phone. "I'm not gonna cock-block you or ruin your night. Go give him your ass, and I'll try and find some of my own. Don't worry about me. No more frantic phone calls. Promise."
"That's my boy. I'll talk to you later." With that, the line went dead in Patrick's ear.
Patrick hung up the phone, satisfied. "I guess I was just overreacting, huh?" he said, handing the phone back to DeShawn. As he gave the phone back to DeShawn, he noticed that DeShawn was leaning more and more of his weight into Patrick. Now, not only was DeShawn's hand pressed against Patrick's chest, but he was also leaning his body against Patrick's as well. As Patrick felt DeShawn's smooth, warm fingers take the cellphone out of Patrick's hand, he noticed that DeShawn was close enough to kiss. Patrick felt his cock slowly stir to life.
"Hey, bro, don't sweat it, everyone freaks out from time to time. As far as I'm concerned, it shows me that you are a good friend. How about we head back inside?"
"Actually, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather walk around for a bit, if you don't mind."
"Well, now that you put it that way, how about we walk to this little... spa, if you will. I'll give you a massage and take your mind off things. It'll be a much more productive way to pass the time than to sit in the bar drinking. What do you say?"
Patrick looked at DeShawn's brilliant smile and sparkling eyes and thought for a moment. Oddly enough, he didn't feel quite so drunk anymore. Maybe it was the freshness of the evening air, or maybe it was because he was now horny. Whichever was the case, Patrick surely didn't care. This guy was cute, apparently he was interested, and besides all that, Patrick wasn't about to let Bill be the only guy getting some action tonight.
"Sure," Patrick said, pushing off the wall and placing his left arm around DeShawn's remarkably tiny waist. "A good looking guy like you is always welcome company. My name's Patrick -- Pat -- by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Pat. Let's find someplace else to be," DeShawn said, wrapping his strong arm around Patrick's waist as they walked deeper into the dark alley.
As Patrick walked with DeShawn, his mind began working. Like a memory just out of reach, or a word on the tip of the tongue, but not forthcoming, the cogs of Patrick's mind were churning with the idea that something was amiss. There was something Bill had said to Patrick that didn't sit well with him. Something was wrong with the conversation Patrick just had. But the combination of his inebriation and the rising erection in his pants prevented him from thinking on it. Still, his mind was subconsciously trying to figure out what was wrong, like looking at a picture that is just slightly askew. Eventually, Patrick dismissed all ideas that something was wrong, assuming that it was just the remnants of his paranoia fading away.
He would remember, of course, much later. But by then it would be far too late for him.
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DeShawn led Patrick down several side streets and alleyways, passing clubs and bars, cabarets and karaoke along the way. As they passed, the few men that were scattered along the road gave them sideways glances, noting the two tall, muscular men who were arm in arm, talking, laughing, and stumbling down the near-empty streets. After about fifteen minutes of walking, Patrick and DeShawn reached their destination.
"Here it is," DeShawn announced, leading Patrick up the narrow stairway. The two of them were too wide to fit side-by-side up the slight staircase, so DeShawn held Patrick's hand as the two made the fifteen-step climb. Upon stepping onto the welcome mat, the automatic door to the right of them opened and the two massive men made their way inside.
As soon as Patrick stepped inside, he knew exactly where they were. He had never seen one of these places before in his life, but he had heard about them. He thought they were more of urban legends, the mythic places only seen on Queer as Folk and in homo-erotic stories and movies. But here he was. From what Patrick could tell, this was a brothel.
"A bathhouse, actually," DeShawn said aloud, startling Patrick.
"How did you...?"
"Know? Oh, come on. You should see the look on your face. A big ol' corn-fed New England boy like yourself? It's obvious what you are thinking, dude. Your eyes are so wide they are about pop out of their sockets. Come on, then, Dobie Gillis."
"Who?"
DeShawn let out a mock groan of disgust. "Just come on."
DeShawn removed his shoes and prompted Patrick to do the same. He handed Patrick two quarters and then placed his own shoes in a locker. Patrick got the idea and put the quarters into another locker and locked his shoes away, too. DeShawn made his way from the doorway to the front desk. A surly man wearing a leather vest and no shirt underneath stood at the counter, scowling. Upon seeing DeShawn approach, his demeanor changed drastically. He flashed DeShawn a knowing smile.
