tagGay MaleAll That Glitters

All That Glitters


I was bent over on my belly on the conference table and the hunky blond attorney was riding me hard from behind. I still had on my tie; my shirt, unbuttoned; and my shoes and socks clipped to supporters wound just below my knees. But otherwise I was naked. He started a maddening rotation of his cock inside me, and I was giving little urping sounds. To let the others see the pain and ecstasy this master cocking brought to my facial expression, he pulled my head up by pulling on my tie, which he had spun around to my back to give him reins for his hot ride of my ass. All the time he was telling me what a hot performer I'd be in his nightclub act. My own boss and the two Japanese businessmen were sitting there, mesmerized by the exhibition the blond and I were putting on, their hands in their laps, working their own meat. The blond released the tie and his hands went to holding my hips still as he stroked hard in and out of me. I could feel his gold cock ring kissing the sides of my inner canal as he pumped me.

The golden blond was telling me what a good fuck I was, that he wanted to have more of me. He was asking me how I was enjoying the ride, and I was panting and groaning my approval of his eight inches working hard inside me.

My boss rose from the table, engorged cock in hand, and came over and tweaked one of my nipples while he kissed the blond deeply. Then he told the blond that it was time for the Japanese businessmen to take over with me and that he wanted the blond's cock in his own ass now.

The blond withdrew from me, the Japanese businessmen already eagerly standing in line behind him, and a large cock was exchanged for a medium-sized one, which, however, was more active and inventive in its exploration of my ass; the other Japanese businessman knelt between me and the table and started playing my cock and balls like a flute with his sensitive mouth.

The blond had planted my boss on his back across the narrow conference table from me, and my boss and I engaged in deep kissing and exploration of each other's torsos with our hands, as the blond spread my boss's legs and plowed into his ass. I lifted my head up from my boss's as the blond brutally entered him, and I held my boss's head between my hands, both of us connecting on what was happening in our asses with a variety of expressions on our faces.

When the Japanese and their blond attorney were finished sealing our multimillion dollar deal, they left my boss and me there on the table, consoling and rejoicing in each other and at our success at and on the conference table.

In parting, the golden blond came back to me and gave me a kiss. He flipped a business card out and said that I should visit his nightclub for the experience of my life; that the card would give me a free pass and free drinks. And that he would throw in another wild, free fuck as well if I was interested.

Try as I might I couldn't get the blond out of my mind. He had ridden me hard, but he hadn't finished me off. I developed an obsession that he finish me off, that I feel the explosion and bathing of that eight-inch ring-headed cock of his deep inside me.

* * *

Three nights later, the blond's business card in hand, I was standing at the dimly lit walk-down wooden door under the iron porch above of a brownstone on a dark street. Only the blinking sign announcing "Club Pan" beside the door assured me I was in the right place. At my ringing of the bell, the door opened just a crack, but enough for me to show the business card, with the scrawl of the blond across it. Then the door opened enough for me to slip through, but then it shut again with a solid, final sound. The vestibule was dark, black drapery on black walls, ceiling, and floor. The half man who admitted me was also dark.

I say half man, because he was togged out as a wood nymph, or a satyr, or whatever they call those horned men with the legs and feet of a goat. This one was slender as a reed, with black curly hair, a small goatee, little pointed horns above his temples, black eyebrows curled up at the ends, and an interesting array of black tattooing on his naked torso. The most prominent of these, as I could see when he turned to guide me beyond a beaded curtain into a large step-down, smoke-filled room, was a chain of interlocked heart shapes descending from this hair line at the back of his head down to where the goat's pelt started just above his crack at the bottom of the small of his back. His legs, as I already indicated, were pelted like a brown goat's, and his feet coverings were made out like cloven hooves. Most distinctly though was that his cock and balls hung free and there was a circular opening in the pelt at his rear where his asshole lurked.

