Sex in the Sky

Nathan Morris stretched in a useless effort to loosen his knotted back muscles. Hours of examining patients and filling out the mountains of paperwork mandatory to a fledgling medical practice had taken their toll. His partner in the practice, Amy Vaughn, did more than her share, but after watching her work three fourteen hour days in a row, Nathan finally insisted she take a couple of days off. He kidded her about her husband, Mike, forgetting what she looked like. In reality, though, he envied her the security of home and family. The closest he had come to marriage was seven years ago, during his last year of college just before medical school. His first mistake had been falling for a guy who wasn”t strong enough to stand up to his parents about what clothes to wear, much less about his sexuality. His second mistake had been believing that his love would be enough to convince Rick to leave it all behind, if necessary, so the two of them could have a life together. All it took was the threat of loosing his hefty trust fund to send Rick crawling home to mommy and daddy.

Nathan shook himself out of the past and glanced at the clock. It was well after six and already dark. Autumn in Reed, Illinois was going to take some getting used to. Having been raised in the south, Nathan was still adjusting to the cooler temperatures and shorter days, but anything was better than the long hours spent watching premature infants fight to rid themselves of the addictions to crack and heroin so generously passed on to them by their mothers. Three years of residency in Atlanta Northern Hospital”s Neonatal Intensive Care Unit had been almost more than Nate could take. When the opportunity to open a practice in Reed came up, he didn”t even have to stop and think about it. The fact that Amy, his best friend since the third grade, had decided to move up here with him was just a bonus, as was Reed”s reputation for being a “gay friendly” town. Since Nathan had only been in Reed a grand total of three months, he had yet to test that theory. The only people he saw on a regular basis were his patients, and he hardly thought “Hi, I”m Dr. Morris and I have a preference for penises” an appropriate way to start a conversation.

Nathan gathered up the last of the day”s paperwork and headed toward the front of the converted Victorian cottage that he and Amy used as offices. He winced at the thought of going home, but he had little choice. His apartment wasn”t exactly homey, but it was better than sleeping on one of the exam tables. He turned out all the lights and grabbed his keys. Before he went out the door, he set the alarm and punched his code into the keypad. Even though Reed was a small town, it was close enough to Chicago that someone might conceivably break-in hoping to find drugs or prescription pads. He fit his key into the deadbolt and was just about to turn it when he felt a blinding pain on the right side of his head.

“You”re a dead man, faggot. Best you go back where you came from.” The voice was little more than a harsh whisper, but to Nathan the words might as well have been screamed from the top of the Reed County Courthouse. From the corner of his eye, Nate saw his attacker raise whatever object he held, ready to strike again. Fighting waves of dizziness and nausea, and knowing he was too dazed by the blow to fight back, he used what strength he had left to open the still unlocked door and trip the alarm. The shrill beep caused his assailant to run just as Nathan fell to the ground. He was unconscious before he hit the porch.

* * *

His first thought when he woke up on one of his own exam tables was that he must have decided to sleep at the office, after all. His next thought was that he must have gotten drunk and picked up one hell of a hang over before he did so. He tried to move, but a set of soft yet strong hands stopped him.

“Oh no you don”t, buster. I have not spent the past twenty minutes trying to wake you just to see you get up too soon and black out again. As it is, I”m still deciding whether or not to pack you into an ambulance and send you to Chicago for an MRI.”

Nathan smiled in spite of himself. “I”m fine, Amy. You know my head is the hardest part of my body.” He gave her a mock leer. “Most of the time, anyway.”

Amy punched him playfully on the arm, her hazel eyes filling with relief. “If you can crack sex jokes, I know you”re alright. Now tell me what in the hell happened to you.” She swung her long brown hair over her shoulders and pursed her bow lips. Not for the first time did Nathan admire her beauty. She made quite a contrast to her husband Mike”s white-blonde hair and clear blue eyes.

“You know, I should have married you back in the fifth grade when you first proposed to me.”

Amy laughed at their old joke. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I don”t think I have anything you”d be interested in.”

Nathan shook his head, an act he regretted the minute the pain returned. “Yeah, well, I didn”t have anything Rick wanted either, so I guess you had something in common with him after all, huh?”

