2008spike
Sex God
Part One
Jeremy Travis was quite content to continue living in sin with his girlfriend Amy on his ranch near Cheyenne, Wyoming, but after almost a year of shacking up together, she really wanted to get married, and he loved her too much to lose her, so he consented. In fact, he loved her so much that he was even willing to have the wedding on Labor Day in her hometown of New Orleans. Why not? After his parents were killed in a car accident when he was in college, he had no family left, and he had never been to New Orleans. Hell, he had never really been outside of Wyoming - except for a few trips to cattle auctions in Denver with his dad. So, when Amy suggested that they fly down on Thursday, he quickly agreed. While she took care of some last-minute details, he would get to enjoy a mini-vacation in the Big Easy.
Though Jeremy was not looking forward to a formal wedding (what man does?), he was excited about seeing New Orleans - and enjoying the subsequent honeymoon in the Bahamas, of course. He assumed that he and Amy would both stay in her parents' home in New Orleans' historic Garden District - hell, from all she had said, it was certainly big enough - but Amy had protested that seeing each other so soon before the wedding would be unlucky, so she made arrangements for Jeremy to stay with her brother Ford in his apartment in the French Quarter. Ford was one of New Orleans' finest, a rookie police officer, and the two men had a pleasant conversation over the phone about a week before the big event. Ford explained that he would be working the late shift on Thursday but that he could leave the apartment unlocked for Jeremy.
"Oh, don't do that," Jeremy insisted. "I'd really like to take the time to explore the French Quarter. Why don't you give me a ring on my cell phone when you get off duty, and I'll tell you where I am so you can pick me up?"
It was early evening when their plane arrived and they were met at the airport by Mr. and Mrs. Leveque, Amy's parents, who took them for a nice, leisurely dinner at Commander's Palace. The Leveques pleaded with Jeremy to stay at their house until Ford got off duty, but Jeremy explained the arrangements that the two young men had made.
"The French Quarter?" protested Mrs. Leveque. "But this is Southern Decadence Weekend!"
"Southern Decadence?" It sounded intriguing to Jeremy, but he didn't want to sound licentious in front of his new in-laws-to-be, so he asked, "What's that?"
"That's when the ho...the gays take over the Quarter. It's not a good time for a fine young man such as you to be walking the streets alone at night down there."
"Oh, don't worry, Mother. Jeremy is gorgeous," Amy interceded, squeezing her lover's strong arm and smiling adoringly into his crystal blue eyes, "so I wouldn't be surprised if he got hit on - more than once - but he's a big boy, and he can take care of himself. Besides, he's mine, and all he has to do is say 'thank you, not available,' and they won't bother him. They're gay, Mother, they're not criminals."
The strain on Mrs. Leveque's face betrayed her desire to protest, but she knew better than to fight with her obstinate daughter - especially on the weekend before her wedding.
It's awfully warm and humid in New Orleans in the summertime, so Jeremy left his coat and tie with Amy and made arrangements to get his luggage in the morning. The Leveques dropped him off on Bourbon Street and took Amy home. Coming from Wyoming, Jeremy sweltered under the Louisiana heat and humidity, so after walking only one block, he unbuttoned his shirt half way.
It wasn't long before Jeremy understood why Mrs. Leveque had objected. He couldn't believe his eyes. Men were dancing in the streets, many of them half naked, groping and kissing each other in broad daylight. Well, not exactly broad daylight, but since it was Daylight Saving Time and not yet September, there was still enough light to witness the debauchery playing out before him.
Amy was right, too. He did get propositioned more than once. Why not? At 25 years of age and 6'2" he had developed a well-toned, muscular body from working on the ranch, and he was damn good looking. His brownish blond hair hung in a short bang over his forehead, and then, of course, there those sparking blue eyes that had melted Amy's heart. Even the way he walked commanded attention. He had been extremely popular with the girls in high school and college, so why wouldn't gay men find him attractive as well? With each proposition, he followed Amy's suggestion (or was it an order?) and simply thanked the admirer and proclaimed that he was already spoken for. Still, more than one man who had had too much to drink threw himself at the cowboy and groped his pecs, ass, or crotch. His first instinct was to punch them out, but he remembered what Amy had said: they're gay, they're not criminals. Besides, he had seen plenty of straight guys get a little out of hand at the college beer busts he had attended, and this was really no different.
