Toga-clad, Tugged, and Tossed - Ch. 01

Eric Fyord had been a track athlete in high school, and he had continued the sport during his freshman and sophomore years in college. His upperclassman years, though, he was a little too busy with his business degree internships, projects, and fraternity work to pole vault and toss discus. He still kept a rigorous gym routine and jogged in the park, and that coupled with protein heavy diet allowed him to a sculpt a toned body that would be fit for an underwear model.

His thick blond hair and vibrant blue eyes were also befitting a striking model, too, and he consistently seduced coeds with bouncy breasts, spank-worthy asses, and plump lips--all the better to wrap around his tool. He ended his high school years a virgin, but the summer of his senior year, he had several romps with girl on a different school's track team. He was actually pretty infatuated with her at the time and had thought of her as a long term girlfriend (maybe even 'wife' one day?), but she put that idea down towards the end of the summer when she laughed off his tentative words about seeing each other when they both went off to their respective universities. She was heading off for a pre-med/biomed engineering program, and she said that he was too stupid to be a boyfriend. He was certainly bruised by that, and maybe that was part of why he had become such a Lothario in his college days, spurting cum down freshman girls' throats, on sophomore girls' asses, and across junior ladies' tits.

Tonight, he had his 6 foot model bod at The Fox Den, one of the sleazier bars with a wide dance floor and solid Djs, and tonight was the Friday before Halloween. That meant a costume dance party, and that meant every college gal--and some tasty milfs--were slutting it up in miniskirts like wet dream Catholic schoolgirls in league with the Devil and skin-tight leotards pretending to be Samus or some character from Overwatch. Eric loved it. It was his favorite season for hook-ups. He got to pretend to be some demon or hero, and he got to strip down slutty witches and princesses and feel like he was truly deflowering them while licking their soaked clits and plowing them doggy style in a dorm under T Swizzle posters.

Sidling up to a table projecting out from the bar with a vodka soda in hand, Eric caught his reflection in the mirror: a set of spray-painted laurels wrapped his tossled and sweaty hair. A toga draped over one shoulder with the other bare. The muscles of his shoulder and one pec stuck out. He had tanned a little the previous weeks and made sure to hit his chest group hard at the gym since he knew that 'sexy Greek' was going to be the costume this year. Strappy sandals wrapped around his calves, and his legs were bare--scandalously bare--all the way up past mid thigh. The bottom of his toga was scarcely longer than some of the slut's miniskirts and eye-catchingly draped over his pert butt, the product of hours and hours and years of squats and stairs. He grinned at his reflection behind the bar and winked. Oh yeah, he was gonna fuck tonight. (Indeed, he was but not exactly how he thought...)

Dancing had been fun. He had caught the eye of a couple women out there on the floor, did some grinding, even did something of a salsa to a Shakira tune with a witch wearing a tantalizing garter and a distracting cleavage through her open robe. After grabbing his drink, he had lost sight of her pointed hat, unfortunately. She seemed fun, and his head had been swimming with images of her dark lipstick painting rings around his cock and planting black kisses on his balls. His cock twitched at the thought; it had been at least a week since he had an orgasm. Eric didn't really jack off all that much, not when he could find some willing slot to pump into or at the very least give him a handjob in the library.

He scratched under the belt around his waist and flexed his knees. Looking down, he could see the white toga had become somewhat see-through in several places from his own sweat and likely many others from the close dancing. That included the toga draping over his hip, and even as the lights went a little dimmer as the clock hit 11pm, he could see the tiny straplike side of his special underwear he had worn with the costume. The scandalously skimpy bikini brief let his equipment sort of dangle with a bit of gentle cupping to give his some bulge under the toga. Definitely a good choice, he thought, over the trunks he had been considering. Those were more conventional, but they wouldn't have given him the sort of free-swinging (and free-feeling) bounce he wanted to tempt the women tonight. The coeds on the dance floor seemed to have appreciated it.

Now, now, who is this to his left? Eric prowled a hungry eye up and down her form: wavy auburn hair, thick eyelashes, bright pink lipstick, a decent little rack, and long legs with a pert--if small--butt. Oh, he recognized that butt; this was Delilah Jenson who was a dance major with a business minor. They shared some classes over the years--and had made out a couple times but been stopped short of going further at some frat parties. He also knew that that rack was the product of a pushup bra and some padding. He enjoyed tweaking her nipples when they had made out, and he predicted he could suck her entire tit into his mouth to tongue and to bite, but he suspected he would find trying to tittyfuck her an exercise in frustration.