“If I wasn”t just sure you had a slight concussion, I would shake you for even saying that. All the women in Reed— and some of the men too— are talking about the sexy new doctor in town. Since I was here for two full months while you were still in Atlanta working off your contract with Atlanta Northern, I think it”s safe to say they aren”t talking about me. Since you”ve been here, every woman in town has come in for one thing or another. I”ve had six different patients ask about your marital status in the last week alone.” She leaned in closer. “Rick Landon was an idiot. Hell, he probably still is for all I know. You were too good for him, Nate, and that”s the last time I”m going to say it.” She straightened and said, “Now tell me what happened.”

Nathan recalled everything he could, though most of it was fuzzy. Mike Vaughn came to stand by his wife just as Nathan got to the part where his attacker threatened him and called him a fag. Nathan watched as all the color drained from Amy”s face and Mike started shaking with rage.

Mike took Amy”s place at the head of the examining table. “You”re sure that”s what he said?”

“No doubt.”

Mike turned to his wife. “How soon can you find another pair of doctors to buy out your practice?”

Amy was right behind him. “Shouldn”t take long. This is a new practice, so most anyone could step in.”

Nathan sat up, grimacing as fresh waves of sickness washed over him. “Look, you two, we”re not selling out just because some bigot took a shot at me. Even if I was scared enough to leave, which I”m not, you don”t have to go, too. You just bought your first house, dammit.”

Amy started to speak, but Mike cut her off. “Do you always have to be so damn logical? There is no way in hell you”re leaving without us. Likewise, if you stay, we stay. You”re family, man. That”s the whole reason we all moved here from Atlanta together in the first place. If you want to stay, then we”ll just have to find the bastard who did this.”

Amy took her husband”s hand and reached out to Nathan with the other one. “He”s right, you know. We are a family. The sheriff is on his way, so let”s wait until we talk to him before we decide what to do. In the meantime, let me check your vitals and reflexes again.”

Mike went out into the lobby to wait for the cops while Amy examined Nate. As she worked, she talked about getting a call from the alarm company and coming to check it out, only to find him lying in a heap on the porch. Nathan could feel her fear and hated the jerk who hit him even more for scaring Amy. Still, he didn”t exactly relish having to talk to the sheriff. He had seen enough of police responses to gay-bashing to know that he was just as likely to get some homophobic prick who could care less whether or not the world had one less fag in it. He suppressed a groan as he heard a large engine pull into the parking lot. The cavalry had arrived.

Amy insisted Nate stay put, so he was forced to wait while Mike spoke to the sheriff. He couldn”t hear what they were saying, but Mike was clearly angry. The man was probably trying to deny that the whole incident even happened. When Amy finished her exam and opened the door to let the guy in, Nathan prepared himself for a sixty-year-old codger with a beer-gut and a bald spot. The 6″3″ stud who walked in the door was not what he expected.

The man had the bluest eyes Nathan had ever seen. His hair was midnight black with not a hint of gray, the perfect foil for his left-over summer tan. Even through his kaki uniform shirt and tight jeans, Nathan could tell the man was built.

He stuck out a calloused hand, first to Amy, then to Nathan. “Sorry it took me so long to get here, folks. I was out on another call when my dispatcher told me what happened. I”m Sheriff Brandon Nash.” His voice was rich and smooth. Nathan wanted him to keep talking just so he could hear it again. His next words made Nathan want to scream for him to shut-up.

“Your friend out there tells me you think you were the target of a gay-bashing, Dr. Morris. I have to tell you, I find that hard to believe.”

Anger coursed through Nathan”s blood, driving away all thoughts of pain. He moved to the side so that the swelling of his face and jaw was visible under the harsh fluorescent lights of the exam room. “Does it look like I did this to myself, Sheriff Nash?”

Nash didn”t flinch. “No, sir. There”s no question that you were attacked. I just wonder if maybe you were mistaken about the motive. This town is pretty tolerant towards gays and lesbians.”

“The man who jumped me called me a faggot and told me I was dead if I didn”t leave town. Doesn”t exactly sound like the Reed County Welcoming Wagon, now does it?”

The sheriff”s handsome face never changed expression. “No sir, it doesn”t. All I”m saying is, could it be possible that someone would want this to look like a gay-bashing? Do you have any enemies?”

Amy and Mike, who had been listening from the open doorway of the exam room, rushed to defend Nathan”s character, but Brandon Nash”s blue eyes never left Nate”s face. It was almost like he was searching for something. Nathan found himself growing uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He decided to relieve the tension by lashing out.

