The Purple Challenge Ch. 01

It was another Friday night, and I was feeling a little pissed off. My friends and I were supposed to have a night out - drinking, chatting, then going outside wasted and doing something stupid. But all of them, one by one, flaked on me during the day. The last one of them canceled at 6 pm, which is pretty fucking late to flake out if you ask me! I didn't feel like staying in, I felt like going out, doing something adventurous. A night of Netflix and a couple of beers just wouldn't cut it that night.

So I decided to go out on my own. I wore my jeans - a little bit torn at the knees, but I didn't care - my favorite T-shirt and a leather jacket. It actually wasn't that cold outside, I just thought that it looked cool. I didn't care that I didn't have anyone to go with, at least I could explore the city on my own. Go places that bunch of pussies who called themselves my friends would be too scared to enter. I wasn't looking for a five-star restaurant or a shitty after-work bar for all the white-collar fucks. I wanted a place where men went to be men, you know? Where they still remembered what that meant.

And I found something. Or at least something that looked like it. The neighborhood was a little sketchy and there weren't a lot of people around - and those that were looked sketchy as all hell. The walls were covered in so much graffiti that I almost missed the entrance of the bar - probably also because there wasn't any fancy sign or anything. The wooden door just had the word "BAR" scratched into them. No windows either, just nothing. A seedy, shady little fun place where anything could happen. Just perfect for me.

I entered with a curious expression on my face. The place was pretty big, not very packed for a Friday night. Old school rock music was playing from the speakers and the air smelled like stale smoke. The bar was mostly filled with exactly the kind of people I was looking for - big guys, bikers, guys still in their work gear, metalheads - my kind of crowd. A couple of average Joes here and there who looked a little uneasy - probably brought here by their cooler friends. I felt at home immediately.

The bartender was an old school looking motherfucker - bald head, huge beard, and a Guns N' Roses T-shirt, cleaning up a glass with a dirty rag. I approached the bar and sat down on one of the stools. Looked at the bartender, smiled and nodded.

"What's it gonna be for you, son?" he asked me, with a gruff voice.

"Just a beer for starters," I replied, "A strong one. None of any watery shit."

"We're not the kind of establishment that serves that crap, you should have figured that out when you entered the door," he grunted, as he started pouring me a glass. I smirked. What a night this was gonna be - I felt like anything could happen in this place!

A huge jar that was sitting at the bar near me caught my attention. I leaned toward it and saw that it was filled with some ... ropes? No, bracelets, they were bracelets. All of them were purple, plain, and made out of cloth. There was also a handwritten sign on the jar - I had to drag it a bit closer to me to be able to read it.

"THE PURPLE CHALLENGE - ENTRY FEE $20"

"Here you go," the bartender said, slamming the beer in front of me, spilling a bit of the liquid onto the wood. I grabbed it and nodded at him before taking a large sip, while my eyes were still on the jar.

The bartender caught my look. He smirked.

"The jar got you interested, huh?"

"Yeah," I said as I wiped the beer from my mustache, "Tell me more about this challenge."

"Forget about it," he shot me down immediately, "This is a game for real men. Once you're in, you gotta follow the rules, even if you lose. Honestly, you look like the type who would just chicken out."

I took the glass and slammed it back on the table, loud enough for a couple of people around me to turn around. I looked directly into the bartender's eyes, sending a clear message.

"You sayin' I'm a pussy?"

"Just sayin' that this challenge ain't for everybody," he shrugged, talking a little quieter in the sudden silence. He seemed to be taken aback by my gesture. Good.

"Well," I said, leaning closer to him, "Something is telling me that this is just the right game for me. Now, why don't you go ahead and start explaining it?"

He sighed. The guests around us started minding their own business again so he was able to speak up. He dragged the jar closer to him and opened it. I saw him pull one of the bracelets out.

"It's a little game we started a while ago. You pay the money and in exchange, you get this bracelet. You have to wear it every single time you enter the bar."

"I assume that's not all of it?" I grinned at him. He didn't grin back.

