Date: Fri, 27 Aug 2004 09:50:59 -0700 (PDT)
From: David Brooke <db89109@yahoo.com>
Subject: Shining Star - Chapter 4: Superbowl, and my new career

Shining Star
By David Brooke

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story containing explicit consensual and
non-consensual gay sex between adult men.  If you find this type of story
offensive, or viewing this material is illegal where you are, then do not
do so.

Chapter 4 - Superbowl and my new career

So, the fall and football season passed. The Rebels ended their season in
their usual collapse, and didn't make the lowliest bowl game. We all went
home for the holidays and semester break. My dad gave me the usual
inquisition about school, grades, my work with the team, and girlfriends. I
avoided lying by telling him there wasn't any "special girl" yet, I was
"getting it plenty, regularly". He seemed satisfied; although it was always
clear he was never completely satisfied with his only son.

It got weird when we came back from break in January. Colin refused to have
anything to do with me sexually, telling me he couldn't handle that "homo
shit" any more. He seemed to barely tolerate me as a roommate, and was
outright cold and hostile, especially when Brad wasn't around. He even
seemed to try to come between Brad and me, changing his schedule around,
coming home at different times. In the second week we were back he came
home early one night at what should have been only halfway through his
shift. Brad was in my room screwing the daylights out of me when we heard
Colin loudly banging cupboard doors around in the kitchen, making sure we
knew he was home. Brad quickly pulled out of me and got dressed, hanging
out by my door until he heard Colin go to his room, and quickly sneaked
back into his own room.

Brad's nocturnal visits to my room became more and more infrequent. I knew
something was up with Colin, but knew he would tell me when he was ready,
and hoped whatever was bothering him would go away. Superbowl rolled
around, and Colin announced he had planned a little get-together at the
condo to watch the game. He said he had invited a couple of his friends,
and wanted Brad & me to join them. He was a little funny about saying that
how since our place was small we didn't have enough room for us to invite
anyone else but his friends. Brad and I were just relived that he seemed in
a better mood and readily agreed, hoping whatever was going on with him was
blowing over. Game Day arrived and Colin and busily prepared the snacks and
things in the kitchen. He actually seemed in a good mood. Brad was at the
library finishing up a term paper, but assured us he would be home before
the snap of the ball. Colin made his special "swamp cooler punch" - a
mixture of fruit punches and juices and a generous amount of rum. His first
friend arrived - Joe, a tall, easy going black guy he knew from
Engineering. And then Mike, a stocky, red headed, freckle faced guy also
from Engineering. Colin said others would be dropping by later. Joe, Mike
and I gathered in the living room to enjoy the game. We all agreed that
Carolina didn't have a chance; we just hoped New England wouldn't roll over
them too badly and make a good game out of it. Colin came out of the
kitchen to join us, carrying glasses of punch for all of us.

"Down the hatch, little buddy!" he said as he handed me mine, surprising
the shit out of me by giving me a wink of the eye. I was so happy he seemed
to be over whatever had been bothering him. The phone rang, and Colin ran
to the kitchen to get it. "Brad's running late" he announced when he
returned. "He said he'll be here by halftime." He walked over and stood in
front of me. "Come on, little buddy, down the hatch!" as he picked up and
handed my half empty glass to me.

"Hey! I want to take it a little slow" I protested. "I don't want to be
blitzed by halftime!"

"Come on" he persisted. "Yours doesn't have hardly any rum in it; I know
you don't hold liquor very well." He seemed to being so especially nice to
me I relented, and down the remaining punch in one gulp. By the end of the
quarter it seemed like it was going to be a good game, both New England and
Carolina pretty evenly matched. And I had downed four of the swamp cooler
punches and was feeling a little dizzy. The room seemed to move around on
its on as I tried to focus. I looked over to see Colin whispering something
in Joe's ear, nodding towards me, and Joe smiling broadly. My first thought
was panic, that Colin was talking to Joe about my . . . curiosity. I
quickly reassured myself; that would be the last thing Colin would tell
someone about. Colin was being so nice, I wondered if he wanted to get
together after the game . . . .

A few minutes later the game broke for a commercial. I was feeling more and
more dizzy and lightheaded, and decided to go to the kitchen and get a
glass of Coke, and go to the bathroom and splash some water on my face. The
room swirled around me as I stood and I began to swoon. I felt a strong
pair of arms grip me firmly and hold me up.