"Hey, DeShawn, back again so soon? I would have thought that after last night's fuckfest, you wouldn't be hungry again for a while." The man eyed Patrick and smiled. "Although, how could you pass a meal like him up?"
DeShawn smiled respectfully, almost bashfully, then flashed the deskman a glance that let the hirsute man know that he was not to pursue this train of thought any further.
"Thanks, Paz. Is the usual room available?"
"Sorry, dude, you know it's the weekend. All the rooms are booked. We have the cots and bunks on the fourth and fifth floor. That is, of course, if you can find an open one. We have over 300 men in here tonight. It's fucking awesome."
"Yes, well, you just let me know when a room opens up," DeShawn said, slipping Paz a $50. Paz slipped the money into his vest pocket and nodded.
"What do you two want to do in the meanwhile?" Paz asked.
"Well, I guess until something comes available we'll just cruise the saunas and steam rooms on the third floor. I promised carrot-top over here a massage," DeShawn said, playfully elbowing Patrick in the stomach. Patrick wasn't prepared for the sudden attention and quickly flexed his abs, hoping that DeShawn didn't think his body was anything but tight.
"Nice pack, dude," DeShawn said, rubbing his right hand up and down the front of Patrick's shirt. "Very nice indeed." Patrick smiled and blushed a little.
"All right, D. If you two just wanna cruise for a bit, I won't charge you until your room becomes available, but only because it's you," Paz said, reaching behind the counter and pulling out two translucent bags. Inside the bags were two green towels -- one large and one small -- and a green robe with a blue belt. He handed the packages to DeShawn and Patrick and took their locker keys and gave them two new ones with similar numbers.
"What's this for?" Patrick asked.
"The bag has a towel and a robe in it, and the locker key is where you're supposed to put your stuff. No one is allowed to walk around wearing clothes. You're either naked, wearing a towel, or wearing a robe. It makes for a fun time, trust me."
"Hey, what about... you know?" Patrick asked, lowering his voice.
"Bro, this is a fuck club," DeShawn announced, laughing as he stated the obvious. "There's no need for hushed tones and discretion. Worry not, big man, I've got condoms and lube in my bag. It's chill; I'm always prepared."
DeShawn grabbed his key and bag from Paz and made his way around the corner toward the locker room. He quickly stripped off all his clothes and folded them neatly in the locker, taking great care to hang his leather jacket properly. Patrick did the same. While he was undressing, Patrick took the time to fully inspect DeShawn's body as DeShawn undressed. Patrick was taken aback as he noticed that there was not an ounce of fat on DeShawn's body... anywhere. Even though DeShawn was shorter than Patrick, and even though he had a wider physique and larger muscles, DeShawn seemed long and elegant. His caramel colored skin glistened naturally in the incandescent light. His shoulders were broad, but they tapered seamlessly into his tiny waist. As DeShawn reached up to put his clothes into the locker, Patrick noticed his amazing profile. DeShawn's back arched sleekly into his waist, his round, tight ass a welcome protrusion. DeShawn's legs were longer than they were wide, and his calves were of equal proportion to his muscular thighs. Patrick couldn't help but take a peek at the seven-inch flaccid monster that dangled gracefully between DeShawn's legs. His cock was circumcised, and it didn't curve to the right or to the left. It hung perfectly between his legs, resting atop two large, hairless, egg-shaped testicles.
DeShawn turned to Patrick and caught him staring. Patrick turned quickly to his locker and put the rest of his clothes away. Once again, Patrick was beginning to blush. DeShawn chuckled as he walked behind Patrick, his strong hands caressing Patrick's back and along the sides of his hips.
"You don't have to be so shy, you know. I mean, it's endearing on the one hand, but we are here to fuck. So, you don't have to pretend that you're not looking. After all, don't you want to see what you're going to be getting in a few minutes?"
"Yeah. I mean, no! I mean, this is just -- this is all so sudden. I mean, one minute I'm standing in an alley, and now I'm in a brothel about to have sex with someone I don't know."