"Every single time you feel like playing, you go to the bathroom. There's a long line of urinals in there that goes around the corner into this secluded corner. Non-players piss by the entrance. Players of the game go around that corner, stand up near the urinal and wait."

"Wait for who?"

"Stop interrupting me. Other players, obviously. You stand there and wait. If there's somebody there already waiting, you approach him. If you're not sure, you can recognize the players by the bracelet on his wrist. Once two guys meet there, they have to play."

"Right," I nodded, "And how do I play?"

"You take the urinal next to the guy," the bartender explained, giving me a serious look, "You whip out your dick. He whips out his. The bigger guy wins."

I chuckled at that. Finally, this was about to get interesting.

"What exactly do you win?" I asked.

"The loser has to service the winner."

"Service how?"

The bartender frowned at me impatiently.

"What do you think, son? They taught you about the birds and the bees, haven't you?"

"So that's the huge, manly challenge you got here, huh?" I retorted skeptically, "Sounds pretty gay to me."

The bartender snickered and shook his head.

"Knew you were too much of a pussy to do it."

I shot him a look. Then, I grabbed the glass of beer, which was still almost full. Without breaking eye contact, I downed the entire beer in about ten seconds. After I did, I slammed the glass back on the table and reached into my pocket with my free hand. I pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and slammed it on the table.

"I'm sick of you calling me a pussy. Sign me in."

He looked at me for a while before handing me the bracelet. Hopefully, that was enough of a sign that he was done calling me a pussy.

"To answer your question," he continued, "The loser has to service the winner by giving him a blowjob. To completion. No 'but's, no backing out, no anything. And you better swallow, boy. Once you head around that corner, you play. If you size up the guy and figure out that he has a bigger dick than you before either one of you whips it out, you may give up - in that scenario, you'll only have to give him a handjob. Again, to completion."

"I see," I said, as I pulled the bracelet over my right hand, "So a blowjob if we compare, handjob if they chicken out?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, "There's one more rule, one more way to up the stakes. You compare your dicks when you're both soft. If your dick is smaller than the other guy's dick and you're a grower, you can offer to double down on the bet. If he accepts, you both jerk it until you get both your cocks fully hard and then you compare again. After that, of course, the rules change."

"What happens then?"

The bartender gave me a nasty smirk.

"The winner can fuck the loser."

Huh. Well, the game seemed pretty clear. And based on the bartender's attitude, I assumed all the contenders took the rules very seriously. I wasn't too afraid though. On the contrary - I was actually feeling pretty confident!

You see, I am able to sort of see through people. Men don't realize this, but their behavior is usually tied to their level of self-esteem, which is usually somewhat tied to their dick size. Of course, I'm not a psychologist or anything. And I'm not gay either - I don't have any interest in other guys dicks. But what I am is a horny bastard, and if a guy really wants to put out, who would I be to turn down a perfectly good hole?

There was also another ace in my sleeve. My dick is pretty damn BIG. There are so many guys out there who brag about their dick size - it would make you think that everyone is carrying a damn 11" rifle in their pants. The fact of the matter is that most of the guys are average or below, they just want other men to think they have big tools - social status and all that. I, however, was a lucky exception. My size sounded like something men would brag about, but it was actually the truth! It was a solid 8.5 incher, and pretty thick too. None of the girls I've ever been with ever complained - some of them weren't even able to take it all. This competition was pretty much designed for me to get my rocks off.

"Sounds like a fun game," I said, with a confident smile, "So when can I play?"

"You can play any time the bar is open," the bartender shrugged, "You can even go right now if you feel like it. Just remember to follow the rules, no matter what!"

I decided to take him up on that offer. Without another word, I smiled at him and jumped off my stool. I headed straight to the door that said TOILETS, which was again scratched into the door something sharp. Before I did, I took a look around. All these guys, looking tough as shit... I wondered who was the first one who was going to service my cock.