If he was unprepared for his introduction to Bourbon Street, he was completely shocked with what he saw when he turned and walked a few blocks up St. Ann's. There, between two cars across the street, he saw a man down on his knees giving a blow job to another man. Then, they switched places, and the "blower" became the "blowee." Instinctively, Jeremy felt disgusted, but for some reason, he could not keep his eyes off of them. He had never seen anything like it before. When a police officer patrolling the beat walked toward him, he averted his attention, but the cop paused beside him, looked in the direction of Jeremy's prior gaze, spotted the two men in action, grunted, and walked on. Jeremy could not believe that the cop had witnessed the public sex and done nothing to stop it.
When the two men had finished their business, they glanced over at Jeremy and smiled. One winked at him, and the other licked his lips, and then they started to walk toward him. Not wanting to be accosted, Jeremy veered briskly in the opposite direction. He turned at the first corner and quickly ducked into the first bar that he came to. It all happened so fast that he did not notice the rainbow flag flying above the door, but it would not have made any difference; he would not have understood its significance anyway.
The bar was exceptionally dark; so, at first, he could not really make out what was going on, but he knew from the jostling and the loud chatter that the place was packed. Slowly, his eyes adjusted, and he made his way to the bar, where he sat down and ordered a beer. He would have preferred a Coors, but since that brand was not known in that part of the country, he settled for a Bud. After a few sips of the brew, he swiveled around on the bar stool and saw that the room, too, was filled with men groping and slobbering all over one another. He decided to finish his drink and leave, but having groped through the dark to find his way in and been jostled at every turn, he had become disoriented and now found himself not at the exit, but at the back of the very large barroom. He aimed for a faint light, but instead of being an exit, it turned out to be the restroom. There was no door - only a couple of fully exposed toilets and a urinal trough.
OK, he thought. I need to take a leak anyway, so I'll just take care of my business and get the hell out of here.
When he whipped out his cock, nearly 6" flaccid, he drew even more attention than he had before: gasps, whistles, and the most vulgar propositions he had ever heard in his life. Finishing his task, he quickly zipped up and resumed his search for the exit.
On his way out of the restroom, he passed a door that he had not noticed before. Maybe this is the exit. He watched another man open the door and go in, so he followed suit, but it was not the exit. It was another dark room packed wall to wall with men fondling one another in obscene ways. He started to leave, but several more men crammed in behind him and blocked his retreat. Before he knew it, one man was giving him a lap dance and reaching around from behind to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way and massage his solid pecs and ripped abs. Another began licking at his neck, and a third groped his crotch. He tried to scream, but part of him wanted to experience the adventure, and he doubted that his voice would have been heard over the noise anyway.
All of a sudden, his cock was freed from his pants, and a hot, wet mouth swallowed it whole. Jeremy jerked in shock, but that only excited his captors all the more, and they went to work even more feverishly. Soon, he felt even more hands roaming all over his body, and tongues were now licking and sucking each of his nipples. Other hands grabbed his and rubbed them over strange dicks and balls. The mouth working over his dick was joined by another licking his nuts. His head told him that he ought to fight his way out of the room and out of the bar - it would not have been the first time he had been in a barroom brawl (but that's another story). However, his dick, now swollen to its full 9" hardness, told him to stay put and enjoy the attention. It did feel damn good. Of course, he had had blow jobs before, but never like this. Whatever else he might think of gay men, he had to admit that they knew how to suck cock. He tried to forewarn the man on his knees that he was about to blow, but whether the man didn't hear him or just didn't care, he continued to suck like a Hoover, and in no time at all, Jeremy shot his load down the man's throat. What the man could not swallow dribbled down onto the face of the other man who had been working his balls. Those two men kissed, swapping Jeremy's cum between them. Then, the one who had sucked him off rose up and kissed Jeremy on the lips. Jeremy gasped in shock, and the man's tongue darted into Jeremy's mouth, bathing his tongue in his own cum. That was more than Jeremy could take. He shoved the man aside and elbowed his way out of the room.
