I felt hands under my ass, grabbing at my dick. They jerked on it, pumping me as I grunted and squirmed on the leather couch. The dildo rode deep and rubbed my ass lips savagely. I shouted out loud and spewed.

“He’s shooting! He’s unloading with a dildo shoved up his ass!”

I squirmed around my orgasm and the dildo still fucking me. I was bathed in sweat and sliding around on the leather couch, consumed with a burning passion that did not subside as my orgasm did.

That’s when the dinner party degenerated into a stripping, groping orgy. I lay there on the couch with that dildo planted up my ass as men fucked and sucked all around me. Cocks rubbed my back and sides and asscheeks. Cocks erupted and sprayed me. Money fluttered down on me or was shoved under my balls and in my ass crack.

Paul was there, naked too, with his hard-on waving around as he scooped up our cash with a big grin. I floated in the stink of cum and my own stuffed asshole. It was some time before I realized the party was dying down.

“It’s time for us to go, Trent.”

Paul uncuffed me and I sat up, shaking and stiff. He laughed and kissed me on the mouth, his hard-on still bobbing from his waist. I was limp, having come three times during the wild orgy.

“Let’s get out of here,” I murmured in Paul’s neck.

He laughed again and whispered in my ear. “Are you taking that dildo with you?’

I realized I was sitting on the thing, still stuffed up my ass. I started laughing, so weak I collapsed in Paul’s arms.

He helped me out of there as men waved good-bye to us and our host hurried up, naked too, and assured us we would be invited back soon.

“Are you mad at me?” Paul asked as we got into his car.

I didn’t answer. It wasn’t good to encourage him. But the wad of money in my shirt pocket felt good, and so did the ache in my asshole. I knew he would drag me into something like that again.

Oh well, I needed the money.

Oh, What A Friend I Have in Jesus

Todd Gregory

I watched as the storm rolled in from the ocean into Acapulco Bay. The lightning flashes at the mouth of the horseshoe-shaped inlet lit up the night sky. In the distance, the black water below the jagged white strings turned green. I sat on the balcony of a beachfront high-rise, smoking a cigarette, unable to sleep. It was about four o’clock in the morning, and I knew I was going to have to let myself out relatively soon to catch a cab back to the S. S. Adonis, which was setting sail for Mazatlan at promptly eight in the morning. Part of me was tempted to just go on to the airport and catch the next flight back to Los Angeles. I wasn’t enjoying the cruise, as I’d known I wouldn’t. It seemed now, as it had in the days before departure, like an incredible waste of time.

Inside the apartment, beyond the open sliding glass doors, Jesus muttered something in his sleep and rolled over onto his back. I looked inside, noting the long thick brown cock resting off to the side of the large balls. His flat, perfectly smooth stomach rose and fell with every breath. I felt my own cock stir again inside my underwear, but ignored it and turned back to look out to sea. There wasn’t time for another round, and besides, he was asleep. When he woke, I would most likely be out to sea, on the cruise I regretted taking. It’s only five more days, I reminded myself. After Mazatlan, we turn back north and head straight back to L.A. You can get through it, surely.

The cruise hadn’t been my idea. Whenever I thought about going on a cruise, my mind automatically returned to movies like The Poseidon Adventure and Titanic. It had been Mark’s idea, one of his harebrained schemes born out of his own boredom and need for change. Maybe that wasn’t quite fair—Mark was just more adventurous than I was, always had been, and I was usually more than happy to go along for the ride. It was Mark who’d dragged me to Gay Days at Disney, Southern Decadence in New Orleans, and IML in Chicago. I’d never regretted letting Mark serve as my vacation planner, having a great time every time I went anywhere with him. It was hard not to have fun with Mark; Mark drew people to him everywhere he went with his infectious big smile, sexy blue eyes, and his ripped muscular body. Everyone always looked at Mark, everyone always wanted to meet him, everyone always wanted to fuck him. Maybe I was a little jealous of him, but he’d worked long and hard on his body, and the work showed. He was always prone to take his shirt off whenever he got the chance, displaying the huge mouthwatering pecs and gigantic biceps that everyone wanted to touch, to see flexed. But I’d known Mark before he’d dedicated himself to turning himself, as he said, “into the hottest man over forty in Southern California.” When he suggested going on the Adonis cruise, I’d been more than happy to fork over the several thousand dollars, despite my aversion to being on the high seas.

Mark made everything more fun.

I flicked my cigarette over the edge of the balcony and watched the little glowing red ember tumble end over end down eleven stories before exploding into sparks on the marble walkway below. The wind was picking up as the storm crossed the bay toward land, and I shivered a little. I debated lighting another one; debated getting dressed and slipping out the elevator and heading back to the ship.

Instead, I went inside and got back into the bed, feeling Jesus’s warmth as he breathed shallowly in his sleep. There was a bedside lamp on, and as I drew on his body heat to warm my chilled skin, I looked back at the semi-hard cock with a little drop of liquid in the slit. It was a beautiful cock, purplish brown and gigantic when flaccid. When erect, it was the stuff of pornographic dreams. I stared at it wonderingly. That thing was inside me about an hour ago, I thought, resisting the urge to shake my head. It made me feel like no other cock ever had before. I came three times while he pounded into my ass—no one’s ever done that before. I came the first time without even touching my own cock.

Mark had been forced to cancel his cruise at the last minute—a medical emergency. He’d overdone it at the gym and created a rupture inside his own ball sack, and his doctor had insisted on operating on it right away. The surgery itself was minor and routine—an outpatient procedure I’d driven him to and home from—but the doctor forbade him to leave the country. And when I said I’d cancel, too—Mark wouldn’t hear of it. “No, you go on without me,” my best friend had insisted. “I’d never forgive myself if you didn’t go because of me. You go on. You’ll have a blast, you’ll see.”

It was impossible to argue with him. If I didn’t go, he would feel bad, which then would make me feel bad, and so it was easier just to go ahead and pack and head down to the port and get settled in. Mark drove me to the pier, all the way insisting I would have a good time.

But I’m not you, I wanted to say. I won’t know anyone, and I’m too shy to just start talking to strangers. I’ll be a wallflower and bored the whole time. I’m not beautiful the way you are, with the body of a god and a smile that is so bright it could draw bugs in the dark to its radiance. Without you, I’ll just be bored to death and have a miserable time.

But I didn’t say any of that, instead talking about how I was looking forward to seeing Cabo and Acapulco and Mazatlan, gambling in the on-board casino and going to the disco to dance the night away with my shirt off and my jeans riding low on my hips. I pretended an excitement I didn’t feel. I smiled and laughed and joked, knowing that if I let him know how much I didn’t want to go, he’d feel bad—and even though his surgery wasn’t a serious one, I wanted him to focus on getting better. So I got out of the car, checked in and checked my bags, waved good-bye from the deck of the ship, waving as the horns blew and the big ship pulled away from the dock.