Date: Tue, 6 Sep 2016 21:34:48 -0600
From: Colton <coltonaalto@gmail.com>
Subject: Spring Break Happens in Vegas - chapter 18

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* My experiences - images, events, memories, words – flavor everything I
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SPRING BREAK HAPPENS IN VEGAS

By Colton Aalto

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – AMPED AFTERNOON

Henry was ready to return me to the Convention Center, but I had no good
reason to go back. Waiting for my brothers to finish whatever modeling
stuff they had would be boring. I wouldn't have anything to do for hours,
other than sit around and eavesdrop on models' conversations and enjoy the
eye candy. I would rather see some of Vegas.

I also didn't want to confront the modeling world on display at the open
call. The wound of my modeling failure was too raw. I needed time to digest
what had happened. By some miracle I had gotten a modeling contract, an
outcome I couldn't have dreamed of a week ago. It seemed surreal. But then
reality had intervened in a harsh way and my modeling career had gone into
the ditch before it even got off the ground. My consolation prize was some
incredibly hot sex with a man who had known exactly how to fuck my ass.

I would have to tell my brothers what happened with the modeling contract
and I was bummed that it hadn't worked out. There might be a chance for me
in a year, when I turned 18 and finished high school. But that seemed like
a lifetime away, and I didn't want to wait. However, I had no options. I
could beg, threaten or cajole my parents, but I knew my father wouldn't
budge. Even if my uncle or aunt would intervene, their involvement would
only backfire given the history between my father and my uncle. Could I get
my grandmother to side with me? That seemed like an enormous long shot and
the outcome was far from a certain even if it happened. The sooner I was on
my own and not living with my parents, the better off I would be.

When Henry and I reached the lobby of the Wynn, I told him that I was fine
without a ride back and apologized that he had to come pick me up. He said
he was happy to get out of the Convention Center for a few minutes. I
wished him luck bagging the dancer, and Henry gave me a big smile and said,
"I think it's gonna happen. That bubble butt needs a stiff cock in it, and
I'm gonna supply it."

Despite the incredible sex with Lind, I was depressed as I wandered to the
Strip. I found a real, live Abercrombie store, the first one I had actually
been inside – the closest store to my house was in St. Louis, 90 miles
away – but that didn't do anything to cheer me up because the clothes
were expensive and the store was boring without the pictures and presence
of hot, shirtless dudes.

The casinos were amazing and I had fun seeing some of the carnival-like
attractions, but for the first time during my week in Vegas, I was
lonesome. I wished I had someone to explore Vegas with. I knew my brothers
would poo-poo a sightseeing trip. Ren wouldn't, but I wouldn't be able to
shake the feeling that he was only doing it to be nice. I had a feeling
that Arlo would be no better than my brothers and laugh at me for liking
the Strip.

Quentin, however, would be great about it. I really wished I had someone
like him in southern Illinois. He had prime boyfriend material written all
over him, which was weird because our backgrounds were totally
different. Even though I had barely met him, he was easy and comfortable to
be around, to say nothing of being dead ringer for Cedric Diggory. And the
night we spent together was magical.

I wandered into the Mirage and found my way to Revolution, the club that
Jan, Jon and I had visited on my first night in Vegas. The door to the bar
was open and after a debate with myself I went inside.

The place was deserted. The bar was totally different in the quiet of
Sunday afternoon compared with how I remembered it late on Sunday night. I
saw a poster for the RevoSunday party that night, showing a dozen dudes in
colorful briefs – and I wondered if Jan and Jon would figure out a way
for us to get permission from my aunt and uncle to go.

I was startled by a voice saying, "Sorry sir, we're closed now." I turned
around and was confronted by a big, heavyset man behind the bar. He looked
like he had once been a football player, maybe a linebacker. Getting a
better look at me, the man added, "But even if we were open you're too
young to be in here, kid."

"Um, sorry," I replied. "I was just looking around. This is a really cool
bar."

"Thanks, but I'm afraid you'll have to leave," came the man's curt
response.