Pulling up his pants and underwear as he exited, his still-erect cock flopping up and down, Jeremy drew more whistles and gropes from other men standing just outside the door. He turned, again hoping to find the exit, but instead, he found himself at the back of the large barroom, bumping against a pool table and ending up at a bench against a long wall. His eyes again adjusted to the darkness, and he could see men all around him tugging and sucking on cocks. Some sat or reclined on the bench, others just leaned against the wall, and a couple even stretched out on the floor. One man threw himself up on the pool table in front of Jeremy while another man stuck his cock into his mouth and another rammed his pole up the willing receiver's ass. Dozens of men stood around, some watching quietly, others cheering on the eager participants. To Jeremy, they looked like the rutting animals he had seen on his ranch - thoroughly disgusting, but strangely intriguing at the same time. Just as the two men between the parked cars had captured his attention, he could not take his eyes off of the three men on the table or those surrounding him.
Consequently, he barely noticed the two young men approaching him or the two men on either side of him sliding over to make room for the newcomers. One squeezed next to Jeremy's right arm and the other to his left. In the crowded room, they pressed their hot bodies against his. Why would two men give up their positions to the other two? Did they have some special influence in this place? The best Jeremy could tell in the dim light, the two men were both slightly younger than he was, early 20s. They were just as handsome in their own ways as Jeremy, and their tank tops showed off their conspicuous muscles. Obviously, they both worked out.
"Enjoying the show?" asked the one with the dark hair and piercing walnut eyes. Jeremy just stammered and went back to watching.
"Your first Southern Decadence Weekend?" asked the one with the red hair and green eyes.
"Uh, yeah," Jeremy managed to say.
"Whaddya think?"
"Uh, I dunno. I've never seen anything like this before. I really oughta be going, but I can't seem to find the exit."
"Oh, what's your hurry? This place is just warming up. About an hour from now, it'll really be rockin'."
Jeremy's eyes glazed over. He could not imagine how much more decadent the place could become.
"Here, have a drink," said the one with the dark hair, handing Jeremy a bottle of beer. "Name's Brad. This here's Frances, but everyone calls him Red." Brad stared into Jeremy's eyes waiting for him to introduce himself.
"Oh, uh...J...." Maybe I shouldn't give my real name, thought Jeremy, just to be on the safe side. "Jack. I'm Jack."
"Well, hey, Jack. Pleased to meetchya," said Brad, extending his hand. Jeremy (a.k.a. Jack) offered his in return and felt Brad's firm, but friendly, grip. Red's handshake was slightly less firm, but no less friendly.
Brad and Red paused for a few minutes to let Jeremy watch the rest of the show.
"Oh, God, man. Fuck!" screamed the man lying on his back on the pool table with his legs up over his assailant's shoulders.
"Fuck him, dude! Ram that fuckin' rod up his hungry ass," shouted someone from the audience.
"Fuck him! Fuck him hard, man! Fuck that bitch!"
"Oh, God, yes! Fuck me! Harder! Faster! Fuck me!"
A chorus of grunts began to rumble through the crowd and crescendo with each pelvic thrust.
"I'm gonna cum," squealed one of the men, but it was not the one doing the fucking; it was the man on bottom. Jeremy stared in disbelief as he shot rope after rope over his shoulder and onto the body of the man leaning forward with his dick in the shooter's mouth.
"Holy shit! How did he do that?" Jeremy asked, not even realizing that he had spoken out loud. Brad and Red just smiled. Brad put his arm around Jeremy's shoulder and leaned to his ear. "I'll explain later. Right now, let's just watch the rest of the show." As they did, Red made his way to the bar, and by the time he had returned with another round of beers, the man on top started to gasp, "I'm cummin'! I'm cummin'!"
"Show us, man. Show us whatcha got!"
With that, the fucker pulled out and shot his man juice all over the man on bottom. Immediately, one man on each side of the pool table rushed forward and began to lick the baby pudding off the cum-and-sweat-coated bodies. Jeremy's jaw dropped, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"Now whaddya think of Southern Decadence?" asked Red, grinning from ear to ear.
"I can't believe that people actually do that - not even in private, but especially not in public."
"Well, it must not have bothered you too much," responded Brad. "You could have walked away, or at least turned your head, but you didn't."
"To be honest, all of this goes against everything I have ever believed. I'm strictly a pussy man. Shit, I've never even been in a gay bar in my life."
