The Summerhouse Ch. 09: Mason

"I guess you are part of the entertainment."

She looked at my short kilt and raised her eyebrows. "So are you."

"Indeed! So is my fiancée." She paused for a moment and then looked at me.

"One of the escorts?"

"No. She isn't getting paid. I'm a cuckold, and she is a hotwife. I was watching her getting screwed before I came in here."

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. "I couldn't do that." She gulped and took another deep breath. "My boyfriend cheated on me. This is my ..."

"Revenge?" She looked uncomfortable, and I corrected myself. "Opportunity to experience other partners."

"Yeah, that'll do. It was Virginia's idea."

"Oh, I saw her. How are you finding it? A few hours sucking and fucking, it's normal, right?"

"It's intense. Too much. You guys are crazy."

"You can leave or stop if you want to."

She sighed and put her hand on my knee. "If you were two grand in debt and can take a lot off that off by having a bit of sex, would you?"

"Definitely. But then I would, even if I wasn't in debt."

"Erika, you're next!" She woman smiled at me as she got up from the chair.

"Time to pay off a bit more debt," she mumbled.

It was a shame that she was working at the party out of a fiscal obligation rather than an enjoyment. It came naturally to me. I had spent my teenage and most of my University years as mostly chaste, by accident, but was more than making up for my dry youth with a soaked adulthood.

The photographer called me into the room a few minutes after Erika entered his studio. "Naked, one token. Sex toy, two tokens. What's it to be?"

"Pass me the sex toys," I said, smiling at young man, doubtless a University student. The young man was short, with a boyband haircut that was quiffed to the right, and had a stud earring in his left ear. He was what Martin would call, cute, and what Scott would call, fuckable.

"OK, wear this please!" He threw one of Ashfield Rangers old football shirts that had been deliberately cut short, and I idly slipped it over my hairless, shirtless torso. "And lose the kilt."

The photographer hummed as he searched in a small blue box, and selected a large pink dildo with replica testicles, and threw it underarm at me. I caught it and spotted a bottle of lubricant and a pack of condoms on a table. He nodded when I went to speak.

It was a little surreal having a normal conversation with a clothed stranger as I impaled my dick on a large seven inch dildo. He fiddled with his camera and I prepared my arse for its intruder. I learned that he was gay, studying photography at the local university, and had been offered the role at the party due to a chance encounter with Martin at the local sauna.

My cock was stiff when I lay on my back, my legs akimbo, and I had to slowly pump the dildo in and out of my arse as the photographer took numerous photographs of my degradation. The toy slid against my prostate, definitely, but as I lay in the chaise-lounge, I felt a stirring of humiliation and exhibitionism. I was being used and exploited. I was having my intimate sordid sexuality recorded on camera for a couple of worthless tokens, and that made me hornier than ever.

If the photographer, with his youthful body, had ripped out the dildo and plunged his cock between my buttcheeks, I would have done nothing but moan and scream in ecstasy. He could have had me if he wanted; he could have taken me as my imagination fuelled my lust.

"OK, we're done now," he shouted, and shook his head. "Weren't you listening?" I took a deep breath and let the dildo fall from my backside. "Please stick used sex toys in the black bucket."

He sniggered at me, lying on the chair with a flushed expression. "Sorry, just found the right spot for a moment."

"Sure. But hurry up, I got people waiting." He nodded towards the door at the back of the room, and I hurriedly dressed in my kilt, taking the two tokens from his hand and stashing them in my garter.

I entered the large room as I needed to sate my arousal. I wanted someone to fuck me. Use me. Debase me.

I caught the young man's eye rather easily; he looked lost, and he looked horny. My lips, drooling and ajar, with a finger slipping into it, told him what I wanted. The unknown man smiled back at me. His shirt had been ripped open and his body was lithe, not muscular. Short dark hair, smooth skin, and not a hint of facial stubble. He had a clean-cut, boyish charm that oozed innocent sex appeal.

I made my way to the bar where he was standing and pulled out two drinks tokens. "Let me get you a drink."

"I'm ... sure."

"What drinks makes you especially horny?" I asked, ogling his half-naked body. He was nervous, and he coughed. "Which one is going to make your balls weigh heavy."

He gulped. "Um, cider please."

I ordered two ciders and passed one to him. His hands shook as he held the glass and his eyes looked me up and down. "Nathaniel told me about you guys in the kilts."

I gestured to any empty corner of the room, away from the bar, and he leant against the wall as he spoke to me. "What did he say?"