“To answer your question, I don”t have any enemies that I know of, other than my parents, who hate me because I”m gay, and my brother who avoids me because he”s afraid my queerness might be contagious. None of them would touch me, though. They”d be too afraid they might catch something from the “unclean homo”. I think you”re overlooking the obvious. Maybe the good people of Reed don”t want a faggot for a doctor. Did you ever think about that?”

For the first time since the interview started, Nash”s eyes flashed with irritation. He put his notebook down on a nearby counter and looked Nathan straight in the face. Since Nate was still seated on the exam table, they were about level, even though Brandon was a good four inches taller standing up. He edged closer to the table until they were almost nose to nose. Nate could feel Brandon”s breath on his face, could smell peppermint, coffee, and some kind of aftershave that made him want to nuzzle his face in the man”s neck. To his horror, he felt himself getting hard. He could only hope the sheriff didn”t notice. He needn”t have worried; Nash”s eyes never broke contact with his own.

“No, it never occurred to me that the people of Reed might not want a “faggot” for a doctor. After all, they elected one sheriff.”

The room fell into total silence. Amy and Mike may have been speechless, but Nathan was absolutely stunned. Nash was the only one who seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Now that we have established that I am probably the last person in the world to ignore a gay-bashing, let”s get on with this so I can file a report.”

Nathan answered the sheriff”s questions, all the while wondering about the man asking them. He was sexy enough to make even a straight guy look twice, but that wasn”t what drew Nathan to him. Brandon Nash had some quality that made Nate want to get to know him, to find out what he liked, what made him feel good. God, he wanted to get that man into his bed. For a guy who hadn”t had sex with anyone other than his right hand, the feelings of lust that hit him came as quite a shock. It was probably all just wishful thinking, anyway. A man who looked like that was certain to have a boyfriend, maybe even a life-partner. He was so lost in thought, he didn”t hear Nash”s last question.

“I”m sorry. What did you say?”

For the first time since the interview started, Nash gave him a genuine smile. “I said, are you sure we shouldn”t take you over to the hospital to have you checked out? Chicago”s only about a thirty minute drive from here.”

Nathan was about to decline when Amy spoke up. “I think you should go to the hospital. I”ll feel a lot better if you do. My exam was pretty thorough, but I still think you should have an MRI.”

Mike nodded. “I agree with Amy, dude. I”ll drive you.”

Mike reached for his keys, but Sheriff Nash stopped him. “My shift ended about half-an-hour ago. I can take him and get the doctor to sign a report on his injuries.”

Nathan felt himself loosing control of the situation. He hated it when people talked about him like he wasn”t even in the room. As desperately as he wanted to get to know Brandon, he wasn”t ready to spend an hour alone with him, especially when he was half-addled from a blow to the head.

“Amy already checked me out. She can fill out your report.”

Nathan”s stomach turned over as Amy started shaking her head. “No. I really think you should have an MRI. I can write the orders and you can take them with you.”

Nathan”s jaw hardened. “Fine, then. Mike can drive me.”

He turned around just in time to see Amy nudge Mike in the ribs. “Honey, don”t you remember that proposal you have to have ready for your client tomorrow?”

“Huh?” Another nudge to the ribs, this one harder. “Oh, you mean the proposal I was working on when the alarm company called.” He gave Nash an apologetic grin. “I”ve been offered a junior partnership at a firm in Chicago. Not a bad commute, and the pay is damn good for a guy who just passed the bar a year ago. Of course, if I don”t turn in my work on time. . .”

Brandon nodded. “Wouldn”t want that to happen. I”ll take Dr. Morris to the hospital. Don”t worry about it.” He gave Nate an apologetic smile. “Afraid you”ll have to ride in the “sheriff-mobile”. My car”s off having some detail work done.”

Before Nathan could protest any further, he found himself being hustled into a state-issue SUV with the sexiest man he”d seen in a long time. Not even a head injury could stop the feelings of longing when they hit.

