Paul's Apartment Ch. 05

Note to my readers: This story features, among many other things, group sex and bisexual male sex. In case any of that isn't your thing, you've been warned ;-)

I've always skewed towards an omniscient narrator, but in this series I'm experimenting with first-person narration. It creates interesting constraints and opportunities when you can only get inside of one character's head. Each chapter will have a different narrator from the prior one. In this fifth chapter, the narrative voice switches from Ryan to Jun. I hope you all enjoy it.

It's not necessary to read all the chapters, in order or otherwise. Each story stands on its own. But if you enjoy any of them, you'll probably enjoy all of them, and you might enjoy reading them order.

All characters are in their 20s or older.

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Ryan and I were watching porn together. I was on all fours, and he was kneeling behind me on our king-sized bed, balls-deep inside of me. I loved the feeling of his cock when it entered me, and his bony hips when they slammed into my butt.

The clip we were watching involved a young woman who was taken to a porn movie theater -- do those even exist any more? -- by an older, kind of gross man. As they sat in their seats the man began to expose and fondle the girl's breasts, and then pulled up her skirt and fondled her vagina over her panties. He unzipped his pants and took out his cock and the girl knelt in front of him and started sucking him off. As these events unfolded, the other men in the theater gathered around them, most stroking their cocks. The gross man gestured them closer, and one of them knelt behind the girl, pulling down her panties and pressing his cock into her while she continued sucking the gross guy.

"Ooooh -- we've done that!" I purred, and wiggled my bottom against Ryan's hips.

"They're just getting started. This scene is going to get wild." Ryan answered.

Ryan kept fucking me as I watched the entire theater full of men have their way with that girl. They came at her one, two, sometimes three at once. They fucked her from behind, from above, from below, on the floor, on the seats, against the wall. They came in her pussy, in her ass, in her mouth, on her face, on her tits, on her tummy.

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed at some point.

"Too sleezy?" Ryan asked.

"No -- so hot!" I panted.

As the camera pulled back and the last three men fucking that girl shot their loads onto her while her gross-looking friend watched, I started coming hard on Ryan's cock. I was bucking my hips and my pussy was rhythmically gripping his penis within me. My orgasm must have set him off -- that happened a lot -- and Ryan came inside of me as the video dissolved to credits. I fell to the side and Ryan reclined next to me, using his fingers to stir the pool of his semen all around my labia and over my clit. I jerked from the intense sensation of his touch.

"That was something!" I said breathlessly.

"You like that, huh?" Ryan responded.

"That girl getting fucked in all her holes over and over again while those sleezy guys jerked off, watching, staring, waiting for their turn -- wow. There were so many of them, and they just kept coming. They all wanted her and she was just their little fuck toy. So intense! Why have we never watched that before?" I inquired.

"That specific video?" Ryan asked.

"Stuff like that -- lots of guys, submissive women -- what is that kind of porn called?" I responded.

"Gang bang porn?" Ryan said, his intonation rising as if he weren't quite sure, or perhaps as if he expected I should already know.

"Is that what it is? I want more of that!" I answered. "Would you ever do that with me?"

Ryan furrowed his brow and looked at me suspiciously. "Take you to a gang bang?" he asked. "Would you want to?"

"I don't know -- I hadn't really thought about it." I replied. "Is it all that different from having sex with you and Paul?"

Paul was our older lover -- a funny fat old man with, as luck would have it, an enormous cock. My sexual relationship with Ryan had effectively begun under Paul's eye, because he let us use his apartment for our trysts until we got our own place. It started with him just watching Ryan and me fuck, but in short order he became our lover. The three of us would meet for sex two or three times a week, sometimes at his apartment, sometimes at ours.

"I don't know," Ryan said. "I've never done it. I suppose it's probably similar, but it would last a lot longer." He chuckled.

"Where do people do that? Are there really porn theaters like that?" I wanted more information.

"I'm not sure," Ryan offered, "not around here, for sure. Also seems kind of sketchy. Fucking a bunch of strangers in a porn theater seems like a great way to catch an STI. I think there are probably better ways to do it."

"Like what?" I pressed.

"I've heard about sex clubs -- they have those in bigger cities." Ryan said. "I think people are tested at those, or at least they have to wear protection. I suppose a person could set up their own gang bang using dating apps or whatever. Then you could impose whatever safety measures you wanted -- vet the guys in advance, require testing or condoms, use a nice hotel, or whatever."