"Would you rather we went to dinner first, sat and talked for hours and hours on end, played all sorts of elusive, flirtatious games, and then at the end of the night, after all that work, we went our separate ways, anyway? I don't know about you, but I'll take a guaranteed anonymous fuck over having to work hard for one any day of the week. Besides, you're a fucking hot-ass stud... why would you want to work for it when you can just get it when you want it?"
Patrick weighed this new information and chuckled to himself. "I must be giving you the wrong impression of me," he said finally. "I mean, between freaking out because my friend is getting some ass and I'm not, and then acting like I'm a twelve-year-old who just got his first boner, you must think I'm a real head case."
"Nope. We all come from different experiences. I could guess as to what your story is, but why go there now?" DeShawn leaned in and kissed Patrick. His lips were soft and warm, slightly moist, and it made Patrick let out a soft moan. As they kissed, DeShawn ran his hands up Patrick's torso and played with Patrick's nipples. He then broke off the kiss and grabbed Patrick by the towel, leading him out of the locker room.
They walked down the locker room corridor and made a left at the staircase, climbing up a flight of stairs to the third floor. DeShawn turned right at the top of the stairs and led Patrick toward another locker room. On the right there was a bathroom. Directly ahead there was a tanning room equipped with two full-length electric tanning beds. Off to the left there was a sliding door that led to the hot tubs and saunas.
DeShawn slid the glass door open and walked into the hot tub room. Walking to the left, he made his way past the two large hot tubs and several shower stations to the hidden rooms in the back. As he and Patrick passed, the men in both of the hot tubs stared at the chiseled, muscular men passing by. The few men that made eye contact with Patrick either gave him a wink or some form of mischievous smile.
DeShawn slid the vinyl curtain aside and stepped into the darkness of the back rooms. To the immediate right was a room with the sign DRY SAUNA over the door. DeShawn entered the room on the right and Patrick followed close behind.
The room was made entirely of wood, from the swinging door to all of the seating areas. DeShawn walked over the brick-encased steamer, applied some more water to the heated rocks and placed his face over the rising steam. Patrick, on the other hand, was gently trying to sit on the extremely heated wooden bench. After he was adjusted to the temperature of the bench, Patrick gingerly rested his back against the wooden support. DeShawn, having finished steaming his face, came and sat next to Patrick with disconcerting ease, closing his eyes and letting out a contented sigh.
"So... this place is an actual spa?" Patrick asked, perplexed.
"Well, yeah, of sorts. I mean if you really want to come to a place and just use the hot tubs, cold tubs, steam rooms, and saunas, then, yes, this place is fine. But there are other perks to be exploited."
Just as DeShawn finished his sentence, the large wooden door swung open. Patrick and DeShawn looked up through the small pane glass of the wooden door enclosing the sauna and saw that there were three men peeking inside.
"Lean back and close your eyes, Pat," DeShawn said, his large hands pushing Patrick back against the bench. "You'll see what I mean soon enough."
Patrick did as he was told and leaned against the wooden support and closed his eyes. Patrick and DeShawn were sitting on the highest tier of the wooden risers, and there were two more levels of seats below them. Patrick relaxed and felt the beads of sweat begin to trickle down his skin, making his skin glisten as if freshly oiled. He snuck a peak at himself and saw that all of his muscles were outlined and clearly defined, from his hard pecs to his sculpted abs and thighs. His towel barely covered his hips -- he followed DeShawn's lead and took the small towel as covering, leaving the larger one in his locker -- and he could see his prominently bulging sack in its outline.
The door to the room opened slowly and three men quietly stepped inside. These men looked to be in their late 30s to early 40s. Patrick looked at them through his semi-closed eyes, barely open wide enough so that he could see them without giving it away that he was looking. DeShawn sighed contentedly next to Patrick and stroked his pecs and abs.
The shorter of the three men with piercing blue eyes sat down on the bench opposite Patrick and DeShawn. He had a swimmer's build and lots of tattoos along his arms and torso. His pink lips were full, almost pouty, and his creamy-white skin had the natural glow of a sun-exposed tan. The other man was an out-of-shape middle-aged man, complete with balding head, beer gut, and an overly hairy chest. The hirsute man sat next to the first man with the pouty lips and began to stroke the tattooed man's dick. The third man in the bunch had dark eyes and a mustache. The mustachioed man was the tallest of the trio, and he had the best build. His pecs and arms were firm and muscular, but he did have a sort of paunch in his stomach. He was a construction worker and fireman, and his legs, arms, and pecs were sculpted from years of running up and down stairs and operating heavy machinery. He enjoyed the occasional beer -- perhaps a little too much -- and the result was his less-than-muscular stomach.