* * *

Brandon hated evening calls. Reed was small enough that his deputy, Sam, and he could usually handle all the calls themselves without having to pull the junior deputies off their regular shifts. Unfortunately, no one told that to the eighteen wheeler that jackknifed off of Interstate Twelve just three miles outside of town. No one was hurt, thank God, but the truck had been carrying live poultry to the processing plant two towns over. Nothing like trying to dodge traffic and catch ninety angry chickens at the same time to set the tone for the night. Sam managed to stop traffic and enlist a handful of volunteers to help with the round-up, but the whole scene looked like a sketch from Saturday Night live. After being pecked for the fifth time by creatures he only wanted to see fried with gravy, Brandon had been grateful to field another call. He could still see Sam”s face when he told him he had to leave. After twenty-five years as friends and a hellish six months at the F.B.I. academy together, he knew Sam well enough to know his buddy would get even at the earliest opportunity. He only hoped the poor guy didn”t get mites from all those feathers.

Brandon stole a glance at the man slumped in the seat next to him. He had heard tales of how good looking the new doctor was, but the bits of gossip he”d heard didn”t do the guy justice. He was shorter than Brandon, maybe five-eleven, but his body was well sculpted and muscled. His chocolate eyes were red-rimmed, but still beautiful, as was his fine-featured face. His hair was dark blonde and spiky, a look which suited him. Brandon felt a familiar pull in his groin just thinking about the sexy doctor.

He never would have figured Nathan Morris as gay. Certainly the female population of Reed didn”t know he was. Of course, Brandon didn”t exactly fit the gay stereotype, either. Then again, none of the gay men he knew did. There wasn”t an effeminate one in the bunch.

The ride to Chicago was silent, but Brandon figured his passenger was in too much pain to talk, if the grimaces and grunts he was making were any indication. He wondered what the good doctor would sound like in bed. He forced himself to stop thinking about it when the bulge in his jeans started to rise.

He pulled the SUV into one of the spaces marked for police vehicles and cut the engine. He got out and was around to open Nathan”s door before he could get out by himself. Brandon took Nate”s elbow and helped him to the ground.

Nathan”s voice, low and rough, made Brandon want to jump him right there in the parking lot. “Thanks, Sheriff, but I can go in by myself.”

“Call me Brandon.”

“O.K., Brandon. I can do this by myself. I did my residency in a hospital a lot like this one. I know the drill and most of it is hurry up and wait.”

Brandon smiled and started walking him towards the emergency entrance, locking the doors of the SUV with the remote on his keys. “Normally, I would agree with you, but I just happen to know someone who works here. He actually owes me a favor, so I think he”ll be able to get us in and out of here a little bit faster.” While he was talking, he led Nathan past the emergency wing to a row of elevators inside the hospital proper.

“Where are we going?”

“Relax, Doc. We”re going up to the third floor to neurology. The guy I told you about has an office up there.”

Brandon pushed the button for the elevators. The one closest to them opened, allowing a woman and four half-grown children to get off. One of the larger boys bumped into Nathan, nearly knocking him off his feet in his already addled state. Brandon caught him to his chest, trying to ignore the arcs of electricity that went through his skin when he wrapped his arms around Nathan and pulled him to his chest. Both the woman and the boy apologized, but Brandon”s only focus was the man he held in his arms.

“Doc, are you O.K., man?”

“Nathan.”

“Huh?”

“My name is Nathan, or Nate. I figure if you”re going to hold me in your arms like we”re about to do the tango, the least you can do is call me by my name.”

Brandon pulled back to see the grin on Nathan”s face, the first smile he”d since the moment he walked into the doctor”s office. “If you”re joking around, you must be O.K.”

“That”s what Amy says. Do you want to let me go now?”

Brandon pulled him close again. “Do you really want me too?”

“Considering we”re in the middle of a hospital lobby waiting on an elevator and being watched by dozens of people, yeah. Thanks for catching me, though.” He lowered his voice and cast his eyes down a bit. “It felt kind of nice to be held again.”

Not certain how to respond, Brandon let him go, immediately missing the warm heat from his body. He stayed close enough to catch him again, if necessary, as they boarded the elevator. Other people crowded in, making conversation difficult. The silent ride gave Brandon a chance to tamp down some of the lust he was feeling.

The third floor of Chicago General wasn”t as crowded as the lobby, so Brandon was able to lead him through the hall at a fair clip. When Nathan stumbled, he immediately apologized.

I looked at my calendar, and chose an evening. I typed my reply: How about Saturday the fourteenth which is like ten days from now. Is that good for everybody? Like around eight p.m. Get back to me. Tibi.

I clicked send. I shut off my computer. I pulled up my shorts and then my pants. I went to wash my hands. I was just drying them when I heard Priscilla come in the front door. My beautiful Priscilla. Did I have a surprise for her.