"Well, we saw you coming out of the clown car," said Red. "You must have seen some action in there."
"Clown car?"
"Yeah, that's what we call that little room - cuz it reminds us of that little car in the circus that's crammed with all those clowns. Hey, I'm not sayin' you're a clown," Red quickly added, seeing the look on Jeremy's face. "Fuck, we all go in there from time to time."
"I take it then that you're both gay."
"Red here's as gay as they come," said Brad. "Me? I just like gittin' my rocks off. I'm like you; I love pussy, but if there's none handy, I'll take it where I can get it."
Suddenly, Jeremy remembered that Brad's arm was stilled wrapped around his shoulder. He was tempted to run, but he was also still very curious. Besides, from the moment they met, quite a few other men had sized Jeremy up, but Red and Brad had fended them off, so Jeremy felt strangely safe with his new sidekicks.
"So, did ya or didn't ya?" asked Red.
"Did I what?" asked Jeremy.
"Did you see any action in the clown car?"
Jeremy stood silent.
"You did! You son of a bitch," chuckled Brad as he patted his new friend on the chest. "OK, come on, out with it. What happened?" The fact that the plea sounded like a teenager begging his best friend for the saucy details of his latest hot date melted Jeremy's defenses.
With a touch of false modesty, Jeremy snickered, "Yeah, I got a blow job." It was part confession and part boast.
"OK, spill," giggled Red. "Details, and don't leave out a single thing."
Jeremy chugged on his second beer and told Brad and Red all the sordid details of his ride in the clown car. The two young men poked Jeremy and teased him at key points in the story. When he was finished, Jeremy sighed and smiled, indicating that he had just made a major conquest. As if to congratulate himself, he finished off his beer in one long gulp. The three men enjoyed a nice, long laugh, and for the first time since setting foot in the French Quarter, Jeremy finally began to feel somewhat at ease.
After a couple of minutes of light banter, Jeremy paused. "You were gonna explain to me how that guy on the pool table was able to get off without even rubbing his dick."
"Oh, sure," said Red.
"Wait," interrupted Brad. "Why don't we go over to the bar and have another round."
Jeremy Travis was quite content to continue living in sin with his girlfriend Amy on his ranch near Cheyenne, Wyoming, but after almost a year of shacking up together, she really wanted to get married, and he loved her too much to lose her, so he consented. In fact, he loved her so much that he was even willing to have the wedding on Labor Day in her hometown of New Orleans. Why not? After his parents were killed in a car accident when he was in college, he had no family left, and he had never been to New Orleans. Hell, he had never really been outside of Wyoming - except for a few trips to cattle auctions in Denver with his dad. So, when Amy suggested that they fly down on Thursday, he quickly agreed. While she took care of some last-minute details, he would get to enjoy a mini-vacation in the Big Easy.
Though Jeremy was not looking forward to a formal wedding (what man does?), he was excited about seeing New Orleans - and enjoying the subsequent honeymoon in the Bahamas, of course. He assumed that he and Amy would both stay in her parents' home in New Orleans' historic Garden District - hell, from all she had said, it was certainly big enough - but Amy had protested that seeing each other so soon before the wedding would be unlucky, so she made arrangements for Jeremy to stay with her brother Ford in his apartment in the French Quarter. Ford was one of New Orleans' finest, a rookie police officer, and the two men had a pleasant conversation over the phone about a week before the big event. Ford explained that he would be working the late shift on Thursday but that he could leave the apartment unlocked for Jeremy.
"Oh, don't do that," Jeremy insisted. "I'd really like to take the time to explore the French Quarter. Why don't you give me a ring on my cell phone when you get off duty, and I'll tell you where I am so you can pick me up?"
It was early evening when their plane arrived and they were met at the airport by Mr. and Mrs. Leveque, Amy's parents, who took them for a nice, leisurely dinner at Commander's Palace. The Leveques pleaded with Jeremy to stay at their house until Ford got off duty, but Jeremy explained the arrangements that the two young men had made.
"The French Quarter?" protested Mrs. Leveque. "But this is Southern Decadence Weekend!"
"Southern Decadence?" It sounded intriguing to Jeremy, but he didn't want to sound licentious in front of his new in-laws-to-be, so he asked, "What's that?"