There was a standoff of sorts at first, as the three newcomers looked at Patrick and DeShawn, trying to figure out who was going to make the move on whom first. DeShawn didn't seem to acknowledge the presence of the three men, though it was clear to them all that Patrick was watching them through semi-closed eyes.
The first man to make a move was the man with the tattoos. He stood up onto the second tier of the riser and grabbed at DeShawn's prominent bulge through his towel. He played with DeShawn's cock for a while, while DeShawn seemed content not to even notice. Patrick was watching with interest now, and he turned his attention to the two other men sitting across from him, both of whom were stroking their own cocks through their respective towels.
The man began to get a little bolder, and his slid his hand underneath DeShawn's towel to play with DeShawn's growing erection. When DeShawn didn't push the man's hand away, the tattooed man took that as an encouragement, opening DeShawn's towel all the way and sliding his pouty lips onto DeShawn's now-9"-long cock.
"Yeah, Jay, suck that dick," the balding man whispered. Patrick looked over at him and saw that the man had opened his towel all the way and was playing with his own six-inch erection. With his other hand, the hairy man was stroking the fireman's cock.
After receiving the hand job attention for a while, the fireman then stood up and crossed over to Patrick. Without the timid formalities that Jay went through a few moments ago, the man opened Patrick's towel up right away and started sucking on Patrick's semi-flaccid dick. Patrick was taken aback by the sudden attention and gasped involuntarily. The man's lips were incredibly soft, and all Patrick felt on his growing erection was the man's lips, his soft, wet tongue, and the tickling hairs of the man's mustache. It was kind of odd to Patrick, seeing a man who was built like his father -- who reminded him a little too much of his gay-bashing father -- sucking on his dick.
The man lifted Patrick's dick up and started sucking on Patrick's low-hanging balls. First he ran his tongue all around Patrick's ball sack, licking Patrick's nuts as if he were a dog cleaning itself. The sensation sent a burning tingle up Patrick's spine and along his stomach. He was never a big fan of getting his balls sucked, but it was always an interesting and pleasant sensation when it happened.
The man then forced Patrick to lean back along the wooden rack, thrusting Patrick's legs in the air. He dove in again on Patrick's crotch, sucking his nine-inch dick all the way down to Patrick's trimmed pubic hair and hairless balls. He kept his face there for a few seconds, opening and closing the back of his throat around Patrick's engorged head and running the tip of his tongue down along the front of Patrick's balls.
"Oh, man, that's soooooo good," Patrick hissed through clenched teeth. The beads of sweat had now become streams, and Patrick felt as if sweat were pouring out through every pore in his body. He put his head back down on the wooden bench and felt his hair brush the side of DeShawn's thigh. DeShawn had one leg up on the bench alongside Patrick and the other leg was dangling over the edge next to Jay, who was sucking on DeShawn's dick like it was his last meal.
Jay was giving DeShawn a slobbery blowjob. DeShawn's dick was coated with Jay's saliva, and DeShawn's body was glistening from how much he was sweating. The fat man who was sitting on the bench now had his face buried in Jay's hairless ass, licking Jay's pink, sweaty asshole and burying his tongue deep inside the tattooed boy's heated hole.
The mustachioed man stopped deep-throating Patrick's cock and was also tonguing Patrick's hot asshole. He tickled Patrick's pink rosebud with his tongue, gently and quickly flicking it across the warm entrance. Then he pressed his tongue hard onto Patrick's crack, getting Patrick's hole nice and wet. After varying this process for a while, the man stuck his tongue deep into Patrick's ass, savoring the taste of Patrick's warm, sweaty hole.