I withdrew the money from my savings account in One Hundred Dollar bills. Six Thousand Dollars. Well, it would be worth it. I was still waiting for a reply. Were we going to do it on the fourteenth? I kept running to my computer and checking my e-mail waiting for an answer. Dorabella. Dorabella. Dorabella. It seemed like ten times a night I was running upstairs to type Dorabella-to see if it was on or not. Then it came. What I had been waiting for my whole life long.

From: roccococco473

To: Tibi

Subject:: Gangfuck

Message: All the guys are cool with it. We’ll be coming on our bikes. Hope that doesn’t bother you. 8 p.m. Saturday night the fourteenth the six of us gangfuck Priscilla while you sit in your armchair at the foot of the bed and pull on your peter. By the way. We need the address. Please send now. That will be confirmation of the deal.

I sent the address, which I had been withholding up until now.

I could barely look Priscilla in the eye now, knowing what I knew. I was in a terrible state of nervous anxiety, and often found myself babbling incoherently to myself. Priscilla was giving me these anxious looks. I think she thinks I’m going crazy. Maybe she’s right. I did tell her that I was having some friends from the office over for drinks on Saturday night the fourteenth and she was okay with that.

* * *

Something is going on with my husband. He has been acting so strangely for a long time now. We never have sex anymore. We barely talk anymore. He’s always in that stupid little room with his computer. And he goes out frequently late at night. Where does he go? Who does he see? I asked him if there was another woman. I came right out and asked. And he denied it. He said there was no other woman. Was he lying to me?

He is lying next to me right now. He didn’t go out late tonight. In fact he went up to bed early. He said he was very tired. He keeps tossing about in his sleep and mumbling things, which I can’t understand. If this keeps up all night, I’ll have to go downstairs and sleep on the pullout sofa.

“Dorabella….”

He said “Dorabella.”

“Dorabella. Dorabella. Dorabella.”

“So there is another woman. Her name is Dorabella” I will confront him in the morning.”

The next morning as he stepped out of his pajama bottoms and was reaching for his underwear, I stood in the bedroom doorway and just very casually asked.

“So who is Dorabella?”

His face went white and he dropped his shorts. He stood there naked from the waist down, his little cheating penis drooping.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I asked who is Dorabella?” I repeated.

“No one. I don’t know anyone name Dorabella.”

“Funny! You kept saying her name over and over again in your sleep.”

His face went white.

“I did?”

“Yes. So who is Dorabella?”

“I swear to you I don’t know anyone by that name. I am not cheating on you.”

He was such a liar.

“I swear,” he put his hand over his heart. “The only Dorabella I know of is in “Cosi Fan Tutte.”

“Cosi Fan what?”

“It’s an opera. A Mozart opera. I heard it on the car radio a few days ago, I guess it must have been on my mind.”

I didn’t buy that for one minute. I just nodded and didn’t say anything else. I let him finish getting dressed for work. Fortunately I didn’t have to be in early this morning, so I could just dawdle and take my time. Dorabella. Dorabella. A Mozart Opera? I didn’t think so.

If only I knew what was going on with him. I have never pried before. We never invade each other’s privacy, but I wanted to find out what was happening. He was always in that computer room. I had my own laptop which I used while I was lying in bed. I never touched his computer. I wondered if I could find anything out if I went into his computer.

I went into his crappy little room and switched it on. “Welcome,” it said in print.

“Thanks,” I answered. Where to start? Where to start?

I clicked onto his e-mail. A page came up. Please submit password with a little box and a blinking black line.

“Screw.” I didn’t know his password. I wanted to see his e-mails. Maybe they held some clue to the way he was behaving. Maybe he even had letters there from this Dorabella bimbo. I wanted to see what my competition was like. Who was Dorabella? Was she prettier than I? Smarter? Better in bed? Who was Dorabella? But I would never find out? Because I didn’t know his fucking password.

“Dorabella Dorabella Dorabella,” I kept repeating to myself, just as he had done last night in his sleep, and as I was saying her name, somehow automatically my fingers were typing it ‘Dorabella.’

Suddenly his e-mail opened up to me. My god. Dorabella was his fucking password. I wondered who else she was. I started looking through his saved letters.

They were all from the same person.

roccococco473 and they were to Tibi—so that was his user name.