"You'll suck anyone. Or get fucked by them," he panted. "And you watch your wife getting fucked, and that turns you on, and ... stuff."

"Yeah." I looked across the bar to see my fiancée in the arms of Wes and Devon, the inseparable pair of best friends that made up the centre-back pairing of the team. "That's her, there. Have you had the pleasure?"

"No," he muttered. "I'm not on the team."

"So?"

"Well, it's ... I ... it's ..." He spluttered nervously and explained with shaking hands. The young man was Nathaniel's best friend from the school, and the two had remained close ever since. Mason was not a footballer, but he regularly watched his friend play the game. He drank his cider quickly and panted as he spoke. He was twitchy and nervous."

"Have you had the pleasure of anyone yet?"

"No, I don't ..." His voice petered out, and he coughed. " I'm not on the team, am I? I can't, can I? Can I? I haven't yet. I might do. I could do, maybe later," he gibbered, and I downed my drink and took his hand. I guided Mason into an empty spare room and let the light from the streetlamp opposite give feint illumination to the spartan and unused office.

"What are you going ..."

I silenced him with a kiss on the lips. Kissing men was something I rarely did, as it felt like an over-intimate line to cross. I would happily suck on their cocks, rim their arseholes, and have their thick, meaty cocks plunder me, but I rarely offered the faintest kiss.

This time, it felt right. With the soft hum of the party in the background and the gentle lighting, it felt perfect. There was something about this guy that made me believe that he enjoyed and wanted it.

I was right; he did. His protestations ceased the moment my lips touched his. The twink melted under my touch as my hands touched his smooth, hairless body and he exhaled sharply as my fingers danced over his warm torso and gently rubbed his nipples. Mason sighed as my fingers unlocked his belt and unfastened his trousers so they fell to the floor.

I wasn't so keen to dive straight to his prick. I wanted to seduce him. Charm him. Beguile this inexperienced and nervous man. His cock twitched as my lips sucked on his nipples and kissed his silky flesh that wrapped around his chest. Flawless skin, deliciously hairless and glassy. He panted as his hands were flat against the wall.

"Oh shit!" He groaned, as my tongue flicked his nipples. His cock twitched, and he shifted his bodyweight. One hand tentatively touched my shoulder.

As I slid down his body, onto my knees, I came face-to-face with his cock. My lips felt it as I could not see it. Circumcised, with a length that filled my mouth and a shaved pubis that didn't tickle my nose.

He gasped as my mouth expertly teased him. It coaxed him into a groaning, leaking, gasping mess of arousal that made him buck his hips. It was a glorious pleasure, and a wonderful treat. My fingers spiralled across his shaft as my lips worked the sensitive cock head and licked his swollen balls.

He tasted of cleanliness. Everything about him was spotless and pure. There was a virtuous innocence about him that I was spoiling.

I wrapped my lips around his shaft and pumped my mouth over his pre-cum covered dick, bobbing on his cock. My hands cupped his balls and pressed against his perineum. They rubbed his chest and stroked his nipples. They pressed him against the wall as his pelvic muscles contracted and he squirmed.

His hips bucked, and he squealed, crying out that he was about to orgasm.

If he expected me to release my mouth from his cock, he was more naïve that I thought. My lips sucked on that cock, eager to get a fill of the salty reward and his masculinity. I groaned into his prick as his climax swept through his balls and crotch and swelled inside of him.

He shuddered, panting and breathless as the euphoria cascaded across his body, electrifying every pore in his body and the first of half-a-dozen waves of cum hit my tongue.

My treat and my reward. His present to me for giving him fellatio. I cleaned his prick with my mouth and let his dick fall from my lips. I sat on the carpeted floor and looked up at him, leaning against the wall with the light of the street lights barely illuminating his frame.

The silhouette gave a deep pant, and I held my hand out to him. "Sit down here, for a moment," I offered. "And take off those clothes."

"Um ..." He hesitated. "I've not said I'm gay."

"Neither am I. You've seen my fiancée."

He was apprehensive and hesitant, but I laid on the cool, rough carpet and stared at the ceiling. The taste of his cum lingered - a delicate, almost floral, thick juice that was deliciously piquant. He took a moment and then joined me, tense when I put my hand on his chest. "I'm Jon and I'm guessing you weren't expecting that."

"No," he muttered and sighed. "Yeah, Nate thought I should come here to experience ... well, that I think! He said it would help me."