This went on for several more minutes: DeShawn getting his dick sucked by pouty-lipped Jay; Jay getting his ass eaten by an out-of-shape balding man; and Patrick getting his ass eaten by a well-built man with a mustache. It was DeShawn who changed the tone first, pulling his dick out of Jay's mouth with an audible plop. DeShawn stepped down off of the riser and pushed the bald man's head out of the way of Jay's ass. Without fingering Jay first, DeShawn stuck his nine-inch dick into Jay's wet ass hard. Jay let out a cry of pain as DeShawn plunged his way in to the hilt. DeShawn didn't move at first, giving Jay a few moments to get used to a dick that was 6" around and 9" long. Jay's ass was tight on DeShawn's dick, partially because it had never been fucked by a dick this big before, but also because Jay was involuntarily contracting his ass, trying to expel the over-sized intruder.
After waiting a few seconds more, DeShawn started thrusting in and out of Jay's ass. The combination of the sweat and saliva in Jay's ass and the sweat on DeShawn's cock made it incredibly easy to slide in and out. The sound of DeShawn's pelvis slapping against Jay's hairless asscheeks reverberated throughout the wooden steam room. Jay's eyes were rolled up into the back of his head as his ass got mercilessly pounded.
The balding man sat and watched his friend get fucked for a while, then turned his attention to Patrick and the man with mustache. Patrick was still getting his ass eaten, but the bald man could tell by the way that the mustachioed man was getting erect that the situation was soon about to change. Patrick was moaning almost as loudly as Jay was, and the only sound that could be heard over the two of them was the sound of DeShawn pounding his cock in and out of Jay's tight wet ass.
"Yo, Paul, get up here and sit on the boy's face while I fuck his ass," the man with the mustache said, lifting Patrick's legs high in the air while slowly easing his dick into Patrick's ass. Patrick, in turn, let out a low moan as his ass was penetrated by the muscular man's seven-inch cock.
"You got it, Dean," Paul agreed. He made his way up the riser and straddled Patrick's chest, his ass in Patrick's face. Rather than spread his ass open for Patrick to suck, Paul slid his dick in between Patrick's massive pecs. Patrick flexed his pecs even more, creating a nice valley for Paul's dick to slide between.
Dean began to thrust slowly in and out of Patrick's ass. Patrick's face was contorted in pain at first, but as Dean began his slow thrusts, his dick starting pressing against Patrick's prostate, and Patrick couldn't help but moan in pleasure.
Paul was the first one to come. As he slid his dick in between Patrick's pecs, Patrick finger fucked Paul's ass with each thrust. That, coupled with the echoes of DeShawn and Dean fucking, was enough to send Paul over the edge. He shot far and hard, first shooting liquid ropes of pre-cum before spewing his jizz in one stream after the other. His shots landed on Dean's chest and face at first, and as his orgasm died down, his remaining shots landed on Patrick's crotch and stomach.
Getting bathed in cum was enough to bring Dean to his orgasm. Watching Paul shoot rope after rope of his hot jizz sent Dean flying to edge of orgasmic bliss. He started thrusting into Patrick's ass harder and harder, the slapping sounds echoing throughout the wooden sauna as Dean was overtaken with pleasure.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come! I'm gonna fucking come in your sweet ass!" Dean exploded, banging away at Patrick's raw ass with more and more veracity as he began to shoot. With each shot from Dean's hot cock, Dean would thrust his dick deep into Patrick's ass, holding his cock firmly in place until the next wave overtook him. He would then recoil and repeat the process, slamming into Patrick deep and hard as he shot the next rope of cum. Patrick knew Dean's orgasm was subsiding when his thrusts were growing less and less vicious. Without pulling out, Dean collapsed, sweaty and spent, onto Patrick's torso, his head resting on Paul's thighs.
Finally it was Jay's turn to come. DeShawn flipped Jay over so that he was lying on his back -- all without pulling out -- and continued to fuck Jay hard. He had been hitting Jay's prostate over and over again for the better part of the past twenty minutes, and each time DeShawn's thick dick massaged Jay's prostate, Jay could feel his cock stiffen and throb with pleasure. Jay knew that he was going to come hard; he felt his orgasm building slowly but surely for the last ten minutes or so. He wanted DeShawn to make him come without him having to touch himself, so he was content to just focus on the pleasure his ass was receiving as DeShawn fucked him for all he was worth.
"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna fucking come! I'm gonna -- Unh! I'm coming! Fuck! I'm coming!" Jay shouted as his orgasm overtook him, washing him over from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes. Every part of Jay's body was tingling and alive, and his eyes were rolled so far into the back of his head that he looked as if he were having a seizure.