"You OK, man?" I heard Joe ask me.

"Yeah, yeah," I assured him. "I'll be OK. Just hit me all at once. No more
of that punch, though, for now. I'm going to fix me some a glass of Coke."

"Let me help you, man" Joe said. He steered me toward the kitchen, his
strong hands on my shoulders guiding me. In the kitchen, he fixed me a
glass of coke. He handed it to me, and moved back behind me. I felt his
hands grip my waist as I raised the glass to my lips.  I felt his large
hands begin to massage my hips as I gulped down the Coke. "That's it, just
drink some nice cold Coke, you'll feel better, he assured me. I felt his
hands move lower to my butt, massaging and caressing my buns. No one had
ever massaged my butt before.  I began to feel warm, and good. "Feel
better?" he whispered in my ear.

I nodded. "Yeah, that's feels really good" I told him. "No one's ever
played with my butt before" I blurted out with a giggle.

"Colin tells me you really love a big dick in the ass" he whispered in my
ear.

I sprayed out some of the Coke from my mouth. "Ssssh!" I said with a
giggle, holding a finger in front of my mouth. "That's a secret!" I giggled
again in enjoyment as he continued to play with my butt.

"Your secret's safe with me, baby" he whispered in my ear. He moved his
hands back to my hips, and pressed his crotch against my ass. I could feel
raging hard-on pressing against the crack of my ass as he ground his crotch
into my ass.

"Is that a snake in your pants" I giggled, or are you just happy to see
me?"

"Yeah" he breathed in my ear. "It's a snake alright, a big, black
snake. And it's REAL happy to see you." I began to grind my ass back
against him, wiggling and rubbing my ass against that big hard black
snake. "Come one, baby, let's go to your room" he breathed lustfully in my
ear.

I was aware of his strong, large hands guiding me be my hips back to my
room, and him closing the door behind us. I was aware his being guided to
my bed and being pushed down on it. I was aware of hands pulling off my
clothes. The next thing I became aware of was Joe's voice coaching me.

"That's it, baby, work it, work it. That's it, you gotta work for it
baby. Work for it; you gotta milk it outta me if you want it baby. THAT'S
IT! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!"

I was on my hands and knees on my bed, impaling my ass on to Joe's long
black cock, slamming my ass back against his groin, driving the huge, rigid
pole as deep in my ass as I could, and craving more. I squeezed it as tight
as I could with my ass muscles as I pulled forward, caressing it, loving
it's fullness inside of me, and driving back to slam it back into as hard
as I could. Every nerve in my body seemed on fire, every sense on my being
focused on the long, fat shaft spearing my insides. And I loved it; I
craved it, wanted and needed more of it. I fucked myself harder and harder,
faster and faster onto it, spearing my insides, squeezing it, embracing it,
milking it desperately for the load of hot lava I craved to be inside of
me.

"That's it, that's it, baby!" Joe encouraged me. "You're going to get it,
keep milking it; you're going to get it . . .  Aaaagh! Gonna nut! Gonna
nut, baby!"

I squeeze my ass as tight as I could, gripping the long shaft, as I felt
the stubby head swell and the twitch, and then slammed back against it as
hot lava began to erupt inside me. I impaled myself again and again, as
volley after volley shot the warmth deep inside me.

I felt Joe's hands firmly grip my hips. "Whoa, cowboy!" he said in a
soothing voice.  "That's all the ride there is for now."

I bucked back against his hands, desperate to impale the softening shaft
further inside me.  "No! More!" I insisted. "I need some more, fuck me some
more, PLEASE?"

Joe's hands held me firmly. "Whoa, cowboy!" he repeated. "Damn! Colin was
right; you are one slut for cock! That roofie he gave you turned you into
one cock hungry slut!"

Joe's words made no sense to me; all I could think of was good it felt to
have my ass stuffed full of hard cock. "NO!" I protested as I felt that
long black snake slide out of me and exit with a slurp. "NO! PLEASE! Put it
back in! I need more! Please fuck me some more!"

"Just hang loose" Joe told me, as he pulled his pants back up. Mike's turn
is next. Mike'll be here in a minute, and he'll fill you up full again."