"That's when the ho...the gays take over the Quarter. It's not a good time for a fine young man such as you to be walking the streets alone at night down there."
"Oh, don't worry, Mother. Jeremy is gorgeous," Amy interceded, squeezing her lover's strong arm and smiling adoringly into his crystal blue eyes, "so I wouldn't be surprised if he got hit on - more than once - but he's a big boy, and he can take care of himself. Besides, he's mine, and all he has to do is say 'thank you, not available,' and they won't bother him. They're gay, Mother, they're not criminals."
The strain on Mrs. Leveque's face betrayed her desire to protest, but she knew better than to fight with her obstinate daughter - especially on the weekend before her wedding.
It's awfully warm and humid in New Orleans in the summertime, so Jeremy left his coat and tie with Amy and made arrangements to get his luggage in the morning. The Leveques dropped him off on Bourbon Street and took Amy home. Coming from Wyoming, Jeremy sweltered under the Louisiana heat and humidity, so after walking only one block, he unbuttoned his shirt half way.
It wasn't long before Jeremy understood why Mrs. Leveque had objected. He couldn't believe his eyes. Men were dancing in the streets, many of them half naked, groping and kissing each other in broad daylight. Well, not exactly broad daylight, but since it was Daylight Saving Time and not yet September, there was still enough light to witness the debauchery playing out before him.
Amy was right, too. He did get propositioned more than once. Why not? At 25 years of age and 6'2" he had developed a well-toned, muscular body from working on the ranch, and he was damn good looking. His brownish blond hair hung in a short bang over his forehead, and then, of course, there those sparking blue eyes that had melted Amy's heart. Even the way he walked commanded attention. He had been extremely popular with the girls in high school and college, so why wouldn't gay men find him attractive as well? With each proposition, he followed Amy's suggestion (or was it an order?) and simply thanked the admirer and proclaimed that he was already spoken for. Still, more than one man who had had too much to drink threw himself at the cowboy and groped his pecs, ass, or crotch. His first instinct was to punch them out, but he remembered what Amy had said: they're gay, they're not criminals. Besides, he had seen plenty of straight guys get a little out of hand at the college beer busts he had attended, and this was really no different.
If he was unprepared for his introduction to Bourbon Street, he was completely shocked with what he saw when he turned and walked a few blocks up St. Ann's. There, between two cars across the street, he saw a man down on his knees giving a blow job to another man. Then, they switched places, and the "blower" became the "blowee." Instinctively, Jeremy felt disgusted, but for some reason, he could not keep his eyes off of them. He had never seen anything like it before. When a police officer patrolling the beat walked toward him, he averted his attention, but the cop paused beside him, looked in the direction of Jeremy's prior gaze, spotted the two men in action, grunted, and walked on. Jeremy could not believe that the cop had witnessed the public sex and done nothing to stop it.
When the two men had finished their business, they glanced over at Jeremy and smiled. One winked at him, and the other licked his lips, and then they started to walk toward him. Not wanting to be accosted, Jeremy veered briskly in the opposite direction. He turned at the first corner and quickly ducked into the first bar that he came to. It all happened so fast that he did not notice the rainbow flag flying above the door, but it would not have made any difference; he would not have understood its significance anyway.
The bar was exceptionally dark; so, at first, he could not really make out what was going on, but he knew from the jostling and the loud chatter that the place was packed. Slowly, his eyes adjusted, and he made his way to the bar, where he sat down and ordered a beer. He would have preferred a Coors, but since that brand was not known in that part of the country, he settled for a Bud. After a few sips of the brew, he swiveled around on the bar stool and saw that the room, too, was filled with men groping and slobbering all over one another. He decided to finish his drink and leave, but having groped through the dark to find his way in and been jostled at every turn, he had become disoriented and now found himself not at the exit, but at the back of the very large barroom. He aimed for a faint light, but instead of being an exit, it turned out to be the restroom. There was no door - only a couple of fully exposed toilets and a urinal trough.
OK, he thought. I need to take a leak anyway, so I'll just take care of my business and get the hell out of here.
When he whipped out his cock, nearly 6" flaccid, he drew even more attention than he had before: gasps, whistles, and the most vulgar propositions he had ever heard in his life. Finishing his task, he quickly zipped up and resumed his search for the exit.