And the subject line which was visible without opening each letter on many of them was ‘Gangfuck.’ And one even said ‘Gangfuck Priscilla’. I wanted to know more. I started reading the letters.

On Wednesday afternoon the eleventh at about 4 p.m., I drove to State Street and parked in the State Street Garage. I noticed a motorcycle chained to the parking meter in front of Corcoran’s Bar and Grill. Well. It must have been his. Roccococco473 had said he and his friends would be coming to my house on their motorcycles.

I entered and sat upon a high stool before the bar. The bartender turned to me with a smile and his face, and then his jaw dropped.

“What’ll you have?” he asked uncertainly.

“A little discussion,” I said.

“Discussion? About what?”

“I think you know very well about what,” I told him.

He nodded.

“I have very recently discovered that my husband has invited you and five of your buddies including one called ‘Finky’ who has more than most women can take, to come to my house this Saturday night, whereupon you will mix the drinks and pass them out, and I will get the one that has been drugged, whereupon you and your friends will carry me upstairs and fuck me in every orifice while my husband sits in an armchair at the foot of the bed and jacks himself off. Is that about right?” I asked.

“Yes.” He swallowed. I saw his Adam’s Apple move.

“And as compensation for this hard labor he is supposed to give you each One Thousand Dollars. Is that right?” I asked.

“Yep,” he said. He was one very confused man.

“Well. I have a counteroffer. Shall we discuss it?”

“What’s your counteroffer?”

“What I propose is this. You will all come to my house on your motorbikes at eight o’clock on Saturday Night as planned. But there will be one little change.”

“Okay,” he said. He was waiting to hear more.

“The one who gets the drugged drink will not be me. It will be my husband. The one who gets gangfucked by you and your compatriots will not be me. It will be my husband. For this, I am prepared to give you each Five Thousand Dollars. I have six thousand dollars in cash in my purse right now. If we have an agreement I will give you the six thousand cash right now, which you can distribute among you. And if you will give me a list of everyone’s name, I will have a check for another Four Thousand for each one of you to be delivered upon completion of your task.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You’re willing to go for Thirty Thou to have us gangfuck your husband?”

“I most certainly am. I realize the prospect of fucking my husband may not be as appealing to you as the prospect of fucking me, but do you think that you and your friends could fulfill my requirements?”

“Lady. It’s no big deal. We’ve all been in prison. Believe me. We won’t have any problem at all.”

“So do we have a deal?”

“Should we shake on it?”

“A simple ‘yes’ will do.”

He agreed and gave me the names of the other five bikers. I wrote out a check for each one of them for four thousand dollars right there at the bar.

“I will give you these checks on Saturday night,” I told him. “When it’s ‘Mission Accomplished’.”

* * *

It’s Saturday night and the guys should be over in about a half hour. I have the little liquor cart, which is on wheels, right in front of the television set in the living room, and the big silver bucket was filled with ice, which I had taken out of the freezer.

Priscilla has been unaccustomedly cheerful, the last few days. I can’t figure out why. She’s always giving me these funny little looks, and I can see her breaking into a big smile, which she always tries to hide. As for myself, I am a wreck. I don’t know what I have gone and done, but I know that after this night my life will never be the same. All this to fulfill my greatest fantasy.

We heard the loud roar of many motorcycles outside our house, pulling into our driveway and onto our lawn. They were here. They rang the bell. I answered the door.

I greeted them all one by one and shook their hands, and introduced each one of them to my beautiful wife, Priscilla, whom I’d been telling them about. There was one strange face. A small wiry, thin guy about five foot five, almost elfin. He was probably in his late twenties, and he had red cheeks, and a little upturned nose, and dancing, twinkling, blue eyes. His hair was kind of light brown. A little darker than blonde. I knew that this must be the famous ‘Finky’ with the humongous dick. I threw my arms around his shoulder, and pretended like we were good friends.

“Hey there, Finky. Good to see you, man.”

“You too buddy. Really good to see you,” he answered me and clapped me on the back. When I had everybody seated, Priscilla called me outside of the room for a moment.

“You know these men from the office? They don’t look like office types.” She asked me.

“Yes.” I said. We use this motorcycle delivery service. Rocco’s Motormessenger. The big dark guy I just introduced you to is Rocco. The other guys all work for him. A great bunch of guys, Pris. You’ll really like them. And I’ve been bragging about you so much to them, they wanted to meet you, and so I thought to myself, Hell, Why Not? And so I invited them here tonight. You don’t mind do you?”

