Ball Games Ch. 24: Cock-o-late

Many years ago, I wrote "Winners and Losers" that I never finished. I subsequently rewrote it in 2016, but never published the 27 chapters to Literotica.

This is the complete 70,000 word story from eight years ago.

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The noise on the other side of the curtain became raucous; I knew from the previous discussions that we would be serving AFC Kerlon "plus guests" but a peek through the hole showed there were a lot of non-players. I heard the orgasm of the cameraman from behind me as Ryan brought the young gentleman to a breathless, groaning, deliciously-sounding orgasm.

It was almost a sweet thing to do. I could foresee a lovely footnote in an LGBT magazine: two guys who fell in love and it all started with a blowjob to a stray cameraman on a pornography set.

Although Ryan had always said he was "more straight than gay" and when I bumped into him with his new girlfriend they acted like they were very much into each other, he enjoyed the slurping cock way too much for him to not have homosexual romances.

Perhaps his blood was up, like mine was. Perhaps he would look back on that moment in the days and weeks to come and feel a tinge of shame, but I doubted it. He was a cock-hungry slut, like we all were.

And I wanted to join him. I wanted to suck that cute cock too, sliding my tongue over his soft skin and swinging sacks of cum. I felt a twinge of envy as Ryan's mouth licked the glans and the took the length of the glistening white dick into his throat, drawing the cameraman into a beautiful orgasm that would have tasted so sapid and delicious.

Ryan licked his lips as he joined me peeping out of the holes; there were a lot more than just 24 players from AFC Kerlon, but the large dinner table looked like it seated well over 100. My eyes bulged as smartly-dressed men, some with masks on, seated, drawing water from the pitcher and into their glasses.

"Who ..." I muttered. I tried to place them, but there a large Adonis-type figure tapped his glass at the head of the table; many of the men were just getting seated and he picked up a phallic-shaped microphone from the table.

"Gentlemen," he roared; the sound came out of the speakers around me, and his eyes focussed on the camera next to my gloryhole. "Welcome to the Cup Final After Party." His chest puffed out as his guests roared with bawdy laughter and jeers. "We have our victors, AFC Kerlon," he gestured to the right hand side of the main table and waited for the muted applause to die down. "And we have representatives from other teams. We have sponsors, and we have dignitaries. We have some models. And we have fifty of our viewers. Guys, what other channel can take you from your home in the morning, treat you to a slap up dinner, a football match and an evening of raw fucking? GaySportsTV that's who!"

I shuddered as I looked at the posse of men closest to the gloryhole. They whooped as he mentioned the viewers and I noticed the several masked men being sited at the end of the table.

The host rose from his chair. He walked out of my line of sight. "And we have some naked butlers and waiters," he said. "And some of our players dressed as nice sissy maids. Do feel free to spank them!" The laughter was cruel. "Through here is the toilet. Two men chained for your enjoyment, expecting a fountain." I was glad I wasn't in that group.

"Then over here is the gloryholes." I saw him move in front of the hole and rustle the curtain. His cock came through Ryan's hole and my friend instinctively wrapped his lips around it. "Oh yeah," he teased. "That's the feeling of a fucking faggot sucking my cock. Give 'em cum lads!"

His cock disappeared, much to Ryan's annoyance. "Then there's the shooting gallery. Naked men tied up and blindfolded. Reckon you can hit them?" I heard the sound of a ball being kicked; it sounded like the beach balls or "fly-aways" that were so common in seaside towns. The noise of one of my teammates squealing as it slapped against his flesh caused giggling and laughter.

"And lastly, there's the fun and games after the meal, where we'll really see some entertainment! Let the food begin!"

I saw a couple of my team-mates dressed in ludicrous maid's outfits carry their starter, along with the naked butlers. It was demeaning, especially when moments after the plates were put down, grown men gorged their sexual horniness on smacking the exposed rumps of the reluctant cross-dressers across their knees.

