Down the Rabbit Hole Ch. 03

Dylan typed carefully, finishing the last of the details, then editing, revising. It had to be perfect if he was going to bring Molly into this. The timing of it was critical. Any missteps now could be marriage-ending.

His phone was down and the screen off by the time she came back from the bathroom. She laid in bed beside him. She felt his excitement, and thought it was for her. She slid down beneath the covers, always the dutiful wife. In a moment, her warm breath was on him, her face buried between his legs. He grunted as her mouth took him. He shut his eyes and thought of his own lips wrapped around the stranger in the bathroom. How he'd been that man's little whore. He held her head still and used her mouth like a toy. He heard the wet sounds his cock made as it pumped in and out of her throat and he dreamed of being tied down and used the same way. He could still almost feel the strain of his jaw as he took that man inside his mouth. God, he had a great cock. He finished quickly.

It was Saturday when they woke up the next morning. Both of them silently worked through their own internal list of chores. Molly smiled each time their eyes met. She loved it when he lost control like that, even if it left her gagging up cum on their nice clean sheets. The memory of it would keep her wet all week.

She didn't spot the message until they were finishing lunch.

"What's this, babe?" she called over her laptop. "You're having a game night?"

Dylan swallowed quickly and waved the question off. "Nah." His eyes went back to his book, pretending to read.

"Hey guys," she read allowed, "I've just got my new place set up. Everyone is welcome. You bring the beer, I'll bring the food. Signed, Dave. Who's Dave? Are these work people?"

Dylan shrugged. "Yeah, just guys from work. They want to watch the baseball game, I think," he said, his eyes not meeting hers.

"Well, I think you should go. Look, it's even my weekend off. I think you'd have fun! You should go make friends!"

Dylan grimaced. "But it would go so late... And I really only know Dave."

"Well, I think you'd have fun. Plus, what else do you have to do this weekend? You were just saying how you finished all the chores outside, and that you were going to be bored out of your mind once I go."

He nodded along to that. "Maybe," he admitted. "I'll think about it."

His erection tugged hard against the inside of his sweatpants. If he wasn't careful, he was going to be leaking pre-cum in a second, and she could notice. He breathed out slowly, clearing his mind.

"Yeah, maybe. If you're going to be at work," he added. "I probably wouldn't stay long, though."

It had taken three weeks for this plan to finally come together. The email chain was cobbled together from thirteen fake accounts he had set up, most with names that reflected real co-workers, just in case she got too curious. Molly used his email account exactly once a month to pay a bill. She worked more weekends than not, so that wasn't an issue, but she had to be working at night. Who knows what kind of state he would be coming home in afterward?

The guys were even harder to schedule. Mike, true to his word, had reached out to his other "friends" in town -all married, older men who had been looking for something on the side, all discrete. They got in touch with Dylan online and let him know they tended to meet up once or twice a month. Dylan had to miss the first gathering that came up, because Molly had been off. That had been a long week of furious masturbation in the shower and on the toilet, his eyes shut tight, thinking of all that he was missing out on.

From what Dylan had found out, there were usually three or four of them that got together. Mike never stopped by when they all got together -he preferred one on one. That wasn't much of a problem. Mike was transparently gay, young, and not very well-endowed. Dylan still didn't know if he had a type, but he knew it wasn't Mike.

Not that it had stopped Dylan from begging the man for a meetup everytime Molly was out of the house and his cock wouldn't relent. When Dylan stroked his tongue against the man's frenulum and he felt the cum pumping out in thick sprays across his mouth, he greedily drank down every drop he was given -all preferences forgotten.

When he dreamed of the meetup, all he could think of was the animal pleasure waiting for him at the end of it. What he hadn't anticipated, though, was the endless hell that was the wait to get there.

He wanted to be fresh, and to be full-to-the-brim with all the cum his body could make. He wanted to give them all of it. He wanted them impressed by how much seed he would spill when they mounted him. So, foolishly, he decided that it was going to be a celibate week. Molly was persistent, and had her own needs, but he managed to work himself into such a stupor, with chores and workouts, that by the end of the day she understood how dead tired he was.

But, while his body might have been thoroughly spent, his mind and his balls weren't so easy. If he hadn't been so careful to hide it, Molly would have seen the hard-on that jutted against his pants, full strength, all day long. Every time he went to piss, he had to take himself through mental exercises to calm down long enough to use it. His cock was so engorged and dark red that he nearly broke down and gave in every other minute of the day. It would have taken one stroke to push him over the edge, he could feel it.

And every moment of the day, it was the same image: Dylan on a bed, on all fours, and the head of a fat, swollen cock pressing up against his asshole.