The bathroom was pretty much what you'd expect from a place like this. Dim lighting, graffiti on the walls, dirt and filth everywhere and the smell of piss you knew would just stay forever. On the left side, you had the stalls, on the right, there were the urinals for non-contenders. As the bartender described, the row of urinals continued behind the corner to the left.

The whole room seemed empty. My boots made a squeaky sound as I walked across the dirty tiles and went behind the corner. There was nobody there either. Besides the urinals, there were three extra stalls - I guess they were there more or less to give some privacy to the winners and losers who were settling their debts.

I went to the urinal at the very end, whipped out my dick and took a very long and satisfying piss. After that, I put it back in my pants, leaned on the wall and just fucked around on my phone for a couple of minutes. Some people came in, but none of them went behind the corner. Probably for a reason. Small-dicked cowards.

Just when I was thinking that the bartender ripped me off with a bullshit contest that nobody else was interested in, I heard the door open again. I looked up and saw a man before me - he circled around the corner and was now facing me. Bald head, ill-fitting formal shirt, a loosened tie and stubble on his chin. The most important parts for me were the purple bracelet on his hand and the expression in his eyes. Nervous, scared, submissive. I had him all read in a second. The "yes, boss" kind of man, the one that would never raise his voice, even when others treated him like shit, the one that always came in last and never really complained. The kind of low confidence only a small dick can give you.

This was going to be an easy start.

I smirked at him and maintained eye contact as I took a step closer to him. He was so nervous I could see a sweatdrop running down his face. He seemed to be unsure if he should continue but knew that it was too late. I turned around and assumed my position at the urinal, while still looking at him.

"I ain't got all day, you know," I interrupted the silence, "You already stepped in here, now it's time to play."

"Y-Yeah, right," he stuttered, as he started walking over to the urinal - at a snail's pace - right next to me. He tried to look away, but my eyes kept staring him down. I liked asserting dominance like that, especially over guys who were so easy. I was having fun with this guy - with his sweaty, nervous face - almost made him look cute. Or it would, if I was a fag.

He took a deep sigh and looked back at me, probably getting mentally ready to meet his fate. I grinned and slowly opened my zipper.

"S-Stop, please, sir."

I raised my eyebrow. What was that? He blushed and was really trying to avoid eye contact with me. What a pussy. Look in the man's eyes, if you're going to talk to him.

"I- I fold. I give up. You are clearly... um... I don't think I can win this."

"You sure?" I asked, a little disappointed, and yet very satisfied that my aura worked so well on him, "Maybe you should go for it. You never know."

"No, I think I'd just like to... do the hand thing. If that's okay with you."

Well, that was fast! I was kind of hoping to fuck this guy's throat - the look of those submissive eyes down there between my legs would surely send me over the edge in a second - but I suppose handjob was just as good. After all, I was just starting with the competition anyway.

"As you wish," I replied to him in an arrogant tone. I leaned against the wall and folded my hands on my chest. He was still there in the same spot, staring at me like an idiot.

"Well?!" I raised my voice at him, "Get to it! You want me to do your job for you?!"

My tone managed to wake him up.

"Right! Sorry, sir, but... here? Not in the-"

"No, not in the stalls, right here, now get to work!"

Geez, this guy was dense. Luckily, I didn't have to say anything more. He came up to me - being careful not to get too close like I'd bite him or something - and shyly reached with his hand into my open zipper. God, even his fingers looked weak, what kind of handjob was this gonna be?

I saw his eyes bulge as his hands found my member. He kind of half-opened his mouth in a really stupid way, which made me chuckle a bit.

"Wow..." he whispered, "I..."

"... have never seen a real man's dick before?" I said to him, grinning, "Yeah, I bet. Wanna get to know it a little better?"

A part of his shyness went away - he finally started accepting his position as the submissive one and felt more comfortable immediately. He knew his place. His hand started taking more chances, groping and tugging on my cock. It was fun for a while, but then I started getting impatient. I grabbed his wrist and pushed it further, right into my underwear.

