The Wild Seven Pt. 03

This is a work of pure fiction. All persons and events herein are fictional. Any and all resemblance to actual persons and events is purely coincidental. Persons portrayed are 18 years of age and older. Please comment.

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Gene Marshall was in darkness. He had been in darkness since he walked in the dank room. He was quickly blindfolded and pushed roughly onto the cool tiled floor and held down. His clothing was then removed violently by twelve hands. This was planned, of course, but no less exciting. He and six friends had an arrangement stemming from one night when their little heads did the thinking: each of them would take turns getting fucked by the others. Tonight was Gene's turn. Shelly was the one who suggested they tape his experience.

Shelly, his fiance, was insatiable, as was he. Every other aspect of their relationship was in synch, but sex... They lived in sex. They met at the front end of this establishment, a bar with a large base of queer and kinky patrons. She was a bartender dating one of the bouncers, he was new in town and already exploring his limits. They lived in the same apartment complex and casual smiles and waves turned into casual sex, which became a serious relationship. Her girlfriend, the bouncer, couldn't handle it and bounced. Polyamory and open relationships had their pros and cons, Gene reckoned, but the revolving cast of partners and sex acts was like being part of the best circus on earth. Knowing Gene was fucking guys on the side excited Shelly, and merely the thought of him getting fucked was almost enough to drive her to orgasm. They watched the video of him fucking Nev at the baseball game a lot when they fucked. Gene could only wonder the marathon sessions this would initiate.

The disembodied hands lifted him up.

"Bring him to the bench," a muffled voice commanded. The guys were not that keen on showing their faces, especially since one was married and two were in relationships. They were wearing bandanas around their faces, sunglasses and hats. Ripley was probably wearing a tee-shirt to hide some of his more distinguishing tattoos. The echoing of the room also had its effect.

The front end of the building, an old papermill, was a bar but the back entrance lead to a sex club made up of its own bar and several rooms, including private rooms like this one, which could be rented. Most were themed - doctor's office, medieval torture chamber... this one was a grungy looking bathroom. Rent wasn't cheap, but Shelly and Gene had years of goodwill which translated to a decent discount, split seven ways.

Gene's torso touched the cool, worn wood, and his hands were tied together under it. Someone slapped his ass.

"Pig's ready, boys. Let's pork!"

They cheered and hooted, taking turns to slap his ass or grope him. Hands squeezed his balls or his shoulders. Someone lifted his chin, and he felt someone rubbing their dick on his face. He gamely opened his mouth.

This wasn't the first cock he sucked. Although Gene firmly planted his feet in Camp Hetero, adolescent exploration and further forays with Shelly into same-sex encounters meant he wasn't too shy about going down. Gene took the cock straight to the root, until his nose was buried in someone's pubic hair. The smell was delicate, like baby powder and soap, with a faint masculine hint of sweat. Aside from Albert, few of the guys had especially short pubes. It could be anyone. Gene was guessing Saunders. He seemed the type to abhor natural scents. Whoever it was held his head still and pumped his hips while moaning.

"Fuck, guys. He's hot to trot."

"Yeah, man." Someone grabbed his meaty cheeks, spread them and spat squarely in the center. A warm glob of saliva hit his hole smartly, and he felt it twitch reflexively at the wetness. They then rubbed it in with their fingers, before pushing in. His anus gave way easily. Gene had taken a dildo or two hundred in his day, so he wasn't as nervous as Kane or Nev. He had also come well prepared, stretching at home before the short trip here.

"This hole is hun-gry!" Fingers pumped in and out, like a piston. Gene moaned and pushed in to them. They were thick. He felt a stream of cool lube drizzling on his hole and the fingers working it in smoothly. He was still getting face-fucked.

Suddenly, the fingers were removed, and he felt something thick and solid toying against his ass. Hands held his hips still as someone used the lube to glide up and down, from his taint, all the way up. The head of their cock would slightly catch on his hole, threatening to poke in, but ultimately failing to. Gene felt his hard dick rubbing on the smooth wood, his pre-cum creating a slimey pool.

Gene would describe himself as a switch for sure, but Shelly was almost always dominate. He didn't mind. The anticipation and feeling at the mercy of another was exciting. Being pinned down, having someone forcing themselves down his throat, and someone else teasing his hole, biding his time before deflowering him, was heaven. He felt his nipples harden and goosebumps bloom across his body as he imagined the sensation of being fucked by a real, actual man and his real, actual penis. Shelly was the one who was controlling this action. Aside from Gene's few hard limits, almost anything was game, including order. Would Kane's bullet be penetrating him, or would Ripley's monster or Albert's be wreaking havoc on him?

The person holding his head and fucking his face let go and was replaced by someone else.

"Open wide, dude."

Gene compiled and he felt something thick invade his mouth. It was almost too much for him. He felt the mass stuff into the back of his oral cavity as a course tangle of hair met with his nose, brow and forehead. This had to be Ripley. He could smell the piquant, ripe odor of someone's groin in the pubes. Gene pulled his head back and licked the thick cock head in his mouth. There was definitely more skin there than on the previous occupant. Ripley, for sure. Just then his tormentor to the rear started to enter in earnest. It was thick and the sudden spreading was almost painful, until Gene pushed out. His hole gamely expanded and started swallowing the cock. It had to be Albert.