I lay on my back in bed, in a daze. I heard the bedroom door close as Joe
left. "Who was that guy?" I wondered. "Where am I?" I looked around the
room. It no longer spun around. Everything looked crystal clear, but
detached, as if I wasn't a part of my surroundings. It seemed as though I
was looking around the room through a TV set. I recognized my computer
desk. "It's my room!" I realized. "I'm in my room at the condo.  What am I
doing here? How did I get here?" I heard my bedroom door opened, and a
stocky, red headed, freckle faced guy walked in. He was smiling at
me. "Hi!" I said cheerfully. "Who are you?"

"I'm Mike, dude. Don't you remember?" he replied. I stared at him
blankly. "Mike?  Colin's friend, Mike?"

"Oh, Colin? Is Colin here?" I asked eagerly. "Is Colin going to come fuck
me? He has a really big one!" I gushed with a giggle.

"No," the guy told me as he began to unbuckle his pants. "Colin's not going
to come fuck you." I watched eagerly as he pulled his pants down to his
knees and began to stroke his rapidly hardening thick cock. "Colin said
you're our party boy, and we get to use you all we want." He walked over to
the bed and thrust his cock near my face.

"Oh!" I exclaimed happily. "That's a nice fat one! I want to suck it!" I
leaned forward and impaled the thick cock down my throat and buried my nose
in the bushy red pubes in one lunge.

After Mike had left I lay on my back in bed. I could still taste the sweet
cum in my mouth, and feel the load in my stomach. "Hmmmm!" I mused. "That
was a big load!  And, his cum tastes really good! But, I need to get
fucked! I need someone to fuck me!" I crawled out of bed and staggered to
my door and opened it. I was surprised to see Brad in the hallway, just
coming out of his room. Brad seemed surprised to see me, too, as he gaped
at me with his mouth open.

"Chad!" he exclaimed in shock. "What the fuck are you doing, man?"

"Fucking!" I told him cheerfully. "Fucking and sucking!"

"Dude!" Brad said in a scolding tone. "Dude! You're totally nude! Put some
fucking clothes on, man!"

"Clothes?" I mused. I looked down at my naked body. "I don't need any
clothes" I assured him. "I need to get fucked! Will you fuck me, Brad? Fuck
me, please?"

Brad rushed to me and pushed me back into my room. "Ssssh!" he
scolded. "Shut the fuck up, man!" He pushed me down on my bed in a sitting
position, and closed the door.  "What the fuck is up with you, man? Are you
on some drugs or something?"

"Drugs? No, I don't do drugs, man" I assured him. "But, I do do fucking!
Will you fuck me, please?" I looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Dude, you are fucking on something" he insisted. "And, No! No fucking!
We're having a party, remember?" I stared at him blankly. "Superbowl?
Remember, Superbowl party?  We have friends over, friends over from
school. You're straight, remember? Can't let anyone know you like sucking
and being fucked. No fucking, no sucking. Straight, be straight. Be cool."
He repeated it over and over in a coaxing voice.

"OK" I said dejectedly. "No fucking, no sucking. Party, straight party. No
fucking, no sucking."

"That's it" Brad said in a soothing voice. "Party, Superbowl
Party. Straight Party. No fucking, no sucking."

"But," I said in a hopeful voice. "Will you fuck me after the party? If I'm
good, will you fuck me after the party?"

"Maybe" he said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "If you're good, if
you're really, really good, MAYBE I'll fuck you after the party. But, you
have to behave yourself.  Remember: straight. Straight party, you're
straight. No talking about fucking and sucking. It's a secret, our
secret. No talking about fucking and sucking."

"OK, OK!" I said in exasperation. "I got it, I got it! No fucking, no
sucking. Straight. I'll be straight!"

"Good boy!" Brad told me, patting me on the head. "Now, get some fucking
clothes on and come on out and join the party. But, be cool!"

"Ok, OK" I assured him, as he closed the door behind him. I looked around
my room.  "Clothes . . .  Hmmmm clothes . . .  Ah! Gym trunks, my favorite
gym trunks!" I pulled on my favorite pair of light blue nylon gym trunks,
the ones a little too small, the ones that stretched tightly around my
ass. I liked how the cool material felt against my ass. I liked how it felt
good to not have anything on underneath them, how good the cool skin felt
against my balls hanging freely. "Hmmm . . .  shirt . . .  shirt. I need a
shirt." I grabbed my favorite t-shirt, the one with the UNLV Rebels logo -
a cowboy in an oversized ten gallon hat, both pistols raised, ready to
shoot. "That's me!" I mused, "always ready to shoot!"