Jay's moans of ecstasy echoed in the sauna and made its way out into the hallway, where countless other men had gathered to listen to the brutal fucking that was taking place within. He came hard and loud, shooting four strong ropes of cum onto his own face. His cock continued to pulse and throb as DeShawn kept fucking him, but there was nothing else coming from Jay's dick. He was completely spent, but his body was still wrapped up in his orgasm.
DeShawn slowed down his thrusts as Jay's orgasm started to subside. Jay was still rock hard, but his dick was sensitive to the touch. Jay's ass was raw and DeShawn's cock was starting to be painful. DeShawn read the expression on Jay's face and slowly pulled his dick out. Jay began to laugh contentedly at the most intense orgasm he had ever had in his life.
"You are a god!" Jay said with a chuckle. "No one has ever fucked me like that before. Ever."
"Yeah, well, this one over here is the best piece of ass I've ever had," Dean said, sliding his softening dick out of Patrick's ass. "You're weren't a virgin, were you?"
"No," Patrick panted. He was still rock hard and was ready to fuck some more. He wasn't even close to coming yet. "No, I'm not a virgin, but I've only been fucked once before. And that was a long time ago."
Dean and Paul climbed off Patrick and made their way down the rafters, grabbing their towels to dry the sweat that was pouring all over their bodies. Patrick sat up and grabbed his towel, wiping the cum off his stomach. Jay was using his towel to wipe the cum off his face as DeShawn wrapped his towel around his own waist. All five men were drenched in sweat.
"We should probably get out of here soon," Patrick said, standing up. "It's a wonder none of us have passed out from dehydration."
The five-some made their way out of the sauna, into the comparatively cool air of the shower room outside. Patrick and DeShawn went their separate ways as Dean, Paul and Jay each made their way to one of the shower stalls.
DeShawn led Patrick to one of the cold tubs nearby. The cold water was a relief to their overheated bodies. Patrick sat down contentedly and stroked his still-hard cock.
"Well, that was good and all, but I'm still horny," Patrick said finally, looking at DeShawn who was relaxing with his eyes closed.
"Yeah, me, too," DeShawn agreed. "I haven't come yet. You?"
"Nope. And I wasn't really planning on getting fucked tonight, if you know what I mean."
"Oh, man, did that guy hurt you?" DeShawn asked, opening his eyes.
"No, not really. I mean, he was fucking huge, and it always hurts to get fucked. That's why I don't do it often."
"Well, now you know what it's like to be on the receiving end of that monster," DeShawn remarked, grabbing Patrick's throbbing dick. "Looks like you could use some attention, too."
Before Patrick could say anything, DeShawn dove underwater and started sucking on Patrick's dick. It was a unique sensation for Patrick: DeShawn's hot, wet mouth sucking on his dick, and the cold water running along his cock as DeShawn's head bobbed up and down.
DeShawn took Patrick's dick all the way down to the root, massaging Patrick's balls with his free hand. Patrick started thrusting his dick in and out of DeShawn's mouth, reveling in the sensation of DeShawn's full, bubble lips wrapped tightly around his dick.
Patrick was enjoying the sensation so much that he didn't even notice that he had his hands pressed firmly on DeShawn's head as he fucked DeShawn's face. He was struck with the frightening thought that he had been holding DeShawn's head underwater for the better part of two minutes. He immediately released his grip on DeShawn's head and DeShawn sprang to the surface for air.
"Dude, I'm so sorry. I totally got wrapped up in what I was doing. I'm so sorry. Are you all right?"
"Yup, it's all good, Patrick. Believe it or not, I'm used to holding my breath for long periods of time. If I were in any danger, I would have let you know, trust me. Let's get out of here and go to the dark room over there, 'k?" DeShawn sprang out of the cold tub, displacing water and splashing the floor as he did. Patrick followed right behind. Neither of them bothered with wrapping their towels around their waists.
DeShawn opened the door to a room with the sign WET SAUNA over the door. When the door closed behind them, the room was enveloped in darkness. This sauna was much cooler than the other sauna they were in before, and Patrick felt the temperate steam moisten his skin.