On his way out of the restroom, he passed a door that he had not noticed before. Maybe this is the exit. He watched another man open the door and go in, so he followed suit, but it was not the exit. It was another dark room packed wall to wall with men fondling one another in obscene ways. He started to leave, but several more men crammed in behind him and blocked his retreat. Before he knew it, one man was giving him a lap dance and reaching around from behind to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way and massage his solid pecs and ripped abs. Another began licking at his neck, and a third groped his crotch. He tried to scream, but part of him wanted to experience the adventure, and he doubted that his voice would have been heard over the noise anyway.
All of a sudden, his cock was freed from his pants, and a hot, wet mouth swallowed it whole. Jeremy jerked in shock, but that only excited his captors all the more, and they went to work even more feverishly. Soon, he felt even more hands roaming all over his body, and tongues were now licking and sucking each of his nipples. Other hands grabbed his and rubbed them over strange dicks and balls. The mouth working over his dick was joined by another licking his nuts. His head told him that he ought to fight his way out of the room and out of the bar - it would not have been the first time he had been in a barroom brawl (but that's another story). However, his dick, now swollen to its full 9" hardness, told him to stay put and enjoy the attention. It did feel damn good. Of course, he had had blow jobs before, but never like this. Whatever else he might think of gay men, he had to admit that they knew how to suck cock. He tried to forewarn the man on his knees that he was about to blow, but whether the man didn't hear him or just didn't care, he continued to suck like a Hoover, and in no time at all, Jeremy shot his load down the man's throat. What the man could not swallow dribbled down onto the face of the other man who had been working his balls. Those two men kissed, swapping Jeremy's cum between them. Then, the one who had sucked him off rose up and kissed Jeremy on the lips. Jeremy gasped in shock, and the man's tongue darted into Jeremy's mouth, bathing his tongue in his own cum. That was more than Jeremy could take. He shoved the man aside and elbowed his way out of the room.
Pulling up his pants and underwear as he exited, his still-erect cock flopping up and down, Jeremy drew more whistles and gropes from other men standing just outside the door. He turned, again hoping to find the exit, but instead, he found himself at the back of the large barroom, bumping against a pool table and ending up at a bench against a long wall. His eyes again adjusted to the darkness, and he could see men all around him tugging and sucking on cocks. Some sat or reclined on the bench, others just leaned against the wall, and a couple even stretched out on the floor. One man threw himself up on the pool table in front of Jeremy while another man stuck his cock into his mouth and another rammed his pole up the willing receiver's ass. Dozens of men stood around, some watching quietly, others cheering on the eager participants. To Jeremy, they looked like the rutting animals he had seen on his ranch - thoroughly disgusting, but strangely intriguing at the same time. Just as the two men between the parked cars had captured his attention, he could not take his eyes off of the three men on the table or those surrounding him.
Consequently, he barely noticed the two young men approaching him or the two men on either side of him sliding over to make room for the newcomers. One squeezed next to Jeremy's right arm and the other to his left. In the crowded room, they pressed their hot bodies against his. Why would two men give up their positions to the other two? Did they have some special influence in this place? The best Jeremy could tell in the dim light, the two men were both slightly younger than he was, early 20s. They were just as handsome in their own ways as Jeremy, and their tank tops showed off their conspicuous muscles. Obviously, they both worked out.
"Enjoying the show?" asked the one with the dark hair and piercing walnut eyes. Jeremy just stammered and went back to watching.
"Your first Southern Decadence Weekend?" asked the one with the red hair and green eyes.
"Uh, yeah," Jeremy managed to say.
"Whaddya think?"
"Uh, I dunno. I've never seen anything like this before. I really oughta be going, but I can't seem to find the exit."
"Oh, what's your hurry? This place is just warming up. About an hour from now, it'll really be rockin'."
Jeremy's eyes glazed over. He could not imagine how much more decadent the place could become.
"Here, have a drink," said the one with the dark hair, handing Jeremy a bottle of beer. "Name's Brad. This here's Frances, but everyone calls him Red." Brad stared into Jeremy's eyes waiting for him to introduce himself.
"Oh, uh...J...." Maybe I shouldn't give my real name, thought Jeremy, just to be on the safe side. "Jack. I'm Jack."