I made my way down the hallway to the living room. I saw my roommates, Brad
and Colin, engaged in what appeared to be a heated conversation. I saw two
other guys, a big black guy, and a stocky, red-headed guy, watching the
TV. I didn't recognize them, but they seemed to snickering at me. "Hey
Brad! Hey Colin!" I greeted my roommates cheerfully.

"Hey, Dickhead!" Colin returned my greeting.

"Dickhead?" I repeated, confused. "I'm a dickhead?"

"Yeah," Colin assured me. "You are a total dickhead."

"Hey, man!" Brad protested. "Chad's our roommate. What's with the
'dickhead' shit?"

"'Cause he is" Colin assured him. "Chad is a total dickhead.  He's a
dickhead, as in dumbass. But, he's also a dickhead as in cokehead. A
cokehead, like Sebastian."

"Sebastian?" Brad questioned.

"Yeah, Sebastian" Colin said. "Remember Sebastian, from high school? The
cokehead?"

"Yeah, I remember" Brad replied in a confused voice. "I think he's still in
rehab. So, what about him?"

"Total cokehead." Colin began.  "Remember how he first started doing coke
at parties?  Then he started doing during the day, at school. Then he
started doing it first thing in the morning when he got up. Totally hooked
on the shit. The more coke he got, the more coke he wanted. The more he
wanted coke, the more he needed it. Chad's like a cokehead, only his drug
of choice is dick. So, he's a dickhead. The more dick he gets, the more
dick he wants, the more dick he wants, the more dick he needs. A dickhead;
Chad's a total dickhead."

"Oh, I get it!" I volunteered cheerfully. "Yeah, I'm a dickhead. The more
dick I get the more dick I need. I need some dick! I want some dick!"

"Shut the fuck up Chad!" Brad scolded.

"Jesus!" I heard someone snicker from the back of the living room. "What a
total fucking fag!"

I looked over to see a guy I hadn't noticed before standing by the patio
door. He a beefy, big build guy, with round face and close cropped light
brown hair. He seemed familiar.  "Ah!" I mused as I remembered. Bill. Bill
Myer. We had a couple of classes together, and he was on the Rebels reserve
team. "Hey, Bill!" I greeted him cheerfully. "Hey! I didn't know you were
coming over!"

"Yeah!" he snickered. "Well, I didn't know you were such a total fucking
fag!"

"Yeah!" I agreed readily. "I'm a dickhead! The more dick I get, the more
dick I need!"

"Well," he replied, grabbing holding of his crotch. "Why don't you get over
here and chow down on this puppy?"

"OK!" I agreed cheerfully. I walked over to Bill, got down on my knees in
front of him, and began to undo his belt.

"Whoa!" Brad shouted, rising to his feet. "Stop! Stop right there! I'm not
going to sit here and watch Chad blow somebody!"

"Bill?" Colin began. "Take Chad back to his room and give him what he
needs."

"Come on, fag bitch" Bill spat out as he roughly pulled me to my feet and
shoved me toward the hallway. "Take me to your room; I wanna fuck your
face."

"Ok!" I replied enthusiastically. "But, I want you to fuck my butt, too! I
REALLY like in the ass!" As we closed the door to my bedroom, I couldn't
here the heated argument between Brad and Colin as they stepped out on the
patio and closed the door behind them.

"Is Chad on some fucking drugs ors something?" Brad angrily demanded.

"Yeah," Colin non-chalantly, shrugging his shoulders. "I gave him a roofie;
Rohypnol.  Mixed it in with his swamp cooler punch with a shitload of
rum. Should keep him flying for about 8 hours. He won't remember a thing
when he comes around."

"Why the fuck would you do that to Chad!" Brad shouted. "Why the fuck did
you slip Chad some drugs?"