"It seems like you've thought about this a little bit." I elbowed Ryan in the ribs jokingly.

"Honestly," Ryan offered, "I've never talked to anyone about this -- not even you -- but it's my single greatest fantasy."

"Seriously?" I flipped onto my side to face him. "Why have you never told me?"

"I don't know." Ryan answered. "I guess things with you and me and Paul are so great, so I don't need to press the envelope. And some part of me was afraid you'd recoil. I guess I've just been dumb about it."

"You don't ever have to be shy with me, baby!" I hoped that sounded more like encouragement than admonishment. "What about it excites you?"

"The thought of my girl being used by a big group of men just gets me crazy hard." Ryan said.

The thought of being used and watched by a big group of men was getting me crazy wet. Displaying myself -- no *being* displayed -- to a room full of men was an electrifying thought. I wondered what was the maximum possible number of eyes that could fall on my exposed, naked, writhing body at one time. And maximum number of hands. And the maximum volume of semen. I moaned at the thought of it. 'Are we really going to do this?' I thought. I was hoping that we would. God, I loved this kinky man I had found.

"So you want to watch? Or to participate?" I asked.

"Yes." Ryan chuckled. "Both." He rested his hand on my naked hip and stroked it affectionately.

"Do you want to make it happen? Do you really want to do it?" I asked. I paused and Ryan did not answer right away. "Because I do!" I exclaimed.

Ryan kissed me passionately. I took that as a yes.

Over the following few weeks, gang bang dirty talk became the staple of our encounters. In our free time, Ryan and I started researching possible avenues to realize this fantasy. We set up an account on a kink dating app to see how that would work. We were deluged with suitors -- far too many to respond to them all. About a quarter of them seemed to have potential, the rest seemed like weirdos or flakes. We tabled the app idea, and started to research clubs.

The nearest big city was a ninety-minute drive away, and it had a club -- it was called the Power Station. Subtle. We read everything we could find online about it. It seemed like a viable option -- low hassle, safe, comparatively anonymous.

At this point we raised the idea with Paul. The strength of his immediate enthusiasm was unexpected, but welcome. The three of us began to plot our little road trip. Transportation wasn't a problem -- Paul and Ryan both had cars. Scheduling was a little tricky with all our classes and exams, but there were several potential dates that could work. The hang-up was scripting the experience. Paul and Ryan were both happy to go and just see what happened. I, however, wanted some choreography agreed upon in advance.

Then one afternoon Ryan and I were having sex at Paul's apartment. Paul was on his back with his enormous cock buried deep up my ass. I was atop him, reverse cowgirl, reclining over his fat furry belly. Ryan was between Paul's knees fucking my pussy. When Ryan came and withdrew, his semen gushed out of me, slathering Paul's pendulous hairy balls. At that instant I knew exactly what I wanted to do at the club.

"Guys! Guys!" I exclaimed. "This is it! When we go to the Power Station -- I want to do exactly this! I want as many men as possible to fuck me just like this. I want to sit on Paul's cock, my knees spread wide, my pussy lips spread wide, and invite one man after another to climb up and fuck me just like Ryan just did. Oh my god, I'm going to come just thinking about it!"

Ryan ran his hand over Paul's gooey balls and then stroked my clit with his come-covered fingers. I came instantly. Ryan stared raptly at my engorged splayed pussy pulsing in front of him. Paul grunted as my throbbing anus clamped hard around his cock. Paul began thrusting fast from beneath me, quickly emptying himself into my ass -- a sensation I had grown to adore.

Over the days that followed, transportation was secured (we decided to take Paul's car: our car was newer but Paul's was much bigger), a date was selected two weeks hence, and we had developed enough of a script for me to feel comfortable.

Sort of. Can one ever feel "comfortable" about stripping naked and getting fucked repeatedly in front of a room full of people? Comfort is the wrong word. My prior sense of apprehension had mutated into an excited and nervous anticipation. It was hard to get the plan out of my mind, and I felt like I was walking around in a constant state of arousal. The butterflies danced in my stomach every time I thought about it, which was approximately all the time.