"Stop fucking around," I snarled, "You're making me hard. Time to finish what you started, boy."

He gasped as I used the term "boy" on him. Then I saw his face go red and his crotch twitch a little bit. That made me snicker. Maybe this handjob wasn't going to be such a waste of time after all.

"Yes, sir," he breathed out and immediately pulled out my dick in the open. It looked so huge in his weak, little hands. And it wasn't even fully hard yet! I saw his fingers trembling a tiny bit as he was groping it. For a second I was doubtful that he would know what to do with a real man's dick, but he proved me wrong in an instant.

He started jerking it, slowly and softly, better than any woman ever has. I even let a small moan escape from my throat - I usually don't do that so much with men, but this guy knew what he was doing - all of a sudden. Presumably, his experience came from having to beat off so many times on his own. His fingers were doing a dance on my dick, pulling the foreskin back with just the right amount of force - not too rough and not too gentle. Not a lot of people in this country knew how to handle a good, uncut dick.

"Hmm, that's it, boy..." I grunted, thrusting slowly against his palm. His eyes were fixated on my cock. He wasn't even pretending to be disgusted - he was actively enjoying this! I saw his other hand reach out and go down. I was about to make it clear to him that I DON'T want it anywhere near my asshole, but he just ended up cupping my balls. What an excellent idea.

My cock was hard and throbbing in his hand. I felt the warmth of his palm and the softness of his fingers. My grunts started getting louder. I wasn't a silent, shy guy when it came to sex - I wanted everybody else to know that I was getting some. My grunts were echoing from the bathroom, informing the patrons behind the corner, who were taking a piss, that I was getting serviced. I heard several of them chuckle and a couple of them even peek behind the corner. Great! Let everyone see who's the new boss of this bar. Spread a word about my dick.

"Hnng!" was the sound I let out, as I felt my orgasm building up. I thrust against the guy's palm and pointed my dick up on purpose. I felt the force of the orgasm surge through me as I started shooting upright, all over the guy's shirt. He was not expecting that but didn't dare to say a word, just continued to rub me as my cock was spraying his entire chest with my sticky cum, making an enormous mess. I laughed to myself. There was no way he was going to be able to wash off the stains or the smell before coming back from the bathroom.

I was breathing hard by the time I finally stopped shooting. The guy slowed down a bit and looked at me with his eyebrows up. He wasn't sure what to do next. Of course, he needed guidance.

"Squeeze out the last bit from it, boy," I told him. I wasn't sure if it was part of the game to be able to give out orders, but to hell with it. I always made my own rules.

He did as commanded. The cum dripping from his shirt was such a fitting look for him. He didn't seem upset about it - not that it would help him if he did. The throbbing (but still pretty small) bulge in his pants told me that he was enjoying every second of this handjob, even though he wasn't the one on the receiving side. I had no intention of helping the guy with that, he was free to do that himself. I ain't no homo. I wasn't against playing with him a little bit more though...

"Got your hands all sticky, huh?" I shot him an evil smirk, "I can almost see your mouth watering. Why don't you have a taste?"

His eyes darted between his hands and my eyes. Not really in a doubtful way - I guess he was trying to figure out whether he was about to obey my command out of his respect for me or out of his desire to be a filthy cum slut - either way, he wanted it. He took his tongue out like a dog on a hot day and started lapping all the cum from his sticky palm. I laughed as I saw him suck on all of his individual fingers, like he just finished a delicious meal, before patting him on the head.

"Nice work, boy. You better find a tree trunk or something to hump, before you cream your pants. I'm done here," I said, as I zipped up my pants. I walked away and left him alone in the bathroom. I didn't care about his messy shirt, nor his raging erection. On the contrary, I was more than happy leaving him like that.

It wasn't exactly the kind of the first experience I was looking for in The Purple Challenge, but I can't say I was disappointed. And I also knew that more was coming. A nice hand was good and all, but I wanted a mouth. Or an ass. And if all the men were as skilled and eager as this one, then I knew I was in for a real treat.