The nymph swished his tail saucily as he guided me through the dim, smoky room to one of four long bars by the back walls on either side of what looked like a small diner theater, with three tiers of descending levels going down to a circular stage in the center. Everything was black. The bars were black, the carpets and walls and ceiling were black, and the couches set around on the descending tiers, more like the lounges in those Roman banquet movies, were also covered in black material. Even the stage was black; it was square but had a round, revolving platform set into it. And standing up from this platform was an eight- or nine-foot high, widely spread X-shaped apparatus, with the cross-over set so that the upper portion of the apparatus was larger than the bottom. This was made out of some sort of transparent Lucite-type material. Near the four corners of the stage were poles made out of the same transparent material that went up to the ceiling. The poles were some sort of hollow tube filled with a liquid in which glittery gold confetti floated.

The theater was dark, although I could hear the sound of moaning and activity that told me that something was happening down on those lounges on the descending tiers—and as my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I could see that there were pairings and small groups of men dotted here and there, becoming very well acquainted with each other. It must have been early, however, as the theater was only about a fourth full of these fully occupied patrons.

The nymph whispered something to the bartender, yet another satyr, but a larger version than the young man who had admitted me to the club—indeed all of those serving the patrons were decked out in the same motif. The younger man pointed to the business card that I carried and then told me I could order anything I wanted—that the bartender was at my beck and call. That was very nice to hear, I thought, as I checked out the very presentable, broadly smiling bartender, not leaving out a peek over the bar at what he was packing between his legs. There was nothing there for him to be ashamed of.

As I sat back and drank my first drink and observed the atmosphere, I saw that activity had started down on the stage. The four poles now were occupied by male dancers—all young, lithe nymphs just like the door keeper.

Strobing white lights started to work the room, and I now was getting a sparkly feeling of glitter everywhere. That's when I noticed the decor of the room. Cylinders of glittery gold hung on wires above the stage area in thick profusion, and as the lights strobed, they bounced off the glittery gold sparkles and brought the arena to life. I noticed then that the lights were picking up glitterings on the tiers down to the stage as well—just here and there, but enough to make my eyes dart around the room, increasingly picking out very intimate embraces and activity going on at the lounges.

A few of the glittering cylinders were on the floor of the stage, and I assumed that they had fallen from the wires. But I felt a chill and a tinkling sensation going down my spine as I realized otherwise. From the third tier in front of me, my eye caught a naked figure rise from one of the lounges and I caught the bounce of strobe light off gold glitter as he glided down to the stage and came up with one of the gold glittery cylinders and threw it down on the stage floor. Condoms. These were glittery gold condoms. Used condoms, merging the activity in the audience with the entertainment on the stage. The club's decoration was both evocative and functional. I watched in awe as the figure pulled another cylinder off a wire hanging down toward the stage and glided back up to the third tier, no doubt for another round of pleasure.

Four beefy satyrs had arrived on the stage now and were cuffing the pole dancers who had preceded them to the poles and, one muscled satyr to one lithe pole-dancing nymph, were beginning to perform a duet of love dance for the patrons. Each of the muscled satyrs was outfitted with a glittery gold condom.

The club was beginning to fill up now, and all of the patrons I saw coming in were handsome and well built. The club has developed a winning clientele. The performers on stage were turning me on. Already one of the beefy satyrs had filled his glittering condom and had thrown it to the floor and was pulling another one down from an overhead hanger and sliding it on his hard, curved up tool. He quickly was ready to resume his dance with the younger nymph, who was contorting his body around the pole, seeking a new and interesting position to be taken by his partner. All of this for the enjoyment of those in the audience, most of whom were so absorbed in filling out their own glittery tubes to give full attention to the floor show.

I felt my tool pushing against the fabric of my trousers, and I reached down to stroke myself, only to find that I'd been so absorbed in the atmosphere around me that I hadn't notice there already was a hand there. I turned to see a nice, square-jawed face with bedroom eyes. But I only caught a glimpse of the man who had taken interest in me when the bartender said something gruff to him and he was gone. I was a little annoyed, because I hadn't asked the bartender to run interference for me.