"Has it?"

"That was incredible. But I am attracted to women."

"Yeah, me too. One woman, really. I can see the attraction of other women, and boobs are great. Who doesn't like breasts? And going down on a cunt is sheer heaven. But I also enjoy going down on cocks. And more."

"I've been wanting to try that for years," he admitted.

"Have you ever fucked a guy?" He snorted when I asked and then shook his head. "I've not done a girl up there, let alone a guy." He hummed. "I've not done a girl anywhere."

"It's dark, and I'm sort of wearing a skirt. I can be whoever you want me to be in your imagination!"

Mason shuddered, but I felt his cock twitch underneath my fingers. "Well ... I ... I mean ..." he spluttered.

I turned to face him and swung my hairless leg over his body. He whimpered as my hands grabbed his wrists and my lips met his. He returned my kiss as our lips passionately caressed.

I embraced him with a charged move. I was horny, and I wanted his dick. I knew I was acting as a wanton slut, but I needed it. And so did he.

He broke his hands free of mine and wrapped him around my body, squeezing me. The low lighting may have helped. My own glabrous frame would have assisted matters too. For a man, barely coming to terms with his own sexuality, the ability to lose himself in the passion of the moment with no jarring reminders of the situation was ideal.

His hips ground against mine. His body rubbed against mine flesh as his cock rose against my skin. Our tongues massaged each other. His smooth body felt wonderful, and Mason was an epic kisser. His erotic motions were fiery and fervent.

He groaned as my lips worked his, and my hands explored his body. "How does this work?" He asked. "You win. How does this work?" I smiled at him and fished out a condom from my garter belt. I said nothing as I applied it in the dark.

I had had too much practise and could stick a johnny on an erect prick with my eyes closed. A squirt of lube and a gentle pump of his prick with my hands left him squirming.

With my feet either side of him, I squatted over his prick and slowly lowered myself onto his sheathed member.

We both groaned. We both gave a satisfied mew as his dick filled my arse. His erect cock slipped inside another person for the first time. I slowly rocked my hips, feeling his cock encircle my used, greased butt.

My fingers ran over his erect nipples, and I nuzzled them as I slowly and rhythmically squirmed on his young dick. Sensual and erotic.

I treasured that moment. He may not have seen me looking into his face, lit up by the feint streak of light from the window, but I was. I enjoyed every moment of that beautiful deflowering of that hesitant, horny man. He raised his legs and began a gentle, bucking motion. Eager and impatient. I leaned forwards, resting my weight on my arms and whispered to him. "Do you want to do it doggy style and pound me, like the slag that I am."

He groaned. "Ahh yeah."

"Go on then." I moved forward, feeling the strain in my thighs as I moved from that position and knelt in front of him. He struggled to position his dick in the dark, and I had no hesitation in lining his cock up with my hole.

And then it came. All the nervousness and anxiety disappeared as a horny, desperate top replaced the hesitant skeptic. A furious, fervid, intense hammering of his cock into my butt was an unexpected bliss.

He removed the kilt from my body as he drove his dick deep into my bowels. I gasped, not to please his ego but because he was pleasuring me. That frenzied attack on my hole was what I craved and wanted. I need that treatment, and he understood.

He may have been satisfying himself, but he was more than satisfying me. His dick slammed into my butt, slaking a thirst for shameless and lewd treatment. He could do no wrong. He knew how to fuck a slutty bottom. His fingertips dug into my waist, causing a glorious, desperate pain.

Every breath was a gasp. My cock sizzled with horniness, as his dick flicked my prostate and my body swam with submissive feelings. His cock twitched, and he slammed his meat deep inside me and filled the condom with a few pulses.

He froze, panting and then withdrew. Empty, I wanted him back again.

"Sorry, I got a bit ..."

"That was wonderful," I gasped and fell forward onto my front. I turned onto my side to see his face framed against the feint light and smiled at him. "Seriously good."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Was good. Tight too."

He sat on his haunches and fished in his pocket for some tokens. "Here you go," he said and threw me all six. "I ain't gonna be doing anyone else tonight."

"You sure? My partner is a very good fuck."

"Yeah. That was ... wow!" I picked up a piece of card and passed it back to him. "That's the betting slip. We have to guess who will get the most tokens. Winner gets a hundred notes."

"OK, Martin for the cucks. He's a desperate slut."

"And the escorts?"

"I've only met two - try Virginia, but it could be anyone. I don't know."

"And the hotwives?"