They met each other's eyes, and Eric winked.

"Eric!" She squealed. "Eric, look at you! I ought to call you 'Perseus.' How many times have you been hit on tonight? And how many of them were guy dance majors?" She laughed and took a long pull on the tall beer she was guarding.

"Oh just a few," Eric said, "And none."

"Yet."

"Yet," Eric laughed. He hadn't really had any of the sort of exploratory encounters that college was (in)famous for. Sure, he had been propositioned, and he had felt eyes on him in the locker room at the gym over the years. And sure, he had given some thought to it, too. He kept hearing that guys always gave great head since they knew the equipment they were working with, but the opportunity and his willingness never aligned. And besides, he liked women. He liked grabbing and massaging their breasts, thrusting his tongue into their yielding mouths, and frisking their wet slots to feel them clench and thrash with climaxes.

Delilah had started talking to someone around the corner of the table, and Eric glanced to his right as someone new squeezed into the foot of space between himself and the next guy along the table front. She was dressed like a princess, yellows and blues with lots of lace and some bows. A pair of fairly sizeable breasts swayed under the silky fabric. Her ass wasn't as perky as Delilah's, and she was fairly short and boxy. The shortness could be fun, pushing her down on her knees or hauling her up on his shoulders to savage her muff, but that sort of boxiness she had...Eric decided she was a solid 4 with hopefully a fun personality or a really horny libido. His eyes drifted up from her legs to that tempting hidden pair on her chest--ok, maybe a 5.5 or a 6 if he was drunk and could mostly play around with those breasts or have a titjob.

His eyes flicked up to her face, and he realized he may have been caught as she was smiling up at him. Oh lord, this was Meghan Smith from his math classes. She was a mousy thing who normally wore thick rimmed glasses. Tonight she was dolled up and wearing contacts, it seemed. Eric hadn't considered her as a potential conquest before since those tits usually were covered in a hoodie and not under a princess dress. If it came to it, he thought, I could enjoy tearing off a lacy bra from that chest.

"Eric, right?" she asked. Wait, Eric wrinkled his brow, did she not know him? Once he was a sophomore, it seemed like everyone--guys and girls--knew him. Or, at least the folks he had spent any time around. Sure, Eric acknowledged, he was a bit brash and audacious, but he was charming, too.

"Yeah," Eric smirked. He'd toss this back at her. "Business Calc 2, right?" He pointed in the direction of the math department's building, a mile away. "Professor Bern?" Meghan giggled into her drink, something pink with an umbrella. Eric saw her eyes glint in the flashing lights of the dance floor.

"Old Bernie, yes. You kept asking the TA about Marginal Profit differential equations." Eric grit his teeth a bit. That old bit...too stupid... Maybe Meghan caught his irritation since she continued. "Bernie didn't give good notes on it, and it still doesn't make sense to me." She smiled while Eric nodded and drank more. It was a cute little smile, and it was a cute smile that could use a cock laid against it, Eric decided.

Just then, someone behind Meghan jostled around, and the guy dressed as Frankenstein's monster stumbled sideways and knocked Meghan into Eric. "Oh," she squeaked and Eric reached his free hand out to support her. She managed to keep her cup upright--mostly--but some of her opaque fruity drink splashed onto Eric's chest. It dribbled down his pec and around his nipple. Meghan's other hand had fallen conveniently about Eric's hip, right at the drape of the toga, and cupped the near curve of his ass cheek.

Eric's hand, meanwhile, was supporting Meghan by one of her sizable tits, and as Eric flexed his fingers on the pleasing plump flesh in his hand, he felt what he quickly recognized as the nub of a nipple harden just between his thumb and finger under the thin silky fabric. He instinctively pinched his finger and thumb together and rolled Meghan's nipple. He heard his vodka soda fizz with new vigor as he steadied it in his hand against the tabletop. Probably from the sudden movement, Eric decided, but before he could look to check that he hadn't splashed Delilah to his side, a gasp from Meghan made him smile and look down at her against his side. He was anticipating that his pinching of her nipple was drawing that gasp. She had pulled back and was looking at his chest and the fruity liquid running down his side, and she was tugging at the low end of the toga at his hip.