"To release his inhibitions" Colin explained in an even voice. "To release
his inhibitions and get in touch with his fucking sick faggot inner-self."
Brad stared at Colin, not understanding, no believing what he was
hearing. "I got tired of his fucking game" he said with a shrug of his
shoulders. "I got tired of him lying, pretending he's really straight when
he's really a total fag, a complete slut for cock. Right before he'd chow
down on my dick he'd tell me how he was really straight. He'd take my cock
up the ass and beg for more, and then tell everyone how straight he
was. Makes me wanna fucking puke. I can't handle it anymore. I want him
fucking out of our place; I can't handle living with a dirty, disgusting
fucking faggot anymore!"

"You've been fucking Chad?" Brad questioned in disbelief.

"I was" Colin responded with a shrug of his shoulders. "Last fall. Right
after I found out you were fucking him. I figured, well, I know you're
straight. You were just using him to relieve some extra loads out of your
balls, and maybe help the poor fag out. So, I figured what the fuck? Beats
the hell out of Rosie Palm and her five sisters.  Little fucker can suck
the shit out of dick, and can't get enough dick up he ass. But, I can't
handle the shit anymore. I want the little faggot out!"

"Chad told you I was fucking him?" Brad asked quietly.

"No, dumbass" Colin laughed. "The little fucker kept your secret
safe. Probably afraid you'd stop porking him if anyone found out. I caught
you guys going at one night. I got off work early and heard you guys going
at it in his room. You left the door half open. I looked in, and Chad was
flat on his back like a bitch in heat and you were fucking the shit out him
and he was begging for more. I confronted him about it the next night, when
you were at practice. He said that was the first time you guys had done it;
that you'd come home and caught him getting off using a dildo or some shit,
and you blackmailed him into giving it up for you. I made him give me some
head. He cried and shit, claiming he was really straight and shit, and then
chowed down on my cock like there was no tomorrow. I fucked his face or
plowed him in the ass every Monday night after that.  While you were at
practice, you're little faggot buddy was getting porked up the ass, begging
for more. And, Chad never said shit, but I knew you were banging him every
chance you got, too. You're not very careful, dumbass. I came home early a
couple times after that and hear you two going at in his room, Chad begging
for more. I'd just go to my room and close the door. I figured what the
fuck? We're both enjoying a free mouth, an extra hole, all eager and ready
and close by. But, not any more; not after Christmas break. I can't handle
the shit any more; makes me want to fucking puke!"

"What happened over Christmas, man?" Brad asked. "What the fuck did happen
over Christmas? You've been strange as shit since you came back. It's like,
I dunno, like you turned into some fag hating Nazi. Always putting fags
down, always some crack about how disgusting fags are, and how much you
hate them. You've been a total asshole to Chad. What the fuck happened?"

"You really wanna know?" Colin replied, his anger rising. "You really wanna
fucking know?" Brad nodded his head earnestly. "Well, I'll fucking tell
you: It's my fucking old man!"

"You're old man?" Brad repeated. "Your folks divorced when we were in high
school together. I thought your old man left town, and you never talked to
him."

"Yeah, that's right," Colin spat out. "I was a sophomore in high school. I
come home one day and all the sudden, Boom! No more Dad. He moved all his
shit out, and he was gone!  Mom told me that she found out he was seeing
someone else and she'd thrown him out of the house. She said he told her to
tell me he was so ashamed of himself he didn't want to see me for awhile;
that when he was ready, he would call me, and talk to me. Well, he never
did. I never heard from him. Until Christmas break. He called me at home,
said he needed to talk to me. He'd talked to mom and it was OK that he came
over to talk to me.  Mom left when he arrived, said we two needed to be
alone to talk. So, he sits me down and begins by telling me that he needed
his son to know he was gay! He thought it was important that I know my old
man is a fucking FAG! He told me that he'd always known inside that he was
gay, but he married my mom because he loved her and wanted children, and
hoped his "feelings inside" would go away. But, they wouldn't. That's what
happened; that's why my folks divorced! My mom found out he was screwing
around with other guys; lunchtime quickies in some park, or secret
rendezvous in cheap motel rooms. He told me he was ashamed of cheating on
Mom, of lying to her and himself all those years. But, know that he had
"come to terms" with who he was, he was proud.  CAN YOU FUCKING IMAGINE?"
Colin screamed, his face turning red with rage. "My fucking old man
actually told me that he was 'PROUD'! Proud that he was a fucking low life
fag scum piece of shit!"

"Whoa, man!" Brad softly said. "That is heavy shit." He shook his head
sadly. "So, what did you tell him?"