I was begging Ryan to fuck me even more often than usual. I needed to nurse the fantasy. I had to come several times a day -- sometimes by myself. More often with Ryan, and every time he whispered in my ear about strange men holding my legs apart while others thrust into me, I would come immediately.

On more than one occasion over those weeks, when Ryan was tied up with coursework, I paid unscheduled visits to Paul's apartment. As long as we'd all been a thruple, or whatever we were, I had never grown tired of the feeling of Paul's huge cock inside me.

Our gang-bang fantasy had transformed me into a cat in heat. I was insatiable.

Finally, the evening arrived. I must have been driving Ryan nuts, squealing "Are we really going to do this?" and "Oh my god I'm so excited!" and "I can't believe we're really doing it!" Ryan's patience was laudable. He confessed that he was as nervous and excited as I was, although I doubted that was possible. After tossing a change of clothes into a small duffel we were ready to go. Ryan was wearing black jeans and a dress shirt. I wore a form fitting black mini skirt and a tight white t-shirt, nothing else other than shoes. I had obsessed about our attire, which was, frankly, stupid: none of our plans for the night involved clothing.

Paul picked us up at 8:00 PM in his Oldsmobile Delta 88. The car was older than either me or Ryan by a couple of decades. But it had a slick burgundy paint job with pin stripes, and huge leather bench seats both front and back. We all had done our due diligence on the club, but we still talked through our plans as we drove -- Paul and Ryan in the front seat, me in the back.

"So they'll make us put our phones in lockers as soon as we get there." I said. "Then they'll take us to the co-ed locker room where we can secure our bags and clothes in lockers. There's a bar on the entry level, and I sure could use a drink! Then I want to explore the place."

"Are you going to get naked right away, or check the place out for a while first?" Ryan asked me.

"I don't know -- what about you guys?" I responded.

"I'm not keeping my clothes on any longer than I need to." Paul said with a chuckle.

"I read that they give every guest a towel -- I'll probably put my clothes in our locker and just wear the towel, at least for starters." Ryan chimed in. "I might enjoy escorting my gorgeous naked girlfriend around the place. Would you let me show you off?"

"I would let you do anything you want to do." I answered, leaning over the seat-back to kiss Ryan on the nape of his neck.

We talked and joked and listened to music as we drove, until the rolling hills became warehouses and office parks, which then became skyscrapers, parks, and glittery neon lights. We passed through the center of the city and into an industrial area. Paul turned down a side street and parked.

"We're here!" Paul announced.

Ryan and I stepped out of the car and looked around. The neighborhood seemed dirty and a little seedy. There was almost nobody around, but there was a short line of people queuing at a steel door next to a loading dock attacked to a four-story brick building. I could barely make out the musical thumping of a bass track. We walked together to the building and took our place in line. In front of us were several single men, one couple, and (I was surprised to see) two women holding hands. Everyone was dressed smartly and simply. The man in front of us turned around to say hi and extended his hand.

"My name's Mike." He said, shaking Paul's hand, then Ryan's, then mine, as we introduced ourselves.

"First time here?" Mike asked, looking me up and down.

I liked his eyes on me. The short line shuffled closer to the door.

"Yep!" I responded. "Are you a regular?"

"I don't know about a regular -- I've been here a few times." Mike answered. "You're all going to have a lot of fun. It's always a good time. Very safe environment."

"That's good to hear." Ryan said.

We had reached the front of the line. The door opened, and Mike stepped inside with a wave, "See you on the other side!" He said.

The line had grown behind us -- perhaps eight or ten more people, mostly men, had joined the queue. The door opened.

"Next!" Said a tall woman clad in black. She was covered in tattoos, had jet black hair and wore bright red lipstick.

"We're all together." Paul said.

"Come on in, then." She responded, holding the door for us.

"Welcome to the Power Station!" She said cheerfully after the door had closed behind us. The music was much louder know, but it was still easy to talk and be heard. "First time here?"

"Why do people keep asking us that?" I laughed.

"I'll take that as a yes." The woman answered. "There's no entry fee for any group that includes a woman, so your visit is free! Yay! All guests must show a recent STI screen to get a wrist band, otherwise condoms are required. We do enforce that -- any person without a wrist band spotted engaging without condoms will be ejected."

"We all have tests." Ryan said -- holding out the three precious pieces of paper we had acquired earlier that week.