From the stage area came another voice, "Don't be such a hard-ass,
Jackson." I turned to see a tall, slender man hop off the stage and stride
toward us. At first I thought he was wearing a long sleeved shirt, but when
he got closer, I realized he was in a muscle shirt and what had looked like
long sleeves were actually tattoos that covered every visible part of the
dude's arms, down to the backs of his hands. A tat climbed up the side of
his neck, too, encircling his left ear. The sides of his head were shaved
smooth. The dark hair on the top of his head was long and he had pulled it
back into a tight man bun. To my provincial southern Illinois eyes, he
looked exotic.

"Rafe, I don't have time to babysit tourists," Jackson said.

Rafe laughed, his smile and white teeth softening his tough looking
face. The dude had more piercings than I had ever seen on one person. After
Jon telling me this morning that he wanted a bunch of tats and piercings, I
paid particular attention to Rafe's markings. Silver or black metal graced
all the usual places – ears, eyebrows, lips – but he had a string of
studs around his neck that looked like a permanent choker, another ring of
metal around each bicep, and a long line of tiny imbedded rings that ran
the entire length of his right forearm.

The dude's piercings were a work of art. He was the poster child for the
guy that mothers wouldn't let their daughters date – or their sons hang
with. People seeing Rafe on street were probably careful not to cross
him. Or maybe careful to cross the street for fear of meeting him.

But Rafe gave me a lazy smile and for some reason I didn't feel threatened
but kinda happy that he wasn't treating me like a little kid. And after my
modeling flameout, I was feeling reckless, and Rafe looked like the
dictionary definition of reckless.

"So, kid, you wanna see the DJ booth?" Rafe asked me.

"Yeah!" I replied with more enthusiasm than I wanted to show. Sure, I was a
dweeby kid, but no reason to emphasize it at every turn.

Jackson rolled his eyes and shook his head as Rafe took me up to a
glassed-in balcony above the dance floor. The small room was lined with
electronic equipment. Rafe explained how some of it worked, but the jargon
was beyond me.

Rafe pulled on a pair of big headphones and handed a pair to me. As I
wrapped them around my ears, the sounds of some kind of Electro or
Progressive House music blasted into my ears. The headphones were mic'd, so
I could hear Rafe. He smiled asked, "What do you think?"

The music was kinda cool and I smiled back and shouted, "It's great!"
Shouting was kind of stupid, because Rafe could hear me fine, but with the
music blasting in my ears, yelling was instinctive.

Rafe spun different tracks and talked about DJing all over the world. He
said it was kind of like being in a band, but he was the only band member,
so all the attention was focused on him. It sounded like a pretty wild
life, with plenty of booze, sex and drugs – whenever and however you
wanted them.

"Getting sex is damn easy when you're a DJ," Rafe commented. "I mean, you
don't have to work hard at it. I fucked a hot little thing Friday night,
right where you're sitting."

"Up here?" I asked.

"Hell yeah. Ain't nothing better than fucking to music. Get a good beat
going and match the drums, thrust for thrust. What do you think groupies
are for? They're a dime a dozen."

"But, like, during performances?" I asked.

"All the time," Rafe said. "Usually I'm careful to keep the sluts out of
sight, but if things are going good and I think I can get away with it,
I'll shove a bitch against those glass walls and fuck her from behind. It's
dark enough up here that nobody on the dance floor can really tell what is
happening. All they see is a couple of tits jiggling against the glass and
they go wild."

I was disappointed that Rafe was straight, but not surprised. I
contemplated for a moment what it would be like to get fucked by Rafe and I
suddenly wanted it. With my modeling career in the toilet before it even
got started, and with a trip back to southern Illinois in a day hovering
over me like a dark cloud, why not?

Acting on my new mantra of going after what I wanted, I took a wild shot
and asked, "What about dudes? You ever fuck a guy in a DJ booth?"

A big smile crossed Rafe's face and I knew I had lucked out. "Dude," he
said, "I'm totally bi. Who wants to eat the same food night after night?"
With that comment, he gave me a leering smile, and I totally felt like a
piece of meat that Rafe was about to devour.