"Well, first I smashed his face in with my fist" Colin began with pride in
his voice. "I punched him in the face as hard as I could. I knocked him
flat on his back. Then, while he's lying on his back on the floor trying to
wipe the blood from his nose with some neat little white hanky he pulled
from his pocket, I told him how much I fucking hated him. I told what a low
life piece of shit he was, and that I never wanted to see him again. I told
him I wished to hell he'd figured out he was a fag before he married Mom,
so that I'd never been born! I told him I'd rather not have been born than
to have a fucking fag piece of shit for a father! And then I told him to
get the fuck out before I killed him, and to never come back, never try to
see me again, or I would fucking kill him. He practically ran out of the
house!" Colin added with a laugh.

"Wow, man!" Brad said gently, shaking his head. "He's still you're old man,
dude. He can't help what he is, man, and he's still your father."

"Yeah! He's still my father!" Colin spat out. "And he's a fucking fag! I
just hope to hell he didn't pass that shit down on to me. I just hope to
hell he didn't pass down any of that fag shit to me. I'd rather be dead
than be a fucking fag. THAT's why I can't handle it anymore. I don't care
how good a cocksucker Chad is. I'm not doing any of that shit anymore, and
if you know what's good for you, you'll stop doing that shit, too or he
might turn you into a fag. Or, you might catch something. Get another
girlfriend if Brynda can't give you enough. And Chad's gotta go; I won't
stand for a faggot in the house!"

Someone knocked on the patio door, and they turned to see Joe holding the
cordless phone in his hand, pointing at Brad. Brad took the phone from Joe
as Colin stepped through to go inside.

"Oh, hey Jerry! What's up, man?" Brad spoke into the phone as the door
closed.

"Colin!" Brad called out as he stepped back inside.

"Yeah?" Colin answered. They were interrupted by me and Bill coming back
from my room.

"You're right, man" Mike said to Colin, a satisfied smirk on his
face. "Little fucker really know how to chow down a piece of meat."

"Uh, Chad, man?" Brad began. "Will you get me a Coke from the kitchen?"

"Sure, Brad" I readily agreed. "Are you going to fuck me, then?"

"Just get me a Coke, Chad" Brad said firmly.

"Ok, Ok" I complacently complied.

"Look, man" Brad began. "Jerry's coming over."

"Cool" Colin responded.

"No!" Brad replied forcefully. "Not cool. Definitely NOT cool. He's
bringing Beth, his girlfriend with him. Beth is all Christian and shit. If
Chad starts in with this "will you fuck me?" shit, Beth will freak. And,
Jerry knows Chad real well, and likes him a lot. Uh, I mean . . .  he likes
Chad, and assumes he's straight. While he may not know Chad is . .  .
well, gay, or whatever, he knows that Chad doesn't normally act like a
slut. He's going to know something is up with Chad. If he finds out you
slipped Chad a roofie . . . . well, he's Team Captain. He'll go straight to
the Coach and Athletic Director, and I . . .  we ALL will be fucked! We
gotta get Chad the fuck outta here! And," he added, turning to the others,
looking at them threateningly, "you guys all keep your fucking mouths shut
about Chad! Colin here slipped him a fucking roofie, and Chad has no idea
what he's doing. And, he won't remember it, so you all keep you fucking
mouths shut! Brad turned back to Colin. "As for you, man, I'm not so sure
you're my friend. We've known each other since, what, junior high? I
thought I knew you man, but I'm not so sure. I think you have some serious
personal problems to work out. But for now, you're the one who slipped Chad
the drugs. You're the one who needs to get him out of here, take him some
place safe until the drug wears off!"

"Ok, Ok, man!" Colin agreed, raising his hands in surrender. "I'll get Chad
outta here!"

"Remember!" Brad said sternly. "I said someplace SAFE!"

"Ok, Okay!" Colin agreed, as he got up and when to the kitchen. "Hey Chad!"
he greeted me, putting his arm on my shoulder. "C'mon, we're going to go
for a ride."

"A ride?" I repeated.

"Yeah, a ride" Colin assured me, pulling me toward the door. "We're going
to the casino.  Remember? We said that after the game we were going to the
casino."

"Okay!" I agreed happily.

Colin pulled up to the curb in front of Caesar's Palace. "Ok" he said,
pointing toward the entrance. "There's the casino. You go in THAT casino,
and wait for me. I'll park the car, and then meet you inside. Ok?"