“No. Not at all,” she said very cheerfully and we returned to the living room where I suggested I would pour drinks for everybody, but Rocco said “hell no. I’m a professional bartender. I’ll mix the drinks.”

“You’re a professional bartender? I thought you had a Messenger service, Rocco. Ted told me his office used your company. Rocco’s Motormessenger.”

“Yeah. That too,” he said. Rocco was really quick-witted.

The guys were all regaling us with stories of America and the open road, while Rocco mixed the drinks. Everyone had told him what they wanted, and he did the best he could with what I had on the little cart. Finally he handed me my drink and he handed Priscilla HER DRINK.

I took a sip. She took a sip. We continued chatting, and exchanging small talk but I was getting very sleepy. Maybe I needed another cold swallow to wake me up. This was my big night and I wanted to be wide awake in the armchair at the bottom of the bed to enjoy it all.

“Are you okay, Priscilla?” I asked. The drug didn’t seem to be taking effect yet.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I said, but I was really sleepy. So I took one more cold swallow to wake me up.

I feel so warm and comfortable, and something is happening in my body and I don’t know what it is, but it feels very soothing and pleasant and I feel like I am being held in someone’s arms and it is such a pleasant feeling.

I feel like I am waking up. Have I been asleep? What did I miss? I hope I didn’t miss anything. The guys were probably already fucking Priscilla and I was sleeping through everything after spending six thousand dollars.

But something was funny. It was like there was a weight on top of me. A heavy weight. And that pleasant feeling I had been feeling sort of unconsciously, I now realized I was still feeling, and it was something enormous stuck into my asshole and moving in and out.

“He’s coming out of it,” I heard someone say.

I heard a hot voice at my ear. The face of someone on top of me was breathing into my ear. “You like this big dick, baby? Tell Daddy how much you like this big dick.” I shook my head as much as I could, trying to clear my thoughts. I tried looking to the side and I could tell that it was pudgy Ernie who was on top of me, and that’s why it felt so heavy, and—–something else——he was fucking me. His cock was in my ass and he was fucking me. He was supposed to be fucking my wife, not me. What the hell?

“You got one sweet hot pussy, honey,” said Ernie. “I think he likes it, guys. I think he’s getting into it.”

I opened my mouth to say “No I’m not” and suddenly someone’s big dick was shoved down my throat. Fuck. Someone was fucking my throat and I was choking on dick.

“Fuck his ass. Fuck it good,” I heard someone say, and I knew that voice. It was my wife Priscilla. I tried to turn my head but I was pinned in position by the cock in my throat. I was able to edge myself off of it for just a single second, which allowed me to pivot my head to see my wife sitting comfortably in the armchair at the foot of the bed, watching the spectacle of six motorcycle toughs fucking her husband. And she seemed to be very pleased with the whole situation. What had happened? What had gone wrong? I was supposed to be in that chair and she was supposed to be—and the guy shoved the cock back down my throat. I was able to raise my eyes just enough to see that it was Rupert, and he wasn’t so dimwitted that he didn’t know that he was getting his cock sucked, and he seemed to like it a lot.

I felt Ernie really battering against my asscheeks now, and he was making all kinds of groaning noises like he was going to orgasm or something, and then I felt all this hot liquid shooting up into me. And it felt kind of nice. As his motions slowed, and he rested upon my back, I allowed my asshole to enjoy the fullness of his softening penis, and give it little loving squeezes.

“That was great, baby. That’s the best fuck I’ve had since I got off the cellblock.” He gave my ear an affectionate little bite.

“Now that he’s awake, I want him.” That was Rocco. He had waited his turn till I woke up. He wanted me to be aware of his presence the whole time. I felt Ernie lift off me toward the right side, and I heard the mattress creak with the shifting of weight as Rocco positioned himself between my spread thighs and eased his cock into my wet oozing asshole.

“Oh. This feels nice,” he said. “This feels like home. I wish my fucking wife had a cunt like this,” he said. “You like it, baby? You like having Daddy’s big dick up your asshole like this. Oh. This is so sweet. So sweet.”

“Fuck him,” screamed Priscilla. “I can see it. I can see your big shiny wet cock lifting out of his asshole and then slamming back in. Fuck his ass.”