"Clare or Victoria. Probably Clare."

He thanked me and I banked his tokens in my garter belt. We got up and got dressed once more. I patted him on the bum as we left and slipped quietly into the corridor and party once more.

I had four more dalliances in the main hall; it was weird to be under the table sucking cock or on the chair being nailed by dominant footballers as others looked on, but half the escorts, hotwives and cucks were doing the same. The action was near the bar, and we wanted tokens.

I also wanted the humiliation and embarrassment. I craved the look of lustful disapproval and sniggering from others as others rudely took and ravaged my body. It was my tonic and my lust.

As the clock ticked past ten, a bell sounded.

The Coach, in just his tight white underwear, that stretched to accommodate his impressive tool, called for quietness in the packed hall. He stood on the small stage, and his voice echoed around the room. He waited for a few moments for everyone to assemble and then addressed us all. "OK, well this brings the fun and games to a close."

"Spoilsport," someone shouted, and the Coach pointed at his dick.

"Any more interruptions and I will gag you! Let's have wives first. That's Victoria, Amy, Clare, Candice and Katherine." He saw one of his assistants wave at him, and he nodded. "Of course, sorry. Those of you that haven't submitted your betting slips, please do so now. The winner gets a hundred quid." Several men moved to deposit a piece of coloured card in a box at the back of the room as the coach leered over them. "Some awesome pieces of white ass here."

My fiancée was naked on stage, and joined by the blonde Amy, Victoria and two women I had seen on occasions in the hot-tubs on Saturday. Katherine was still wearing her fishnet bodystocking, but it had been ripped as dozens of men had frantically torn at it to sate themselves. The buxom, twenty-something smiled in her bunny ears and velvet collar.

Amy emptied her garter belt into the coach's hands, and he counted 19 tokens; this was bettered by Victoria on 22 and Clare on 29. Her ruffled hair, beaming smile and dried cum on her skin, was proof that she had enjoyed herself. I felt my cock rise at the sight of my fiancée.

Katherine was just one token behind on 28, and the mature, thirty-something Candice was on 23. "So Clare, is the biggest slut for the night. And as a reward, she gets to get dressed. The rest of the ladies, we will take your clothes and you can go home ... naked!"

There was a cheer in the room as he said this; Amy grimaced and Candice looked horrified.

"I came on public transport!"

"I came in your cunt!" Ricky screamed.

The anxious woman looked at the unrepentant Coach. "I need to get dressed to go home. Please!"

"Get your husband to come and pick you up!" Ricky interrupted.

Candice glared at the tipsy footballer. "My husband doesn't know I am here. And if you don't want him to find out, I need to get home without getting arrested."

"I will take you home," Paolo promised. "For a price." She smiled at the shirtless Italian, with his chiselled body and impressive physique.

"Well I thought you'd never offer!"

The Coach rolled his eyes. "OK, you lot get naked, wait over there." He addressed the room. "So escorts now. Can I have Kitty, Felicity, Virginia, Barbie, Coral and Erika to the stage." There was a general murmuring as half-a-dozen prostitutes filtered their way through the crowd.

"You ain't burning my clothes," the Barbie doll told him with a wagging finger. The ultra-manicured woman with perfect nails, barked aggressively and the Coach just sighed.

"It's payment time. Felicity, the older woman in her late forties, stepped first and passed her garter belt to the big, black manager. She was oiled, naked and winked at a couple of the guys in the room. She was old enough to be their mother, which I think was part of the appeal.

"21 tokens!" The coach countered. The Barbie doll got 16 and swore. Coral, the hippie with incredibly fair skin and welcoming eyes was on 20. She smiled at a small crowd of guys, lounging on a sofa and blew them a kiss.

Kitty gestured to the crowd as she tossed her garter belt to the coach. She cupped her breasts and made rude gestures as the coach counted her tokens. "24, as well."

"You love, come here. I wanna make it 25."

"I'm out of tokens."

"Then owe me one."

The coach swore at her and turned to Virginia. The young, pig-tailed minx licked her lips and unclipped her garter belt. "I think that's 28," she said. "I was counting."

"Incorrectly," the coach replied as he finished totalling her tokens. "31"

"I'm quite the slut!"

"And Erika?" My friend from earlier managed 20, and she shrugged. "OK, so we will give you your fee of £100 per hour, so that's £300. Then we said £50 per token. The biggest slut gets another £250. If you'll let us take your clothes, I'll add another £250 to it."