The were forced into sucking the cocks and receiving the spanks from the winning party while the naked butlers, including Dmitri, navigated the flailing limbs with plates of hot food.

The noise in the room rose; it was a party atmosphere of debauchery and while some beers were brought out, no-one seemed to be getting drunk.

The "sissies" had their clothes removed; their bottoms rendered red raw and their flesh coated in whatever substances they could. They existed to be humiliated and the cameras caught every last moment in HD.

The logo of the television station was prominent, plastered over the walls along with hundreds of photographs. Horny fuckers the world over would masturbate to GaySportsTV in the background and hoarders of debauchery and filth would refuse to allow these videos to be forgotten. I knew then that I would be infamous, if I didn't want to be famous.

But as they devoured their starters, Ryan and I were being painfully forgotten. Not since the host thrust his dick through the hole did we see any sort of action and the wild antics of the maids and the restrained men receiving balls fired at them seemed to distract the wanton men from the two eager sluts waiting for their cocks.

The gap between the starter and the main meal was enough of a cue; the first man was wearing a mask, a thin rake of a gentleman, dropped his trousers in front of my hole.

His cock was smooth and thin; hairless too. I sucked in his aroma: a strong, powerful man oozing pre-cum and giving a merest groan as my tongue swept over his frenulum. He was a fan, a subscriber and an aficionado of male-on-male humiliation. He'd probably jerked off to my blowjobs and that thought made me hard.

I sighed as my lips advanced down his shaft. I was spinning inside my own submission. He pressed his cock further into my mouth, sliding past my gag reflex. I wanted another cock pressing against my bud as I deep-throated our fan. I wanted more. I needed it.

I needed to be used like the disgusting slut I had become, feeling the twin penetration of two horny alpha men. I wanted to feel used.

But I had just the one cock. I adored his member, lavishing it with long licks and gentle sucking. My lips caressed his skin, my tongue stimulated his frenulum and I sucked on his glans, drawing him ever closer to filling my mouth with cum.

But I never got it. It was replaced by another: thicker, darker, earthier prick that skull-fucked me before denying me a squirt of cum. And another, and another.

They were toying with us. They were using our mouths to draw them into a pleasurable lather and then discarding us.

They taunted us too; from behind the curtain they teased our eagerness and our desire to see their semen pooling on our tongues. They wanted us to feel insignificant and humiliated. They wanted us to feel like worthless sluts.

But that's what we were. I was a submissive. I wanted to be a worthless slut; it scratched an insatiable itch. At times I envied the prostitutes of the yesteryear, crammed into servicing dozens of filthy young men. It was a fantasy that enabled me to float away on lust and be alone with my deepest, darkest desires.

Their taunting was no real pain. The sadistic humiliation never hurt. I lapped it up, as did Ryan. We wallowed in it, but we wanted our reward.

To feel the squirts of semen land on the tongue and hit the back of the throat is a beautiful moment; a sweet pinnacle of pleasure that is ecstasy to the submissive soul. My debasement being rewarded with the earthy taste of masculinity. It draws my submission to the crest of a wave. It's his alpha gift to a beta slut.

But I wasn't getting it. They laughed and they taunted, but their words never hurt or penetrated. We had to watch as the main meal was accompanied by frivolity and excitement; the maids were fucked over the table with their panties stuffed in their cherry red lipstick-clad mouths.

They looked every inch as slutty as I felt. They were taken by the men who warmed up their cocks in my mouth and I felt cheated.

Part of me wanted to stride from behind the curtain and challenge them. What was wrong with my mouth, with my holes? Were the poorly-dressed maids' orifices any tighter or warmer than mine? I felt a degree of frustration and annoyance that was irrational and illogical.

Just why was I getting het up about not being the centre of attention? It made no sense and I knew with the number of debauched, horny men on display I would get my share of action.