Sweat beaded down his forehead. He cleared the image out of his mind. If he wasn't careful, he wouldn't even need one stroke to finish off. Pre-cum had been spilling from him like a leaky faucet all week. He made double sure that Molly never got near the laundry that week.

Every hour passed at a crawl, and every night was spent staring at the ceiling in the dark, his hard on tenting the heavy comforter, his balls pulsing with need, his sweat turning the sheets damp. It was agony.

And then it was over.

Saturday arrived, and he was the first out of bed. Breakfast was elaborate -fresh squeezed juice, avocado toast on homemade bread (her favorite), potatoes, bacon, and more. Dishes were cleaned and dried before she reached the kitchen. Laundry was already started. By the time she left for work, there were no chores left to be done, and there was a smile on her face. He kissed her deeply before she left, his arms wrapped tight around her waist. She felt him then, and promised to take care of it later. He told her he couldn't wait.

The man who had reached out to him had said his name was Steve, and said that they were planning to meet at noon. Dylan waited until the last moment to shower. It took two latherings of soap until the pre-cum was finally all scrubbed off. He gave his ass a double washing, too, pushing the soap as deep as he could take it. When he looked in the mirror, his face was flushed bright red.

Stop it, he thought. Be calm.

The address they had given him was on the far edges of the suburbs, in one of the newer parts of town expanding out west. It was an easy drive. His mind was so thoroughly distracted, so overcome with nervous excitement, that he was there without realizing it. He parked on the street outside of a small ranch home, indistinguishable from the rest on the block. Dylan grabbed his bag of supplies (a bottle of whiskey and a case of beer) and headed toward the door.

There was a screendoor, but the door behind it was open. A woman in her late forties spotted him through it from the other side of the house and waved cheerfully, gesturing for him to come inside.

"Hello," he called over as he stepped inside. "Is... Steve here?"

"Oh, yeah," the woman called over, and made her way over to shake his hand. "The boys are all downstairs. I'm Sandy," she said.

Dylan introduced himself, and did his best to pretend he was a co-worker. Thankfully, Sandy was quite distracted, and apparently was late to go meet a friend. After showing him to the "den", she waved, swung a bag over her shoulder, and was out the door. He watched her lock it and get into her car before he headed down the steps.

Here we go.

All eyes were on Dylan as he reached the bottom. The place looked exactly like what he thought a "den" would be -wood paneling on the wall, windowless, team pennants hanging on the wall. There was a small bar with its own tap built in, a sagging couch, and two recliners surrounding a TV that took up an entire wall. And four men, all white, all in various stages of middle-age, watched and waited for him.

He grinned, and they smiled back. "I'm Dylan," he announced, nodding to the group.

It was the oldest of them that approached first. He patted his hand on Dylan's shoulder and took the drinks out of his hands, studying them carefully. "Hey, nice stuff. I'm Steve." He put the booze down beside the bar and came back to shake Dylan's hand properly. It was calloused, and tanned, and strong.

The others all stood and came around to shake his hand, too. Adam was the oldest, in his mid-fifties with a bit of a potbelly. Joe was maybe the second oldest, but his body was swollen with muscle and shaved smooth, even his head. Bill was the last, and the smallest. Under five foot five and a hundred and twenty pounds at best, the others towered over him. The thought of this little man pinned down by their powerful bodies flashed through his mind... He would pay to watch that, for sure.

"Take a seat," Steve said, as they all went back to sit down. "We like to give Sandy a few minutes lead time. She tends to forget things and double back."

Dylan nodded and went to take a seat on the couch between Steve and Joe. The game really was on, though they turned the volume down to a murmur as Dylan took his place and Bill handed him a tall mug of foaming beer.

"He brewed that himself," Joe announced.

Dylan took a drink and nodded appreciatively. "So, how long have you all known each other?"

"Enh... Bill and I have been friends for a long time now," Joe said.

"We were roommates in college," Bill added.

Dylan grinned, picturing the thought of how that relationship began.

"Steve's the newest. We only met him through Mike two years ago. And this house has been a blessing," Joe went on.

Steve nodded and laughed, "What can I say? My wife hates all the noise we make down here."

"Everyone's married?" Dylan asked. His beer was nearly half-gone now. He didn't know whether to slow down or drink faster.

The others just smiled at that question, though. "Sorry, I'm new to this. And I'm a bit nervous," Dylan added.

Joe put his thick arm over Dylan's shoulder and grinned. "You're in good company, kid. You just drink up," he said, and used his finger to lift Dylan's glass a little higher. Dylan took his lead and drained the cup, to the cheers of the others. He choked on the last drops as Joe's strong hand found his thigh.

"Joe," Steve chided.

Joe grinned and removed his hand, holding it in the air to show his innocence. "Just trying to make him less shy," he said.