The monstrous rod squeezed into him, going no faster and no slower than cooling lava with the same burning intensity. Despite his preparations with his various toys at home and the freshly applied lube, the cock felt like it was almost too much. There was definitely give to it, a feature not found in some of his play things, but it was big nonetheless. Gene felt his face burn as his body strained to accept Albert's legendary dong. A chorus of cheers encouraged it forward. Once he bottomed out, Albert stopped.

"He's got a tight pussy," he growled. Gene was whimpering and moaning into Ripley's dick, immobilized momentarily as the realization that he was about to be fucked in earnest dawned on him. He knew that his phone, Shelly's and two of their cameras from home were picking up the footage of him tied to the bench, spit roasted by two masked guys, and surrounded by four others jerking off and egging the action on.

"Fuck his brains out." "Look at him drool on that hog." "What a hot fucking slut." "Plow him, man."

Gene began to bob on Ripley's cock again, slowly, which caused him to rock slightly on Albert's dick. Albert let out a growl, and he started to gently move his hips to meet the rhythm. He could feel the thick pole inside him rubbing against his prostate. The bench beneath him was slicker and smoother for the new deluge of precum being milked out of him. Albert increased his tempo and Gene's oral servicing became less in his control. He felt the cock enter his throat a few times on its own accord as he was assailed from behind and Ripley moaned in pleasure. Suddenly, Ripley pulled out and he was replaced by another, thankfully less girthy cock. It was smooth and fairly straight. He imagined Sanders, but he wasn't sure. Maybe it was Nev.

Albert kept hammering though. It was a lot to take. Gene was sweating and he could feel his head grow dizzy as Albert kept hitting home. With a sudden scream and busting pleasure, Gene felt his body wracking in spasms and the warm puddle under him wash warm and sticky. He had cum. As his tight asshole spasmed, squeezing the hard cock within its depths, he felt its friction eased. Albert's steady frantic pounding had stopped and was replaced by instinctive deep arrhythmic thrusts. There was a dawning revelation.

Albert had just fucked a load into him. Gene felt Albert withdraw smoothly, the helmet pulling out some of his own warm seed, which dribbled down his scrotum. He definitely got bred. Whistling and catcalling congratulated the spectacle as a second man traded places with Albert. Gene couldn't identify him, although he seemed to take a great maddening pleasure in slowly and deliberately using his cock to guide the escaping ejaculate back to Gene's hole before plunging in.

Gene was sensetive after busting his own load, so it felt like torture. He felt the head of the cock butting against his bruised and tired prostate and tugging on the sore walls of his chute. He held his eyes closed tight behind the blind fold, screaming out grunts through his nose, with his mouth full of dick. The guy in Gene's mouth was rabbit-fucking his skull in shallow thrusts as he held it still. Gene's lack of control made him feel at once excited and a sort of relaxation. He was in a good head space, ultimately. He spat out the cock.

"Roll me over," he implored.

Whoever was in him pulled out and he felt himself guided onto his back. He stomach was now chilly from the cooling mess he made. He arm raised over his head and he felt the restraints pull snug as the strap twisted on the bench. Once he was resituated, the cocks returned. The ass-fucker held Gene's legs on his shoulders as he pounded. The face fucker was off to the side, most likely squatting, so he could ravage Gene's mouth. He felt one of his hands filled with dick, so he obliged to stroke it. All the while the chorus of moans and egging-on continued...

Two long, sweaty hours passed. Gene swallowed at least six loads and had his ass filled about as many times. A few errant loads coated his face and body. The blindfold was pilled from his eyes and a camera was pointed into his red, swollen face.

"Say 'I'm Eugene Marshall and I'm a cumdumpster.'"

Gene was surrounded by a forest of legs and limp dicks dripping cum and lube.

"I'm Eugene Marshall and I'm a cumdumpster," he gasped out. Another cheer went up before the camera was pulled from his face and the guys started hugging him and patting him on his back. The guys had their disguises removed.

"You fucking took it like a champ, man!" Sanders seemed to be genuinely impressed. Gene managed a smile as some orange juice was pushed into his hands as a thick, fluffy towel was draped on him. Ripley sat beside him and draped a heavy, reassuring arm over his shoulders.

"Doing good, big guy?"

"Yeah, man. Can't believe that just happened. I still feel a little worn," Gene croaked out. "Anyone got some Advil?"

"Gotcha, dude." Kane came up with a small medical kit. He pulled out some pills and popped two tablets into Gene's hand. "You hurt anywhere from the ropes?"

"Nah. They weren't too tight and that type is made to be gentle."

Nev came up in his underwear, with a towel of his own draped over his shoulder. "The showers work, when you're ready. I'm gonna get dressed and meet Shelly out front."

Gene nodded.

Several days later, Gene's phone went off. It was a text from Nev.

"Video's done being edited. You'll get the final cut during your bachelor party next week. Ripley's providing the entertainment."

"Cool, man."

"You okay? Need to talk about last time?"

"I'm good. Taking the day off really helped. I have a dentist appointment tomorrow morning, but I'll be coming in after lunch."

"Sounds good."

"Hey. Thanks for checking up."

"No prob, dude."

Gene put down his phone and leaned back in bed, closed his eyes and smiled.