I returned a faint smile. What happened next was totally weird. In the
silence that followed, it was as if Rafe was giving me detailed
instructions without speaking a word. I had to be imagining the whole thing
and making it up, but at the time it was surreal how crystal clear things
were in my mind.

I was going to strip because Rafe liked his sex partners completely
naked. Tits against the glass. And he liked a little show from his
groupies. So I would play with my nipples and show him my ass while I
stroked myself into a hard on. I needed to look horny and sex crazed the
entire time.

Rafe liked having his ass eaten. I was probably making that one up,
totally. I hadn't rimmed a guy and feared it might be gross, but I would do
it. Jon loved eating my ass, even after I had gotten butt fucked, so maybe
I was missing out on something. Time to find out.

Next, I'd work on Rafe's balls. He liked a hot mouth sucking on his nuts,
getting them warmed up before the mouth went for his dick. And Rafe liked
long, sloppy blow jobs. He wanted me to make love to his cock with my mouth
to edge him until he was ready to blast cum into my mouth.

But ready is as far as Rafe wanted to go with my mouth, because he wanted
my ass. He was going to take me while I was standing up, with my chest
pressed against the glass wall. Rafe would change music throughout, and
when he was pounding my ass he'd be playing some wild, thumping techno
stuff. And his cock would be pummeling my ass to the same heavy beat. He'd
be fucking me like a drum.

My clothes were gone in seconds. Seeing my semi-hard cock, Rafe had a
knowing smirk and eased into a chair to watch.

I gave a dude a show, licking my fingers and getting my nipples hard and
wet, and grabbing my junk until it was rock hard. I turned my back to him
and spread my ass cheeks wide while wiggling my butt, although I had to be
careful that I didn't inadvertently dislodge the loads that Alec and Lind
had planted deep in my boi pussy. Rafe responded with an appreciative,
"Fuck yeah, dude."

I felt like I was doing a strip tease in a sleazy joint. Might as well go
the whole way, I thought. I slid my bare ass into Rafe's lap and guided his
hands to my butt cheeks.

"You sure about this, kid?" Rafe said, "because I don't really fuck easy."

"I wouldn't be here if I wanted easy," I said. "I've done easy. I'm ready
for whatever you can dish out." With my modeling career dead before it was
alive, what did I have to lose?

"Be careful what you wish for, dude," Rafe replied. He didn't resist as I
worked his jeans down to his ankles and off his feet.

Rafe's legs were covered with tats like his arms, but his legs were hairy
enough that the tattoos looked different, sort of fuzzy. What surprised me,
however, were Rafe's pubes. The dude had a full, 1980s porn bush. Thick
hair covered the base of his cock and his balls, and trailed into his ass
crack. After a week of seeing trimmed pubes, Rafe's cock looked like it
lived in a forest.

I got on my knees and began to nuzzle below Rafe's balls. I was going to
have trouble getting to Rafe's ass, but Rafe had a solution for that
problem. He pulled a table filled with DJ equipment forward and put his
feet on it, sliding down in his chair and giving me unobstructed access to
his hairy hole.

I went to work, focused on getting my tongue inside Rafe's ass the way that
Jon had done to me this morning. By getting the hair around Rafe's hole
wet, I was able to clear the way and wiggle my tongue into the DJ's
butthole. He squirmed and moaned. The only problem was that the big
headphones kept getting in the way, but by turning my head and lifting
Rafe's tatted legs up, I was able to get inside him.

Rafe's hole was funky for sure, but it wasn't like I was gagging, and I was
encouraged to keep at it when the stud DJ gasped and wiggled his ass,
sighing, "Oh yeah." Before long I was enjoying how his hole gripped my
tongue and tried to grab it and trap it inside him.

I moved to Rafe's balls. His nuts weren't protected by smooth sacs like my
twin brothers', but rather a layer of fur, and I could feel Rafe's hair as
I swirled them in my mouth. At first, his balls were like a mouthful of
cotton, but as I slobbered spit on them, they morphed and I could make out
their shape.

Rafe was into it. He kept grabbing my head and shoving it into his crotch,
moaning while the music pounded in my ears.