They had promised us we would be sore the following day, and I knew they meant it. We were there for the evening, and every man would be fucked multiple times. They had all come to fuck me, and every one of my teammates, senseless and I would have a belly full of cum as the clock struck midnight.

I knew this, and the very thought of the rampant debauchery that awaited, sent my sparking cock into another round of fiery sensations.

I was horny. My mind never thought straight when I was horny.

But I never got the ability to thick logically; a cock was poked through my hole as Ryan became otherwise engaged and I heard them giggle on the other side of the curtain. They were having a race.

I slurped at his musky, acidic cock. The aroma wasn't pleasant, but it was pure filthy man and that made it as delicious as a fine wine with delicate elderflower overtones of the Loire Valley.

I inhaled his veined cock to the hilt. I wanted to massage his balls and play with his perineum. I wanted to explore his anus and feel his hairy legs. I wanted to use my experience to draw a molten hot explosion of climatic joy from his cock by exploring with my fingers. The curtain stopped me.

It was my lips, my mouth, my tongue and my sluttiness that was bringing his prick towards orgasm. I felt his cock quiver and he grunted, running his hands across the curtain as his balls delivered a creamy, salty treat to my tastebuds.

I nearly came.

The tension had been unbearable. My cock was itching and straining to join him in spewing semen from the tip. I may have mewed, uncaring at the camera capturing every moment of my debauchery.

But I'd won. I'd beaten Ryan. Not that anyone cared. He shouted through the curtain at me, and the cock was replaced by another.

I lost track of the amount of cocks I sucked. A couple tasted of clinical latex, but the rest were deliciously filthy. My face was a mess of wetness; the remnants of their cum lined my lips, coated my throat and was streaked over my naked body.

I was in heaven.

It could only be bettered by a handful of cunts to lap at and my ass being reamed by a highly-skilled dominatrix wearing a lovely shiny black strap-on.

The men kept coming to us; I could hear the commotion on the other side of the curtain and it sounded like a raucous party. I longed to see, and eventually, as the main meal was replaced with dessert, the endless amounts of cocks being thrust through the curtain holes stopped.

"You!" The host called, and picked up a large jug of chocolate sauce. He advanced on Dmitri standing the near the gloryholes and I watched as he reached my friend and poured the brown mess over his head. My midfield colleague stayed motionless as the sticky sauce ran down his naked torso and over his cock.

It pooled on the wooden floor and then he thrust him towards the gloryhole. "Get your friend to clean your cock. And let's have some cream with that chocolate."

My cock twitched at the thought; it rose more as the sticky brown prick was poked through my hole. I knew Dmitri's member from sight and it looked delicious smeared with chocolate. He tasted even better than usual, allowing his cock to slide to the back of my mouth. I fellated him with love and friendship, not lust. This was so different than the dozens of other cocks that were thrust into my mouth for pure pleasure.

Dmitri knew from my touch that it was me on the other side of the curtain. He knew from my long, luscious licks of his gorgeous prick that his bisexual friend was going to take him to powerful orgasm. He knew that I wanted to swallow his cum and I'd enjoy every fucking moment of that blowjob.

We'd been here before. More than once.

He grunted as my tongue slid underneath his cock, rubbing his frenulum. He liked that; he always did. He sighed as my mouth warmly slid over his cock and tasted every drop of the cocoa-flavoured prick.

I preferred it untainted by the sweet delights of liquid chocolate. I liked the taste of his cock raw; the sweet syrupy goo made it sticky and masked the taste of the man that I adored. It made it cheesily fun and not wickedly debauched.

But the camera lapped up every moment of the sucking; the men on the other side of the curtain laughed, but they couldn't spoil a delicious moment.

Dmitri shuddered. I could feel the swelling of his orgasm, and hear the relief bubbling from inside. I could sense how near he was, and how much his senses were taking him towards his moment.

I sucked harder, and swept my tongue as his cock bobbed and I was rewarded with the delicious squirt of cum from my team-mate and friend.

Cream for the chocolate; pleasure for us both.