Steve inched himself closer. "I know telling you not to be nervous isn't going to help," he said. "But just know that we all had this moment. And we're excited to have you here with us. We've all become real good friends, I think. We'll make you feel good, and you don't need to feel bad about that. What happens down here stays down here. It's our own private little world."

"Amen," Adam said.

Bill swooped his empty glass from his hand and brought back another one filled to the brim. He went right back at the bar a moment later, and pour out shots from Dylan's bottle of whiskey.

Five shots were dropped on the coffee table by the TV. Dylan took one, but no one else reached for them.

"It's your first time," Steve said. "Those are for you."

"We'll sober you up before you leave, don't worry," Joe said, his hand now massaging Dylan's back. His hand was warm, and he found the muscles easily, pressing into them with strong fingers. His hand slid back to Dylan's leg, and his fingers trailed along the his thigh. He found Dylan's cock, and it jerked excitedly against the man's warm palm.

Dylan emptied two of the shots in quick succession. As he finished the third, he noticed the sound of the game was louder again. Steve was off the couch and back a moment later. "Door's locked," he announced.

Joe picked up the last two shots. As Dylan finished one, the fifth was in his hands and gone a second later. His lips were on Joe's before he could even swallow it.

"Whoa, there!" Adam said, laughing.

Steve said something, too, but Dylan didn't hear it. Joe's face was shaved clean, but he could feel the invisible bristles around his lips. He'd never kissed a man before. It was the only thought he could keep manage to keep in his head. Joe's tongue was thick, and strong, and wet. His powerful hands wrapped around Dylan's lower back, pressing him closer.

"I think it's time we split up," Steve called over in a louder voice.

Joe stood, carrying Dylan with him, their mouths never parting. Dylan could feel his hips humping against the man's strong body like a dog in heat. It was embarrassing, but he couldn't help it. He felt so good.

Joe didn't carry him far. They were in another room of the den, and there was a bed that they collapsed backward onto. The room was dark, and only lit by the light of the other room. The door closed partially, and the sounds from outside were muffled quickly.

Joe's hands stripped Dylan's clothes from his body expertly. His strong hands effortlessly dragged his jeans down to his knees, then grabbed onto his cock as it sprang free. Dylan moaned hard, and pumped his hips. Joe's hand gripped him tighter, and he felt a stream of pre-cum milked out onto it. But it wasn't Joe that licked it up, it was Adam, his button-up shirt already slipping off from his shoulders.

"What have you never done before?" Adam asked him.

"Have you eaten ass before, kid?" Joe prompted. Dylan shook his head. "Do you want to?"

Dylan nodded quickly.

Joe got off the bed to strip his own clothes off. He was hairless all the way down. He was uncut and average-sized. His muscles looked rock hard, bulging like some Greek god in the dim lighting. He crawled back onto the bed, kissed Dylan on the mouth, and then turned himself around, and eased backward.

Dylan felt his cock swishing wildly through the air. Someone, maybe Adam, caught it and held it still in a tight grip. With another hand, someone braced his hips firmly against the bed.

The world went dark as Joe's firm ass settled onto his lips. The man's legs were pinning down Dylan's arms, either by accident or design. There was nothing to do but kiss and lick with sloppy abandon. The cologne smell of him was stronger inside his cheeks. Dylan's tongue wet the length of the man's crack, and then he stroked at the hole wildly, lapping at it like a dog. He was as hairless there as he was everywhere else. The hold on Dylan's hips got tighter. He felt three hands bracing him still, keeping him from getting his cock stroked, keeping him in need.

Soon, Joe began to pump back harder against his mouth. Dylan got the hint. With his tongue firm, he found the center, and he pushed his tongue inside. The muscles were too tight, though. Joe had to push back hard, pressing Dylan's head deep into the pillow, suffocating him, before the tongue would penetrate. The muscles were slick and smooth. Pre-cum poured freely out of Dylan's cock, and his body shook on the verge of orgasm.

Joe pulled back, letting Dylan breathe again. He would lick and lick, and Joe would smother him again, forcing the tongue inside. Then Dylan would writhe, waiting to see if his body would finally go over the edge.

But it never came, and soon Joe was climbing off of him.

"How did you like that?" Joe asked. He saw Dylan crawling after him, his cock swollen red and shining with pre-cum. Joe grinned.

"Have you ever been fucked?" Adam asked in a low voice.

Dylan was on all fours before the words were out of his mouth. "No," he said. He heard his voice crack with need, and he didn't care.

Joe chuckled behind him. "Adam," he said. "I think we better give him the full service then."

"I'll go fetch the rest of the whiskey," Adam replied. "He's going to need it."