And I was about to say something to him, when the lights went brighter on the stage and the heart-stopping golden blond who had invited me here appeared. He was decked out in leather, but it was all of a glittery gold color, from the chain criss-crossing his chest, to the boots, and arm bands, and a riding crop with a billy club-like handle—but no other body attire except for the glittery gold condom trying its best to cover his eight inches of horse-hung meat.

He walked the four corners of the stage briefly, flicking bottoms here and there with his riding crop and inserting hands into this and that undulating position, and then he came in front of the revolving transparent X apparatus and spread his arms wide, muscles rippling in the strobe lights, and all action on the stage stopped in mid fuck.

"Do we have a volunteer this evening, gentlemen?" he asked the now-filled house in a booming voice.

The strobe lights revolved wildly around the theater and then all merged—on me.

Before I had time to react in any way, I was being bustled down to the stage by my babysitting bartender and a few of the other club satyrs and was finding that the transparent X apparatus had cuffs on it that, when I was trussed up, stretched my arms and legs out wide and securely in place.

I had become a focal point for the floor show. For the next half hour or more, as the satyrs returned to pole fucking the nymphs and the well-used glittery condoms from the audience and the corners of the stage continued to build up on the floor of the stage, the blond god teased and tormented me. He prodded and pinched and kissed and tongued me endlessly and to distraction, as I revolved around the arena, cuffed to that transparent X. He flicked me with his riding crop and applied love slaps to my butt and hips and thighs and chest. He twisted and pulled at my nipples and balls until I screamed my awareness of the sensual cruelty in him. And then he fucked me with the greased butt end of his riding crop, stretching and preparing me for his even longer and thicker gold-glittered tool. All the time I was revolving, giving the club patrons a look at the glorious torment from all angles, writhing and bucking with and against the butt end of the riding crop, testing the rock-solid holding strength of the X apparatus.

The tiers running up from where I was being displayed were a teaming mass of undulating bodies and young, naked men descending to the stage and tossing their offerings of spent glittery gold condoms at my feet and then grabbing a replacement off the handing wires and remerging with the slithering pile of man flesh stretched around the room.

The golden god was behind me now, his hands on my shoulders, and his glitter gold cock slapping on my butt cheeks and working its way up and down across the puckered, moist rim of my asshole as he stroked up and down inside my butt crack. The bulging head of his dick came ever lower as he stroked up and down inside my crack, with each stroke now more centered at my hole, until with one long stroke he entered me deeply, strongly, and painfully. I lifted my head and howled to the ceiling and a cheer went up around the theater.

There was more of a hush now, much of the attention on the blond god and me rather than on each other, as two the satyrs left tormenting their nymphs and uncuffed my legs and held them higher and stretched out more as the blond relentlessly pumped my hole with long, deep thrusts, giving all in the audience a good view of my plowing as the stage revolved slowly around and around.

I was not shy in voicing being well fucked, and another cheer went up as my ejaculate shot out across the dozens of glittery-gold used condoms littering the stage below me.

The golden god also yelled his delight and joy when he had cum deep inside me, and he swiftly parted from me and jerked off his spent condom and tossed it out into a roaring audience. Then he strutted around the stage, flicking the poled nymphs playfully with his riding crop as, one after the other, the four muscled satyrs plowed me and added their glittery gold condoms to the offerings at my feet.

When they had done with me, my wrists were uncuffed. But then I was pushed to my knees, with my heaving chest forced into the V of the X apparatus, and my wrists were cuffed again at a lower position. The blond then presented his cock to me, me knelt on one side of the X and he standing at the other side, and I sucked him to life again as the stage continued its endless revolutions to show the entire audience the full effect.

When he was once more in engorged full-eight-inch fucking form, I was uncuffed and simply sank to the floor, exhausted. But once more the golden god's tool was adorned with glittering gold and he took me one last time on the floor at the base of the X apparatus. He fucked down into me deeply and strongly as I lay whimpering and moaning on my belly on a pile of used glittery gold condoms on the revolving stage—loving every golden stroke he took.

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