"It will stain," she worried and found a spot on the table top for her cup. Then, she swung her hand from the table to Eric's waist, her hand and palm sweeping across the tiny skirt covering his crotch and brushing against his member. She pulled at the part of the toga laying across his abs, pulling it away from his skin and the splash damage. "Is there a napkin?" Eric glanced around. Even on a night that wasn't packed and bouncing, you would be hard-pressed to find a napkin in this place. He shook his head and took another drink.

"No, but it's alright. I'll dye it red or something. Or toss it out." Meghan played a look of horror on her face.

"No way, Theseus. This is too nice." She yanked a little harder on the toga, down and out, and Eric coughed. If she yanked any harder, the toga was likely to come apart under the belt and become truly scandalous. From the feel of air and her fingers against his skin, he could tell at least at his hip Meghan was baring him down to his briefs. Then he felt the electric touch of something hot and wet drag up against his obliques. She was licking him!

"What are you doing?" Eric coughed. He set down his drink and grabbed at his belt to keep the toga together. Meghan looked up at him and shrugged.

"No napkin, so next best thing." She went back to lapping at the fruity drink remnants. Eric's skin tingled where it had flowed and her tongue had cleaned. She leaned over and licked the tiny bit that pooled in his belly button, and Eric tensed as he felt her thumb pull the belt down. He couldn't see it, but he could swear that he could feel her fingers curl into the skirt of the toga and press up into his balls. Maybe it was the long time since his last sexual foray, maybe the electric sexuality of the dancing earlier, maybe the bit of vodka in his belly, or maybe the tongue tracing over his skin, but Eric felt himself swelling up and the pouch of his briefs filling out. If those were indeed Meghan's fingers he thought he felt barely touch his balls, she would likely feel him hardening centimeters from her palm and hot tongue.

Eric swallowed and squinted to see what she was doing in the quick flash of a dance light playing over them. She was finishing up at his side, cleaning the dribbles of drink that had slipped down past waist. As she licked up the last bit, she pulled back and surveyed her work, using both hands to pull the toga away from his hip. "A little salty," she said, acknowledging the result of Eric dancing in the tight company of the club, "but--oh!" When she had pulled the toga away, the scant side of Eric's briefs became clearly visible, and she was looking wide-eyed right at it, a finger right across the soft cottony fabric. "Eric, you slut!" She curled a finger under the strappy side, pulled the stretchy garment away from Eric, and let it snap back onto him. "Are you going to give us a show tonight?" She smirked up at Eric's blushing face. Even his chest was turning red. Eric gently brushed Meghan's hands away and attempted to put the fabric of the toga back in place, tucking and untucking folds around the belt and adjusting his underwear with the swollen, somewhat stiff member making the front of his toga skirt project forward a bit more noticeably.

"Wasn't planning to," he croaked. What was wrong with him? Where was his confidence? He actually felt embarrassed by her exposing him and noticing. And yet, there was some tingling charge that went up and down his spine and kept that member of his swollen and his mind filled with the image of Meghan playing his organ. She punched his arm.

"You wouldn't wear that unless you knew someone would get to see," she teased. She reached to the table and boldly took a sip of his drink and pushed hers to him. "Bleh, bitter. What is in this? Here, taste mine." Eric shrugged and took a large swallow of Meghan's drink. Maybe she'd buy him a drink for the trouble of molesting him and nearly ruining his costume. It wasn't bad, Eric considered. Strawberries with some sort of liquor beneath it. It must have been strong as it made his tongue tingle. Meghan was talking now to someone else who had come up for some water. Eric shook his head and rolled through some affirmations to jump start his tough guy ego again.

'You're beast mode,' he said to himself again and again. He looked back to his left. Delilah winked at him while chatting to a sorority girl around the corner of the table. Eric had seen them on the main quad and laughing at the coffee shop by the bookstore. So, they are chummy, he thought. Maybe he could negotiate a three-way? That was definitely on his bucketlist for college.

Past them, in a darker spot of the dance floor that the lights didn't sweep as often, Eric could see a gaggle of awkward men. A rare flit of blue light went across their faces, and Eric realized he recognized them as engineering students. He knew them from their academic frat and from asking for help at the math lab. Mostly Indian, Southeast Asian, the Far-east Asian crew seemed to favor another bar. He watched the boldest of them approach a knockout gal and strike out, but then he was able to cajole a slightly lesser prize to come out on the dance floor. 'Good on him, man,' Eric thought. 'If he can do it, I should be the cockiest motherfucker here.' He smirked and chewed on a piece of ice from his drink. Meghan was still chatting with her friend and had a new drink in her hand, so Eric winked at her and tilted her abandoned drink for a quick clink and took a big swallow.