"Well, hey, Jack. Pleased to meetchya," said Brad, extending his hand. Jeremy (a.k.a. Jack) offered his in return and felt Brad's firm, but friendly, grip. Red's handshake was slightly less firm, but no less friendly.
Brad and Red paused for a few minutes to let Jeremy watch the rest of the show.
"Oh, God, man. Fuck!" screamed the man lying on his back on the pool table with his legs up over his assailant's shoulders.
"Fuck him, dude! Ram that fuckin' rod up his hungry ass," shouted someone from the audience.
"Fuck him! Fuck him hard, man! Fuck that bitch!"
"Oh, God, yes! Fuck me! Harder! Faster! Fuck me!"
A chorus of grunts began to rumble through the crowd and crescendo with each pelvic thrust.
"I'm gonna cum," squealed one of the men, but it was not the one doing the fucking; it was the man on bottom. Jeremy stared in disbelief as he shot rope after rope over his shoulder and onto the body of the man leaning forward with his dick in the shooter's mouth.
"Holy shit! How did he do that?" Jeremy asked, not even realizing that he had spoken out loud. Brad and Red just smiled. Brad put his arm around Jeremy's shoulder and leaned to his ear. "I'll explain later. Right now, let's just watch the rest of the show." As they did, Red made his way to the bar, and by the time he had returned with another round of beers, the man on top started to gasp, "I'm cummin'! I'm cummin'!"
"Show us, man. Show us whatcha got!"
With that, the fucker pulled out and shot his man juice all over the man on bottom. Immediately, one man on each side of the pool table rushed forward and began to lick the baby pudding off the cum-and-sweat-coated bodies. Jeremy's jaw dropped, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"Now whaddya think of Southern Decadence?" asked Red, grinning from ear to ear.
"I can't believe that people actually do that - not even in private, but especially not in public."
"Well, it must not have bothered you too much," responded Brad. "You could have walked away, or at least turned your head, but you didn't."
"To be honest, all of this goes against everything I have ever believed. I'm strictly a pussy man. Shit, I've never even been in a gay bar in my life."
"Well, we saw you coming out of the clown car," said Red. "You must have seen some action in there."
"Clown car?"
"Yeah, that's what we call that little room - cuz it reminds us of that little car in the circus that's crammed with all those clowns. Hey, I'm not sayin' you're a clown," Red quickly added, seeing the look on Jeremy's face. "Fuck, we all go in there from time to time."
"I take it then that you're both gay."
"Red here's as gay as they come," said Brad. "Me? I just like gittin' my rocks off. I'm like you; I love pussy, but if there's none handy, I'll take it where I can get it."
Suddenly, Jeremy remembered that Brad's arm was stilled wrapped around his shoulder. He was tempted to run, but he was also still very curious. Besides, from the moment they met, quite a few other men had sized Jeremy up, but Red and Brad had fended them off, so Jeremy felt strangely safe with his new sidekicks.
"So, did ya or didn't ya?" asked Red.
"Did I what?" asked Jeremy.
"Did you see any action in the clown car?"
Jeremy stood silent.
"You did! You son of a bitch," chuckled Brad as he patted his new friend on the chest. "OK, come on, out with it. What happened?" The fact that the plea sounded like a teenager begging his best friend for the saucy details of his latest hot date melted Jeremy's defenses.
With a touch of false modesty, Jeremy snickered, "Yeah, I got a blow job." It was part confession and part boast.
"OK, spill," giggled Red. "Details, and don't leave out a single thing."
Jeremy chugged on his second beer and told Brad and Red all the sordid details of his ride in the clown car. The two young men poked Jeremy and teased him at key points in the story. When he was finished, Jeremy sighed and smiled, indicating that he had just made a major conquest. As if to congratulate himself, he finished off his beer in one long gulp. The three men enjoyed a nice, long laugh, and for the first time since setting foot in the French Quarter, Jeremy finally began to feel somewhat at ease.
After a couple of minutes of light banter, Jeremy paused. "You were gonna explain to me how that guy on the pool table was able to get off without even rubbing his dick."
"Oh, sure," said Red.
"Wait," interrupted Brad. "Why don't we go over to the bar and have another round."
Thanks, G