"Sure, man" I agreed as I stepped out the door. I barely got the car door
closed before Colin sped off. I walked up the long entrance and into the
casino. At first I looked around for Colin, but then I forgot I was
supposed to meet him. I totally forgot about Colin as I wandered around the
maize of the Forum Shops, marveling how real the twilight sky ceilings
look, and got completely absorbed in the mechanical statue shows. I was
totally unaware of the occasional snickers and guys pointing to my ass
covered in the skimpy light blue gym shorts. Some of the day's deposits of
cum were leaking out, leaving a large, obvious dark wet stain in the seat
of my shorts. Well, I guess obvious to those who know about such things.

After a few hours, my head began to clear. I began to wonder what I was
doing wandering around Caesar's Palace. "How did in the hell I get here?" I
wondered. The last thing I remembered, I was watching a football game at
the condo. I was tired, and hungry; I decided to grab something to eat in
the coffee shop. I felt much better after several cups of coffee and a
burger and fries. My mind was becoming more and more clear. I didn't
remember how I end up at Caesar's, but it was time to get back home. The
waitress brought the check and refilled my coffee. I reached for my
wallet. "Oh shit!" I thought, my mind panicking. No pockets in these gym
shorts, not wallet, no money! How the fuck am I going to pay for this
check? How the fuck am I going to pay for a taxi home? My mind was racing
as I looked about. I saw and old guy in a big cowboy hat out in the slot
machines staring at me intently, suspiciously. I looked away and down, and
gulped down some more coffee. The waitress came by, glancing down at the
unpaid check.

"Ummm, could I have some more coffee, please?" I asked politely. "Uh, and
where is the restroom?" I asked as she re-filled my cup. The waitress
jerked her head toward the front of the coffee shop. "Thanks" I muttered.

I hurried into the restroom, took a piss, and then splashed some water on
my face. As I inspected my face in the mirror, a guy came up behind me to
use the sink next to me. As he passed behind me he snickered.

"Hey buddy?" he queried as he turned on the water faucet. "Did you sit on
something?"

"Huh?" I responded, confused.

"Did you sit on something?" he repeated. "You've got a big wet stain in the
back of your shorts, like you sat on something wet . . .  or, something
hard" he added with a laugh.

"Oh, I dunno" I grunted, ignoring his intent stare in the mirror. He
lingered, and I continued to ignore him. When he finally left I went into
one of the stalls, pulled off my shorts and sat down to inspect. There was
a big wet stain right in the crack of the seat. I held it to my nose and
sniffed. Cum! It was definitely a cum stain in the back of my shorts! How
the fuck did that get there! I tore off some toilet papers and gently wiped
my ass. Ouch! It's tender down there. I inspected the toilet paper; it was
wet with a clear liquid. I sniffed and confirmed my suspicions. Cum! I have
cum in my ass. I've been fucked! I don't remember getting fucked today!
It's been like a week since Brad fucked me last. I was confused, nothing
was making any sense. I shitted out as much of the cum in my ass as I
could, wiped my butt really good, and tried to dry off as much of the stain
from my shorts as I could with toilet paper. Pulling my shorts back on, I
opened the stall door carefully and peered out. No one was in the restroom;
I made my way to the doorway and peered out surveying the restaurant
carefully. The waitress was not is sight.  I slipped out the entrance and
then quickly out the restaurant exit. I walked briskly to the rows of slot
machines, then quickly through then, turning through different rows to
elude anyone who might be in pursuit. I was nearly through the slot section
when someone came around a corner quickly and I ran smack into him. It was
the old guy with the cowboy hat, who'd been staring at me earlier.

"Sorry" I muttered an apology, and then tried to get around him. He grabbed
me firmly on the shoulder.

"Where you going to in such a hurry, sonny?" he demanded looking at me in
the eye intently.

"Umm, I have to get home" I answered, trying to break his grip and get past
him. He jerked me back next to him with his hand gripped firmly on my
shoulder.

"That right, sonny?" he said, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Looks
more like a little D&D to me." I stared at him blankly. "D&D" he
repeated. "Dine and Dash. I've been watching you, boy, and I noticed how
you 'forgot' to pay your check in that restaurant.  Now, I imagine those
casino security fellas over there would be real interested in hearing about
that."