A new set started out on the floor, and a throbbing bass rocked through the crowd. Eric could swear he could see the rhythm reflected in the ripples across the surface of the drinks. His eyes lifted from the cups and glasses around the tabletop to survey the others around him for any enticing targets for his rekindled boldness. On the other side of the table, the cute witch from before was making out with someone--oh damn, a slutty ninja! Eric lifted his eyebrows in appreciation, and a tingle went to his already primed groin. The witch cupped the ninja's ass and then let the cheek drop within the tight lycra. Eric caught some other guys like the Frankenstein past Meghan ogling the sapphic display, and he could swear it felt like those girls were right in front of him and tickling his balls. He swallowed and felt a little lightheaded while the tingle below made his heart rate climb.

With a quick glance below, he was glad the table's edge was high, past his waist, and that the club was at its darkest. In his white toga with its tiny skirt, it would be pretty clear he was aroused, even contained in the tiny briefs. He smirked and flexed his cock, which was pushing out the pouch and stretching the thin cotton obscenely, and he chewed his lip while the ninja and witch swapped spit. He knew he was a guy who leaked a fair bit when he was aroused. His conquests often said that they enjoyed the taste of his precum, and he enjoyed flexing the muscles inside to give them their tasty treat. There was definitely precum seeping into his underwear, and he hoped that it wouldn't be so much that it would start to soak into the toga skirt, too. Damn, he thought, need to find something to throw this dick at soon before I bust, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Wait...the tickle changed. Eric turned himself a little, angling towards Delilah, and after a moment the tingle returned but in a slightly different spot. Holy shit, this wasn't him being crazy horny; this was someone fondling him under the table! Looking to his left, Eric saw Delilah glance over from the gal she was still talking to and wink. He and her were side by side, and Eric could only see one of her hands. Her right arm next to him was under the edge of the table. Was she really going for this? Was she that hot for his dick from their make-out sessions?

Eric smiled at the thought and winked at her before she returned her attention to the sorority sister and their conversation. She was a bubbly personality when he had been around her before, but he had been the one to make the first move when they had made-out, and he had been the one to reach around under her shirt and slip under her bra to massage her cute little breasts. She yielded and didn't tell him 'no', but she didn't seem like one to grope him at a bar unprompted. Cheers to her newfound boldness, he thought, with another swig. Her delicate touch was truly a pleasure to his junk, and he rocked his hips forward, allowing easier access for her questing fingers.

Mostly so far, she had been tracing the tips of her fingers in circles on his sack, causing his cock to twitch when the tickle hit a high note. Now, she started stroking her fingertips along his hard shaft, the fingertips alternating between swirls and back-and-forth strokes. Both felt electric, and Eric's head was swimming. Mostly, Delilah kept to teasing his shaft and swiping along his nutsack periodically, but Eric was floored to feel her scratch a finger nail across the tip of his glans. The soaked cotton transferred the friction directly into the so sensitive tip of his cock, and Eric shuddered. He had to set his glass down while Delilah started torturing his member with rapid tickles of his glans. It was both excruciating and intoxicating, like a double shot of tequila right down his throat. He was ravenously horny now. He wanted to tear apart Delilah's costume and tongue-fuck her before picking her up and jackhammering her with that same tool she was wickedly teasing.

He turned his head to the left--Delilah was gone! He could see her and some of her friends out nearby on the dance floor. Oh god, that meant it was Meghan, wasn't it? That would make sense. She probably even dumped her drink on him on purpose to lick his abs. Typical of the mid-tier girls, horny and devious in equal measure and very willing to trick the best looking guys into being horny werewolves and drilling them out of desperation. He had to hand it to Meghan; he never would have pegged her, either, as this sort of exhibitionist dominant type. He turned to look at her, and all the while, Meghan(!) cupped his balls, gripped his steely shaft, and tweaked his cockhead in rapid succession. She was certainly expert in handling a cock and balls. Maybe she was not so mousy after all? Maybe the calm facade hid a little nympho? She certainly didn't let slide any indication she was vigorously torturing him sexually under the table.