"Great -- I also need to see your IDs." She said, inspecting the IDs and the test results. She affixed a green band to each of our wrists.

"The rules are pretty simple," she continued, "nobody touches anybody without consent. Any violation of that rule will also get you booted. I'll take your cell phones and check them here. No photos or recording of any kind is permitted. We ask that people clean up any messes that they make. There are stacks of towels everywhere, so don't worry about losing these. There are also condoms and lube in every room -- help yourself. Beyond that, enjoy yourselves -- here are your towels and padlocks for the lockers. The locker room is right through here -- you're pretty early so you won't have any trouble finding three empty ones. Past the locker room is the bar. There's a big shower in there that you're free to use as often as you want to. Nudity and sexual activity are permitted everywhere except here in the foyer and outside the club. When you're done for the night, we ask you to leave quietly and quickly. The dance floor is upstairs on the second floor, the orgy room is on the third floor, and the theme rooms are on the fourth floor. Feel free to explore. Club employees are wearing 'staff' t-shirts -- they're here to help, so reach out to them if you need to for any reason at all."

"Thank you!" I chirped. The three of us accepted the towels and locks and passed into the locker room, as we heard the front door open and the woman yell "Next!" to the next people in the line.

It was just like a high school locker room. There were half a dozen other guests in the process of disrobing. We selected a row of three empty lockers and I sat down on a bench between my two men. I peeled off my t-shirt and skirt, tossed them in my bag, and locked it in my locker. I was completely naked in a matter of seconds. Ryan was still unbuttoning his shirt and Paul was struggling to remove his shoes.

"Obviously I need to help you two." I said.

I knelt in front of Paul and untied his shoes. Then I unbuttoned every button on his shirt, pushing it over his hairy shoulders. I loosened his belt and lowered the zipper on his trousers. I nuzzled my face against his half erect penis.

"You can do the rest, Paul." I teased. "You're next!" I said, moving over to Ryan.

I quickly stripped Ryan of his clothes and shoved them into his locker. I stood in front of him and hugged him to me. He wrapped his arms around me, running his hands up and down my back, thighs, and butt.

"Let's get this show on the road!" I commanded.

Paul was completely naked, his huge cock hanging down between his thighs. Ryan was more modest and elected to wear his towel around his waist.

"Are you going to show me off now?" I purred.

Ryan took my hand and led me into the bar, Paul right behind us. A few people were drinking at the bar, all men. It looked like everyone had a green wristband. Most of the men were nude, though some were wearing towels. Most of them turned to look at me as we entered, my breasts, my belly, my bush, all exposed and on full display. My stomach was doing somersaults -- I had never been naked in front of more than two people at once, and those two were standing on either side of me. I took a deep breath and we stepped up to the bar.

The bartender was a handsome man, perhaps twenty-five years old -- he was wearing a neon orange jock strap, Doc Martin boots, and nothing more. "What can I get for you three?" He asked, obviously experienced here and unphased by the nudity all around him.

"Red wine." Answered Paul.

"Same." Said Ryan.

"Tequila shot." I responded, pulling myself up onto a bar stool. The smooth vinyl felt cold against the lips of my pussy.

I slammed back my shot. "Another, please." I said to the hot bartender, as I spun on my stool and looked around the room. Most of the men's eyes were on me -- and unlike in the real world, they were not shy at all. They did not look away when I looked at them. I realized that one of the men standing at a small cocktail table on the other side of the room was Mike, the guy from the line out front. I waved and beckoned him over.

Mike snagged his drink and strode towards us. His towel was over his shoulder and his cock swung from side to side as he walked. It was as big as Ryan's, not as big as Paul's.

"Hi there!" Mike said as he approached. "Paul, Ryan, and Jun -- do I remember it right?"

"You're good with names." Paul responded and took a sip of his wine.

My first sociological observation from the inside of a sex club was this: everybody checks everybody out, and nobody cares. All three of us were scanning Mike up and down -- his healthy cut cock, his chiseled abs, his smooth tan skin, the curve of his butt. Mike, likewise, was checking us out -- Paul's hairy gut, and the enormous cock dangling beneath it, Ryan's smooth muscles, my bush. Mike seemed especially enchanted with my bush, black, straight, and wispy.