Without saying a word, DeShawn laid on his back and pulled his knees up to his chest. Patrick knelt down and started licking DeShawn's hairless ass. DeShawn's ass was incredibly warm, almost too warm, but Patrick figured that was because of being in the sauna for so long that DeShawn was still slightly overheated. Still, his ass was hot and tasted good on Patrick's tongue.
Patrick pressed his thick index finger against DeShawn's asshole, pressing it gently inside. As he did this, he began to suck on DeShawn's tumid cock. Patrick worked his middle finger into DeShawn's ass, eliciting a semi-pained moan from DeShawn. Once he was able to fit a third finger into DeShawn's ass, he knew that DeShawn was ready to get fucked.
Patrick slid his thick cock into DeShawn's tight ass slowly at first, sliding his dick in all the way to the hilt and then pulling all the way out. He repeated the process several times, re-penetrating DeShawn on each thrust and then pulling all the way out.
"Yeah, baby, fuck my ass good, Patrick. Fuck me good."
Patrick turned DeShawn over so that DeShawn was laying on his stomach and Patrick was laying on top of him. All the muscles in Patrick's body were tensed and flexed as he kept working his huge dick into DeShawn's tight ass. DeShawn contracted his ass hard around Patrick's dick, while Patrick started to slam his dick in and out of DeShawn's ass hard.
"Yeah, DeShawn, do you like that?" Patrick whispered into DeShawn's ear. "Huh? Do you like me fucking your tight ass hard? Huh, baby? Do you like Patrick's big dick fucking that tight ass?"
It was kind of instinctive. While in the throes of hot sex, Patrick liked to talk dirty. Especially when he was fucking an ass as good and as tight as DeShawn's was. He was hypnotized by the way that he could feel the globes of DeShawn's flesh vibrate with each hard slam of his huge dick. Laying on top of DeShawn, his body pinned under Patrick's weight like a losing wrestler, Patrick felt very dominant. He couldn't help but talk dirty as he fucked DeShawn like there was no tomorrow.
"Yeah, baby! Take my cock! Who's your fucking daddy? Huh, bitch? Who's fucking your pussy ass?"
"You are, baby! Fuck my ass! You're my daddy! Fuck me hard!"
Patrick felt a chill run up his spine. The word 'daddy' kept echoing in his ears. The tumblers all fell into place as the key turned. The memories and words that were just out of reach and out of focus were starting to come into view.
Patrick tried to shake the horrific feeling that was beginning to overwhelm him. He tried to lose himself in the sounds of his hard fuck, his balls and pelvis slapping DeShawn's ass so hard and so loudly that six other men outside the sauna had since come inside to see who was fucking whom with such veracity. He tried to lose himself in the feel of DeShawn's tight, muscular physique, which was covered in sweat from the heat of the sauna and the physical exertion of getting fucked. He tried to focus on the sensation of DeShawn's lips around his index finger, as their fingers were interlaced and he breathed heavily in and out of DeShawn's ear. He tried to focus on the moans of the men around him and over him, each of them jacking off as they watched this animalistic mating. He even felt the hot ropes of cum splash onto his back as two of the men were sent into orgasmic ecstasy at the sight of this near-pornographic tryst. But it was no use. Having found the missing piece which completes the puzzle, his mind trumpeted its triumph. Bill's errant words, "stop acting like my father... I already have one", echoed through Patrick's mind.
Bill had no father. His father died when he was three.
"Bill," Patrick whispered, stopping his thrusts. He pulled out of DeShawn's ass and stumbled backward across the room. He braced himself against the wall, wiping the beads of sweat from his face and working to catch his breath. The other men in the room looked at each other, perplexed as to what just happened. DeShawn was still laying face down on the sauna floor, unmoving.
"DeShawn," Patrick said, panicked, but trying to compose himself. "DeShawn, I've got to get out of here. I've got to call Bill again. There's something wrong. I know it."
"You're right," DeShawn said, lifting himself off the floor to a standing position without using his hands or his feet, "there is something very wrong here." DeShawn's eyes were a fiery orange, eliciting gasps from all of the other men in the sauna. One man tried to leave the room, but was thrown from the door to the other wall. The door slammed itself shut with such a force that Patrick and the six other men knew that there was no point in trying to force it open again. It was clear to Patrick who was in control here, and it was very clear that no one was going to survive this.