“Tell me how much you like it, sweetheart,” Rocco whispered in my ear.

“I like it. Fuck me, Rocco. Let me feel your big dick up inside my hole. Yes.” I was able to get those few words out before Rupert grabbed my hair and slammed my mouth back around his dick. I kind of liked getting my throat fucked too, but it seemed like Rupert was never gonna finish. I wanted to see what it would be like for someone to come in my mouth, so I started really sucking on him hard. I ran my tongue all over his dick, and I let him press the head of his knob against the back of my throat, which was choking me, but I was managing it. And then I heard him start making these pathetic little sobs, and I felt his dick throbbing inside my mouth, and I felt his hot cum shooting out against the back of my throat and sliding down, and as I continued sucking on his diminishing member, I began to enjoy the flavor of his ejaculate.

Meanwhile my asshole was clutching Rocco’s rod, like it never wanted it to leave. It felt so damned good. And I really liked Rocco. From the very first time we met, I liked Rocco, and I was hoping I was making him feel as good as he was making me feel, and I used all the muscles inside my rectum to caress his rigid length.

“You want me to come inside your asshole, baby? You want Daddy’s hot load?”

“Yes,” I screamed, my mouth now free of cock. “I want Daddy’s hot load.”

“Give him what he wants,” yelled Priscilla from the foot of the bed. “Give him your hot load.” And with that encouragement, Rocco started sawing in and out like mad, and my ass accompanied every thrust and stab he made. I felt Rocco go into his short shoves, and I was glad I was able to give him my full attention as he sent his hot seed deep into my belly. This was so great. I realized this was even better than my original plan of watching them screwing Priscilla. They were screwing me, which was much more exciting. She was just a voyeur. I was getting all the attention.

“I want to have that sweet ass again soon, baby. Promise me. Promise Rocco.”

“I promise,” I promised as I sadly felt his length withdrawing from deep within me, and as he climbed off me I felt a slight chill on my back. I would either need a blanket or another body on top of me.

I was getting another body. It was Jesse. His colorful tattoo covered arms wrapped around my chest as he lay on my back and asscheeks, and his penis went into my well-fucked hole.

At the same time I felt another cock stabbing at my lips. I looked up and it was Igor. I opened my mouth for him, and it went in. It tasted exactly like vodka. Maybe moonshine vodka. Maybe his semen would intoxicate me.

“Take my dick, you fucking faggot,” said Jesse. I guess he liked making me feel inferior. But I didn’t feel inferior, I felt excited. I wanted him to keep talking dirty to me. This was really thrilling.

“What a hot tight little asshole this faggot has,” crooned Jesse, grinding himself into me, and I loved it. I wanted more. More. I decided to give him the best fuck he had ever had, even when he was in prison. He was moaning and groaning into my ear. I wished that I were facing him, so I could see all his beautiful inked colors as he was screwing my ass.

But I had to devote more attention to Igor who was stroking his dick into my mouth, so I started to really suck and tongue him and he started to moan and groan also. I was giving incredible pleasure to two men at once. I felt the two of them approaching their climax almost simultaneously. I had Jesse’s cream filling my bottom passage where it joined Ernie’s and Rocco’s. I had the cum of three men inside me. Wow! And that was only down there. I had already swallowed Rupert’s load, and I was at this moment getting Igor’s. You ask me how it tasted? Was it like an expensive cocktail? All I can say is that it only needed an olive.

I thought I was finished until I looked up and saw a tiny elfin face smiling at me. He was crawling over me. I twisted my head around to get a look at the fearsome Finky. Holy Hannah! I had never seen anything like that except maybe in a freak show. No wonder most women couldn’t take him. They couldn’t take him in their roomy cunts, and now he wanted to put it into my tiny assshole? No way! I would end up in the hospital. I tried to struggle but they all held me down.

“Come on, now,” said Rocco. “Finky’s gotta get his turn. Be a good little boy and don’t put up a fuss.”

When Rocco said that, I quieted down. I somehow knew that he wouldn’t let Finky hurt me, and that if it wouldn’t go in, he wouldn’t let Finky force it. But it started to go in and it continued to go in and it continued to go in, and yes it hurt a little, but if I turned a little, yes, that was a little better and it was going so high up me. If his dick had had a little camera on it, it could have been a colonoscopy, it was so deep.