With Rafe's asshole and balls soaked with spit, I was ready for cock. The
dude's dick had an odd upward curve, so that the head aimed for his
bellybutton. I had to lift it up and pull it down get my mouth on it. His
shaft was decorated with at least ten or fifteen metal studs, across the
head of his cock, up and down the sides, and buried in the base. Silvery
strands of pre-cum had already filled Rafe's bellybutton, and I dove in and
sucked it down. Damn. I loved the heavy texture of the dude's pre-cum.

Rafe gasped as I played with his stiff rod, licking up the pre-cum and
rolling my tongue up the length of his shaft. I toyed with the head of his
cock, but I could sense that Rafe wanted my throat and was about to grab my
head and ram his cock into my mouth, so I went all the way down on him,
swallowing his cock. Rafe gurgled into my headphones and I began to bob up
and down on his cock. Sucking the DJ had its challenges, however, because
the curve of his cock meant it was jammed into the back of my throat every
time I buried my nose in his bushy pubes. And the metal studs constantly
reminded me that I wasn't servicing a plain vanilla cock.

Rafe got to his feet, but I continued to suck his cock and play with his
fur balls. I gripped Rafe's butt cheeks, finding them covered with the same
fur that coated his legs. Strangely, however, Rafe either shaved above his
waist or was naturally smooth, because when he pulled his shirt off, the
riot of tattoos and piercings on his stomach and chest were on smooth,
tight skin. His body hair petered out after a thin treasure trail reached
his bellybutton.

Rafe yanked me to my feet and his tongue practically raped my mouth as he
ground his cock against my abs. `Fucking A" he growled. "You're the hottest
thing I've ever had in a DJ booth. You think you can handle my dick in your
ass?"

I had been fucked by Jon's pierced cock, so I thought I would be okay. In
fact, Jon's Prince Albert ring had been in my ass every day for a week,
although ironically a PA ring might have been the only piercing that Rafe
didn't have. I wasn't certain how my ass would do with the studs and bars
decorating Rafe's cock, but I was damn sure that I was going to give it a
try.

Before I could respond, however, Rafe grabbed my face and said, "You're
taking it, dude. You got me too turned on. I'm gonna fuck your ass."

"Fuck yeah," I responded. Remembering Rafe's story, I added, "I wanna be
against the glass, facing the dance floor while you breed me like a cum
whore."

Rafe broke away and dug some lube out of a drawer, and I got to watch his
naked, tatted and pierced body. I could have scoped him out for hours. He
dribbled some lube on his stiff shaft and tossed the tube to me, saying,
"Show me your awesome hole while you're greasing it up, kid."

I turned around and slowly squeezed what felt like a gallon of lube into my
hole and rubbed it around my anus, pushing plenty inside my ass with my
fingers. I worked it in slowly, giving Rafe my best impersonation of a gay
boy in heat. After a long minute, Rafe pulled me upright and pushed me to
the glass wall. He lifted one of my legs and put my foot on a table next to
the wall so that my ass would be easier for him to enter.

Suddenly the DJ booth was flooded with a bright light. Behind me, Rafe
whispered in my ear, "I'm putting us on the big screen. Smile for the
cameras." Above the dance floor, I saw a huge projection screen split in
half. On one side of the screen, a camera from the other side of the dance
floor showed me plastered against the glass wall. Rafe was only a shadow in
the background. On the other side of the screen, my smooth butt and Rafe's
studded cock loomed large. Rafe had moved a camera that normally showed him
in the DJ booth and trained it on us.

I was overwhelmed by the visual stimulus, but Rafe had another trick. He
shoved a small bottle under my nose and said, "Breathe in, baby. I want you
flying high and wild while I'm inside you."

I took a deep breath and suddenly my head was spinning and I felt blood
rushing through my veins. Every part of my body seemed hypersensitive, but
particularly my cock and ass. Rafe took a big whiff from the bottle and
stuck it back under my nose. "Poppers are the best, baby," he said. "You
wanted my cock before, but now you're gonna go crazy when I fuck your tight
ass. Let loose and let it fly, baby."