I lowered my head, ashamed. "I've never done anything like before, I swear!
I was at a party earlier today . . .  and, well, I don't remember how I got
here. When the check came, I realized I forgot my wallet! I was going to go
home and get my wallet and come back and pay for it, I swear!"

"That right, sonny?" the man began, brining his free hand to his chin and
rubbing it, as he stared at me intently. "You come to a casino, but forgot
your wallet? Hump! Never heard that one before" he chuckled. "Let's see
. . . you're in a casino with no wallet. I guess that means no ID,
either. I'd being willing to bet you're not 21 yet, either?" I shook my
head in the negative. "Waaal, I'll bet them security fellas would be real
interested in hearing about that, too."

I began to panic. "Look, please mister?" I pleaded.

"Well, let's see what we can work out here" he replied. "You're here in a
casino with no wallet, no money. But, you are here with your cute little
butt. Me? Well, I'm here in a casino with money, with a hard dick, and with
an appreciation for your cute little butt.  What do you say you let me have
a go at that cute little butt of your and I'll solve your problem of not
having any money?"

"What kind of guy do you think I am?" I exclaimed in indignation.

"I'm pretty sure I know EXACTLY just what kind of guy you are, sonny" he
assured me in a steady voice. "I've been around the block a few times." He
reached behind me and rubbed his finger around my crack as I squirmed in
protest. He brought his finger to his nose and sniffed. "Yep, just as I
thought! Some fella's had a go at your butt earlier today and left a
deposit; maybe more than just one fella. Well, I don't mind seconds. Now,
Sonny, now that we both understand just 'what kind of guy' you are, how
much?"

"Mister, you don't have enough money to get me to do that!" I angrily
assured him.

"That so, sonny?" he replied, cocking an eye. He released his grip on my
shoulder, took his wallet from his back pocket, and held it open with both
hands. "Waaal, I've had a pretty good run of luck in the casinos this trip"
he said, as he started counting out hundred dollar bills. "And I'm willing
to make me one last bet. You're a real looker, and that is one fine little
butt you have. I'm willing to bet this here one thousand dollars that I DO
'have enough money to get you to do that'. I'll bet this here one thousand
dollars here that that your ass is mine tonight." He held out the ten
hundred dollars bills for emphasis.  "How 'bout it? You gonna call my bet?"

"One thousand dollars?" I repeated, my eyes open widely, looking at the
hundred dollar bills fanned out in front of me. "Whaaat . .  what do I have
to do? Nothing weird, or kinky?"

"No, none of that crazy shit" he assured me in an easy voice. "I'm not into
any of that leather or pain crap. All you gotta do is just lay there on
your back and take my eight inches for as long as I can give it you."

I considered it over in my mind. One thousand bucks! That's more than I
made in one month as a student assistant. While I didn't like the idea of
letting a stranger screw me in the ass for money, I certainly was no
stranger to getting screwed in the ass. And, an old guy like him; it'd
probably all be over with in a couple of minutes and I would have the money
for a taxi ride home and a lot more. "OK" I said quickly, before I changed
my mind. "I'll do it!"

"Thought so!" he said with a smirk. "Follow me, son. I've got a room here."

The old son of a bitch! He had some Viagra, and some pill he said "deadened
the nerves a little, prolonging the orgasm". He screwed me for over three
hours straight with that rock hard eight inch cock. The first hour I egged
him on, begging for it "faster, harder". The second hour I just grunted,
groaned, and moaned as I creamed three times. The third hour I begged him
"No more! Please! No more! I can't take it any more!" He seemed to enjoy
the last hour the most. I guess for a thousand bucks, I was just lucky he
wasn't into anything kinky. Well, I did think it kinda strange he kept his
cowboy hat on. Not a stitch of clothes on, but he kept that old cowboy hat
seated firmly on his head. And, when he finally started to nut, he whipped
it off his head and started to whirl it around, shouting "I'm affixin' to
cum! I'm afixin' to cum! Yahoooooo!"

The sky was just beginning to light up with the sunrise when the taxi cab
dropped me off in front of the condo and I made my way inside with one sore
butt and one thousand dollars tightly clenched in my fist.


To be continued  . . .
Feedback encouraged & appreciated: chad89119@yahoo.com.