It was a damn weird fuck. My head spun the entire time, but every bit of my
focus was on my ass and my cock. I desperately wanted to cum and
desperately wanted to stay on edge and have it last. Through the
headphones, Rafe's house music blared in my ears, and on the giant screen
in front of me, I watched as Rafe rammed his studded cock into my ass and
fucked me with steady, deep thrusts. It was eerie to see myself getting
fucked on a huge video screen, and my ass was so sensitive that I felt
every stud as it massaged my hole. I hoped Jackson wasn't watching the show
from the bar, but I had a feeling that Rafe didn't give a fuck who watched.

Rafe's studded cock hurt at first, but it wasn't long before the metal
studs and bars were raking the inside of my hole and driving me crazy. I
kept sucking down poppers, flying high. Rafe nuzzled and licked my neck,
occasionally turning my head so he could force his studded tongue into my
mouth. With my head spinning, only one leg on the floor, and nothing to
cling to but a glass wall, I felt like the only thing keeping me steady was
Rafe's hard cock drilling my boi pussy.

My own cock was periodically crushed against the glass wall, and on the big
screen, it looked like it hurt, but it didn't. Maybe I was too horned up
and too high on poppers to know. I worried that the glass would break and
I'd be teetering two stories above the dance floor, secured only by a
studded cock buried in my ass.

I had edged Rafe close to cumming a couple of times with my mouth, so I
didn't figure he'd last very long. He was powering into me so hard that he
was lifting me off my feet with every second or third thrust into my
ass. The hardware on his chest was raking my back each time that happened,
and I hoped I wasn't going to end up with a bloody back. Even if I did,
damn, the whole scene was so hot that it would be worth it.

"Okay, get me off with your ass, baby," Rafe growled in my ear. "Squeeze
your tight bubble butt around my big cock and bring me off." I clamped down
on his fuck rod, feeling him ram his cock deep into my boi pussy. I heard a
scream. Maybe it was Rafe, but maybe only the music. Fuck, maybe I was
screaming.

I usually could tell when guys climaxed, but I had no clue with Rafe. All
at once my ass felt wet and dribbles of hot cum were running down the backs
of my legs. Rafe barely slowed down, keeping my cock pressed against the
glass. I took a big lungful of poppers just as Rafe shoved his fist in
between my ass and my balls. His hand forced my cock against the glass and
I came, cum spurting in waves.

Rafe was still pumping my ass, but eventually more and more time separated
his thrusts into my hole. He finally halted but kept me pinned against the
glass. Someone was going to have to get a gallon of glass cleaner to wipe
down the sweat, pre-cum and jizz, or else the DJ booth was going to look
pretty odd when the bar opened tonight.

"Fuck, that was hot," Rafe whispered. I barely heard him over the loud
music pounding into the headphones. I gasped for breath and tried to clear
my poppers-addled brain.

Rafe pulled his headphones off and I followed. My ears were still
ringing. I dropped to my knees and sucked in the DJ's softening cock,
cleaning it and getting appreciative moans from Rafe. Running my hands
through the soft hair on his ass cheeks was fucking hot.

"So, can I get on your groupie list?" I gasped when I came up for air. I
was thinking how cool it would be to see Revolution from the DJ booth at
night and get my butt fucked by Rafe, but as soon as the words were out of
my mouth, I realized what I said was pretty stupid. I was going to be back
in southern Illinois in 24 hours.

"Dude, as far as I'm concerned, any time you wanna hook up, you're the only
person the groupie list," Rafe replied. It made me feel good, but it wasn't
going to happen again.

Nevertheless, Rafe made it clear that I was welcome whenever I wanted to
join him in the DJ booth, and he gave me his contact information. As I left
Revolution, I saw a big poster advertising him. He looked serious and
dangerous in the poster. But hot. Damn, fucking hot. It never occurred to
me that DJs were anything more than guys a bar hired like they hired
bartenders or bouncers. But bars didn't put bartenders or bouncers on
posters. I had been fucked by a celebrity.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Four more chapters to come. Jen's spring break is winding down, but he
still has a couple of wild adventures ahead of him.


Thanks for your emails. Readers' reactions are part of what keeps me
writing! Coltonaalto@gmail.com

© Copyright Colton Aalto 2016